#its fun talking in tags [ho

[ang3l-d1nn3r]

He wants those pancakes so effin bad

[waywardsalt]

i made this a few months ago for a discord and i figured i might as well share it here too

[cheapshrimpysheep]

I'm Sorry I Left You Behind

SUMMARY: The Bead Brawl tournament ends and Leona, Kalim, Vil and Lilia run away leaving you, Grim and Jack behind. Later, they will realize that they hurt you by doing this to you and will apologize to you.

CHARACTERS: Kalim Al-Asim; Vil Schoenheit; Lilia Vanrouge

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort

WARNING: Spoilers from Cloudcalling on the Savanna (Sunset Savanna's Tamashina-Mina) and its respective cards.

WORD COUNT: An average of 640 words per character.

COMMENTS: At first, I was going to write scenarios for all the event cards, but as Leona's was so personal, it ended up inspiring me to write a lot. So I decided to let him have his solo post:

There's a Calm Surrender (Leona Kingscholar x Reader)

By the way, I was undecided whether to use the name Neji or Kifaji, so I used both. 😅

I hope you enjoy. 😘

CONTEXT: To escape from Cheka, Neji(Kifaji) and the palace guards who were with them, Leona rushed to the car to drive back to the hotel. Vil, Kalim and Lilia went with him. And you, Grim and Jack were left behind in the rain.

I mean, Leona wanted to escape and the car didn't have seats for everyone but... still... it made you a little sad. At least you had Jack who never left your side. Eventually, Cheka and Neji(Kifaji) reached you, after Leona and the others had already fled. Of course the first thing Neji(Kifaji) did was apologize for Leona's rudeness and offer to take you back to the hotel.

When you arrived at the hotel, you went to your room with the intention of showering and changing your clothes. But before you can do that, someone knocks on your door.

“[Y/N]! You won't believe the ride we took with Leona.” Kalim tells you, enthusiastically. “It was amazing! I’ve never been in a car that shook that hard! It was so heart-pounding...” He stops himself when he actually looks at you. “Ho! [Y/N] You're soaking wet! What-?” and then he remembers “HA! We left you behind in the rain! I'm so sorry! Do you need anything? I can go ask for more towels for you.”

You say it's not necessary, that you're fine, you just need to take a shower and change your clothes.

“I'm glad. Let me know when you're done, okay? I really want to tell you about the ride... And made up for leaving without you.”

You shower, put on your pajamas, and text Kalim that you’re ready. But then, seeing Grim sleeping and remembering that Kalim can talk loudly without realizing it, you send him another message asking if you could be the one to go to his room instead, so you can be more comfortable talking without worrying about waking Grim up. He says it is a great idea and that you're welcome in his room anytime. Plus: “But come quickly. I really want to talk and be with you.”

SUNSET VILLA - KALIM'S ROOM

Kalim opens the door for you. It shouldn't be a surprise to discover that he had a much fancier and more luxurious room than yours. He closes the door and takes both of your hands to take you with him to sit on the bed.

“I have lots of snacks, you can eat whatever you want.” he tells you with a smile and pointing to a large basket full of traditional snacks.

He excitedly tells you how crazy and fun the ride with Leona was. And about when Jamil finally found him. You wanted to be happy that he had so much fun, but you couldn't shake the thought that while all that was happening you had been left behind in the rain, as if it would be easy for them to forget about you. And it showed on your face.

“Hmm? What’s wrong? Don't you like the taste?” He asks as you were eating one of the snacks. “You can always leave it aside and choose another one, no problem.”

You say that's not it and your expression becomes sadder as you wonder if you should tell him what you were really thinking.

“Well, I can see you're sad. Can you tell me what's going on. Nothing would make me happier than seeing a smile back on your face.” He smiles innocently.

You decide to tell him and say how abandoned and forgotten you felt.

“Oh no! I'm so sorry for doing this to you! We didn't want to abandon you and we didn't forget you. Well... I mean... I think technically with all the adrenaline we forget... But it wasn't out of spite! We just...” he sighs “No, there is no excuse. We did you wrong. I should have stayed with you.” There is a short pause. “I know a hug isn't enough to fix things, but can I give you one?”

You let him and he wraps his arms around you. It's very comforting, you feel a strong but gentle hug, that meanwhile loosens without releasing you.

“Can you forgive me?” He asks in a soft and sad voice, close to your ear, still hugging you. “I promise I won't do it again. I’ll never leave you again.”

You gently ask about what he just said. He breaks the hug calmly to look at you, still with his hands on your arms.

“I really like you. I feel really bad knowing that I hurt you. I don't want to do that again. I want to see you happy and smiling and I want to share all the good and fun moments I have with you. So I will never leave you behind again. It's a promise!”

When you arrived at the hotel, you went to your room to shower and change your clothes, but before you enter the bathroom, you receive a message. It's from Vil.

“I heard that you have already arrived. I would like to talk with you. Take a shower and let me know when you're dressed.” You reply to him to confirm that you saw the message, and shortly he replies to you: “I stopped by your room earlier and left the soap soap packed with hot spring minerals I bought in your bathroom for you to use this. But it's just this once, then I'll take it back with me. So enjoy it, but don't spend too much.”

You do so. You not only feel more comfy but more relaxed. You put on your pajamas and text Vil that you're ready.

“Grim is sleeping, isn't he? I'd like to talk without worrying about waking him up. Could you come to my room?” You say that you can and that you are going there now. “Thank you, [Y/N]. I'll try not to steal too much of your rest time.”

SUNSET VILLA - VIL'S ROOM

You knock on Vil's room door saying it's you, and you hear his voice giving you permission to enter. You enter and see him sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out on the bed and a bandage on one of his ankles with a bag of ice on top.

“There is no need to worry.” Vil tells you. “Personally, I think they are exaggerating a bit, but it wouldn’t be wise of me to refuse treatment.”

You close the door behind you and go to sit next to him on the bed. You look at his ankle again and sees that it and his foot are very swollen. You ask if it's really the doctors who are exaggerating or he who doesn't want to make a big deal of it.

He sighs. “Very well. I may have gone too far in hiding my injury and making it worse during the tournament. But now everything is under control. So please don't worry, okay?” He smiles to reassure you. “It is another subject I wanted to talk to you about.”

“And what is it?” You ask.

“I am sorry.” Vil’s words and look say.

“For what?”

“For leaving you behind and in the rain. I know it was Leona who ran away and left his guests behind, but I was one of those who went after him and got into the car. Which is equally rude and inelegant. You supported us the whole time and did what you could to help us and not be a burden and we treated you like one in the end, and for that I am deeply sorry. Did you arrive well at the hotel? Any symptoms of a cold?”

You answer no, that you arrived well, Neji(Kifaji) took it upon himself to guarantee that.

“I see. I must thank him, and apologize as well.” He smells the air. “Ah, you used the soap I left for you.” And you apologize for forgetting to bring it back. “It's okay. You can return it to me tomorrow. I can see that it's really good, the skin on your face looks beautifully healthy.” You smile thanking him. “You know, come to think of it, you can keep the soap. That skin matches that smile very well.” He smiles, and then laughs when he sees how flattered you got. “You should go back to bed now. It would be a shame to ruin the effects of your bath with a short night's rest.”

You agree and get up, but before leaving you notice his foot again and ask if he would like you to help him lie down.

“I told you you didn't need to worry. But thank you, I'll be fine.”

How silly, he was right. You rephrase the sentence: You WILL help him lie down.

“[Y/N], I already told you-” But you pretend you're not listening, and hold the bag of ice with one hand and his foot in the other. You look at him as a sign that he can settle in bed now. He sighs as he does so. “You are so stubborn. It's almost charming.”

“Almost?”

He laughs softly. “Stubbornness isn't charming most of the time, but... I think you can make it quite cute.”

You thank him for the compliment, and feeling bold, you lean in and kiss his forehead. “Good night, Vil.” As you start to straighten up, you feel a hand on your arm pulling you back. And he kisses your cheek.

“Good night, [Y/N].” he whispers with a smile. “And thank you.”

You arrive at the hotel and go to your room. You take a shower, put on your pajamas and when you're about to go to bed, you hear a light knock on the door. Grim groans and turns over, but doesn't wake up. You get closer to the door to ask who it is, but before you do it, you get your answer.

“It's the cute old me.” you hear Lilia's voice on the other side. You open the door. “Hi [Y/N]. Sorry to interrupt your rest, but I wanted to tell you something.” He says quietly. He leans to the side to see Grim sleeping behind you. “But maybe we should do it somewhere else. I don't want to wake Grim... again. In my room perhaps? I have some snacks.” he smiles invitingly.

SUNSET VILLA - LILIA'S ROOM

The two of you enter Lilia's room and he immediately grabs a bag full of snacks. He sits on the bed and invites you to sit next to him, with the bag between you.

“You can take whatever you want if you are hungry.” He says. You take one and it continues. “You didn't catch a cold, did you?”

You seem a little confused at first, but then you realize what he's referring to. You say no, and that you immediately took a hot bath when you arrived, but regardless of whether you tried to hide it or not, Lilia would immediately realize that you were sad about what happened.

“My deepest apologies.” he says regretfully. “I knew you wouldn't be in danger. You were with Jack and Neji(Kifaji) and the royal guards were sure to bring you back to the hotel safe and sound. That's how I usually see things at first. But... I didn't think about how that act could be interpreted. Running away for fun leaving you behind in the rain. Sounds like abandonment, doesn't it?”

You look away, with a sad expression that confirms what he said.

“That's why I wanted to talk to you. That was absolutely not my intention. I am quite knowledgeable about whether or not someone is at risk physically, but it seems like I'm still learning to understand the same emotionally. After all, what is no big deal for one person can be a very cruel act for another. I'm not saying you're too sensitive, but I think it depends on how much you like the person committing the act, right?”

He holds both your hands in his. “Your heart is your most wonderful quality. And as someone it can love, I should protect it better and not taking it for granted.” He kisses the back of your hands. “Could you forgive me for my mistake?”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[lamardeuse]

This is not a Wendy's, and my story is not your burger.

A note up front: the following does not refer to the serious issues of racism, anti-Blackness and white supremacy in fandom spaces, which deserves a much more nuanced discussion than a ridiculous food metaphor could ever hope to express. This is a general discussion of fandom standards around tagging and warnings.

Over the three – now nearly four – decades that I've been in fandom, I've seen a lot. I've seen a lot of foolishness, and a metric fuckton of toxicity, and even some good faith, honest debates about how we should conduct ourselves as we move through fannish spaces and interact with one another. So from the start, let me explain that this is not the old lady crabbing at the kids. None of this is particularly new, and fandom culture ebbs and flows. Heigh-ho, nonny nonny, the wheels roll on.

That said, we need to have a talk. Because some people may not be as experienced as the rest of us, and need to understand some fundamental truths about fandom that they may not have picked up, because no one reads Fanlore from top to bottom for fun. That's not inherently a concern. We all learn from one another – I've learned so much from younger people in fandom, particularly here on tumblr – but there are occasions when younger fans could also benefit from some knowledge flowing the other way.

First, fandom is vast. It was huge when I started in the Dark Ages, and it's increased exponentially in the last fifteen to twenty years, since “geek culture” has gone mainstream. That widening of the circle – and more importantly, the naked commercialization of it by media giants who smell our money like vampires in a blood bank – is both a blessing and a curse, because on the one hand, more people who love a thing means more love for everyone! On the other hand, though, I think it's unmoored us in some senses from the fundamental truth that fandom is unhinged, joyful obsession, the fulfilment of a need for communication, creative expression and connection, and most importantly – community.

Yes, fandom is – or should be, at its best – a community first and foremost. And just like any community, it's filled with individuals who form groups, subgroups and cliques. And none of those groups have ever, in the over half a century since the first Star Trek fan made Kirk and Spock fuck, agreed upon one single, overarching view of what 'community' means. Which means the minute you as a fan come striding up to another fan's little electronic nest on the AO3 or Youtube or tumblr demanding that standard X be applied to their fannish creation in the name of 'fandom courtesy' or 'fandom etiquette'? All the old ladies (gn) in fandom realize that you are desperately, painfully new*.

Does that mean that we shouldn't strive to be a community? Of course not. But I would argue that the single and only “rule” of that community is that we make an effort to treat each other, first and foremost, with kindness and grace, and the understanding that the person you are interacting with is not you. They're not even one of the fifty-two people you interact with on Discord who all agree to the same “rules of fandom” (newsflash: they probably don't). And if you come into their fannish space as a stranger demanding they cater to you, you are probably going to be in for a shock.

Commercialization complicates this issue, because I think one element that's new is that some of us have lost sight of the fact – or never learned – that fans do not place their creations in front of you like a server handing you a bag at a fast food drive thru window. They are not producing a commodity to be consumed for which you paid hard earned money that entitles you to certain rights, such as the right to complain if you ordered a burger with mayo and received mustard instead. You would certainly have a right to demand compensation if you're allergic to mustard and had to go to the hospital as a result.

Fandom is more like a potluck, a gigantic potluck with literally millions of dishes. At some tables, there are agreed upon warnings for certain allergens, but others are not required to be mentioned and if you have an allergy, you will need to ask directly. At some tables, you are told that there may be allergens in any of the dishes and you proceed to eat them at your own risk. That risk and your assessment of it is, for better or worse, entirely your responsibility to manage. And your preferences – level of spice, aversion to certain textures and flavours – those are not allergies and there is no prior agreed upon standard to break down every possible element of a dish so that you will always be able to avoid any contact with the foods you personally don't like. There never has been, and there never will be.

The only thing you can be certain of is that on every single table, there are dishes that people have created for you for free with love, effort, experience and care. If you walk up to that table and take a bite and then politely turn down any more, that's fine. If you take a bite, spit it out and loudly tell that person that is not what you were expecting, you wouldn't have tried it if you'd known what it tasted like, and you are appalled that this person did not inform you of every single ingredient before you tried it? You, my friend, are not going to be welcome at the potluck.

Fandom is not a Wendy's. The stories, songs, costumes, artwork, edits that we put out into the world are not mass produced burgers made in a giant factory and shipped to restaurants where you can rest assured that the burger you eat in London will taste the same as the one in Dubuque. And no, the time you invested in reading a fic, watching a vid or contemplating a piece of artwork posted freely on the internet is not something you have the right to demand a refund on either, because again, fandom is not a fast food restaurant, and our interactions with one another in fannish spaces are not transactions. Every creation you choose to put in front of your eyeballs took that person time and energy, and they are putting that out in the world to make a connection with other human beings.

The next time you leave a comment, choose connection. It's easier than you think.

(*I'm going on good faith here and presuming most people who do this are relatively new to fandom. I'm not counting the people who think it's fine and dandy to hurl abuse at strangers for not obeying their standards – those people should be blocked and excluded on sight. I sincerely hope that they get help for the demons that are chasing them and telling them this is an acceptable way to live.)

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 1

Masterlist |-| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

AO3

Summary: When Bernard DeMarco is forced to find ATS Commander Susie Lamb, his expectations are tainted by her less-than-savoury reputation. However, the more time he spends with her, the more he begins to suspect she's been misjudged by the people of Thorpe Abbotts.

Warnings: Language, drinking, smoking

Word Count: 4.5k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd

Bernard DeMarco stared down at the steadily cooling coffee in his hand, the warmth of the mug heating his palms, which had been chilled to the bone even through his gloves on the long-haul flight over from Greenland. Almost ten hours in the sky, staring out at nothing but rolling clouds and the faint grey line of the horizon. Even with Cleven chatting at his side and Meatball nudging the back of his seat, it had been difficult to stay alert for so long, and now he found himself in dear want of a rest.

Instead, he was here, sitting around a long table in the mess hall when he could've been in bed, listening to his friends' chatter, his dog resting its snout against his knee. Benny knew how to pretend he wasn't feeling the wear - to put on a grin and laugh along to everyone's jokes as if he were still awake and raring to go, when the thing he wanted more than anything was a chance to shed the uniform he'd been wearing all day and just sit down somewhere quiet.

