#so he will politely admire from afar. and his party members will give him a heart attack

[mars-ipan]

fortune doodles bc i finally got to play him recently. he's got a little crush but dw he's being So Normal About It

[myonepiece]

Benn, Lucky Roux, Yasopp HC- Relationship HCs

I felt like doing this cuz Lucky and Yasopp have like no conent and I think Lucky is super cute :p I had to kinda improvise with Yasopp&Lucky because we don’t know much about their personalities but it’s still pretty accurate~

*gender neutral

💘💘

Benn

Ignore the subtitle

He is such a gentleman and secretly very romantic. He’s the type to hold open doors and pull out chairs for his S/O. Omg and he offers his arm for them to hold whenever they walk. Gives his jacket to them when they’re cold. Literally so sweet and polite. Relating to this, he is like so faithful, doesn’t notice anyone else his attention is always on his S/O

Lots of little compliments, every day he’ll call his partner beautiful/handsome. He’ll whisper compliments into their ear whenever he passes by them ;-; 

He’s not one for PDA but if his S/O initiates it or likes it, he’ll do it. Anything that’ll make his lover happy. He naturally has an arm around his S/O whenever they’re in public, but he doesn’t really initiate anything else unless he has to intimidate some perv/enemy or unless he gets a bit jealous. 

Very protective- he always has an eye on you from far away or up close, he’ll ask a crew member to escort you somewhere if he can’t. He tries to stay by your side whenever you’re out with him and the crew, he’ll just find himself next to you sometimes not even realizing he walked over.

He’s not the best at comforting, but he tries his best. He’ll leave his S/O alone if they need that, but he’ll also hug them against his chest and let them cry as much as they need. He’ll rub their back and attempt to whisper reassuring words

He loves drinking with his S/O, sometimes after a stressful day that all he needs to relax. He also likes having them in his arms while he drinks/parties with the crew. He definitely stargazes with his S/O

Dates are usually nice bars or little resturaunts on the islands the Red Hair Pirates dock at. He doesn’t have much spare time so whenever he does he spends it with his S/O. 

Omg sharing a bed with him is like having a giant teddy bear. He’ll always let his S/O sleep with him, usually having them tucked into his side with their head on his chest, or directly on top of him. He’ll rub their back until they fall asleep, then he’ll just listen to their breathing for a bit until eventually it lulls him to sleep aswell. He secretly loves when his S/O lets him rest his head on their chest, the sound of their heartbeat makes him feel so calm and safe.

Lucky Roux

I can not explain how excited I was to write his :D

He is so sweet, literally a giant teddy bear- That’ll rip (shoot) anyones head off if they harm his S/O. He was the first character to kill someone on screen, so that should tell you something. He’s very protective but he’ll often just watch his S/O from afar and make sure he’s ready if they need him to step in. He won’t wait for them to signal for his help, the second he sees someone threating his S/O’s safety he’s there pushing his S/O behind him and shielding them from whoever’s causing the danger

He will try to be more subtle with his gentle and soft side in public. He saves the lovesick confessions for private. Because seriously he’ll start listing off all the things he loves about his S/O to them. One time he got super duper drunk and accidently started doing in in front of the crew. They never let him live it down

He likes to have his S/O sit on his shoulders, he’s quite tall and big so bending down that far to hold his S/O’s hand is kind of uncomfortable. But when he has them sit on his shoulders he’ll reach a hand up so they can hold it while they walk. He’ll do this anywhere doesn’t matter who’s there, the whole crew could be teasing him and he would just continue eating and throwing the occasional “At least I have someone to do this with” 

It is so easy to guilt trip him. He could say a compliment like “You’re so pretty baby” and his S/O could do puppy eyes and be like “Do you only like me for my looks?” [insert lip quiver] and he will be a stuttering mess that then practically throws flowers and gifts at them while trying to apologize

If the crew teases him about all of his affection towards his S/O, he becomes a little distant or less affectionate for a bit. He does have an image to keep, so he’ll really only be soft in front of his lover and the crew. In public it’s more of a colder/less lovey-dovey affection, no nuzzles or cheek kisses, and he tries to hide his blush and flustered-ness

So hugs- he is so soft when he hugs his S/O. He’ll usually pick them up or sometimes he’ll bend down and let them wrap their arms around his neck then stand back up bringing them with him. In public he’ll bend down and help them onto his shoulder. He freakin 7′11 so he is worried about hurting his S/O. Thats why he holds them close, but very gently. In private when he picks his S/O up he’ll cheekily smile at them before offering his cheek because he takes kisses in exchange for his hugs.

When he shares a bed with his S/O he’s very careful to not crush them, he’ll have them lay directly on top of him or up towards his head holding onto his arm. He sleeps liek snorlax so just picture like a kitten sleeping on snorlax, thats the position most of the time.

When he’s drinking or sitting around wiith the crew he likes having his S/O on his shoulder or right next to him. He’ll often have them sit on the table in front of him so he can rest his head on their shoulder/top of their head. And he absolutely loves when his S/O feeds him, like holds out a pice of meat for him, then he’ll offer them a bite too ;-;

Yasopp

His personality is similar to Usopp’s, except he’s a lot less of a coward (no offense usopp I love you) He would star at his S/O quite alot, just admiring their face and the way they smile. He loooooves their smile, he’ll do anything to see it. 

He likes to showoff his shooting skills, so sometimes he’ll have his S/O watch him practice. Also he’ll offer to teach them how to use a gun. He’s very protective of his S/O and prefers to have them next to him or at least within reach at all times. If he sees someone starting to cause trouble for his S/O, he’ll watch and make sure they’re okay but the second they look uncomfortable or signal for his help, he’s over in the blink of an eye. He won’t immediately hurt whoevers messing with you, but a harsh threat warning and very scary glare is what they get. Buuut the second someone threatens actual harm towards his S/O, it’s over for them.

He holds his S/O’s hand whenever they’re out together, or he likes to give them piggyback rides- more hand holding though. He’ll take them shopping or looking for a decent food place in his spare time. He loves when his S/O is with him when The Red Haired Pirates are partying at a bar, but he’s also worried about how crazy and somewhat dangerous it can get with all of them. So he’ll have his S/O sit with him either tucked into his side with his arm around them, or sitting in his lap.

He just loves telling his lover about his adventures and of course his wonderful son. He has definitely thought about introducing his S/O to his son when he sees him again someday. Yasopp will sit with his S/O on the deck and tell them stories about his life, he loves seeing them smile and laugh at his tales. 

He loves hugs from his S/O, in public they’re rather short but in private they can last forever. He’ll pull them close and nuzzle hiss nose into their hair while holding their head against his chest. His hugs last a lot longer when he’s having a really soft moment or when he occasionally gets a bit insecure.

When he shares a bed with his S/O he likes spooning, he’s fine being the big or little spoon just as long as the crew doesn’t know he can be a little spoon. He prefers being the big spoon because it makes him feel like he’s protecting his S/O. He also likes to lay his head on his S/O’s chest and listen to their heartbeat while they run their fingers through his hair- he falls asleep right away like that.