The door to the mess hall swung open and the Colonel wandered in, peering with a frown at the piece of paper in his hand, a typed list he couldn't make out stamped upon it. "Colonel," Egan nodded, tilting an imaginary cap in greeting. Hugh stopped at the end of the table, surveying the faces of the group that had assembled.

"Afternoon fellas. I got a supply list I need running up to the ATS - just some stuff we're gonna need brought in for the next run. Uh... DeMarco? D'you mind?"

DeMarco's brow furrowed in confusion, glancing around at the others to check if anyone else had noticed how unorthodox this order was. "Sir? All due respect, but ain't that a job for a runner or somethin'?"

"Usually, but... I'd like someone a little more experienced."

At the opposite end of the table, a playful grin had begun making its way across Curt's face. "Oh-ho, he's gotta talk to Commander Lamb, don't he?"

Bucky had begun to smirk to himself, lifting a hand over his mouth to make it less obvious. Benny figured he must've looked somewhere between dumbstruck and panicked by the way Hugh had begun to speak in a soothing, gentle tone. "Look, the Commander's just a little difficult. We send the runners up there, she gets 'em all turned around, and they don't get the information we need. I'm lookin' for a firm hand, is all. Besides, you can give the dog a walk."

He was thoroughly unsatisfied with this justification for making him walk halfway across the airfield, but it was becoming clearer by the minute that it wasn't something he could get out of. With a disgruntled sigh, he rose to his feet, chair scraping loudly against the floor as he grabbed Meatball's leash, the dog already at his heels, tail wagging and ready to go, far more chipper than his owner. DeMarco grabbed the list from the Colonel without so much as glancing at its contents, heading towards the mess hall doors to the sound of Biddick's chuckling.

The sun hung high in the sky, a beacon in a sea of blue, the weather so blissfully perfect that it actually seemed to worsen his mood more than anything. He was usually a fun guy, everyone thought so, but today he was just too goddamn tired. Meatball was having the time of his life, drinking from every puddle and pissing against every tree they passed, the constant stopping only succeeding in doubling the time their journey took. By the time he reached the ATS garages, DeMarco was confident he never wanted to see Hugh's stupid list - or whoever this Commander Lamb was - ever again.

The garages were a bustle of activity, trucks and motorbikes pulling in and out all over the place, Air Force and ATS alike hauling crates of all kinds of ammunition, food supplies, and whatever else the air base could possibly require. Standing in the doorway of the nearest building was a woman - easy on the eyes, orange-haired, staring down at a clipboard in her hand as she ticked off whatever the men nearby were carrying inside.

"Uh- ma'am?" He called, tugging on Meatball's lead as they approached. The woman seemed to see the dog before she did DeMarco, a pleasant smile creasing her cheeks as she looked up at him.

"Yes... Captain?" She asked, peering at the insignia on his jacket for confirmation.

"I gotta supply list from Colonel Hugh to pass onto a Commander Lamb?"

The woman raised a brow as if to say 'You sure about that?', but she turned nevertheless, yelling over her shoulder into the huge supply hangar behind her. "Susie!"

Peering past the woman, DeMarco watched as a figure approached from inside, initially obscured by the shadow of a huge supply truck, but when she stepped into the light it gave him pause. Her hair fell unpinned halfway down her back, brown waves shining red in the sunlight. She wore olive slacks instead of the standard-issue uniform skirt, and a leather bomber jacket with 'S. Lamb' printed on the breast like the ones he'd seen some of the pilots wear. She hardly looked like she was supposed to be on duty at all, but she marched up to them all the same, taking the clipboard from the other woman and looking it over.

"Charlotte, go help Fisher - she's got some stuff to go to Sergeant Bevan on the hardstand," She ordered, and the woman scurried away inside. Once the two of them were alone, Susie stared back at him for a long moment, brow raised as she waited for him to speak. "...So?"

Suddenly DeMarco was beginning to understand what the others had meant. Her accent was harsh, less refined than the other English workers he'd met since his arrival, and she didn't exactly look pleased to see him. Frankly, she had a face that suggested she was never glad to see anyone.

"Got a list from Colonel Hugh - requests for ammo supplies," He stated, holding it up to her. "We need-"

"Ah-" Lamb raised a hand to stop him. "If you're gonna talk, you've gotta walk with me."

She began to walk before he had a chance to respond. "Well alright then," He muttered under his breath, beginning to trail after her, tugging at Meatball's lead so that he would follow along. "Five hundred AN-M30s, four hundred AN-M64s, six hundred USAAF five hundred pound-ers..." DeMarco rattled off Hugh's list, squinting to read the paper as it shook in his hand against the breeze. Ahead of him, Susie was peering into the backs of the row of trucks that had just arrived, scribbling away on her clipboard. He wasn't entirely sure she was listening.

He stopped talking just before they reached the end of the row, having to tug Meatball along as he got distracted by the crates of food being brought in. Lamb ticked something off in her notes before turning on her heel to look at him. "That everything?"

"Yeah, that's it," Benny confirmed, sliding the list back into his pocket. She raised her brow again in that inquisitive way she did. It was already getting annoying.

"I'm not gonna remember all that, am I? Gimme the list," She huffed, holding out her hand.

"Then why did you have me read it all out?" He grumbled, fishing out the wad of paper and handing it over.

"I didn't ask you to do that. I just said if you were gonna, you'd have to follow me," Thinking it over, he realised she was right. He hated that. "But, yunno. Most of the runners Hugh sends up here would've already shat themselves and run off by now, so good job."

DeMarco bristled, squaring his shoulders. "I'm not a runner, I'm a Captain."

Susie was looking down at the list, but she peered back up at him with a wonky grin. "Jesus, what'd you do to get stuck with the 'Susie Lamb punishment', eh? Did your dog take a shit on the Colonel's desk or summat?"

He frowned, her self-awareness almost alarming. She clearly knew what the others said about her, but she simply didn't care - in all honesty, there was something he admired in that.

"I think the Colonel just wanted someone who wouldn't get scared off," He confessed.

She snorted. "Maybe he should try hiring runners who don't piss themselves whenever a woman frowns at 'em." For a moment the shell almost seemed cracked, a not-so-scary Susie peeking out. But then a loud clatter sounded across the yard, and DeMarco turned to see one of the deliverymen scrounging to pick up the machine gun rounds that had scattered across the tarmac when he accidentally dropped a crate. "Oi!" Susie yelled, beginning to storm off, raising a hand in what could've either been a wave goodbye or a dismissal.

Meatball tried to nip at her heels as she marched towards the deliveryman, tugging on his leash with such force that DeMarco was almost forced to follow, but he managed to stand his ground. He couldn't make out what Susie was saying at such a distance, but by the way the colour drained from the poor man's face, it was nothing good. Letting out a chuckle, he counted himself lucky that he had yet to meet Commander Lamb at her most formidable.

After all, she did have access to all the bombs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun had barely risen by the time the pilots stepped onto the runway, the airfield bursting into a bustle of activity as the last planes were prepped, and the flight crews readied themselves to board. DeMarco had managed a decent half night's sleep, and was at least in a better mood than he had been the previous afternoon. Although, the powdered eggs they'd served up for breakfast hadn't helped.

There were a dozen things to worry about concerning the flight ahead, but in all honesty he was mainly concerned about what he was going to do with Meatball. It seemed not to have occurred to him when he first adopted the stray that he couldn't bring him on missions, and the prospect of leaving him all alone damn near broke his heart.

His train of thought was severed by the roar of engines as a supply truck rolled up to 'Our Baby' just along the runway to deliver the last of the spare machine gun rounds. A familiar flicker of red caught the light as Susie Lamb craned her head out of the driver's seat window, barking to one of the ground crewmen as he scurried to unload the cargo. An idea sparked in DeMarco's mind, and he could already see Curt shooting him a confounded look as he bounded up to the vehicle.

Susie was just reaching for a lighter, an unlit cigarette poised between her lips, as he reached her window, plastering on the best friendly smile that he could muster. She hadn't heard him approach over the hum of the engine, and the shock of the face suddenly at her side made the cigarette tumble from her mouth, falling into the footwell. "Jesus fucking Christ," She hissed, voice thick with irritation. "Can I help you?"

"I don't have anyone to watch Meatball while I'm up," Benny explained, and she peered out of the window at the dog, who was staring slack-jawed up at her, wagging its tail. "I was wondering if I could trouble you for the favour?"

There was that eyebrow again. She had a way of drawing out those painful silences that just made him want to squirm, immediately regretting whatever he'd asked. Perhaps Hugh's runners had had a point.

"You want me to babysit your dog?"

Suddenly the suggestion felt ridiculous. "Well, I just-"

"Eh, fuck it," Sticking her foot out, Susie kicked open the passenger side door. "Chuck him in."

The moment DeMarco moved to unclip Meatball's leash, it was as if he knew exactly where he was going, claws skittering against the tarmac as he bounded around to the other side of the truck, leaping unprompted up into the seat, tail wagging wildly. It was almost offensive, how pleased the mutt was to be rid of him. "Alright, alright," Benny muttered, closing the door behind him. "Thanks for this. Seriously."

"It's nothing - he already seems to prefer me, anyway."

Shaking his head, he cleared his throat- loudly. "Name's DeMarco, by the way. Bernard DeMarco."

Susie was already tugging at the handbrake, the engine roaring to life once more. "Yeah, I know," She nodded, an almost-smile tugging at her lips, pulling away before he could respond as Meatball's head lolled happily out of the window.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The supply depot was almost empty by the time the pilots returned, the rumble of DeMarco's freshly commandeered jeep splitting the silence as he rolled to a stop, looking around for some sign of his dog. "Susie?" He called as he clambered out, peering into each hangar as he passed, unable to locate any signs of life. The ATS women seemed to have all taken the afternoon - that or they were all busy delivering supplies to the mechanics.

"Susie?"

A familiar bark pierced the air, and he followed it around to the back of one of the buildings. A bench ran along the back wall of the hangar, basking in the afternoon sunlight, and there she sat, a book open in her lap, halfway through eating a sandwich. Her hair was pulled back messily into a bun, stray auburn curls sticking out at random angles, and Meatball lay stretched out at her feet, occasionally jumping up to chase after a tiny yellow butterfly.

"Ah. You're alive then," Susie stated plainly, squinting in the sun as she looked up at him.

DeMarco shrugged. "Just about."

"That's good. Didn't know what I was gonna do with him otherwise," She gestured to Meatball using her sandwich, chuckling as the dog snapped his jaws at a passing insect. "... You ok?"

"Do I not look it?" He took at seat at the opposite end of the bench, a deliberate gap left between them. Benny didn't exactly want to hang around; he was just tired, and he appreciated the opportunity to sit on something that wasn't moving.

"There's a cut on your cheek," She pointed out, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she talked around her food. Raising a hand to his face, DeMarco's fingertips came away red. He hadn't even noticed the pain.

"Occupational hazard... did you feed him?"

"Gave him a sandwich."

"You can't feed a dog a sandwich!" DeMarco exclaimed, and Susie shrugged, nonchalant in a way that annoyed him.

"Well, you're the one who made it my problem! Didn't even ask if I knew what to feed the damn thing!"

"Well, I just assumed you were a human being and had some inclination that dogs might eat dog food. Forgive me."

Susie shot him a glare. "Having a dog isn't a prerequisite to being alive, mate. D'you think I've got dog food sitting around? I have an actual job that I have to do, it gets in the way a bit."

He turned sideways on the bench to look at her properly. "Y'know, I thought people didn't like you because you're mean. But it's really because you don't give a shit about anything except yourself, isn't it?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He wasn't that kind of person - he didn't say those kinds of things to people. He didn't want Susie to think that he did. But she seemed entirely unphased, taking another bite of her sandwich with so little a reaction he almost doubted ever having spoken at all. She chewed and swallowed painfully slowly, and he began to realise she was prolonging the silence on purpose, giving him time to stew on his own words. DeMarco felt his face begin to heat up.

"You can take the dog back now," She said after a while, turning to the next page of her book.

"Susie, I'm sorry," He blurted. She looked at him then, and for a moment he swore he saw surprise in her expression. "I shouldn't've said that."

"Heard worse. Though, most people actually mean it," Susie shrugged. "And I do give a shit about other people. It just... takes a minute."

Nodding slowly, he let out a whistle, and Meatball bounded over, tail wagging as he dutifully allowed him to reattach his leash. DeMarco wasn't quite sure what to say. He didn't know this woman, not yet, but he was getting the distinct impression that the others had been wrong about her. As he stood up, running a hand across his chin, he took a deep breath. "Hey. Me and the fellas are gonna get drinks tonight, to celebrate the mission. You should come."

The corners of her lips turned up in a smirk. "Yeah. I mean, I was going anyway - but I'll be there."

"Alright," Benny nodded, smiling involuntarily. "I'll buy you a beer. Call it payment - for the babysitting."

"Well if I'm getting paid I definitely won't feed him sandwiches next time," Susie joked. He let out a laugh, suddenly realising that, yes. There would be a next time.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

If there was one thing Thorpe Abbotts would have benefitted from, it was an additional pub. The village had not been prepared for the sudden influx of pilots and crew and the hundreds of other workers that came with them, so a night in the pub had become a sure recipe for claustrophobia and havoc. Meatball was curled up at DeMarco's feet, half sitting on him for lack of space beneath the table. A pile of empty pint glasses was growing in the centre of the table, laughter growing louder with each passing drink as they grew steadily more intoxicated - drunk on victory more than they were alcohol.

Susie stood at the bar with a small group of ATS girls, beer in hand, listening and chuckling along to their stories of workplace mishaps and awkward encounters with the men they had to work with. Even if every single other person at Thorpe Abbotts thought poorly of her, the women under Susie's command never would. She was a protector - a personification of a rougher class of women, utterly unafraid to throw a punch where the others shied away. In Norfolk, it was uncommon to find an English girl working in a job like this who hadn't been raised in privilege - middle-class families in country cottages, who had never had reason to find an occupation until war broke out. None of them quite understood why Susie Lamb had come all this way, her Manchester accent sticking out like a sore thumb - but they were glad she had.

"-And then I told him, 'Mate, if you're not gone in five minutes, I'll kick your balls so far up your throat you won't need breakfast'," Susie explained, the women around her erupting into laughter as she wiped a thin line of beer foam away from her top lip.

Charlotte chuckled, the red-haired Subaltern finishing off a half-pint of cider as she reached into her pocket for a cigarette. "The pool table's freed up - we should get in there before the Yanks get a chance."

Susie nodded in firm agreement, and was about to follow the other women towards the far corner of the pub when a sudden mass at her feet almost tripped her, beer sloshing over the rim of her glass and landing on Meatball's head as he let out a bewildered yelp. Letting out a tsk as she sucked her teeth, she crouched down beside the dog, grabbing for a napkin as she dabbed at his fur. "You've gotta watch yourself, lad," She scolded gently, soft voice barely audible in the pub's din. "Can't go wonderin', your dad'll worry."

Tilting his damp head up at her, Meatball let out a whine, his tail beginning to wag as he seemed to recognise her face. "Hey, Meatball, quit runnin' off," A familiar voice called across the crowd. Giving the dog an affectionate scratch below its chin, Susie rose to her feet, lifting a hand to beckon DeMarco over. "Oh, hey. Well, at least he found a familiar face in this damn place," He huffed.

"Well, he did get covered in beer for his trouble, not sure he'll bother again," She shrugged, batting Meatball away as he tried to stick his nose up under the hem of her skirt.

With a sudden, sinking feeling, DeMarco realised he'd forgotten to buy her the drink he'd promised. Rummaging in his pockets, he handed over a few coins to cover the cost. It wasn't the same. "Sorry, I, uh... I forgot you were coming," He admitted, red tinting his cheeks in shame.

"No worries - I noticed you were far too busy losing at darts," Susie teased, shoving the money into her pocket.