[werejusttouchingeachother]

Divine

Req:  would you mind writing a Sub!Ten smut where reader gives them a handjob and it goes from there? The scenario can be whatever you feel is best but the switch (dom+) in me has been quaking +  something with a really dom reader + any whiny subby nct or exo member that first comes to mind? + pegging

Summary: art student!Ten gets assigned a project with you for your Photography class and although his ideas for the concept initially make you wary, you eventually see the silver lining once he invites you back to his place

Pairing: sub!Ten x dom!reader (both are bi/queer/sexually fluid)

Genre: smut (m)

Words: 6015

Tags: nudity, cursing, handjob, edging, pegging

A/N: I combined quite a few repeated reqs I’ve been getting for sub!nct and pegging in specific so sorry if this took way too long! I haven’t gone full feral dom in this the way I like to (because wbk im a hardcore dom) since i’ve noticed many on here have boundaries with it/not used to it so since this is my first proper sub!member fic, I’m just easing into it ok--i’ll go harder or less next time depending on the response this gets

You raise your hand to knock on the burgundy door, hesitation creeping up your mind and effectively stopping you. Your fist hovers mid-air as you straighten your dress with your free hand and pull out your phone to check your makeup again.

When Ten approached you at the library yesterday, you certainly hadn’t expected him to call you back to his apartment.

Well, then again, you hadn’t expected a lot of what Ten had said at the library when he sat across from you while you were working on your assignment.

Chittaphon Ten is nothing less of popular at your university—with a double major in Art and Dance, a minor in Photography, it’s no surprise that both students and faculty were always constantly in awe of how he seemed to always have his shit together, scoring impressive grades, being extremely sociable and generally was the most well-rounded person that you’d ever seen.

His crazy attractive features weren’t a drawback either.

Like most girls, you admired him from afar without ever making a move. Not because you were too shy to do anything—Lord knows you weren’t, and so did a good majority of the students who you’d been with—but because he was always surrounded by people, the life of every party he went to, the one who never had a problem getting laid and the one whose attention required too much effort.

Which is why you were extremely surprised when Ten sought you out at the library yesterday. He’d called your name, which you didn’t even know he knew until then. It made you recall the first time he’d said it—one of the many faces that you’d been introduced to at the freshmen’s party during your first year at university.

He’d been the cool friendly popular sophomore, a beacon to all the lost freshmen and you’d been one of them as you exchanged names, later drinks and then, you were pretty sure, a tipsy dance together towards the end of the night.

That was the extent of your interaction—with the exception of the friendly smiles and casual ‘Hey’s as you passed each other in the hallway. What’s even sadder is that most of the memories from that night aren’t even clear to you due to all the shots you had downed—it’s only when you saw all the blurry pictures on Instagram the next day that you realised he’d danced with his hands around you but you couldn’t remember even feeling them, nevertheless the dance.  

Needless to say, Ten was probably the only guy to ever make you reconsider the decision to drink at parties.

Regardless of all this, you hadn’t expected to be paired with him in your Photography class that you two happened to share this semester. You never thought he’d attend much since it was only an elective—moreover, attendance wasn’t even compulsory—but you should have known better, of course perfect Ten was there.

And of course, on the one day that you’d skipped classes, you and Ten had gotten a paired assignment.

“The concept,” Ten said in a hushed voice as he leaned over the table at the library, making your gaze unknowingly rivet to his mouth. You had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his as he continued, “The concept for the assignment is Biblical influence on art.”

Still, you’d nodded. You’d shrugged it off in stride.

At least, you did until Ten said the following words:

“I have an idea. Everyone else is going to be at churches and cemeteries and cathedrals and basilicas. For the architecture and lightings. I was thinking, since we both are studying Art, we could paint on you to make you look like a Michelangelo sculpture.”

You’d blinked at him, wondering if you had misheard because he was whispering so lowly. You’d opened your mouth and closed it again, gaping like a fish. When he’d seen your obvious confusion, he repeated the last part, making your eyebrows furrow and then inhale sharply as you realised he was serious.

“Just hear me out,” Ten started before you could start yelling in the middle of the university library. “Think about it. No one would do such a unique concept.”

“Yeah, because it’s crazy?”

“Its art, Y/N. Crazy is kind of what gets you recognition.”

“This is an assignment that isn’t even accounted for twenty percent, Ten. It’s not even going to get published. Make it make sense,” you said in a flat voice.

“Imagine if it does, though, because it’s that good,” he muttered, widening his eyes at you to further emphasise his point.

You didn’t agree. You didn’t disagree either but the way you’d shaken your head and quickly stormed out of the library with an excuse that you needed to get to class let him know that you weren’t exactly in favour of the whole idea.

Then he’d called that night. It was later than you’d expect anyone to call—especially to discuss an assignment—but for some reason, it had worked.

You’re not sure why you agreed. Maybe it was because he’d actually made some good points over the call.

Or maybe because his voice had sounded so lulling over the phone, you’d found yourself nodding along without even paying attention to what he’d been suggesting. You agreed to meet him after your last evening class the next day at his apartment to ‘get it over with as soon as possible’.

Right now, you stood outside his door and tried to recall what all he had said last night. You were wearing a wrap-around dress that dropped only till your knees—the easiest thing to get in and out of—and had washed your hair so that it hung around your face. You’d scrubbed and shaved every surface of your skin until you were polished and squeaky clean, smelling like fresh soap and your mildly-scented lavender perfume.

You took a breath and checked your reflection for the millionth time in just half an hour on your phone’s screen before sighing and knocking on his door.

There was a shuffle of steps and then the door opened, Ten poking his head out and smiling at you.

“Hey,” he greeted softly and held the door open. “Come on in.”

You slowly entered, your mind racing with multiple thoughts as you closed the door behind you. You heard him mumble that he’ll be right back and to make yourself comfortable as he headed to a room at the end of the hallway.

You entered the first room to your left that he’d gestured at, your eyes quickly scanning the place. You immediately notice how he’d drawn all the curtains open and can’t help but smile at the very obvious attempt to have cleaned up—everything had been pushed to the corners of the room and things were thrown haphazardly to a side to clear the floor.

Biting back a smile, you turn right as he enters and hold your hands up to stop him before he starts speaking.

“Before anything,” you start, lowering your raised hands when you notice he’s listening. “Explain to me entirely what your plan is for the project. All of it.”

He nods and grabs his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You listen attentively as Ten explains how he thought it would be cool if he painted your entire body like a marble sculpture with a sheet draped over your body—painting over the sheet as well for a hyper-realistic effect while you posed like a statue.

You bit down on your lip at the idea of getting naked in his apartment with only a slinky garment to cover you, eyes moving from his phone’s screen to meet his. You can see the question in them and he even gives you a polite smile as if to tell you that you can always refuse if you’re uncomfortable with it.

But beneath that, you can see the challenging glint: he is daring you to back down because he knows you’re on unfamiliar grounds with him. He’d surely been naked many times in his apartment with several mutual friends of yours and so had you back in your own place but never with each other.

And maybe it was that or maybe this exciting air of ‘what if this went somewhere?’ and ‘what if one of us leaned in closer?’—but you didn’t want to back down.