"Hey, now, I wouldn't call it losing," Shaking his head, he moved closer to where she stood at the bar, stepping out of the way of the crowds.

"Really? Failing, then?"

DeMarco batted a hand in dismissal, a smile curling his lips. "Oh, well, if you're so good at darts-"

"I am actually," Susie shrugged.

"Of course you are. You're gonna say you Brits are all good at playing darts - just like you're all good at making tea and... I dunno, sheep herding?"

She let out a laugh, teeth peeking through her grin. He liked her smile. There was a rosy pink in her cheeks, and he couldn't tell if it was the warmth of the pub or the alcohol or something else, but it suited her.

Susie nodded as she took another sip of her drink. "Aw, you got me. You've found my secret hobby - I do love to herd sheep. Yes."

Benny smiled warmly, leaning one elbow up against the bar as he watched her. A curl had slipped loose from behind her ear, and in the warm light of the room, it shone a flaming red. From across the room, a few of the ATS women let out a cheer, the orange-haired woman he'd met at the supply depot grinning as she passed her pool cue to the next woman. He cleared his throat. "Oh, by the way, could I talk to, uh - Charlotte? Is it?"

Her smile vanished. A wave of panic filled him. Susie began to nod bitterly, gnawing at the inside of her lip. There was a look in her eye, like she'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it finally had.

"Are you kidding me? ...Yeah. Yunno what? Fuck you, DeMarco."

“What? I don’t-”

“No, no. I get it. You thought being nice to me would get you an in with the pretty ATS girls - you’re not the first one who’s tried it,” Tilting her head, she upturned the rest of her beer, swallowing it in a single gulp. “Charlotte’s engaged, by the way. I’m sure you can try your luck somewhere else.”

"Susie, I didn't-"

"Hey Benny!" Egan's voice rang out from over by the dartboard. "C'mon, it's your turn!"

"Yeah, Benny, it's your turn," Susie repeated, her words laced with venom, practically spitting his own name back at him. "Although, two losses in one night might be a bit rough, eh?"

His mouth gaped open and shut for a moment like a dying fish, and before he could find a word to say she had scoffed, rolling her eyes as she pushed away from the bar, diving into the crowd as she fought to put distance between them. Meatball had almost tried to follow her before the wall of people separated them, and he let out a defeated whimper, returning to his owner, tail between his legs.

Charlotte was about to bend over to take her next shot when she felt a hand pressed against her shoulder. Turning her head, she saw Susie, cheeks flushed, a frown furrowing her brow. "Can I bum a cig? I'm heading off," She whispered.

"Yeah, sure," The subaltern nodded, holding out the crumpled box she carried with her. "You ok?"

"All good. Thanks," She nodded, propping a cigarette between her lips as she made for the door. The night air hit her face with such chilling force that it almost hurt, a cloud forming as she sighed, plucking a lighter from her pocket, the cigarette embers releasing a comforting heat.

The walk back to barracks was a long one, a seemingly endless row of identical Nissen huts stretching out before her by the time Susie reached the airfield, exhaling one puff of smoke after another. There was always too much stewing in her mind - a solid wall of white noise, her thoughts stirring together like ingredients to the most repugnant soup ever concocted. It was difficult to even pluck out a single emotion amongst all that hubbub.

I hate you DeMarco, but I like your dog, but you're just like everyone else, except if you're not, except if I was wrong.

The lights in her hut turned on with a click, the room filling itself with a yellow glow, the faint hum of lightbulbs audible in the silence. Everyone else was out - dress uniforms taken off their hangers, the smell of freshly applied perfume still lingering in the air. Susie had stomped her cigarette out on the damp grass outside, the smell of smoke permeating her clothes. She raised her hands to cover her face, agonised groan muffled by the sweaty skin of her palms as she collapsed backwards onto her bed, the springs creaking noisily.

Staring at the ceiling didn't solve anything - not the anger in her chest, nor the lingering feeling in her gut that she'd gotten something badly wrong. Letting her head loll to the side, Susie stared at the picture frame propped up on her nightstand, the photo's corners battered and bent beneath the layer of glass that encased it. Her mother, rounded and warm, a tiny, swaddled baby in her arms. Her father, sturdy and dependable, holding a spindly, blond-headed toddler against his hip. And a row of six little children, flashing the same gap-toothed smiles, all dressed in their nicest clothes, which never quite seemed to fit properly.

She could see her own face - a tiny, chubby, three-year-old face that wasn't really her own anymore, curls erupting like a lion's mane around her head. They were all squinting in the sun, lined up outside the only house she'd ever called her own. She could feel their eyes on her - her own most of all. Reaching out, Susie caught the top of the frame with her finger, flipping it over, out of sight, as if covering their faces would somehow make her feel less judged.

"Oh, piss off, you lot."

[nite-eyes]

WIP "Wednesday"

Living legend @tragediegh tagged me to share a snippet of something I'm working on! Surprise, surprise: I'm still chipping away at my pre-Fool's Errand fic wherein Liveship chronology is dismantled entirely so that Beloved can rush to the cabin to care for Fitz who is, as always, Going Through It. Here's a fun little scene of The Pack snuggling after a rough night.

When Fitz wakes again, it is nearing midday. He blinks blearily, eyes gritty and sore from the night’s weeping. His head is pillowed on the Fool’s chest, and the golden man’s elegant fingers run through his hair, unraveling it from its tight plait. The wolf lounges against his back. There is a supreme sense of safety here, bracketed between them. Fitz feels small; is loath to move ever again.  I thought we were not supposed to lay in bed all day, Fitz observes. The Fool’s other arm is snaked under Fitz’s neck and his hand rests companionably on the wolf’s ruff. This is different, Nighteyes answers wisely. Because you are enjoying it?, Fitz jests. But the wolf is earnest in his reply. Because this is time with pack. All are enriched.  Fitz hums, considering this. The Fool shifts under him and lays his gloved palm sweetly against Fitz's temple. "What are you two talking about?," he murmurs, his voice rumbling Fitz’s ear.  "Normally, Nighteyes would not wish for me to be abed so long," Fitz explains, tilting his head so he can see the sharp edge of the Fool’s jaw. "But he’s allowing it this time. It’s good for the pack to spend time together." Nighteyes grumbles in agreement, shifting closer to Fitz.  "The pack," the Fool echoes, his voice strange.  "The three of us," Fitz agrees sleepily. He feels nearly drunk on their nearness, on the touch all around him. Moves in slow, unthinking ways toward the warmth of it, like a flower turning toward the sun. His arm is draped over the Fool’s waist and he tightens his grip there. The Fool stills, seems to hold his breath. Then, tentatively, he slides his hand back into the wild black curls, raking his fingertips against Fitz’s scalp and locking him in place against his chest. Under his ear, Fitz hears the thundering of the Fool’s heartbeat. The rushing sound lulls him and he drifts again, though the long lines of the tawny man’s body remain alert and watchful, his grip resolute. Like he's bracing for someone to wrest Fitz from his arms at any moment. Eventually Nighteyes grows impatient and hungry. The Scentless One’s sense of me grows, the wolf informs Fitz proudly. Observe. He proceeds to think very fixedly of ginger cakes: how much he’d like one and how wise and clever the Fool is for making them so well, and wouldn't he like to make some soon? Fitz buries his smile in the soft fabric of the Fool's tunic. After a few minutes of this, the Fool murmurs, "Are you hungry, dear one? Shall I make us a very late breakfast?" Fitz startles him by barking out a laugh. Behind him, the wolf rolls onto his back, tongue lolling, immensely pleased with himself. The Fool rises onto one elbow, displacing Fitz into his lap, and looks between them in consternation. While Fitz, still chuckling, does his best to explain, the Fool levels Nighteyes with evaluating stare, one brow raised. But his eyes are dancing, and the corner of his mouth curls up and up, despite his efforts to look stern. In one lithe movement, the wolf flips onto his feet and licks the side of the Fool’s face. To Fitz’s surprise, the Fool blushes and then slides his eyes over to meet his own. "I have been trying," he allows. "I flatter myself that I hear him better than before." Fitz assures him that the wolf agrees, and the Fool preens extravagantly, bending to peck Nighteyes on the top of his head. Then he vaults from the bed in a graceful leap and declares grandly, "Ginger cakes, ho!" and capers into the kitchen with the wolf prancing at his heels.

If you see this and are working on something that you're eager to share, please please do so! Thank you for reading ily <3 <3

[faithfromanewperspective]

these are a few of my favorite things (unfortunately not raindrops on roses and brown paper whatevers)

thanks to @thevagabondexpress and @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone (if i remember correctly) for the tag!

movie: i don't know. i don't really watch movies much. last one that made me feel something and still inspires what i do today is hacksaw ridge (saw it last 6 years ago and have to admit this may be Romantic Secondhand Appreciation but. i still think of it when i fight climate change. so it stays)

character: no character exists in a vacuum. i'm nominating all four merry thieves

animal: i know too much ecology to nominate a single one. i love all birds and large herbivorous marsupials as well as echidnas. guinea fowls (current pfp) really do reflect my personality a lot though

drink: smoothies. you can make them as delicious or as gross but healthy as you want. preferably both. no two smoothies are ever the same but rarely is a smoothie bad, they eliminate all the inconsistencies of fruit by simply pooling the sample pool together and averaging it out.

song: technically 2 songs but they're one track on the album so: has to go to outer space/carry on by 5 seconds of summer. creates such an atmosphere that goes perfectly with the story it tells, is terribly nostalgic, and ends in such an optimistic and encouraging way. tells of open ocean (did i once help design a space city with this inspo?) and the loneliness that's as if you're in space, longing for rain (i love rain okay you will see me in a raincoat taking photos of everything because it looks cooler when wet) just to feel something. longing for lost love. and the fact that through anything you can go on and life keeps going and you can survive it all but the way the (double) song sets it up you feel like you've gone on an adventure by the time you get there.

season: i love autumn and spring in equal measure for different reasons. i love brisbane winters when i don't have a 9-5 job but i also love sydney summers.

book: once you see it: 7 temptations of the western church by jeff christopherson. answering @tleeaves question from a while back (finally), have you done one of these? fully fangirled hard enough to message the author on facebook, we're somewhat friends now. but it tells the story of a bunch of different people from different backgrounds and uses narrative to drive its points, ending with them making something (i could talk about it for hours) that i long to emulate. while moving through organisations that embody these 7 temptations/mistakes and fail because of it, except they look exactly like the churches we know and yes. this is why they are failing in many ways if we just open our eyes to it we can do much better.

color: purple of some kind. maybe a darker purple?

hobby: all the things i do that connect me with nature and other people. from building recycled things for a purpose to taking care of birds to arranging poppunkrock songs for my viola and whoever else i play with to analysing the way fictional characters interact and applying it with real life people to canyoning (google it, it's incredibly fun) and hiking and rock climbing and of course designing civilisations for humans as well as other species

tagging (only if you want to of course): @completeanduttermess and @failempires and @what-ho-christopher-put-in

[littlesparklight]

<3 thank you @papillon82fluttersby :D

The Rules: Tag (9) people you want to know better and/or catch up with, then answer the following:

Four ships:

Zeus/Ganymede: feel like it'd be a crime not to start here, haha. I've always been into mythology, but randomly thinking about Ganymede's myth a couple years ago now (that long!!) got me wanting to read Greek myth stuff, and I started with the Iliad (for the Trojan-related angle) and the Bibliotheke, and so. I might currently be more focused elsewhere but this is still my beloved ship <3 You can do so much with them, and, especially, I'd say, by interpreting them as mutually in love. There's obviously other m/m couples in Greek myth and even one of those that at first looks tragic doesn't need to end that way (Apollo/Hyacinthus) but there are so many reasons Zeus/Ganymede is the one that has me by the throat.

Menelaos/Paris: Honestly, looking back I'm not quite sure how I didn't zero in on this one from reading the Iliad itself the first time, because this is definitely one of the flavours of ships I love. This ship is also what led to, first, Helen/Menelaos/Paris for me and then Helen/Paris, because 99% of the time I just don't care at all about het ships. This ship is also why I currently am like I am about Paris! Make no mistake, I didn't hate or dislike him before that, either, like the majority of Tumblr (and elsewhere) seem to do; reading the Iliad I mostly thought him kinda hapless and inoffensive, so going from there and liking him wasn't that big of a step. The possibility of them having bonded during those nine days in Sparta (or in Troy!), going from friends (or more) to enemies with complicated feelings still in the background is just so damn juicy to me.

Carmilla/Laura: original novella flavour! One day I hope to do a rewrite/retelling of my own, that would definitely end with Laura going or otherwise together with Carmilla, one way or another. The way Carmilla talks to/about Laura and what they feel for each other is just. so great. The caterpillar quote. The one about Laura loving her or hating her, and especially "love will have its sacrifices; no sacrifice without blood". And you know. The boob-biting to feed is extremely inspired and very hot, even if Le Fanu undoubtedly didn't mean it that way. I don't care. They're mine now. :)

Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker: Since I am so deeply into gen&family ships aside from romantic/sexual shipping, it feels, again, like a crime not to mention these two. The ST might have broken the back of my fannish engagement in SW currently, but these two? I love them. I love Luke's impossible and earnest belief in his father's inherent goodness, I love that fucking scene at the end of ESB where Vader reaches out and Luke reflexively, despite everything, says 'father?' HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE IT???

Last song: Oh, uhh... I don't remember, but it's possible it was Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer (happens to be one of my Helen/Paris songs for late war lol). I end up listening to a row of songs while drawing, sometimes (which is the only time I can listen to music and actually do something else at the same time), but it could have been another one, just as well.

Currently reading: Iliaden - en cover, by Dimitrios Iordanoglou, which is a (pretty heavily, sometimes) abridged and modernized version of the Iliad where the language is extremely slangy sometimes and the setting has been moved into "present day". Everyone uses guns and stuff. Apollo's main epithet is now "the Bomber" lol and he uses bombs and grenades. It's both extremely fun(ny) and really interesting, even if the language used sometimes make me wince even when I get why he's chosen it. But it's exactly because I know the changes he's made etc. that makes it extra interesting. When he keeps lines word-for-word from the Iliad they both stick out and fit in very well and it's interesting to see that, too. Also, and much longer than the above, is Paris in the Epic Tradition : a Study in Homeric Techniques of Characterization by Roberto Nickel, his thesis from 1997! I've mentioned it before; Nickel is exploring the possibility of the Iliad having changed/presented Paris (a lot) differently from how he might have been in traditional oral epic material. It's really interesting!

Last movie: Dungeon and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves! Loved it, a lot of fun, and despite how long it was, it all moved along at a good clip, nothing dragged.

Craving: Uh... :C Fics/art for my rare pairs? lol

Tagging: @a-gnosis @battlinghurricanes @crowlilies @my-name-is-apollo @scribeprotra @kebriones

[cryptid-crafted]

oh lawd, the cryptid's craftin'

Hey-ho, writeblr! After some life upheaval and major goal/process restructuring, I'm back (if the profile picture looks familiar, you've got good eyes - I used to be @/goinggremlin).

The Basics:

Alex (he/they)

Late 20s, Midwest USA

Trans man, aroace, AuDHD

On Writing:

My genres: fantasy, horror, sci-fi, occasional contemporary fiction

My influences: Tamsyn Muir, Mark Lawrence, Joe Abercrombie, Robin Hobb, Martha Wells, Yasuhiro Nightow

My favorite themes/tropes/topics/etc: death and rebirth; found family and queerness; "this shit sucks but we stay silly"; body horror; characters with guard dog vibes; "it's rotten work" / "not to me. not if it's you"; banter and witty comedy, esp. as a juxtaposition to The Horrors; trauma and its cycles; shitty people doing shitty things; grumpy (with a heart of gold) x sunshine (with a soul black as night); 2nd person POV

About Me:

I am NOT a writer with any formal training - I'm self-taught, but always interested in learning.

I've been writing consistently for nearly seven years now. I started with fanfiction and over the last year and a half have begun transitioning to more original work.