So you gave him a firm nod, relishing in the way his eyes slightly widened at your affirmation as you turned to head for the bathroom that you’d seen when walking in. You turn at the last second, right as you’re near the door to see Ten staring at you as if baffled that you’re actually agreeing to this and you ask as nonchalantly as possible, “Ten? The sheet?”    

“What?” He blinks before realising. “Oh, right, right, sorry.”

He grabs an ivory-coloured sheet that laid neatly over the back of a chair and hands it over to you. You still as your eyes fall on the silky satin material you held in your hands, the fabric almost slipping from your fingers because of how smooth it was.

You slowly raise your eyes from the sheet to ask him what exactly you were supposed to do with it and stop when you notice that his eyebrow is raised, expression apprehensive as if to wait for you to drop the sheet and leave his apartment.

Plastering on an overly sweet smile, you nod in thanks and turn to the bathroom.

Once inside, you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you give yourself a pep-talk.

You weren’t backing down. There was just no way—especially when there was a good chance that this was all in your head and you were just making it into a bigger deal than what it actually is. It could just be about the project and Ten’s perfectionistic tendency wanting the highest grade.

So you slowly disrobed from your floral wraparound dress, hanging it over the hook on the back of the bathroom door. You hadn’t put much makeup on except for some gloss on your lips and some mascara—not wanting to be completely barefaced but at the same time, not going fully out.

Taking a deep breath, you take the satin sheet and stare at it as you contemplate how to wrap it around yourself.

You settle for wrapping it around your body, under the arm similar to how you usually do with a towel. You try to wrap it twice but the material is hardly enough to envelop more than once fully around your frame.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and have to force yourself to not get back into your comfy dress and jump out the bathroom window. The material clings to your body like a second skin and despite being layered twice around your front, your nipples still poke through due to how thin and supple the satin is.

Sighing and straightening your back, you turn to make sure that the knot at the back is fastened tightly and feel glad that you’d had the sense to shave your entire body spotless earlier today before coming here.

You meet your gaze in the mirror one last time, narrowing your eyes slightly as you take a deep breath and get your game face on. You walk to the door and step out, immediately feeling goosebumps rise on your skin at the sudden change in temperature from the cool bathroom.

You re-enter the hall and immediately notice Ten fight every instinct in his body to react at your appearance as his eyes swiftly rake over your entire form before quickly flitting back to your eyes.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you stand in front of him and he hesitates before finally saying, “Uh. You. That’s not actually how I thought you’d wear it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, fighting against the urge to cross your arms over your chest defensively because you knew that would only draw more attention towards your breasts.

“What did you think then?” You ask in a deadpan tone and Ten grabs his phone from the table, showing you an image of a marbled woman sculpture that had a similarly thin cloth adorning her body except it fell over one shoulder and was held tight by pressing down the other arm. Moreover, she was postured by leaning her hips against a short pedestal and arching her back with her head raised upwards.

The garment covered her chest and stopped short at the very top of her thighs—barely covering anything but exposing her curvy hips, thighs and sides in their full glory.

You unknowingly release a loud sigh of frustration before nodding. Determined, you reach back to unknot the cloth but Ten stops you with his hand, saying, “Wait, its fine.”

Your hand is caught underneath his, and you look at him with confusion. “What?”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, lowering his hand from your shoulder. “This is better cause I have to paint your shoulders anyway and they’re both revealed this way. We’ll paint your entire body first before putting the satin over it and paint that last.”

“Um,” you say softly, nodding as he gestures for you to sit on the chair. You slowly sit down and contemplate crossing your legs but decide against it as that would cause the material to hike up further than it already is. “Okay.”

Ten stands above you, dipping a brush with thick bristles into a palette. You keep your eyes on his face, watching him carefully and don’t fail to see the way his breath slightly catches when he notices your intense gaze on him. You try to bite back a smirk as he leans over you and presses the cool brush against your shoulder, lightly stroking it over the skin in an experimental brushstroke.

“Could you lean your head back?” He asks you, his voice considerably lower.

“Mhm, sure,” you softly hum in agreement as you arch your neck back, noticing the way his grip falters on the brush as he presses the brush more firmly against your shoulder. The contact with your skin mixed with the air that had suddenly grown thick around the two of you made slight bumps rise along your arms and you feel Ten’s gaze dart to your face, having noticed the effect.

Yeah. This wasn’t about the project. Your senses were tingling and even if you knew nothing else, you could smell sexual tension from miles away.

You deliberately sigh softly, your chest heaving with the release of air and feel the brush still against your skin again. You sneak a look at Ten and notice that he’s completely stopped faking it, watching your face carefully.

You lower your head and turn it in his direction, feeling both your breaths intermingle from how close your faces are. You’re just about to lean in when he says, “It’s not working.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “What?”

“The paint.” You glance down at your shoulder to see that the colour was slightly faded and almost runny, not in the thick layers that they should be with the amount of strokes Ten had just made.

“Your skin,” he said, thinking as he leaned back slightly, promptly breaking the moment that you just had. “There’s something that’s not allowing the paint to settle. Did you put something before you came here?”

You think for a moment before answering, “Uh, yeah, moisturiser. Lotion. Is that it?”

Ten swallowed thickly, nodding at your words as he stepped back. “Do you think you can remove it with body wash or soap? I can’t paint your skin otherwise and it needs to be layered thickly for the marble effect.”

You stare at Ten, eyes narrowed as you tried to figure what game he was playing here. You’re almost tempted to just stand up and grab him, press him against the desk and kiss him hungrily.

Did he just want you to shower here? Was he going to walk in? Or was this to just have you smelling like the same sweet-scented soap that he always smelled like?

Or was this really because he was concerned with the project and didn’t want your Vaseline bodycream to stand in the way of a perfect grade?

Did he even want to sleep with you in the first place?

You stand up abruptly, unable to take the million thoughts flooding into your head. Turning around, you made a beeline for the bathroom again while mentally cursing him.

If he was playing hard-to-get, this was the longest you’d ever held out for someone you were interested in sleeping with, despite how much you loved the game.

You’re Y/N. Sure, Ten had a reputation as the campus heartthrob with nights of guaranteed fun and pleasure but so did you—you had entire groups of people who would attest to your skills in the bedroom.

Except you didn’t know right now. The signals you’d been receiving all night were mixed and you couldn’t tell reality anymore from your own fantasies of taking Ten and having him in your own way.

You wished you were right—that he was really interested in sleeping with you. Because you couldn’t get the pretty images of Ten whining and mewling softly out of your head, reminiscing the way his Adam’s apple had bobbed nervously every time he swallowed when he noticed your gaze, loving the way he’d slightly faltered as you’d breathed softly.

You wanted to ruin him so bad—you could feel your core clenching with desire just from the thought of it.

You don’t realise you hadn’t closed the door behind you and it’s only when you turn around, catching Ten standing at the door that you realise.

You stare at him, feeling a slight tingle run through you as you gazed at him. You could see your own reflection on the mirror from your peripheral as Ten leaned on the wall beside it, his eyes transfixed on you.

“How is it that we’ve never ran in the same circles?” He asks, cocking his head.

Is he finally taking the bait?

You smile at his words, crossing your arms on purpose this time. “What do you mean?”