I'm really bad at interacting consistently, as most of my limited energy goes toward writing. I love sharing resources and prompts, however, and will more often participate in ask games than tag games ❤️ Community is important but I'm most often found on the fringes.

I won't post large chunks of WIP often, because I am slow (but also like privacy during drafting). I will post fun snippets of dialogue or description because I crave validation and am unashamed about admitting that.

I love swapping tips and tricks, or just generally talking about the writing process!

You can also find me on my more fan-focused blog, @thechaoscryptid! I'm a firm believer that transformative work is a valid (even necessary) part of the creative world. You may (will) hear about some of my fanwork on this blog in the context of craft or process.

Published works:

That Bright and Bitter Dawn (Queer for the New Year, Balance of Seven, 2022)

Wintersong (Many Hands, Duck Prints Press, 2024)

It Watches (Cryptid Carols To Sing In the Dark, Memento Vivere Press, 2024 - upcoming)

WIPs:

(to be updated at a later date)

Behind the Blog:

In addition to writing, you'll also hear about cooking and knitting and cat parenting, oh my! I've been passionate about food since I could pick up a knife; knitting is a recent but rewarding hobby I pick at when I need something to do with my hands.

I have three cats (Shino, Rorschach, and Chaos) and two snakes (Jormungandr and Oda).

I work third shift (at a book warehouse!) and am usually pretty brain/pain foggy, so if I space on an ask or tag game...it's not you, it's me.

I fandom hop SO much, largely around the anime scene (Trigun, Naruto, SK8: the Infinity, BNHA, Bungou Stray Dogs...so many more...). I'm also a huge BG3 and FE:3H enthusiast, even though video games aren't usually my go-to.

This year I've been plowing through a lot of fantasy and sci-fi books that I hope to be able to sit down and write down my thoughts about!

I'm also a huge music enthusiast, and listen to a lot of metal and folk music. Favorite bands include (but are definitely not limited to) Sabaton, Fish In A Birdcage, Autoheart, Faun, Delain, and Port Sulphur Band.

That's about it! My ask box is always open (my DMs are not, unless specifically invited please), and I'm looking forward to dipping my toes into the writeblr waters once again.

[spicyseonghwas]

+ kang seo min ! ; member of : NCT !

----------------------------------------- [ masterlist ] -----------------------------------------

BASIC INFO ➳

birth name :: kang seo min hangul :: 강서민 birthday :: january 15th, 1994 ; 29 years old chinese zodiac :: dog western zodiac :: capricorn birthplace :: gwangju, south korea nationality :: korean ethnicity :: eurasion pronouns :: he/they, fae/faers sexuality :: bisexual (?) lives/raised in :: chania, greece from birth to 14 years, then busan, south korea until current

CAREER ➳

stage alias :: MINN occupations :: idol, model groups :: it has been confirmed that he's gearing up for his debut! however, the group's name has not been revealed yet. labels :: sm, konnect

PHYSICAL ➳

eyes :: dark brown hair :: naturally black; he changes its color very frequently, it's one of his favorite hobbies! weight :: 167.19lbs (75.83kg) height :: 6'0 (182.88cm)

PERSONALITY ➳

positive personality traits :: kind, strong, brave, doesn't give up easily, bubbly, happy virus, easy to communicate with neutral personality traits :: very talkative, easily excitable, master of insults negative personality traits :: he can sometimes be very harsh & unforgiving; becomes stressed/overworked easily, which leads to fights with his anxiety; he can also be very forgetful and sometimes extremely scatterminded. worst fears :: minn names bear hugs from his groupmate johnny seo as one of his words fears. some other things he's quite afraid of spiders, girls under 5'4 in height, and the idea of losing the people closest to him: his friends, groupmates, family, and of course his beloved boyfriend, who is rumored to be nct's jung jaehyun. likes :: candy- especially chocolates, cats- especially black cats, tea, dinosaurs dislikes :: spiders, horses (he got kicked in the face once), green apples

FUN FACTS/TMI (limited!) ➳ 

+ he claims to have a spirit attached to him! (that's quite a long story; it'll be posted sometime soon!) + he's highly allergic to malt, peanuts, and coffee beans. he's so severely allergic to malt that it's pretty much deathly. he's been to the hospital three times because of it. + he's so scatter-minded that he frequently mixes up taeil and taeyong, as well as jaemin and jaehyun! + he was born in chania, greece, to mother kang jung ho. a fan asked him his father's name once, name was never disclosed, minn says it's always been a rather icy topic. + in december of 2020, minn came out to the world and kpop community as a bisexual, but some of his recent posts have hinted that he may be questioning that. + minn says that some of his idol-mates at sm pick light fun at him sometimes because of his height, and he always gets mad about it and picks on them back. + when minn was six years old, he was professionally diagnosed with moderate to sever anxiety disorder, and two years later he was diagnosed with bipolar one disorder as well. + several sm idols, as well as multiple group managers and several of the agency's staff, have said that minn has a huge heart. he's extremely reliable and he's always there when someone needs it; and the rookies and trainees absolutely adore him because of this. being a trainee can be stressful, difficult, tiring, and sometimes tiring, and they say that minn has always been there to support him. + minn had wanted to be a singer since he was fourteen, when a boy he was friends with- jinho of pentagon, who's almost 3 years older than him, with made his debut as an idol. + wanna learn more about kang seomin? click here! + want to be tagged in content involving seomin? send an ask!

© seonghwas-lighter 2023-2024.

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 10)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+ Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f & m receiving), I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

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NOTE: check out the Character & Setting Cheat Sheet for a refresher on who's who

His father hadn’t come to the ball at all. Seokjin felt simultaneously relieved and offended. He’d thought his father was just in the side rooms and gone in search of him, eager for a break from the young women vying for a turn with him on the dance floor. And also to let some of the alcohol settle in his blood after he’d nearly come to blows with Namjoon. It wouldn’t have gone that far. He’d thought about taking it that far, but it had only been a thought, because he had asked Mindeulle to dance and Namjoon had suggested he ought to dance with his own betrothed more and his sister less, obviously a jab that Nasimiyu had not dance with him again since the first two sets.

But suddenly Nasimiyu had swooped in like a phoenix, taken him for a dance, and then spun off again to be swallowed by a cloud of young women. His head spun from it, he was so relieved she’d asked him to dance. That had to mean he wasn’t fucking it up too badly, right? 

He wanted to let their dance linger and let the alcohol work its way out so he went in search of his father, as if that had ever once cooled his head. But he didn’t find him at any of the gambling tables like he had expected to, not in any of the lounges at all. A chance encounter with cousin Zselyke confirmed: he hasn’t made an appearance yet.

It was an insult. It was offensive. It could be taken as a slight against Nasimiyu if anyone noticed. It was offensive to him too. Zselyke was clearly offended. King Donggun loved a party, so why hadn’t he come to this one? Seokjin had half a mind to march up to his father’s wing and demand an answer. He’d never missed any of Seok-ho’s parties. Wasn’t Seokjin good enough?

He didn’t want an answer to that. 

Instead he stuck to the shadows as much as his shimmery white costume would allow and climbed all the way to the third floor in pursuit of sugar to soothe. He passed a brawl being broken up by guards on the way and couldn’t decide if it was better for things to start breaking down this late in the night –did that mean people were having fun and would talk about it for ages to come?-- or worse –were people bored and overly drunk? And the Nasimiyu element of course, did she like a proper party or a wild one? He would have guessed proper until she wore that… How was he to know either way though when frankly he hated all types of parties? 

He passed on the glass of sugar champagne, handing it over to Hoseok.

“Are you about done with the party? You’ve done well so far, I’m very impressed,” Hoseok praised. His current babysitter. Jimin had left his side earlier –to dance with Dulce, as a matter of fact. For some inexplicable reason. Taehyung had danced with her. Jungkook had danced with her. Yoongi was the one he wanted to have a dance with her, if that was the path to seduction! He knew the kind of fun Taehyung and Jimin got up to after these parties, Jungkook too. They didn’t need to drag sweet Dulce into that debaucherous filth. If she had wanted to go then… then that was a different matter but she didn’t. He felt sure of that after how shy she’d been in the porn closet. 

“Speak of a demon and a demon shall come,” he muttered with amusement. Or meant to mutter. Apparently he said it loudly enough to be heard because Dulce looked up from the table. Instead of her soft brown eyes he was met with that ghastly skeletal mask. Had Nasimiyu been afraid of competition? Did she have a dark humor? Did she find this sort of thing appealing and it was just a side of Nasimiyu that Seokjin hadn’t seen yet? Why had she dressed her handmaiden as this instead of a butterfly or a flower or a fluffy animal like most of the other women here?

Realizing she might think he meant she was a demon (all right, he’d meant that a little, but not sincerely), he hurried to correct, “You finally found the dessert table? You’ve been too busy dancing, I noticed. I didn’t know you danced at all.”

“I’m… adequate.”

“Do you enjoy it? Dancing?”

“Do you?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a grin as he grabbed a small silver plate to pile with treats. The table overflowed with them –cakes, cookies, pies, parfaits in little crystal glasses. Guests appeared to have been shattering them when they finished; glass shards sparkled on the floor like a sea of knives under the flickering glow of the dimmed chandeliers up here.

Catching himself, he added, “But my betrothed does, so now I do.” He habitually searched for the sparkle in her eyes that he had begun to suspect was amusement but again, nothing but that metal mask. “And so do you, even though you won’t admit it. You’ve danced too much to deny it.”

“I was asked.”

“You can tell my friends no.” He wasn’t sure if she’d danced with anyone other than his friends, actually. But he considered now how close Taehyung and Jimin had been standing to her, whispering something, as he followed Nasimiyu to the dance floor. How close to her Jungkook had stood when he’d asked for the dance. How close Taehyung had held her earlier for that first one. He felt compelled to add, “Please understand that you can. You are under no obligation for anything stupid they might suggest. You can say no to anything and if they bother you a single hair further, let me know and I will handle it.” She gave a slight bow of her head, a slight curtsy, and looked back to the table. 

Did that mean Jimn and Taehyung had not propositioned her for anything more? 

She looked up at a shout behind them, followed by a crash and the shatter of glass. Someone screamed fire! as a candleholder was knocked off the wall but before anything even caught, someone else had stomped it out. It was just a bit of drunken chaos and yet Seokjin stepped closer and in front of Dulce out of instinct. He looked around but didn’t see any guards within reach to throw the drunk revelers out. All he had to do was glance at Hoseok who nodded,

“I’ll handle it.”

To keep Dulce from worrying, he nodded towards the table, “It’s quite a spread, isn’t it?”

“Is your cook friend the one who planned this?”

Ah, asking about Yoongi? That was… good. Great!

“Not this part,” he admitted. “He doesn’t like sweets much.” He didn’t know why he’d said that, it wasn’t completely true. Yoongi didn’t like them as much as he did maybe but that was a different bar. “I think the food is the best part of a ball. What about you?”

“This is my first ball.”

“Oh. Right, of course… you just look the part, I forgot…” She lifted her glass of wine in her free hand from the table, and in turning profile he could see how long her dark hair reached, all the way to the small of her back. The ends curled starting around her shoulders without the braid, and her black dress made it more obvious there was a brown hue to her hair; it caught the candlelight like embers glowed in the strands.

“No wonder you braid your hair,” he mused. “It’s so long, it must get everywhere. Doesn’t it strangle you while you sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then why let it grow so long?” She looked up at him, or her mask did, and he lamented, “Ah, it’s a real hassle not to be able to see your eyes to know whether you’re amused or angry. Don’t cut your hair, you don’t have to do what I say, it just seems impractical.”

“It is.”

“Yes but you’re beautiful. Not everything has to be practical. If you cut it now I’ll cry and shave my head in penance,” he corrected himself. He didn’t think that things had to be practical. Why had he said that to her? But she always seemed so efficient, so practical, no room for opinions or fun, not even a celebration of her own beauty –and yet she let her hair grow long. Braided and out of the way usually, but long. What did it mean? What did it tell him about her? He wanted to understand her. 

She was just looking at him –well unless her gaze was elsewhere, but her face was turned up to his. His inability to read her made him suddenly uncomfortable, and he grabbed a tiny tart from the table and shoved it into his mouth. It was more delicious than he had expected though and his amazement was sincere.

“Oh, by Royal Decree, you have to try this,” he said, holding one out to her. But her hands were full with the wine glass and a plate, and even he could see that if he set one single thing on the plate, it was going to overbalance. Which filled him with an instant and embarrassing warmth, to realize she had loaded the fuck up with desserts. It was like she thought she’d never get to taste one again. She loved sweets, it was so obvious, there wasn’t a single way she could deny it now. None of the delicate eating of the ladies either. It was endearing, he was so charmed, he was so happy to see her eating well.

So happy, in fact, that he forgot himself, and held the tart to her lips. He fed her. He fed his betrothed’s handmaiden a small tart. Probably surprised, she bit it from his fingers; the transferral left a glob of raspberry filling on his thumb which he quickly sucked away with his tongue. There was a drop on her lip as well and he was so flustered by this point that he reached out to wipe it away. Her tongue darted out to catch it first. His thumb brushed her tongue.

“Ha! I’m not a pastry, sweet as I am,” he blurted out in an attempt to smooth it over. He yanked his hands away and blindly grabbed something else from the table. A cream-filled puff pastry that he grabbed too strongly; his fingers sank in, popping cream all over his hand. “Ah, huh, I suppose this is more than I should lick off in decent company… um…” He stood there, helplessly with his hands covered in cream.

Dulce set her plate and glass down, lifted a napkin from the piles tucked in among the desserts, and wiped at his hands. Even dipped it in her glass –which he now realized was water, not wine. And he, like a lump of fool, just stood there and let her clean his hands, like he was a helpless toddler who’d never eaten a puff pastry in his life.

Then, without commenting on it at all, she folded the towel up and set it beside her glass on the table, and took another raspberry tart from the serving dish. As if none of that buffoonery had happened.

“These are very good.”

Instantly he crowed, “Ha! An opinion!”

“On tarts. Nothing more serious.”

“Why not?”

“Opinions in a maid are... impractical.”

“Ok, let’s agree, something doesn’t have to be practical to have value. Take, for instance, my face. Fierce on a battlefield? No. Feeding the poor? Only looks. Impressing my betrothed? Not even.” Ah, he shouldn’t have said those. His jokes were running away with him. But more than that, mentioning his betrothed felt awkward right now.

“You’re wearing a mask.”

“Hm?”

“You’re wearing a mask,” Dulce reminded him.

“Everyone is. Didn’t you notice?”

She didn’t say anything, just looked up at him. He smiled, not only because he’d made a funny joke, but because it was one of those jokes with depth. Everyone had masks. Not just at a masquerade. Every day. There were few who weren’t wearing masks, pursuing some agenda, concealing some motive, performing a role they hoped they could fool people into believing they were good enough for. It was a profound thought, and he wished someone like Namjoon was here for him to patronize with it.

“Yes.”  

He looked down at her bronze shield and considered too that masks could look like many things. He felt most himself wearing pajamas in his bedroom, or his glasses disguise into the city. When did Dulce feel most herself? With her hair braided or undone? She suited even this fancy performance. No wonder probably nobody suspected she was actually a maid. She didn’t look like a maid or act like a maid. She looked striking like this. Maybe she’d been born into the wrong life, and she should have been at balls like this all along. Maybe she was happier like this.

“I’m very observant.”

Her comment cracked through his thoughts and laughter bubbled out.

“You spoil me with your jokes,” he laughed. “What a treat. Will I get one for every tart I feed you?”

“Do not feed me more tarts.”

Oooops. Yeah. He should not be hand-feeding any woman anything, but especially not his betrothed’s handmaiden. Not that anyone would recognize her. He didn’t recognize her. He hated that mask. He wanted to rip it off and see what her expression actually showed, even when her reactions were so subtle you had to look close and doubt you saw anything. He had the sudden impulse to ban masks forever. Wouldn’t this party be better if he could actually see the response to his attempts at charming?

Not that he was trying to charm her! No, obviously not! And even if he had been, she wasn’t charmed by him, she was humoring the future husband of her lady. She was just standing there, gaze hidden behind the fingers of death. 

“You know, I have a pair just like that,” he said, suddenly reaching up to touch one of the hands. She flinched. He hadn’t seen her flinch before, she was always so unmoved. It  compelled him to hurry and clarify, “Skeleton hands I mean. Except mine aren’t bronze or gold or anything special. They’re just bones.”

“In your… hands?”

“Yes, exactly.”

He held his hands up as if to show her. And even though he couldn’t see her face, he could feel her confusion as she lifted her hands. Relaxed, fingers spread, palms up like a surrender, the pairing with the death mask and her captivating dress of shadow, she looked like a vision of beautiful death. She was going to haunt his dreams like this, he was sure of it. He couldn’t believe Nasimiyu had wanted her to wear something so low cut but she must have paid for and approved this costume.  

“Ah I see you have a pair just like it,” he joked, flustered by the stupid bumbling of his own dumb brain. “We are the same, you see. So much in common. So may I have a dance?” The words rolled off his tongue without thinking, or maybe thinking of the dance he hadn’t asked for in the city, the dance that really wasn’t appropriate for either of them to take now, the dance that ought to be allowed only here, only now, because this was a masquerade and nobody was themself. No one was a king or a prince or a princess. No one was a handmaiden. They were all just masked bones.

Still, he had not in his wildest dreams expected her to actually rest her hand in his, palm up like she’d never held a hand or accepted a dance before, and say, “All right.” 

He spent the entire walk to the dance floor expecting her to change her mind. Or for one of his friends to materialize and steal her away, but Hoseok was the only one he’d seen and Seokjin had thrust Dulce’s plate at him to hold so she wouldn’t lose her desserts. Or maybe he himself should have been the one to realize maybe this was not the best idea. It would bring attention to her that she didn’t want, and if she was recognized, the gossip would be a nuisance. They’d squash it. But Nasimiyu might be angry. But Nasimiyu had danced with so many people tonight, it wasn’t like Seokjin was keeping track. What did it matter? Surely if she had even an ounce of possessiveness in her, she’d prefer he dance safely with her unassuming handmaid than some noble woman actually out for interference. She was the one who had dressed Dulce like that and brought her here! He was duty-bound to look after Dulce.

“Lots of waltzes tonight,” he mused as they took up space on the dance floor. He hadn’t considered she was much smaller than many of the noblewomen he typically danced with –certainly shorter than Nasimiyu and Mindeulle. It meant a much more comfortable position for his arms as he lifted her hand in one and pressed the other to her back. Her hair tickled his fingers and palm and he didn’t know the proper thing to do about it. It felt overly intimate to touch her hair.

“It’s my favorite dance,” he added. And because he felt comfortable with it, added, “Because I can look good doing very simple things.” She didn’t smile but he didn’t expect her to. Her hand was light in his as he pulled her into motion, doing his best to be mindful of her skirt, which flared out much further than Nasimiyu’s.

He started with simple steps in case she wasn’t as practiced, because why would she be? She had looked elegant dancing with Taehyung and Jungkook but maybe they were just better leads than him. But she flowed easily through a spin he sent her alon, with the pleasant discovery that he didn’t have to worry as much about bashing in her face with his elbows because she was shorter and because those skewers were a sharp reminder to lift his arm high enough.

“You could kill someone with that mask.”

“Hm?” Her simple remark caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected a response, certainly not an airy one of confusion. Was the dancing difficult for her? Was she concentrating? He wished he could see her face to know for sure –or at least know if it was something that showed on her face. 

He fumbled the step, thinking too much. He quickly tried to recover, brace both of them for the impact of her running into him. But she didn’t. No collision occurred. Her step merely adjusted and continued as his had done, even though they were dancing backwards now. 

“Um.”

She must realize they were backwards as he awkwardly laughed and tried to figure out how to fix it.

“Ah…” He went for it and did another wrong step. She followed. She shouldn’t have been able to follow it, it wasn’t proper dancing, she couldn’t read his mind. …. Could she? No. But he was reminded of her climbing the rope ladder with so little effort.

“Are you sure you aren’t part cat?”

“Why do you ask that? I’m just following your lead.”

Yes, to a fault. She followed him so well he wasn’t even consciously thinking of leading anymore. He stopped worrying about mistakes as he realized that she just adapted to them anyway. It was unreal. He hoped Hoseok was seeing this because he’d be amazed, and also probably a little pissed because they were definitely doing a lot of wrong things.

He couldn’t help it, he began making mistakes on purpose. It didn’t make her stumble. When he spun her out and let go, she simply took a step forward like she fully expected he would tell her what to do next, and while that was what a dance partner should expect, it felt like an odd trust to him right now. When he started to turn her one way and instead shifted to the other, she shifted her weight and flowed right through it. He couldn’t stop grinning, it was so funny to dance badly with her like this.

“Are you trying to make me fail?” she asked. 

“You dance like no one I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted.

“You don’t know these steps? Ah, that’s because I’m making them up just for you.” He slid her to the right and to the left and then pulled her backwards by her waist. She even went like that, blinded to any danger he might trip her with but trusting he wouldn’t. Not even Nasimiyu had extended him that courtesy; she’d been easy to fall back into step with because she never wavered, but it did leave him flat-footed to catch up a few times and when he’d tried to pull her back like this she’d simply stayed in place. 

“And you match every one,” he grinned. “Isn’t it fun to make up our own steps, One Two? Ha. one two, turn,” he said, turning her. “One two, turn.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I think you like being spun,” he countered, taking a wild guess because her lips twitched every time he did it, her hair and skirt fanning out behind her. “Do you like the rush? I imagine it’s a rush but no one has ever spun me.”

She suddenly dropped her hand to his waist and planted her foot and swung him around her as the post. And it was a rush, both the speed of the swoop (not at all the proper time for the music) and the joy of how remarkably wrong it was. He laughed and spun her back, seizing the lead again and stepping her quickly through another pair so they wouldn’t get stuck in one place. He slid and she followed.

“Don’t make it harder for me. I already shouldn’t be here,” she complained. 

“Admit it, you’re having fun,” he teased. “Let’s see how fast we can go, if you trip just grab on and I’ll lift you.”

“Wait–”

But he took off with her in his arms and she didn’t hesitate as they bolted up the side of the floor in more of a foxtrot than slow waltz. It was chaotically wrong for the music. He felt like he was playing. It shouldn’t matter! They should be allowed to break the rules of dance at a masquerade, especially this late in the evening.  

They skidded to a stop, her skirt festooning around them both, and he laughed, “Admit it, you would have–”

“Ah, thank you, beautiful stranger,” Nasimiyu cut in, sliding right up to them. She glanced down at Dulce with an expression Seokjin missed because he was too shocked that Dulce’s blood red lips at curled up into a smile, he swore on his life that they had. It was instantly gone, so fast he almost doubted it, but he was sure. Nasimiyu’s smile felt like a sharp poke as she asked, “Mind if I cut in?”

Admit it, you would have enjoyed dancing at that wedding. We shouldn’t have been in such a rush to get back. We should have just followed the joy for as long as it would carry us. You would have smiled, wouldn’t you. You would have laughed. Maybe there was cake at the end of it.

“Yes, of course, Princess.” Seokjin knew he sounded clipped but it was only an awkward transition. It was just a dance. He didn’t need to feel guilty. He didn’t mean to sound annoyed. He was drunk, not disappointed. Dulce smoothed it over; she took one step back and evaporated, like she really was made of shadow and fluff. 

It was Lidmila who had actually trapped Namjoon, and probably she didn’t realize what she had done because it was awfully clever. But she’d stepped forward at just the right moment to block him in, and Nasimiyu took the opportunity she saw to lean in on his other side so that he bumped her when he stepped back. 

“Lord Namjoon,” she drawled, looking up and away, disinterested. “I wasn’t sure you’d grace us with your presence tonight.”

“I… I gave my word,” he pointed out.

“And that means something to you?”

“Of course it does.”

“Oh. I also thought you had given your word that you would take the ball seriously, but you don’t seem to be.”

���What are you talking about? I’ve been here for hours.”

“Yes.”

“Dancin, drinking, socializing, not even sneaking off to the lounges to–”

“Hide from the women?” she teased.

He was red-faced and sweaty but she didn’t assume it was a credit to her; he seemed slightly drunk, or maybe just winded from dancing.

“I’m not hiding from anyone.”

“And yet you come to a masquerade in my honor and you don’t even say hello, much less give me an opportunity to turn you down for a dance.”

“Oh. Well… hello.”

She leveled a look at him that earned a bashful grin as he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. If he was trying to avoid flirting with her, it was a bad move to rub his neck like that; he must know what a gesture like that signaled to a young woman. Not that she cared, but… Mindeulle said he didn’t know what he did but Nasimiyu thought he couldn’t be that stupid, her little sister just had too much faith in him.

He looked like he wanted to leave but Lidmila stepped to the side to set her empty glass down, accidentally blocking him in again. Bless her as an agent of fate! 

“Hello. And?”

“I’m afraid I cannot ask you for a dance however,” he admitted, “honored as I would be.”

She was both shocked and thrilled by his blunt dismissal. She said nothing, merely arched her eyebrow, curious if he would really stick with such a strong turn down when they had been sociable up until now.

“Because… I promised Miss Lidmila’s mother I would ask her for the next dance.”

“What?” Lidmila squawked, not the least bit ladylike. She turned a face of absolute horror to Nasimiyu, but Namjoon grabbed Lidmila’s arm and dragged her away. 

There was no way Lidmila didn’t actually want to dance with Namjoon, not after the longing looks Nasimiyu had seen all the girls toss his way. Which meant that look of horror must mean she feared she was interrupting something, interfering, she knew she was being used as an obstacle by Namjoon and didn’t want Nasimiyu to think so– which meant she was noticing Nasimiyu’s attention leveled at Namjoon, harmless or not. And if even Lidmila, pretty little bird-brain, noticed, then others must be. Certainly Mindeulle, who maybe had meant her earlier explanation as a warning.

Fuck.

Nasimiyu still wanted an explanation about that, or to see what else she could subtly glean from Mindeulle about this previous betrothal. But in turning to find her and not look at Namjoon pulling Lidmila onto the dance floor even though the previous song was still going, she noticed a very peculiar sight. 

Her little shadow of death handmaiden was dancing rather ridiculously with the royal prince of Yeonhalbi.

Nasimiyu didn’t feel the need to explain her thoughts or feelings. Namjoon had rejected a dance with her. Seokjin wasn’t trailing after her. And Dulce was dancing with a prince. She had dressed Dulce so beautifully to please herself, not anyone else. Certainly not the Prince, who was smiling too big, he looked like a fool. Or maybe she, Nasimiyu, looked most the fool of all, standing here beside the dance floor with no present partner.

It took only seconds to interrupt Dulce and Seokjin’s dance and claim him as her dance partner instead. She wondered if Dulce had hoped she was coming to claim her. But right now she needed to be seen on the arm of the royal prince, the man who was going to marry her, the man who already made clear he placed her above all else.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” she asked as the music changed to a quadrille. Boring! Such a boring dance! Why were the dances at this ball so fucking boring?! They settled into formation with three other couples. One of which was Namjoon and Lidmila. Even more boring!

“My only complaint is not to dance with you more often,” Seokjin answered quickly before she took a turn around the man next to her. They moved all the way around the circle and now she wondered if his answer had been a joke about this kind of dance, in which partners were traded. Namjoon said nothing as he handed her around to his other side. She turned her nose up, not wanting to speak with him either then, if he was such a brat he couldn’t have a single dance with her.

She found herself back at Seokjin’s side and he quickly asked, “Are you enjoying yourself?” She stepped into the circle, back near the other ladies, and swayed side to side with a hand in Seokjin’s and a hand in Namjoon’s. Which meant Namjoon had switched the order. Must have, because he and Lidmila should be a couple further.

“Very much so,” she assured Seokjin, pulled back to him for a turn in his arms. Anyone watching would have remarked on how she beamed at him, she was certain. 

She bit back her groan as she did the fancy footwork, the stupid hops, for everyone moving around in a circle. This was the stupidest dance. She was going to strike it out of fashion. If she’d realized it was a quadrille, she wouldn’t have agreed to it. Her tits bounced painfully with so little support as they pranced together into and out of the other couples. 

The figures changed and suddenly it wasn’t Seokjin’s arms around Nasimiyu, it was Namjoon’s. She tried to look nonplussed as he walked her through the same steps Seokjin just had. But when he pulled her close for the slow circles, he sighed,

“Please don’t be offended, Princess. I just want to remain respectful.”

“Dancing with me is disrespectful? Who, pray tell, are you disrespecting right now then?”

She didn’t get an answer; she was handed off to next in the circle. Stupid, stupid dance! It made her furious. Namjoon’s rejection made her furious. Seokjin’s delicate outfit made her furious. Dulce dancing with a royal prince like she had any right to made her furious. Mindeulle watching them from the side of the dance floor made her furious. Lidmila not putting her foot down and just telling Namjoon no if she wanted or telling Nasimiyu yes if she wanted made her furious!

She’d had too much to drink, she knew that to be true. She held her drink well, so she knew no one else suspected that such hot feelings were running through her veins with all the wine. She felt flaming right now, bright, and she needed something more than this boring ball to amuse her. The music was too slow. The dances were too slow. Time was moving too slowly, she was going to be stuck in this uncomfortable courtship with Seokjin forever at this rate.

The song ended but Nasimiyu threaded her fingers through Seokjin’s and leaned close to kiss him –not indecently, just a soft kiss like she adored him most in the world– and asked, 

“Can we go somewhere else? I’m tired of dancing.”

“Ah… yes? Yes, of course, where would you like to go? We can–”

“To my room,” she whispered in his ear, then pulled away and tried to look innocent. “Is it too soon?”

Even with his mask on, his slack look of surprise was obvious. He was gobsmacked. For a brief moment she thought he was going to lock his knees, clench his pearls, and run away. Instead he shook his head, dislodging a thought, and pressed his hand to her back.

“Yes, of course. Your wing will be much more private for a rest.”

That was not what she meant and she wondered if he misunderstood or was only pretending to, because Lidmila was hovering close and Namjoon was only just behind her. Nasimyu didn’t know where Dulce was but it didn’t matter. She could find her own entertainment tonight. It was time to move things along here.

At first people kept trying to intercept them. Nasimiyu was done with it. The further from the ballroom they walked, the more done with the whole thing she felt. At home she had enjoyed balls so much and this one felt like she’d been bounced around a cage with ony a few people she enjoyed. The attention wasn’t the right kind. The music was wrong, the food was wrong, the fights were stopped too quickly, the fun people tossed out. There was no entertainment! 

“Nasimiyu, are you all right? Are you ill?” Seokjin asked, working to keep up with her stride.

“I’m very well, thank you. It’s been a lovely ball.” Her heels clicked and she lifted her skirt to keep from tripping on it in her haste. 

“Would you like me to fetch your maid–”

“No I would not like you to do anything with my maid,” she snapped.

“I…” He nearly tripped on his feet. “If you– are you upset– I did not mean to insult you by dancing with– I thought you intended her to blend in and that you would feel better about her safety knowing–”

“I’m not upset about it,” she assured him after letting him ramble for a moment. He was indeed flustered and she didn’t know if it was the topic or the fast pace after a dance. If he had such bad stamina, this would be a quick night.

But a quick night still secured the image of them leaving together in everyone’s minds. A quick night still put him at ease about their engagement. A quick night could maybe still give her a relief she desperately wanted right now. He’d better!

They reached her wing but when Seokjin took a step towards her sitting room, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to her bedroom on the right. 

“Nasimiyu.”

She gestured and the guards pushed her door open. Good, more witnesses to Seokjin following her inside.

“Nasimiyu,” he said again, holding out his hand. She took it but only to pull him close to kiss. She crashed her mouth to his, only to laugh when their masks clashed.