He falters slightly and you know it’s to fight the urge to lower his gaze from your face. He clears his throat, saying slowly, “I mean, we're both...”

“Hoes?” You offer, raising an eyebrow.

Ten blinks, surprised at your word choice. “I was going to say ‘the same’ but uh, sure, I guess that applies too.”

You chuckle, leaning your hip against the sink as you grin at him. “It’s cause we run in different circles that rarely interact with each other and the ones that do are comparatively lesser.”

Ten frowned at that, throwing your earlier question back at you. “What do you mean?”

“You fuck more guys and I fuck more girls.”

Ten’s eyes shot open, a light brush creeping up his cheeks at your bluntness and making you smirk slightly.

You think for a second, remembering all the times you’d spent with girls who were switches or leaned more towards dom. “You’ve slept with Amber, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “Taeyong?”

You nod. “Hwasa?”

“Of course. Mark?”

“Duh. Dahyun?”

“Obviously.”

You smile, glancing at the mirror as you tuck your hair behind your ear. “All right, then. I’ll shower now.”

You start to close the door but his hand is quick to grab your arm, stopping you effectively. You lift your head quickly to meet his gaze, able to smell the paint that was lingering on his clothes and unable to think with the need to just kiss him.

But you had to think, you had to control. He’d toyed with you enough so it’s only fair that you return the favour.

He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief, unable to say the words that he’s thinking.

“You’re…” He pauses before hesitantly asking, “That’s it? You’re just going to shower?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, playing genuinely confused. “... Yeah? I asked all that cause I was curious and I never knew you were such a power bottom. So are both Mark and Taeyong so I’m guessing that didn’t work well for you. Unlike the girls you slept with, who are all switches.”

He nods, his fingers still wrapped around your forearm. “I know. But they never... they never...”

He trails off and your eyes widen as you realise what he’s trying to say. “Whoa. What? Really?”

“What’s that expression supposed to mean?” Ten demands, narrowing his eyes at you. “You dommed Mark and Taeyong?”

“No,” you scowled before reluctantly explaining, “I mean I did. But not as much as I wanted to. They chickened out in the last second and we just fucked in missionary.”

Ten hesitates, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip nervously. “How... how much do you want to?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you feel your heart skip a beat, a sense of excitement suddenly rushing through your blood. Your eyes are transfixed on his lips, now glistening with his saliva and you can’t help but imagine them parted wide open, gasping and moaning.

“Why?” You ask, your voice husky with arousal as you lower your lashes at him. “How far do you want me to go?”

“How far can you go?”

You raise your eyebrow challengingly. “Farther than Dahyun or the others would ever dare going.”

He grabs your waist then and your hands are already on his shoulders, slamming him back onto the door.

Your mouths meet heatedly and he moans as you press your body completely up against him.

Ten’s hands are gripping your hips tightly as you trail your one hand down his chest, between the two of you. Your hand passes over the waistband of his sweatpants and you palm his growing erection roughly. Ten gasps aloud and the sound is music to your ears as you take the opportunity to slip your tongue inside his parted lips.

Your fingers grip his length over the soft material of his pants and he’s twitching even with the minimal contact. Ten’s hand grabs your neck and pulls you away enough to breathe heavily, “Bedroom.”

“Yes, let’s go,” you mutter hurriedly and you grab his hand, pulling him in the direction of what you assumed to be the bedroom—the only other room in the small apartment.

You sit on the edge of the bed and yank him to you, loving the way a soft gasp leaves his mouth as he almost stumbles into your lap. Hesitantly he sits on your thighs and you shake your head, noticing that he still had his sweatpants on.

“Take the clothes off, sweetheart,” you say sweetly but with enough firmness to immediately make him get off your lap and peel his shirt off. You lean back with your hands on the bed to support you as you stare at him, watching him as he stripped.

You stand up when he’s bare in front of you, taking his hand and pushing him onto the bed before crawling on top of him.

Ten sits on the edge of the bed with you on his lap and you place your knees on either side of his thighs. You grab the hair on the back of his head, gripping the locks tightly in your fingers to yank his head back roughly and quickly move your mouth around his slender throat.

It doesn’t take long to find the sweet spot that has him moaning, his chest jerking up with his gasps at your relentless lips. You lick a stripe from his ear to his clavicle, sucking on the soft flesh where his shoulder and neck meets.

Ten's whimpers are the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard, his fingers having bunched up the satin sheet around you as he grips it tightly. The material gives away easily and next thing you know, cool air is hitting your skin as the satin is now fisted in his grip. Your legs are splayed over his, feeling his warm skin against yours as you kiss around his neck. You lower your mouth to his clavicle, sucking on the skin enough to leave bruises that you’re sure will darken by tomorrow as you mark him. Ten’s head is thrown back in pleasure as you leave hickeys all over his throat and you use the distraction to slowly roll your hips, rubbing your core over his growing erection. Ten gasps at the sudden sensation and you smirk against his skin, pulling him back hurriedly by his shoulders.

“Y/N,” his voice is a shaky whisper as they leave his lips and you hum in response, kissing him again deeply in a way that let him know you were going to absolutely devour him. Your hands find his hair again and you hold him firmly to you, moving your lips against his and letting your tongue explore the warmth of his mouth in a way that left him dazed and breathless when you finally pulled away.

You settled on his knees, leaving enough space between your bodies for your hands to quickly reach down and wrap your fingers around his length. Ten is deliciously responsive—bucking into your touch, hands reflexively reaching out to grip the sheets behind him tightly and moaning softly.

You’re certain that he can see how lust-crazed you are with the way he looks underneath you, his eyes all big and pleading as he waits patiently for you to move your hand, to go faster, to do anything.

So you do.

You’re gentle at first, barely doing much as you swipe your thumb over the pink head. You take your time, admiring the smoothness and length of his dick, swallowing the urge to just take him into your mouth already as you move the pads of your fingers lightly over his length and stroke him leisurely. You watch his face as you do so, loving how Ten’s eyes dilate with the frustration or pleasure or both, you weren’t sure. As his breaths quicken, you remove your hand and smirk while lazily using just your finger to stroke up and down, loving the way he was twitching even with just a single digit on him.

His whines grow louder and you finally give in, wrapping your hand fully around him, suddenly moving it up and down so quickly that it had him breathing harder as your pace suddenly transitioned. Ten’s hands gently came up to hold your hips and he raised his torso from the bed to lean his head into your neck, warm heavy breaths hitting your skin. He whimpered as you lowered your other hand to his balls, fondling them while stroking his erection. His chest started heaving and you could tell he was close from the soft “ah’s” that were leaving his lips, almost in a way that made you think he didn't know he was making them. His eyes were closed tightly, head now leaned back and fingers clenching the sheets so hard that his knuckles were white and you can’t recall when he took his hands away from your waist and pulled his head back from your neck.

You watched him carefully, feeling yourself grow wetter as he came closer to his high and right when he twitched in your hand and his chest jerked up, his entire skin flushing as he panted, you immediately stopped and pulled your hand away completely, disengaging contact.

Ten’s eyes shoot open and you have to bite back a smile at the way he looks utterly breathless and crestfallen at the stolen orgasm.