His gentleness surprised her as he carefully worked her mask off, untying it by her ears and lifting it off the hooks along her hairline. She hadn’t expected him to know how to get it off. His calm was so heavy it slowed her down too. She undid the ties at the back of his head and tossed his mask to the side.

He looked so serious and concerned. She didn’t know what to make of that when she just wanted to fuck already while her blood was still hot. 

“We don’t have to rush anything,” he told her. “My dancing with anyone else is no reflection on my devotion to–”

“Don’t you want me? Or do you have some principle to wait until marriage?”

“Of course I want you,” he breathed. “And I… um– I don’t have any personal rule about waiting until marriage to–”

“You have experience, don’t you?” 

He hesitated before nodding, lips pinched. Clearly afraid of her response to this. Thank fuck. She had no desire to be pawed over by some virgin.

“Maybe your last betrothal?”

His eyebrows raised and he ventured carefully, “What do you know…”

“Next to nothing except that Namjoon had some hand in– Lord Namjoon had some hand in taking what was yours.”

“Ah, well…”

“He won’t this time.”

“I’m relieved to hear that,” he said with a crooked grin that affected her more than she had expected –more than not at all. “Ah… if you want to know more, I can–”

“I don’t. And I don’t want you to ask me about my experiences either, it’s private. But I’m not some wilting flower either, Seokjin. If you’re to be my husband and we’re as good as married, I don’t see why we have to wait until we’re actually married to seek each other out. Does that shock you?”

“N-no.”

“Then if you want me, I’m yours to take. Do it now.”

Only a brief hesitation preceded him reaching for her, crashing his mouth against hers. It was too much lip and not enough caress but Nasimiyu leaned into it anyway. He wasn’t so bad, was he? She didn’t love him but he wanted her and his hands were firm against her back. He had danced adequately. She could begrudgingly admit he was handsome and that he kissed better than she had anticipated. His lips were very soft. 

“You’re shedding,” he murmured, sliding his hands along her jaw. She didn’t want the touch, it was overly romantic, it felt too loving, and she leaned away anyway in shock at his words. “Diamonds,” he clarified. “Gold.”

“Let’s not make a fuss of undressing. You do yours, I’ll do mine, or we’ll never get out of these things.” 

She meant it to be serious, blunt, but he laughed.

“Don’t miss any of those things in your hair. I don’t want to die on our first night.”

“Poo, are you so easy to kill?”

“I’m weak to you.”

She turned away so he wouldn’t see her annoyance. She strode to her vanity and pulled off jewelry like water beaded to her skin. She worked the sun rays out of her hair and unfastened her shoes and let the cape fall carelessly to the floor..

“You’ll have to undo–” She broke off as she turned to call for help. He’d shed clothing much quicker, vest and shirt gone, boots gone, only his tight silk britches in place. Straining, she noticed. His broad shoulders were more toned than she had anticipated. More surprising were the outline of his abdominals. She had expected a thin, noodly prince, not lean muscles. 

His mouth hung open, eyes lidded as he carefully undid the catches on the back of her dress. She watched him in the mirror, bemused at his concentration, wanting to think something mean but it was hard to be unkind when someone looked so reverently at you as he did, pulling the sleeves off her shoulders and tugging the dress down to her feet. She had little on beneath so when she turned, it was nothing but panties and naked gold-flecked skin he looked up at.

“My god you’re beautiful,” he murmured, warm hand sliding up her leg as he stood. 

“You aren’t going to make a joke of it?”

“No.” He didn’t have to lift her chin much to kiss her. She felt the admiration in the embrace of his lips. He didn’t stop as her fingers worked at the front of his pants, undoing the hidden button and tugging them down his hips. She wondered if he was going to be shy about nudity, he seemed like the sort.

He stepped away and pulled his pants clean off, red-eared, red-cheeked, chest flushed, but not hiding his half-hard cock. She couldn’t remember ever finding a cock attractive but at least it was large and looked healthy.

“That will do.”

She meant it seriously, sexily, but he laughed and looked to the side, shy once again, “Ah, yes, well… I’m hoping so. You would say it like that…”

It annoyed her for him to be shy now. This didn’t have to be some sentimental thing just because it was their first time. If he was hard, he could just get on with it, and she waited for him to grab her and do so. He had no charm about it, no guile, there was nothing teasing in his look of admiration as she slid her hands up her chest to cup her own breasts.

“Well?”

“Right. Uh… do you want to, um… I don’t have a condom with me, you see, so we can–”

“I don’t care about a condom, Seokjin. You’re to be my husband in a few months anyway. If you get me with child before then, lucky for you.” It would stick, she’d see to it, but she could flatter him with empty words, sure.

“I…” He blinked at her. 

“Come on, then, aren’t you going to touch me at least?”

He drew close but looked like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands suddenly.

“I thought you said you’ve done this before.”

“I have but… ok, I’ll kiss you first…”

“Then do it. You’re going to make me think you don’t want this.”

“I do,” he assured her, sliding his arms around her. “I do, Nasimiyu, I want it very much.” He kissed her harder and stepped backwards with her towards the bed, his cock pressing between them impossible to ignore. Probably he wanted her to grip it but she didn’t yet. She didn’t feel like handling that right now; if he wanted release, he was going to have to earn it. 

He pressed her down into the bed with more kisses. It was all right when they were on her mouth but she was impatient with them anywhere else, which he seemed to quickly pick up on. She let her legs fall apart until he reached down to tug her panties off. He looked like he was moving through water, every action was so slow. At least he looked like he admired what he saw. He better!

“I can be a lot to take,” he said, giving her what ought to have been a smug look but was just sheepish. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I want to make sure so I’ll warm you up first–”

“You don’t have to narrate to me, just do it.”

She assumed he meant with his fingers. Why not? Every man before him had only ever meant that. But after the next kiss, he ducked suddenly lower and the next kiss was between her legs.

“Oh!”

“Is that ok?” he asked, looking up at her through eyebrows, expression serious. He was never this serious. He was much more handsome when he was serious.

“Yes. I just didn’t think– it’s fine. Get me off that way and I’m sure I’ll be ready to take you.”

“I think so too,” he agreed, but now he did sound smug, which annoyed her. She wanted to snap at him but worried anything she could say would just sound stupid while he was licking her like that. His tongue wasn’t as good as Dulce’s . Neither were his fingers. But he seemed eager to please and when she closed her eyes and just let him do what he wanted with a few commands here and there, she found it carried her right up to the edge.

“Yes, there you are, there you are, just let go,” he murmured and she realized he was watching her face. Awful. 

“Shhh,” she complained, “You’ll ruin it–” She broke off as his mouth latched onto her again, sucking without any seeming break to breathe this time. His tongue flicked her clit finally one time too many and she orgasmed with a gasp, fingers digging into her own thighs.

“There you go, princess– ah, shh, sorry, I’ll shut up…” He interrupted his own talking. It was unnatural for him to be so quiet but it's’ what she wanted lest he make any of those ghastly jokes. Especially right now as she grasped at this first orgasm, trying to lose herself and the whole evening into it. Just all right, nothing shocking, but it was nice and she was just relieved it had happened. A part of her had worried she might not be able to orgasm with Seokjin with how much she generally disliked him. Thank fuck for alcohol and his adequate tongue and finger work.

His fingers worked her open further as he slid up to kiss her, expression still so serious, like eating her had been some religious experience for him. Quiet in the bedroom after all, hm? That was probably for the best with him, though she preferred Dulce’s energy and authority. 

“I’ll give you a minute to recover,” he told her. “Or… or that can be it.”

“That better not be it. And I don’t need a minute.”

“Ok–”

“You know how to actually use that or do you just get by because it’s big?”

“I’m sure you’ll let me know,” he chuckled.

“Shh –ohhh.” She hated her own voice. She hated her own moan. She hated how good and snug and filled she felt as he sank into her. She hated that this annoying man had such good dick and she hated that his stroke game proved much better than his dancing. Fuck, the stretch was delicious. 

“Is that ok?” he asked, eyebrows upturned.

“Don’t coddle me like that. Just…”

“Just?”

“Just fuck me.”

“As you wish.”

He curled over her and she closed her eyes and thought maybe we can make this work after all…

This evening was taking a strange turn. Dulce wandered the late hours of the ball, fuzzy with some strange mixture of confusion and anger and… and… whatever else. She was simultaneously too drunk and too sober. 

Seokjin asking Dulce to dance was strange.

Her agreeing was strange.

Her enjoying it was even more strange.

Nasimiyu interrupting their dance in an obvious pout that she was not being included was not surprising at all, but Nasimiyu kissing Seokjin the second the dance ended was strange.

Nasimiyu leaving with Seokjin was strange. She had that slant to her body. Dulce knew that slant well. But… could this really be the night? Probably Nasimiyu would part ways with him before she got to a bedroom. Or stop before it got too far. She despised the man! She had made it excruciatingly obvious tonight that her attention was trained on– 

Lord Namjoon. The very man who approached Dulce outside the lounges. Also strange. And bad timing. Dulce was not in the mood to deal with anyone right now. She wanted–

“Wine?” Namjoon offered, handing her a glass. She eyed him warily as she took it. This wasn’t the wine that had been served around earlier though; it made her eyes water as she lifted the glass. 

“What is this?”

“It’s wine. Eh, strong wine.” He knocked his glass back, then shuddered and shook his head. 

Lord Namjoon, whom she had never spoken to in her life, approaching to get drunk with her, strange. What bizarro world had Prince Seokjin spun Dulce into?

Maybe Lord Namjoon didn’t know who she was. That suddenly made the most sense. He thought she was just some mysterious cast-off stranger floating around the party, and that was why he gestured for her to join him in one of the lounge rooms. And Dulce went because why not? That’s all she was right now. 

“Do you like the music here?” he asked her as they settled on a sofa he had cleared with a gesture. The act made him feel predatory and while she wasn’t nervous in the slightest, she was suspicious. What was she going to learn about this mysterious man who Nasmiyu’s parents had been so concerned about?

Oh. Recalling that put her even more on her guard. She had not done a good job of distracting Nasimiyu from this man, that was true, but it was also impossible. To keep her away would only make him more alluring to Nasimiyu. She wanted things she couldn’t or shouldn’t have. She didn’t want the things thrust upon her, like a perfectly good prince, or a life of wealth and privilege, or– 

He was looking at her, waiting for an answer, so she answered vaguely, “I suppose.” She wasn’t listening to it much at all, some man on a piano. The room had dimmer lighting and the smell of sex on the air, burned by candles along the walls and copious alcohol flowing. People spoke low and close to each other. The young women had said people fucked at these parties and Dulce suspected it started in here. Was this the sort of man Lord Namjoon was? And did he know whom he had brought in here?

“I’d ask you to dance but I don’t think you enjoy it any more than I do,” he admitted. “Did your lady know you were here before she interrupted your dance? She must have paid for your costume.” Well so much for that theory then.

“Yes.”

“Hm. To what end?”

“Hm?” 

“Why did she dress you up and send you to a ball, but not at her side?” 

Dulce didn’t answer and thought he must be an idiot if he expected her to. Maybe he didn’t because he continued,

“She’s clever. Possibly one of the most clever women I’ve met and I’m sure she was up to something. Were you meant to distract the Prince so she could spend time with me?”

“Your ego must be a great pride to your–”

He let out a noisy sigh, “Fine, it’s not that, I’m reaching. I’m just worried. I don’t want to cause any complications for their engagement but I think by giving her space she views it as a challenge.” Dulce said nothing since that was precisely true. “But if I don’t give space, Jin thinks I’m a threat. It really wasn’t my fault what happened before.”

“I’m a maid. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But you’re also close with her.” He tipped back the dredges of his wine. Not much a sip and savor sort, this Lord Namjoon. “And you’re right, they’ve left together, so maybe I was worried for nothing.” He sighed and looked around. “I hate these things. I don’t enjoy dancing. I don’t enjoy gambling. I can’t even dance with someone without it suddenly being a thing people are gossiping about, and after the whole debacle, that gossip will be enough to sink me… It feels like everyone’s always watching me.”

The man was either paranoid or an egomaniac. He was popular, that was true, but Dulce didn’t think it was in a negative way. Was he just trying to manipulate her sympathies right now? 

“Sorry,” he chuckled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I’m horny and lonely and spilling my thoughts to…” He looked at her and clearly rolled his eyes at himself. “A ladies’ maid.”

“No one knows who I am unless you keep announcing it,” she pointed out, emboldened by the masquerade and unconcerned right now if he thought she was rude or out of place. He was the one who’d pulled her into here.

“That’s true. No one in their right mind would look at you and think you’re a maid. Isn’t that funny? You’re easily one of the most beautiful women here and you spend most of your days, what, scrubbing the princess’ laundry? How many social levels are between us but anyone who sees us right now will just think I’m trying to win favor from a beautiful stranger and probably they’ll doubt I deserve the attention you’re giving me.”

She sipped her wine. “I’m not interested in flattery.”

“All right, then I’ll skip it. Do you want to fuck? If you’re so sure your lady has no feelings for me and won’t be bothered?”

It was slimy. It was well done. Dulce looked at him and genuinely couldn’t tell if he was manipulative, opportunistic, or just an asshole.

“And what of my own feelings?”

“Ah, is your heart taken by another?” he sighed dramatically. “Maybe by the prince’s valet? Or Taehyung, who he stupidly keeps around here?”

“Why is it stupid?”

“Nevermind. Tell me, who has your heart, mysterious lady? Which man? Or, not a man? Perhaps your very own lady?”

“I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.”

He gave a short huff, “Yeah yeah. Not right now. Right now I’m… bored. My sister already went to bed so I don’t even need to watch out for her but the night’s too early to go to bed since I dragged my ass all the way here and put this stupid costume on. Can’t go to the afterparties without besmirching the good Kim name.”

“There are many women here I’m sure you can seduce.”

“Yes, but none as beautiful as you. None as motivated to keep their mouths shut about it. I have a reputation to maintain too.”

“One that doesn’t fuck maids, I gather?”

“One that doesn’t fuck anyone. And I suspect you’re the sort who isn’t going to tell her lady who she fucked either, right?”

“I am conveniently close to power for you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Ah, it’s fine then. I guess you really are in her confidence if you think someone can use you to get to her.” Damn she hated people like this who twisted their words around you. Dulce was clever but she could also recognize when she was mentally outmatched.

“I don’t think she’ll be pleased with you for going after her maid.”

“Yes but I don’t need her to be pleased with me, you see? You’re discreet. Someone sees us together right now, tomorrow they won’t know who I was speaking with. But it’s good if people see me leave with someone. Ah, I may have gotten into a bit of trouble with a– nevermind.” Dulce couldn’t tell, did he just naturally want to share or was he stringing her along to manipulate? It wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t interested in him. Not that she was interested in anyone! But Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin, they were all interchangeable to her. Any one of them might fuck her and it might be good or it might not, she didn’t care as long as it served some purpose. She didn’t have any purpose to fuck Namjoon other than relief, if she allowed it, which she wouldn’t.

“Forget I said anything,” he grinned at her, and settled back against the couch with his arm along the back of it. Close enough that if she tilted her head, she could stab his with her skewers. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can leave.”

“No, it’s fine. You act as a good barrier to others.”

What purpose could fucking Namjoon serve? She doubted this opportunity would present itself again. She could still meet up with Jimin and Taehyung later, or just go down that path another day. They seemed casual about it; it was good to know she might have an easy time fucking information out of them without much preamble.

“Well. It’s good they’re getting closer anyway,” Namjoon said. “Isn’t it? Both our lives get easier once they’re married and in love.”

“Why does yours?” she asked. Then quickly added, “Mine is unchanging. I serve no differently.”

“Because I think she’s going to be an amazing queen. She’s… bright and inquisitive and curious. She hears out my ideas. You serve a remarkable woman.”

“Who is in bed with her betrothed right now.”