You take a breath as you crawl over his body, pushing him back by his shoulders and resuming the kisses on his throat and neck. You let your hand tease up his stomach and chest, feeling the way his slender body shivers beneath your fingers at even the slightest feather-touch as you mutter lowly into his ear, “Where are your toys?”

“Bedside drawer,” he whispers breathily and you pull your mouth away from the reddening skin of his neck as you move across the bed to the small wooden drawers.

You grab the strap-on that you found and the bottle of flavoured-lube next to it, closing the drawers shut as you keep them on the bed. Your eyes fall on the beige satin lying at the foot of the bed where it had slipped from Ten’s fingers and you reach across the bed for the material.

Ten watches you with his chest still heaving slightly as he tries to steady his irregular breathing and you grab his wrists, pulling them above his head and binding them together with the same satin that had been around you only an hour earlier.

You adjust on his lap so that your slit is perfectly aligned with his dripping member, enjoying the way he breathed harder as he felt your heat. You moved your hips in torturously slow circles over his length, sliding it up and down as you watched it glisten beneath you with both your fluids while you busied your hands by rubbing the lube in between them and over the strap-on.

“Fuck,” Ten moans aloud and you almost moan in response at how glorious he sounds—his angelic voice cursing, all soft and desperate for you.

You slid down his body and Ten hissed as your hands that were now cool because of the lube made contact with his cock. The head was flushed an angry red and you almost felt sorry at how sensitive he was already despite not even having gone as hard as you usually do.

Ten’s hands are fisted tightly, fingernails digging into his palms as you support yourself above him with both your hands on his shoulders while you kept rotating your hips over him. His eyes close as you grinded slightly against the tip, spreading your thighs and pushing a bit harder so that the head of his erection would slip inside your slick walls just the briefest fraction before you moved again.

Ten whispers curses again and you finally lower your hand again to wrap your fingers around him.

“Ah!” Ten groans as he bucks reflexively into your hand and you don’t give him a second as you start moving your hand over his length at an almost merciless speed, stroking him quickly and roughly. Ten’s eyes blow wide open at your sudden intense stimulations and lower your other hand down further, feeling his pink hole.

The lube in your fingers helps you to easily stick your finger inside and you feel your own arousal grow as he clenches tightly around your single digit while your hand still strokes him to another orgasm. Hearing his breaths grow quicker as he nears his high, you gradually decrease the speed of your hand while still fucking him open with two fingers now.

Ten is mewling and whining on the sheets now, arms slightly squirming to touch himself for relief when you denied him yet another orgasm. His thighs move under you and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Keep moving and I’ll never let you cum,” you warn and he immediately stills at your words, his entire body going still beneath you. You smile slightly in approval at his compliance and lean down to pepper his chest with kisses.

Ten’s breath echoes softly around his cosy bedroom as your mouth finds his nipple, your tongue darting out to circle the nub in quick motions timed with the pace of your one hand moving on his member and the other fucking him open. You look up to see Ten’s eyes roll back in his head at the overstimulation, back arching off the mattress and you immediately stop your ministrations on his cock, sitting up properly to not miss the reaction.

And its priceless.

Ten’s face is redder than you’d ever seen it, a delicious blush spreading over his entire cheeks, neck and down to his chest and you notice how his eyes are slightly teary and unfocused.

You lower your face to his then, pressing a reassuring kiss to his parted lips as you remove your fingers from inside his ready hole.

“Get on top of me, baby,” you mutter as you pull away and Ten nods, disoriented and dazed.

You fall to his side on the bed, grabbing the strap on and putting it around you as you rub the lube, spreading it over the surface of the cock. The thought that Ten probably fucked himself on this after a night that was less that pleasurable and satisfactory with a girl who didn’t want to fuck him the way he wanted to enticed you immeasurably.

Ten’s hands are shaky as he throws his leg over your body lying back on his bed, knees pressed against your sides. Slowly, he lowers himself down on the length of the dildo, eyes closing and lips parting with a loud moan that he couldn’t suppress as he feels it fill him up.

He opens his eyes, gaze shifting to your face and you watch the surprise that falls across his delicate features as you cross your arms behind your head, not touching him.

Understanding that you wanted him to fuck himself on top of you, Ten leaned back and you felt his hands on your lower legs as he used it to support himself up while he starting moving up and down.

Arching his back, you watched the dancer’s slender and beautiful body manifest into the most breathtaking art that you’d ever seen, more beautiful than any marble sculpture as he bounced and fucked himself on you, mouth open as he sang the most sweet-sounding curses and mewls while his angry-red cock slapped against your stomach with every bounce, dripping pre-cum onto your skin.

You raised your hand to his face then, shoving two of your fingers into his parted lips and he immediately closed his lips around your digits, choking slightly. Your own eyes grew hazy with lust as Ten fucked himself faster, thoroughly wetting your fingers with his tongue as he moaned around them while moving faster.

His grunts grew louder and hoarser—you could tell he was close so you grabbed his hip with your free hand and raised your own hips, bucking up into him. Removing your fingers from his mouth, you lowered them dripping with his saliva to his chest and tweaked his nipples that you’d kisses sensitive earlier.

Ten’s body jerks and he groans loudly as his dick twitches, shooting spurts of thick heavy cum over the length of your torso. He keeps cumming continuously, covering your belly, the valley of your breasts and even shoots all the way to your hair with his sticky white fluids.

You drag your finger over your stomach, collecting the cum and stick your finger in your mouth, humming with pleasure at the taste of Ten’s slightly salty essence mixed with his saliva from when you’d been choking him earlier.

Ten collapses down onto your body heavily, unable to hold himself up anymore and you smile as you wrap an arm around his back.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you start, unable to keep the smugness from your tone, “but did I just ruin sex with a girl for you?”

“Yes,” Ten replied, leaning up to kiss your lips and you smile in surprise at the sudden tenderness in the gesture.

He smiles tiredly, eyes still unfocused as he says, “Yes, you did.”

“We should change our concept, by the way,” you suggested. Ten blinks in confusion and you explain, “For the project. The way you looked on top of me with your back arched like that was pretty fucking divine.”

Ten let out a short laugh. “I don’t know, Y/N, a photograph of being pegged might raise some eyebrows since the concept for the project is Biblical.”

“I repeat: divine.”

[spaceskam]

Helpless

day 1 of the @alterarnm event: pre-1900s ❤️️

ao3

“Oh, he’s just as gorgeous as they say.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!”

“He’s surely just another loud rich white man who thinks too highly of himself.”

“Oh, hush, Alex,” Maria scolded, trying to be discrete as she pointed out the one rebel soldier amongst many.

Alex, annoyingly, knew exactly which one she meant. He was fit and beautiful with hair hand-sculpted by the gods. It was overwhelming to say the least and Alex hated it. He had to be good. He had to stick to stable boys with too much to lose and reckless travelers that he had to be ashamed of. Just because this one boy at this one ball looked exceptional didn’t mean he could give him the time of day.

Because he wasn’t just a boy. He was the right-hand man to the major general who was leading them in the battle for their freedom. That meant Alex couldn’t go near him.

“You think he’s gorgeous too,” Maria pointed out, grinning wildly at him. Alex glared and shook his head. He wasn’t allowed. He came from a well to do family. Philandering with a soldier who was known for his pompous nature wasn’t an option. “Maybe we should see if he’s interested.”

“And get me arrested for sodomy? Absolutely not.”

“He’s staring at you!” Maria said. Alex peeked over at him and he was indeed smiling their way. His smile was gorgeous. 

“I think he’s staring at you,” Alex corrected. That at least made sense. Maria’s skin color hadn’t stopped men from looking her way and it definitely wasn’t going to stop a man with his reputation.

“No, it’s definitely for you,” Maria assured. Alex couldn’t help himself but look over again. Lieutenant Colonel Michael Guerin, beautiful and daring, looking straight at him.

Alex snapped his gaze back to Maria.

“What?” he asked. She smiled and grabbed his hands.

“Go speak to him!”

“Are you mad?!”

“Alex,” she said sweetly, “We’re on the brink of a revolution, anything could happen. Why thrive on fear?” 

“You’re horrible,” he said, smiling uncontrollably, “I can’t.”

“Oh? Then I’ll do it for you,” Maria decided. Alex’s eyes widened as she pulled away and started making her way towards the group of soldiers. He did his best to act normal, but that felt impossible. 

Alex watched from afar, feeling slightly sick as Maria spoke to the Lieutenant Colonel. For a moment, he wondered if they were even speaking about him at all. He knew very well that Maria was sweet and charming. Alex couldn’t even blame him if he got swept up in her and forgot he ever looked Alex’s way.

Except then Maria was leading him back to Alex.

It was strange. Alex was usually good with boys. However, he usually didn’t even try to be good with boys before he was 100% sure they were interested in that sort of thing. He had never spoken to this man, so he had no idea. All he knew was that he was known for being relatively promiscuous and that he was ungodly smart. That didn’t tell Alex much about what that would do for him.

“And this is my friend,” Maria said, gesturing towards Alex. Lieutenant Colonel Michael Guerin smiled like the sun had been created for him.

“Alexander Manes,” Alex introduced. The Lieutenant Colonel’s eyebrows raised, but he bowed before him.

“Michael Guerin. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted. Alex smiled right back and looked him up and down. Up close, it was clear he was wearing second-hand clothing. Something about that mixed with the air of confidence he wore felt ungodly charming. No wonder he was able to find the time for promiscuity while being at the head of a revolution.

“Right, so, you two speak, and I will… Be anywhere else,” Maria said, grinning as she backed away and left them alone. Alex shook his head and sighed, trying to turn his full attention to the Lieutenant Colonel. It wasn’t hard. He was beautiful.

“So, uh, I’ve heard a lot about the Manes family. Your father is quite the advocate for us staying under British reign,” he said, “What are your thoughts?”

“Oh, coming in strong, I see.”

“Wouldn’t waste my time on small talk if I could be educating,” the Lieutenant Colonel said. Alex smiled.

“Well, Lieutenant Colonel‒”

“Ah, call me Michael.”

“Michael,” Alex corrected, reveling in the way he grinned at the sound of him using his name, “I think we’ve established ourselves as a country well enough to separate from a motherland. My father simply… dislikes change.”

“I suppose,” Michael said, “I’ve also heard a bit about you in particular.” 

Alex tilted his head. “Oh?”

“You’re an advocate for white and black freedom. It’s also quite well known to our Commander-in-Chief’s aide-de-camp that you were the one who wrote the anonymous proposal to employ black soldiers in our fight and grant them freedom,” Michael pointed out. Alex tried not to show any big reaction to that. It was anonymous for a reason. If his father found out what he did, things would be very bad for many people involved. That man was never one to not shoot the messenger. “I like that.”

“If you knew that about me, then why even ask if I stand with my father?” Alex asked.

“It was an anonymous proposal, so I was curious as to what stances you were vocal about,” Michael said, leaning a bit closer like he knew it was a secret and that it wasn’t the only one he held. Alex smiled sweetly and batted his eyelashes. 

“Yes, well, if my father knew what I believed in, he wouldn’t be so kind. It’s easier for me to take a stance anonymously. I’d appreciate it if we kept that between us,” Alex said. Michael nodded slowly, eyes lingering on his lips just long enough to be obvious. Alex suddenly became a lot more sure of how to act. He smirked and tilted his head to the side.

“Let me get you a drink. Wine?” Michael asked.

“I would appreciate that,” Alex agreed. 

“Mm, wait for me,” he said, giving Alex’s arm the gentlest brush. To anyone who saw it might think they were engaging in a quiet political endeavor. Alex knew it was so much more than that.

His eyes followed Michael as he weaved through the crowd, greeting everyone who thanked him for his service with a charming smile and a nod before pushing through. Alex admired the way his clothes fit him and wondered how he looked without them. He was quite certain he could get away with finding out. After all, who would accuse a member of the leader of the revolution’s aide-de-camp of sodomy? No one at this party, that’s for damn sure.

Michael made his way back with two glasses of wine, twisting and turning his way out of anyone’s grasp so they couldn’t make him stay. Could he be more adorable? 

He came up to Alex with a stunning smile and held out the glass. Alex took it and Michael held on just long enough to be pulled close. Alex gave him a look to ask if he thought that was a good idea. Michael sipped his glass with eyes that said absolutely.

“So,” Michael said, his eyes looking around them just long enough before they landed on Alex’s again with a new mischievous glint, “Is it too forward to ask if you’re a member of Le bain des hommes de Valois?”

Alex nearly choked on his wine, looking at the Lieutenant Colonel with wide eyes. He’d been with confident men before, but he was always the more bold one of the two. Even he wasn’t willing to ask about male bathhouses in the middle of a party when one had no idea who might be listening.

“Are you mad?” Alex whispered. Michael smiled against the rim of his glass and looked up at him from it.

“Is that a yes?” Michael asked. Alex let out an exasperated breath, pressing the back of his hand to his burning cheek before quickly taking a long sip of his win. Michael was still grinning like wildfire. “I’ve yet to attend around here.”

“Your reputation precedes you, Lieutenant Colonel, I assumed you fancied yourself female companionship,” Alex said, unable to stop looking around. No one seemed to be listening, but he knew all the best gossips knew how to not be caught. Afterall, Maria was one of the best. Michael switched to standing beside him because standing in front of him was too obvious

“Then you should also know I’m not a fan of being told what to do,” he said, “For example, I was told I was allowed only female companionship.”

Again, Alex took a heavy swig of his drink. Michael hummed in amusement from beside him, a sound so sweet that Alex nearly lost all inhibitions at that moment. Apparently, though, Michael had already lost them.

“I know this venue like the back of my hand,” he said, “And I’m staying in a room in the building behind this one. If we sneak out the back, no one will notice.”

Alex eyed him. “Maria would notice.”

“Maria is a smart woman who knew exactly what she was doing when she introduced you to me,” Michael noted. He took a moment of silence to look over Alex once again. “There’s only so much time before I’m off to war and the chances of me never seeing you again are far too frightening.” 

“You think you’re so clever,” Alex teased. Michael smirked.