“Yeah, which one are you jealous of?” he laughed. The surge of rage blinded her for a moment and had she less control, she might have lashed out. Instead she remained still as he chuckled to himself and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, I understand your position. Who you want doesn’t ever matter. Ideas are more important than some sexual gratification, right? The world can be better and those of us willing to take up that task have to stay true to it. Nothing I believe in is worth throwing over for an… entanglement. That was true before. That will always be true.”

He was rambling. Did he really want to fuck or was he just looking for someone to listen to him? That seemed in line with what she had seen of him so far. A devout scholar all the unmarried girls pined for who was in fact undersexed, what a trope.

“Sorry,” he laughed suddenly. “It’s just always running up here.” He tapped his head. “Hence the… proposition.”

“So you’re confident enough to believe you’ve caught a betrothed princess’ eye but in practice not above pursuing a maid–”

“That makes me sound sleazy, huh? Suppose I thought you might be in a similar state as me. Frustrated and– anyway, I’m not looking at a maid right now. Masquerade, right?”

Dulce eyed him from the side of her mask. He was a noble, likely to be selfish. Probably he thought he was getting something to blackmail her with out of this –but with who, Nasimiyu? Nasimiyu might be mad but hey, she’d encouraged Dulce to fuck for information. It was part of the job. It’s not like they were a couple, after all. Nasimiyu was a princess currently fucking her future husband. Dulce was just an assassin masquerading as a maid masquerading as a mysterious noblewoman for an evening. And if Nasimiyu did get a little jealous, well… so what? She had Seokjin to comfort her. She’d wanted that comfort so badly she couldn’t even let Dulce finish her dance. And why had the prince asked her to dance in the first place?! After feeding her a raspberry tart. He was as much an asshole as Nasimiyu was. Assholes. All nobles were selfish, arrogant, thoughtless, reckless assholes who occasionally threw a masquerade so they could fuck servants without being embarrassed about it.

“Noblemen are selfish lovers,” Dulce said, curious what response she’d get from Namjoon.

“How many noblemen have you been with?”

“How many maids have you been with?”

Namjoon leaned across her, one arm on the arm rest, and stared into her eyes. He could see them through the mesh mask, he was close enough that she knew the eye contact was genuine. 

“This one isn’t a selfish lover.” He lowered his mouth to hers, masks bumping. Her was tied on too tightly to budge but his did, lifting higher as he settled more heavily on her, arms sliding around her, kissing her right there in the lounge for anyone nosy enough to look over. Dulce didn’t need to feel anything from the kiss to know that he was very skilled and most women would melt beneath him. It was enjoyable, anyway. He was handsome and at least knew how to kiss well. 

She slid her hands up to grab his hair and bit his lip.

“Ah, ok,” he hummed. “It’s like that?” He tried to push her back on the couch but her spiked crown bumped and her skirt was too full.

“Don’t fuck me in the middle of the–”

“Right right, sorry,” he murmured. “Getting carried away… I’m a little out of practice…”

She found that hard to believe, but played along, exaggerating her flushed state as he pulled her to her feet and they walked quickly from the lounge.

“Do you have a room?” he asked her.

“No.” 

“Uh… I’m sharing a suite with my sister…”

“The garden?”

“You’ll let me–”

“Isn’t that what people do at a ball–”

He suddenly grabbed her and pulled her close in the hallway, mouth hungrier against hers by the minute, needy in a way she would not expect from a man she’d only really spoken to this once. But it made obvious one thing was true: he was desperate to fuck. 

He barely let go of her so she could lead the way out into the gardens, and down a few paths until they found a nook isolated enough for them both. Apparently Namjoon wasn’t as worried anymore about being seen though it was unlikely anyone would recognize them in the low light. He sat on the bench and unbuttoned his pants but she scoffed,

“I don’t do that, you’ll just leave after.”

“I won’t, you have my word, but it’s fine. Come sit in my lap, think you can take me already or do I need to warm you up?”

“See, selfish.”

He grabbed her roughly and yanked her down to the bench but then, forgetting his own unbuttoned pants, crawled under her skirt, lifted it right over his head in one move. 

Only to laugh, “You have a knife!”

“Oh–”

“How were you going to reach this if you needed to?” he demanded, unfastening the clip and tossing it to the side along with his own mask.

“In case any handsy nobles harassed me.”

“But how are you going to use it? Do you even know how?”

“I’d figure it out.”

“If you stab me, you won’t get to finish.”

“I’ll finish first.”

He laughed, clearly unbothered, and dove back beneath her skirt, pushing her legs apart. She leaned back and closed her eyes and choked on a sigh. 

It was bad. It was bad that she couldn’t see him as tongue and fingers unfurled her. It was bad that she couldn’t see him, could only feel that it was a man’s hands touching her right now, a man’s mouth sucking at her clit. It made it too easy for someone else’s image to sneak in. Seokjin crouched between her legs in the dark garden, moaning into her pussy about how sweet she tasted–

She abruptly pushed him away to confirm his face. He looked bewildered, face messy and hair disheveled. 

“Something wrong–”

She grabbed his vest and pulled him onto the bench and pulled his cock from his unbuttoned pants, hot and heavy in her palm. It seemed Lord Namjoon had many blessings in life. 

He practically snatched it from her hand and dug a condom from a hidden pocket, rolling it on as he ordered, “Take your mask off.”

“No.”

“It’s cutting me when I kiss you.”

“Then don’t kiss me.”

He unbuttoned the lace at her throat and kissed there instead, hands dragging at her dress to pull into his lap where he had to slot himself into place while she tried to press down the volume of her skirt crushed between them. See? So impractical for fucking!

Their coming together was fast, frantic, too drunk, but not drunk enough. She forgot who was beneath her , just grabbed his broad shoulders and bit back the moans at the thrust of him deep into her body. He felt good, she’d give him that. He didn’t just mindlessly rut into her the way she’d half expected. His hands and lips were busy trying to drag pleasure from her that she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing, though it was difficult to hold herself to that. He felt good, he moved well, he smelled nice even after an evening of dancing. His mouth tasted like wine and raspberry tarts when he kept forgetting not to kiss her–

No. No that was someone else, someone whose mouth she didn’t know, and didn’t want to know, and it wasn’t her fault if things blended together in her mind as she rode this broad-shouldered man. He managed to wrestle one of her tits from her bodice, his mouth dragging at her nipple in a way that felt so foreign, it made it easy not to think of Nasimiyu and what she was doing right now. Possibly this very same thing. With someone else beneath her, or above her, or behind her. He worshipped her. She despised him. And they were going to be married and he was going to die and Dulce was part of making that happen. And he’d fed her raspberry tart and spun her on the dancefloor over and over as she got drunker and dizzier, even though it was the wrong move, because he thought she enjoyed it. 

She did.

Seokjin shuddered beneath her and grunted against her neck, arms locked tight around her as he came, cock nudging her deep, deep, so deep, mouth hot on her skin– 

No, no! Not Seokjin, Namjoon. 

It was too late. Her orgasm shoved her from behind, leaving her no time to catch herself before she fell. Instead she leapt off his cock, making him cry out at the shock as she collapsed heavily beside him on the bench, cunt clenching around nothing as her orgasm fizzled into dust. Interrupted. A failure. A shame that left her gasping and twitching.

“What’s the hurry?” 

She didn’t say anything, just shook her head. He gave her a smug grin, “See? Not selfish.” He tugged the condom off his softening dick, knotted it and tucked it into his pocket. A cautious man. A proud man who saw her orgasm and thought it was his accomplishment. It was. It wasn’t. She wished she had just let herself enjoy it. She knew she couldn’t.  

Once everything was tucked away, he settled back against the bench and closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

Dulce just sat there. She felt… strange. Weary. Simultaneously spent and unspent. 

After a few minutes, Namjoon reanimated. He leaned down to give her a kiss she hadn’t expected.

“That mask is almost as lethal as you are,” he complained, rubbing at his nose as he stood. “Thank you for that. Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Satisfied?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t I walk you back inside?”

“No, I’m all right.”

“If you’re sure…”

She nodded and waved him off and he went. It let her sit on the bench for a moment and catch her breath as her stomach turned. She hadn’t wanted to cum with him. She was glad she’d interrupted it but it didn’t change that she had. She refused to think about why. She didn’t like the loss of control. She was slipping. This whole night had been nothing but slipping and she didn’t like it. It was Nasimiyu’s fault for making her come to this, for dressing her up, for acting like she was some silly little plaything. My little doll. She hated Nasimiyu right now. Everything was Nasimiyu’s fault. If not for Nasimiyu, she wouldn’t even be here.

And now, where to go? She was tired of the whole thing now. Orgasm had sobered her when she didn’t want either of those things. Honestly if she’d been less weary, she might have gone to find Jimin and Taehyung. Have a crazy end to her night, get further drunk, do the magical lix, have that threesome, embrace the chaos, ride off into the sunset in the morning, stop caring about anything–

Fuck. Fuck, was she starting to care? Better not be.

Maybe she should do that part in the morning, then. Disappear. Prove she didn’t care about anyone or anything. 

The other part of her considered just curling up here to sleep and let whoever find her in the morning and deal with it then. Her whole body felt sticky and numb and fuzzy and she was ferociously hungry. She’d never got her plate of desserts back from the tutor and the loss made her want to cry but she couldn’t go all the way back to the masquerade for them. She just couldn’t.

Her only hope was if there were any still in the kitchen. It was worth a shot. If she got some desserts, she’d feel better, and then she could figure out what to do because she felt like she ought to be doing something. Leaving. Getting away from this place. But she couldn’t get this dress off by herself, and she couldn’t go to Nasimiyu’s room for help because she might not be alone or she might not even be there. Would they have gone to her room or his? Dulce’s guess was Nasimiyu’s. Shit, if they went to his room, she’d see the animals and that would be the end of it. The thought almost made her smile.

The kitchens were still busy. She had been an idiot to come here. She entered through a side door and immediately backed out, but unfortunately not before detection.

“What are you doing here? Dressed like… that?” Yoongi asked. 

She hesitated. The last thing she wanted was another man involved in her evening, and yet there was no one else. She didn’t know Yoongi well, only in the context of kitchen visits, but he also seemed so nonplussed that it made him feel trustworthy in the way she could use right now.

“Can you help me get out of this?”

“Eh… you coming onto me?”

“No.”

“How did you get into it?”

“My lady. But she’s… occupied.”

His eyebrows raised. “Ah. By the prince, I hope.”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s great. Yeah, you need something to change into I guess. You want to sleep here too?” He stepped away from the kitchen and she followed, not sure where they were going. “I don’t have a private room but everyone’s working right now.”

“You have clothes that will fit me?”

“They’re kitchen scrubs but yeah.” The room around the corner was small and had two bunks in it. It reminded Dulce of her servant's room. She compared them both to Nasimiyu’s room and felt a spark of fiery rage of injustice catch and then fizzle. She was too tired right now.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Something happen?”

“No. A ball is just not the place for me.”

“Me fucking neither. You look right though. Nice, I mean.”

“I want this gone.”

He helped her out of the dress with only a slight twitching of his lips, didn’t even comment on her tits and lack of underwear but also didn’t exactly avert his eyes. The clothes were bland, beige, poorly fitting but they covered her. They shoved her dress into an empty sack along with the mask, grimacing at the way the spikes stuck out. He found a smaller bag for her jewelry. She’d have to sneak back barefoot tomorrow, the heels would look too suspicious with her clothes. She did her best to wipe the heavy eye makeup off with a wet towel.

“Quite a transformation,” he mused.

“Thank you.” 

He hadn’t asked further questions about why she’d dressed up, or how it had gone, or why she might look almost on the verge of tears. She wasn’t. She had no reason to cry. She’d danced. She’d gotten dick. She was a little drunk but not badly. The plans were progressing. 

He looked at her feet and sighed, “I don’t even have a second pair of shoes to offer you.”

“That’s ok. Thank you for your help.”

“I’ll extract payment in the kitchen, don’t thank me yet. But hey, if you would rather sleep here it’s fine with me as long as you don’t mind sharing a bed when I get a break in a couple hours.”

She considered it. The other option was to walk barefoot through the castle, avoid being seen by anyone while lugging her bag of dress and spikes, hide that under her own bed, and sleep listening to the complaints from the other maids. Her makeup was smeared but not gone, her hair was down, she smelled like alcohol and perfume and probably sex too. They’d know where she’d been. 

But she’d need to gather her things if she was going to light out in the morning. It was looking more alluring by the moment.

He touched her arm, a gentle nudge towards the bed. “Just sleep here. I promise I won’t pull anything.”

“It’s all right?”

“Yes, Dulce. It’s all right.”

She didn’t make him offer again.

Seokjin lay awake, gaze alternating between Nasimiyu sleeping beside him and the silk canopy above her bed. To say this was not how he had expected the night to end was an understatement. The whole night was a hazy mixture of moments and touches and music and skewers he couldn’t quite make sense of yet, though he wasn’t drunk. He felt drunk. Okay, he was a little drunk. Drunker than he would have liked to be his first time with Nasimiyu but maybe it was for the best because he thought the alcohol might have helped him not fuck it up. 

They’d really done it. He glanced at her again, at the cloud of her hair rising up from her pillow. Beautiful. Men had followed her every step tonight and yet he was the one she’d pulled close and kissed and brought to her bedroom. Yes, he was her betrothed but it still felt like an undeserved honor. She was as forthright with her wants as he had expected and he thought he hadn’t disappointed her. He just wished he could remember it a little more but maybe that wasn’t the alcohol, that was being drunk on Nasimiyu and the heat that came just from getting to touch her. He would have settled for a dance tonight. A kiss. Instead he felt like he’d got everything and he didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve it.

But he wouldn’t let her down now. He wouldn’t take for granted that she had allowed him this great leap forward in their relationship. If she could just not regret this tomorrow, and not slide back, everything could be ok. Dulce was right, Nasimiyu just needed time to warm up to him, was that it?

He glanced at the shadowy pile by the window of Dulce’s boots and clothes. She had dressed here before the ball obviously. It was an odd piece of her to see in his betrothed’s bedroom. He wondered again about their dynamic but more than that, he wondered what Dulce had done after he and Nasimiyu left. He didn’t know whether to hope his friends looked out for her so no one else bothered her, or hope they left her alone because they might be the bothersome ones. He felt a deep guilt to have left her before they’d even concluded their dance. He felt like he’d left something behind at the dance, an important task undone, a dangling thread that needed to be pulled. Something in the oven. 

He couldn’t fall asleep because he’d had sex with Nasimiyu and she was beautiful and incredible and going to be his wife, he was going to spend the rest of his life with this amazing woman. And he couldn’t fall asleep because he had this growing ball of dread in his stomach that he’d left Dulce in trouble. He didn’t know that. She was capable. It was just a ball. Her safety wasn’t his responsibility. Probably she had gone to get her dessert plate from Hoseok. Maybe she was sleeping in her own bed right now.

But she needed her boots, didn’t she? And she couldn’t come get them because he was in here. Lying naked in bed next to Nasimiyu. He felt very naked next to her. 

He needed to piss, that’s why he got out of bed. He tugged his underwear on afterwards, and fetched Dulce’s boots. He overbalanced and dropped one at first, and out fell a knife with a jeweled handle. A necklace with a locket was wrapped around the sheath, tangled up in the jewels, and for a moment he had the nosy impulse to open it. Who did Dulce wear in a locket down her dress everyday? Nasimiyu? Her family? A lover left behind in Marvono? Maybe she had followed that lover to Marvono in the first place?

He didn’t open the locket. Instead he carried the things to the door and stuck his head out to hail the attention of the nearest guard.

“I need you to take these to the room where her maids sleep.”

“I don’t know where they sleep.”

“Well figure it out, good man! Don’t spill the things inside. I know what’s there and if anything is missing, I’ll come for you.”