“Yes, I really do.”

Alex rolled his eyes and looked for Maria in the crowd. She was dancing with a man, but still managed to make eye contact with him. He tilted his head slightly in Michael’s direction, asking her permission to go off with him. She nodded and gave him that look like he’d lost his mind wasting time to ask. So he turned to Michael.

“Show me the way.”

They both discarded their glasses on a table with bushels of flowers. Alex evaded the guilt of it by focusing on the fact that, once they got out of the main room, Michael grabbed his hand and began weaving him through the building. Childish giggles escaped him that he tried to contain but it was hard. He was used to the stable boys who were just a quick fuck, not a man making history who wanted to sneak him away to his bedroom for the entire night. 

Michael stopped after pulling them through the back door and into the alley, looking at Alex with bright eyes. They were alone now and his already confident self seemed to bloom even more. He gently pushed Alex against the wall, hands slipping expertly beneath Alex’s jacket and resting on his hips. 

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” Michael said. Alex couldn’t help but smile. “I saw you the moment you entered that room. The fact we were able to sneak away without someone staring at your utter beauty is a mystery.” Alex shook his head.

“You don’t need to charm me, you’ve already convinced me to go to bed with you,” Alex said. Michael shook his head and moved in close, kissing him in a way that was so slow and so sure that it took his damn breath away.

“I know how it can be between men. Typically there’s no time for charm and appreciation with the outside world in the equation,” Michael whispered against his lips, moving his thumb up to trace them. Alex let out a shaky breath. That was new. “Let’s take that fear away, yes?”

“Yes,” Alex agreed. Michael grinned again and gave him another kiss, holding his face in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. That was also overwhelming. He liked this, the way it felt.

“Let’s go,” Michael said, taking his hands again and leading him down the alley to the door of the other building. He again slipped in with no problem.

“How many times have you done this?” Alex asked.

“Only so many, I like exploring,” Michael said, slipping through the back door and through the halls. Alex felt mesmerized by him.

Eventually, Michael got to a room and he took out a key from his pocket. He unlocked it and locked it behind them, smiling at Alex like a child on Christmas. Alex started to take off his jacket and Michael’s smile got wider.

“Are you going to stare at me or are you going to strip?” Alex asked, a lot more comfortable now that they were alone. Usually, he wasn’t even that comfortable when he got alone with men, but there was something about Michael that made him feel safe.

“Can’t I do both?” Michael asked, shrugging off his jacket and dropping it to the floor without a care in the world. He came in close though, his hands on Alex’s hips as he went in for a kiss again. 

Alex couldn’t even think about getting rid of their waistcoats, weirdly letting himself get caught up in the kisses. He never had a kiss with a man that didn’t seem to rush into getting it over and done with. Michael, however, kissed him and held him close and they swayed with each other for a moment. Longer than a moment.

“You really enjoy kissing,” Alex whispered. Michael breathed him in deep, kissing him again.

“Don’t you?” he asked.

“I do now.”

Michael smiled and tugged him towards the bed. They laid there and they just kissed. They touched and tangled into each other, of course, but the kissing proved to be the main event. Alex was in heaven. Was this allowed?

“Can I take this off?” Michael asked eventually, hands fiddling with his waistcoat.

“Please.”

The rest of the night went like that, slow and intimate in a way that he wasn’t used to. It felt like they’d known each other forever and that they were meant to be a part of one another. Alex was in sensory overload because of it, mind swirling and getting lost in just Michael, Michael, Michael. When he realized it was going to end eventually, he almost cried. He wanted this for the rest of his natural life.

They slowed to a stop at some point, naked and curled up with one another. More kisses were shared, smiles on both of their faces as it became more apparent that this was something to remember for the rest of their lives. 

“Alex,” Michael whispered, “I think we could actually work quite well together. I could make sure all your ideas are brought to the front and they’ll be seen as coming from me so you won’t get in trouble with your father. If that’s something you’d want.”

“Yes,” Alex agreed easily. All the play and none of the consequences? Sounds like paradise. “I think we could get away with that.

 “That being said,” Michael continued, “Would it be possible for us to keep personal correspondence as well?”

Alex smiled. “I would enjoy that.”

“Good,” Michael said, grabbing Alex’s hip to tug him closer and capturing his lips in a never-ending kiss. “I can’t believe I met you.”

“I’m not that special,” Alex told him softly, but he couldn’t help but feel like that Michael was. 

“I disagree,” he said, pressing a kiss to Alex’s jaw, “I can’t wait to truly get to know you.”

Alex melted and smiled. And to think he went into that party with nothing but negativity.

“Me too.”

[unsettlingshortstories]

The Lady, or the Tiger?

Frank R. Stockton (1882)

In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, and untrammeled, as became the half of him which was barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his nature was bland and genial; but, whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crush down uneven places.

Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured.

But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself. The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the people. This vast amphitheater, with its encircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance.

When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance to interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed day the fate of the accused person would be decided in the king's arena, a structure which well deserved its name, for, although its form and plan were borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely from the brain of this man, who, every barleycorn a king, knew no tradition to which he owed more allegiance than pleased his fancy, and who ingrafted on every adopted form of human thought and action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism.

When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king, surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheater. Directly opposite him, on the other side of the inclosed space, were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty and the privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased; he was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the aforementioned impartial and incorruptible chance. If he opened the one, there came out of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest and most cruel that could be procured, which immediately sprang upon him and tore him to pieces as a punishment for his guilt. The moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful iron bells were clanged, great wails went up from the hired mourners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so young and fair, or so old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate.

But, if the accused person opened the other door, there came forth from it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that his majesty could select among his fair subjects, and to this lady he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not that he might already possess a wife and family, or that his affections might be engaged upon an object of his own selection; the king allowed no such subordinate arrangements to interfere with his great scheme of retribution and reward. The exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately, and in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a band of choristers, and dancing maidens blowing joyous airs on golden horns and treading an epithalamic measure, advanced to where the pair stood, side by side, and the wedding was promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass bells rang forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the innocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path, led his bride to his home.

This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering justice. Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out of which door would come the lady; he opened either he pleased, without having the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to be devoured or married. On some occasions the tiger came out of one door, and on some out of the other. The decisions of this tribunal were not only fair, they were positively determinate: the accused person was instantly punished if he found himself guilty, and, if innocent, he was rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments of the king's arena.

The institution was a very popular one. When the people gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they were to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. This element of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which it could not otherwise have attained. Thus, the masses were entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan, for did not the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands?

This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most florid fancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own. As is usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved by him above all humanity. Among his courtiers was a young man of that fineness of blood and lowness of station common to the conventional heroes of romance who love royal maidens. This royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom, and she loved him with an ardor that had enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm and strong. This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one day the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and his majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the workings and development of this trial. Never before had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared to love the daughter of the king. In after years such things became commonplace enough, but then they were in no slight degree novel and startling.

The tiger-cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be selected for the arena; and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges in order that the young man might have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course, everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, nor any one else, thought of denying the fact; but the king would not think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the workings of the tribunal, in which he took such great delight and satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned out, the youth would be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in watching the course of events, which would determine whether or not the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the princess.