The guard rushed off and Seokjin scurried back to bed. He’d orgasmed hard earlier, the results leaving a wet spot he brushed against. Back out of bed, he got a towel to drape over the spot, then curled up again, and this time felt more at peace. She was probably already in bed and now she had her boots and locket and pretty little knife back. He felt better knowing she carried that. She was capable and probably she could carve up a man as well as she’d been cutting those beans in the kitchen. He hoped she’d never need to though.

Nasimiyu flipped in her sleep and a hand arced, slapping him in the face. He chuckled. 

“On the nose, Nasi dear,” he murmured and settled her arm gently by her side. He held her wrist for a moment, embracing the warmth of her skin against his. The sex was so good. It would only get better as they learned the things they each liked. They were going to be happy, weren’t they? Now that she was accepting him?

He drifted off, mind swirling with Nasimiyu’s moans and gold-flecked skin bouncing on top of him and raspberry tarts staining red lips that almost smiled and a beautiful storm cloud spinning around him and skeleton hands that wrapped around his throat until the music stopped.

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[greyborn2]

Five Random Things I Enjoy

Tagged in by both @skyrim-forever aaaand @thana-topsy - also massive heckin curses upon it being you two to tag me because otherwise I'd've probably tagged you in with this but ah well. Tagging in @kookaburra1701

Table Top RPGs. My GOSH my brain goes absolutely feral for them. Reading the rulebooks for them, running them, playing them, writing them... all of it. Just... gosh. Big happy chemical releaser. Not to mention how much it helps me socially. Like, I struggle a lot in IRL social situations and they generally just end up awful for me but having a game to focus on? Being able to vibe and do social stuff with a task AND I get to do fun improv? Fuck yes.

The SNOW!! Ohmygosh the SNOW. I've only seen snow twice in my entire life (only way to see it down on earth's butt here in australia is the mountains and they're a pain to get to for me as a city-folk person) but I ADORE it. Snow and mountains are just... like... perfection to me as an aesthetic. Snowy icy places are always my favourite places in games, even. Honestly probably one of the reasons I had such a bitter reaction to Skyrim (and still am not a huge fan of it tbh) is just how much they un-snowed it - the way it had been described in Morrowind and Oblivion... well... it had set my mind whirling with the sorts of mystical snowy landscapes I could get and there's only really two and a half snow covered holds outta nine. Ah well. Always mods~

Ovaltine/Malt!! So, like, I used to be a huge hot chocolate drinker. Loved that stuff. But found as I got older I was just adding more and more maple syrup (the sweetening factor I add to all my drinks rather than honey or sugar) to make it taste palatable and then... then I found ovaltine and ho-lee-fuck. Takes like half the amount of maple and creates what, to me, just tastes like the perfect hot chocolate. Only hot chocolate that can compare are those almost melted chocolate spanish style ones that are just... Mmmmmfffff. Perfection.

Lore!! My ex at one point referred to me as a 'lore gremlin' and honestly that is so fucking true and has worked its way into my day to day vernacular and self image so much. When I get into a new setting I DEVOUR lore. I am RAVENOUS for it. I eat up settings like I'm STARVING. There are some bits of media I've never even read/watched but I still know huge chunks of the lore for just because of my appetite for finding fan wikis and CONSUMING. Reading about worlds, and worldbuilding, is honestly just a favourite thing of mine.

My snake!! I don't talk about them much here/post about them but I own a Stimson's Python and they are my precious prince of light!! I adore them so fucking much. Got them last year and just... best decision. Best decision. Their name is Potato andddd they're the banner and icon I use here!

[misc-obeyme]

Hi yes can I learn more about Ciaran please if that's ok? I read some stuff about them and I'm very interested [have a great day/night<3]

Oh ho interested in my little chaos child are you? Honestly I'm always so surprised when anybody asks about Ciaran lol.

But I'm always happy to talk about them, so of course it's okay! I have a post about them here that has their basic information and backstory. I've also talked about them a bit here and there in posts which are always tagged with "#misc mc ciaran" should you wish to see those.

Also feel I should state here that due to being he/they, I tend to switch between those pronouns when I write about them, so I apologize for any confusion in advance.

Generally speaking, I wanted an MC who was just as much of a problem as the brothers always are. Someone who was more likely to contribute to the chaos rather than calm it. I think Ciaran is a bit of both, though. They are prone to trouble and will go along with any scheme that sounds fun. But they're also stubborn and if they think something's a bad idea, they will stop it in its tracks. They don't mind taking risks, but they also don't like to see people they care about get hurt. It takes them a long time to come around to some of the characters. Others they're like instant best friends with.

Ciaran is also extremely creative. I like to think they took the time to customize their RAD uniform to suit them better. They're also the kind of person who would paint a mural on any random wall they encounter, so I see that happening in their HoL room if there's enough space for it. If not, they'll do the ceiling. They'd get Beel to hold them up while they do it lol.

Ciaran is also good at building things and being handy. Like they could easily fix broken doors or table legs or whatever. They could build bookshelves and other basic furniture if they wanted to. And they'd probably paint them elaborately, too. Since Ciaran loves plants, he's learned to build things like plant boxes and most of the shelves they built were for holding plant pots.

However, Ciaran is terrible at cooking. I don't know what that'd be like in the HoL when everybody kind of rotates cooking duties. They'd probably be like well you can just order food from elsewhere. Because yo Ciaran is useless in the kitchen. He's not like Solomon where it's all experimentation, but more like they just don't even try. He's not gonna try to get the bros to eat his cooking because he knows it's terrible.

Anyway, that's just a little bit about Ciaran that I don't think I've talked about elsewhere! I could write about them all day, so I'm always happy to get asks about them! Even if it surprises me lol. If you have any specific questions, feel free to ask!

[where-theres-smoak-2]

I'm wondering what you think of darklina fans hating on the internet? Also do you think the ending would have been less impactful if they made Alina more sympathetic towards Aleks? I honestly think it's better writing to have the twist being that Alina(the heroine) thinking that the darkling was wrong about everything only that it turns in the end she was wrong about everything and the main villain was right (even in death).

I think everyone is entitled to their own opinions and everyone's feelings are valid, even if they are not the same as mine. Obviously I do think its sad that there are darklinas who didn't enjoy the season, and seeing negativity in the tag does bring the mood down which isn't fun for anyone, but then if that's how they feel they are entitled to express that.

I do kind of understand where the disappointment comes from, on my first watch through I'll admit that I picked up on Alina's lack of empathy towards Aleks and was a bit put out by it because in the books she does have alot more empathy towards him. I also picked up on how she was acting alot like Aleks but the cynic in me believed that this was purely coincidental and that the show was never going to acknowledge it. I still enjoyed the season and all the darklina scenes we did get, don't get me wrong, for me Alina's lack of empathy wasn't a deal breaker because her anger at him made sense to me. It was in those last moments with Alina using the cut that everything clicked into place for me, because it was at that moment that I realised it wasn't just me reading too much into it like I first thought, it was all deliberate and part of Alina's corruption arc. That was when I got excited and I went back and rewatched the whole series with that knowledge in mind and there were so many more things I noticed. It gave whole new level to all of darklina's scenes, and to Alina's characterisation itself. So I definitely think this is one of those seasons where it benefits from a rewatch post a reveal.

I do think that if Alina had been more empathetic it would have lessened the impact of the reveal at the end as it would have seemed alot more random if that makes sense. But also I personally don't think it was the case that Alina had no empathy for Aleks, you can see in scenes like in ep 2 when Aleks starts talking about his struggles with a long life and losing loved ones etc Alina turns her head away like she didn't want to see his suffering, like she couldn't. I think it is less that she felt no empathy for him and more that she didn't want to feel empathy for him, which to me is an important distinction. I think Alina's arc this season was very much her not seeing the forest for the trees. She focused so much on her anger at Aleks and was so overcome by the betrayal she felt that she let that drive her. It was like she put blinders on and was just staring at this one goal, if I tear down the fold, if I kill Aleks, then all of the bad things will go away, everything will be fixed, but she is so focused on this that she is unable to see the bigger picture until it is too late.

If this were the end of darklina's story maybe I would be more upset but it isn't. They are clearly going to bring him back in season 3 and I think that is when we will see Alina begin to feel that empathy towards him. I think season 1 very much set up their relationship and showed that their feelings for each other were true, it developed that trust between them and that deep bond and then they tore it down and broke it when he put the collar on her. Season 2 was dealing with that fall out, showing his regret and longing to have her back at his side, his frustration that the broken trust meant she wasn't listening to him, showing Alina's hurt and anger and how that is driving her towards a darker path. Season 3 will be bringing them back together again, it'll be Alina realising that Aleks wasn't wrong about the fold and the grisha, it'll be her understanding Aleks' loneliness and how he was turned on for trying to do the right thing, I also think we will see Aleks reflecting on some mistakes he made like trying to steal her power. So I'm not mad about darklina this season because we are only in act 2 of an, at least, 3 act story.

[pnf-lover98]

Ho postato 80 volte nel 2022

Sono 46 post in più del 2021!

78 post creati (98%)

2 post rebloggati (3%)

Blog che ho rebloggato di più:

@hbalto

Ho taggato 79 dei miei post nel 2022

Solo 1% dei miei post non aveva tag

#sing movie - 62 post

#sing 2 - 59 post

#sing oc - 39 post

#my art - 39 post

#original character - 39 post

#buster moon - 33 post

#bia springs - 29 post

#bia and buster - 29 post

#my writing - 18 post

#asks - 12 post

Tag più lungo: 19 caratteri

#the stanley parable

I miei post migliori nel 2022:

#5

When her sobs eventually died out, Rosita wiped her eyes and placed her hands down on the metal surface of the platform. Suddenly, maybe due to tiredness, or to her sense of guilt - or perhaps due to that trauma she hadn't yet learned how to handle - she thought she saw a hand moving closer and coming to rest on hers. Rosita gasped as she recognized the familiar gray fur, and quickly raised her head. Buster was there, sitting down on his knees next to her on the platform, smiling at her. He wasn’t speaking, but he was trying to reassure her with a soft, caring look in his eyes.

(An extract from my fic “Stars still shine”)

While I was still working on the second chapter of my fic, I felt inspired to draw one of the scenes I wrote. Sadly, it took me way too long to finish this minicomic to publish it along with my fict. So here it is, with a post on its own. 

For this scene, I had two main musical inspirations, one of which is “Drops of Jupiter” (Taylor Swift’s version, because she talks about a man instead of a woman like in the original), from which I took the main artistic decision for this comic: instead of going for the usual transparent-glowy look for my little ghost, here he is with “drops of jupiter” (tiny glittery ‘stars’ and blueish reflections) in his fur.

Now, the story arc is officially over. See you soon with happier content!

38 note - Postate 10 febbraio 2022

#4

A tiny porcupine lady I sketched while I was having lunch 🎸🎶

39 note - Postate 13 novembre 2022

#3

Sing fanfic - “The mom living next door”

Ever since I read @pinwheelwhirl 's post with her headcanons about Miss Crawly knowing Buster ever since he was a kid, I've been wanting to try my own hand at writing something for these two. And the moment has finally come!

Here’s the fic!

Summary:

“Have you seen Miss Crawly’s brand new eye?” His father asked him one day, after he came back home from school. Their neighbor, in fact, had recently lost an eye, and now she sported a prosthetic one made of glass that gave her a funny derp look. “I did. She looks fun, it reminds me of a pirate.” A teenage Buster replied, smiling. “I want to write a story with a character just like her. And when I’ll have my theater, we’ll stage the show. I’m sure that everyone is going to love it!”

But rather than a character in a show, Karen ended up becoming a pillar to the theater itself, the only other person that knew the building down to its last brick just like he did.

[Attention, everyone! This fic is going to be an emotional one. You’ve been warned.]

45 note - Postate 24 marzo 2022

#2

It seems like Narry woke up on his funny side, on this run!

47 note - Postate 18 giugno 2022

Il mio post numero 1 del 2022

Meanwhile, somewhere in Heaven...

... We have a lovely couple of parents watching their son from above!

(For those who are wondering, no I didn't make up Buster's mom; her design appears in one of the original sketches of the Sing movie artbook)

73 note - Postate 5 aprile 2022

Guarda ora l'Analisi del tuo anno 2022 di Tumblr ���

[sneezingfetishftw-fics]

Done! Tagging @zensations35 since you were like “pls finish it”. Note that the other character is just some random guy (maybe the guy who called Angel a slut in the pilot?) cause there wasn’t an existing character I felt like this would fit super well. But I do have an idea for a huskerdust sequel, idea in the tags.

“Let me get this straight. You call up Angel Dust, porn star extraordinaire, with a body made to be exploited… and you want me to sneeze?”

The other man blushed, trying not to look at the ground. “Um, I mean y-yeah, but if you don’t want to…”

“Oh no darling, I don’t mean to kinkshame. It’s just that when you told me you were going to introduce me to a kink I’d never heard of, I didn’t think you could actually pull it off! Color me impressed.” It had been a while since Angel had taken a side job, but this offer had been too intriguing to pass up.

“So, how does this work?” Angel asked, rubbing his nose absentmindedly, and then a bit more vigorously when he realized the context. “I can’t exactly sneeze on command, ya know.”

The man pulled out a small vial. “That’s why I have this powder, you just have to snort it.”

A grin spread across the spider’s face. “Say no more!” He was, after all, quite familiar with snorting things.

“Um, that’s…” the man warned as Angel began snorting a line, “…quite a bit more than the recommended dose!” Too late.

Angel’s eyes went slack and his upper arms started fanning in front of his face as his lower arms fumbled around in the search for a tissue box. Whether he was normally this prone to dramatic buildups, or whether he was hamming it up for his enthusiastic audience, it was hard to say. “Heh… hih… ehhh… ihhh…. uhhhhh…. haaahh” But the gasps and moans just kept on coming. Eventually, he couldn’t keep it in any longer and an explosive sneeze burst out of him. “Hah’TCHOO! Ugh.” He barely had time to recover when he sneezed again. “Itschh! Tscchhh! Tchoo! Chhh! T’chu! Atschh! Tssschu! Heh’IT’shue!” The sneezes came so rapidly it was a wonder he wasn’t suffocating. Must be the improved lung capacity from all those times he’d been choked. “Damn, that stuff is strong! I guess we are exploiting this body after all.” He laughed, and it quickly devolved into a coughing fit.

At some point after his lungs had calmed down and his nose had resumed tickling, he seemed to regain control of his senses somewhat and his hands started moving to cover, but he found those hands being pushed away and his face being turned towards the other man. “That’s the other part I forgot to mention, I would actually like it if you could, um… sneeze on me?

“Oh ho ho, somebody wants to get wet, huh?” A grin spread across his face, the expression only lasting a moment before it shifted back to a pre-sneeze expression. The sneeze came faster this time, he’d been holding it back while the other man talked and when Angel finally let himself have the release it came bursting out of him, spraying the other in a fine mist. “Het’CHIEEEW!“ Spray after spray and mist after mist, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. “Het’SCHHH'hiew! hih-hhhhit'SCHHHIEW! HIT’SCHH! ’TSHH! T’CHHHIEW! HHHET’SHhhoo! Het'CHIEW! ‘CHIEW! ESHH! ESHHH! ET'CHHH! HIT'SHH!”The man’s grin kept spreading even as his body got more and more soaked. With the last part of his brain that wasn’t focused on this intense need, Angel realized that his hitching and moaning were mixing with the man’s own noises of delight. And were those bodily fluids Angel felt on his fur his own, or…? Never mind, there was no more room for thought. Just pure desperation.

Eventually, the irritation seemed to have run its course. Angel slumped back, exhausted. “Ya know, that was actually kind of fun!” He chuckled. The man chuckled too, exhausted for entirely different reasons. Angel spent the last of his energy on a long, gurgling nose blow. “Maybe I oughta call you up next time I’m feeling under the weather,” Angel added with a wink. (There was, of course, always energy reserved for flirting.)

The man smiled as he handed over a generous tip. “I’d like that.”

I started writing an angel dust fic where he is introduced to the kink and I keep being lazy about actually finishing the fic lmao, pls give me motivation lol