The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered, and thronged the great galleries of the arena, and crowds, unable to gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside walls. The king and his court were in their places, opposite the twin doors, those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity.

All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so grand a youth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved him! What a terrible thing for him to be there!

As the youth advanced into the arena he turned, as the custom was, to bow to the king, but he did not think at all of that royal personage. His eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the right of her father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism in her nature it is probable that lady would not have been there, but her intense and fervid soul would not allow her to be absent on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the moment that the decree had gone forth that her lover should decide his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than any one who had ever before been interested in such a case, she had done what no other person had done,—she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the tiger, with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through these thick doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them. But gold, and the power of a woman's will, had brought the secret to the princess.

And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready to emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest of the damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of the accused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiring to one so far above him; and the princess hated her. Often had she seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair creature throwing glances of admiration upon the person of her lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were perceived, and even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could she know that? The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door.

When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as she sat there, paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of anxious faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which door crouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expected her to know it. He understood her nature, and his soul was assured that she would never rest until she had made plain to herself this thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even to the king. The only hope for the youth in which there was any element of certainty was based upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery; and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as in his soul he knew she would succeed.

Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question: "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in a flash; it must be answered in another.

Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena.

He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it.

Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of that door, or did the lady?

The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded, semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who should have him?

How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started in wild horror, and covered her face with her hands as she thought of her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of the tiger!

But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How in her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth, and torn her hair, when she saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of the lady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush to meet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous followers, advance to the couple, and make them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing shriek was lost and drowned!

Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity?

And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood!

Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right.

The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up as the one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door,—the lady, or the tiger?

[gustavocharif]

The Treachery of Artists

words from elsewhere

The famous today’s artists… Could you have art from them? No, because they are doing just things that market wait from them. They are just a representation. So if I call them “artists”, I’d be lying.

-A. Gene Merritt: This is not an artist; 2010.-

8

At the current times, science has a deeper voice than art. Contemporary art has become a refuge to conformism, and most part of popular artworks are products of designers and con-artists to be consumed by people who want something “nice” in their walls, and followed by mesmerized snobs who want to be “cool”. In the opposite way, science ranks the space of creativity and investigation, a space that artists abandoned.

It is through the science that we are witness to the renaissance of creativity in new forms of expressions: the current molecular biology, the experimentation with artificial mutations, the future of cellular automata, the theory of Roger Penrose about an universe before Big Bang, the object visible to the naked eye into “a mixed quantum state of moving and not moving” (presented by American Physical Society in a report four years ago), the creation (by Craig Venter and his team) of the first self-replicating synthetic bacterial cell… all this is real avant-garde.

At the blind consent from contemporary art, science responds taking charge of hidden reality. We confirm that body heat does not dissipate mainly through the head, glass is not a slow-moving liquid, the different parts of your tongue do not detect different tastes, deoxygenated blood is not blue, chameleons do not change colour to blend in with surroundings… Humans have not only five senses. Contemporary science knows much more than contemporary art about human being and about the world where the human being lives.

7

The formal logic is older than the sun.

6

The cutting-edge scientists must be focused in the world to reach success. Contemporary artists must be focused in success to reach the world. That is because the art market changed the meaning of word “success”. Scientific success consists in a new discovery, and artistic success consists in being rich or famous. In this way, if you want to be a cutting-edge scientist, you need preparation and knowledge; but if you want to be an avant-garde artist, you need to be sociable, build a network with curators, influential and rich people. Nowadays you do not need talent, even do not need knowledge to be an artist.

But that is a blunder because success consists, actually, just in a work well done. And nowadays most artists fail, because they prefer to keep focused in commercial success rather than in the workflow. Because it’s easier to be famous than make a good work.

Thus, day after day, we see a lot of failures sold by millions in auction houses. Nevertheless, that does not change the quality. Cheap or expensive, waste are waste anyway, never mind the market value. In fact, several excellent artists died ignored or without money. And several rich and famous artists die without find a single real success in their work.

Death start when spectators think commercial success is equivalent to talent level. And when artists want belong to the club, even those who pretend to be different.

I have always been a fortunate man, because I never feel so lonely as to want be a member of the club.

5

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.”

-Richard Buckminster Fuller (1895-1983).-

That concept works in science and technology. In technology you can change something and build models for the others. But I am not a technologist. I build a new model just to walk with my own shoes on my own path. And I don’t want followers of my model, because I am not a guru. I am just a being trying to express something.

4

The oddness of platypus forced him to be admired from afar.

3

I don’t believe in any movements or trends. The movement from today is a disguise of the conformism of the future.

At the beginning, everybody have nice intentions. The first surrealists wanted a total revolution. Some pop artists wanted to give a sarcastic view about consumerism and the mass media. Many conceptual artists looked for a participative philosophy about the world and art itself. But soon, pop art turned into decoration to a new indifferent society, conceptual art became an entertainment for empty lives without own points of view, and finally an army of pop “surrealists” arrived for to make trivial Japanese dolls and “cute” children with big heads.

In the past, the mass media target was to brainwash the people. Today people do not need the media’s discourse, because people search on the net the daily shampoo for themselves. In the past, governments were concerned about the iconoclast artists. Today, the artists know that if they are iconoclasts, they have fewer opportunities to survive.

2

An artist is not a designer of pretty foolish things for entertainment and distraction. An artist is independent from trends, cultural movements, religious beliefs or political parties, and should work without regard the spectators. An artist traverses different realities and expresses fresh points of view.

I’m not talented enough to incarnate such a high level, but I don’t care.

I know my position is absurd. I’m not an admirer of Ionesco, but I remember now his play “Rhinoceros”. Day after day, everybody turns into rhinoceros; but Bérenger is the only human who does not give up to this mass metamorphosis. Bérenger knows he is completely alone, but he can’t renounce to his human nature. Never mind if the human trend is to turn into rhinoceros. Because he knows the human nature is being human until the end.

I feel sometimes like a kind of Berenger. Even in the last act, I can’t accept the “rhinoceritis”.

1

Art is a spaceship of thoughts, a way to be unpopular, critic and full of possibilities. Art exists beyond spectators, because reality is richer than any interpretation.

Gustavo Charif

Singapore - Amsterdam - Buenos Aires, 2013- 2015

© Gustavo Charif 2015 (text) and 2014 (image, Pierre sur Rrose du Champ)

[sonofhistory]

This may be a weird question, but what was Madison's relationship/thoughts on Washington?

The strongest argument for ratifying the constitution was the approval of George Washington, signaled by his presence at the convention and his support afterward. James Madison understood that Washington was the “heavy weight champion” (Brookhiser 7) of American public life, which is why he stuck to him from the planned stages of the convention through the early days of Washington’s presidency. 

The revolutionary war thrust Madison together with George Washington who was the commander in cheif for the continental army at the time. Washington was nineteen years Madison’s senior and at first he could only serve him from afar as an admirer. In 1778, the Governor’s council, noting “the great fatigues” to which Washington was exposed, decided to send him “a stock of good rum, wine [and] sugar.” Two years later, a congressional committee Madison sat on sent Washington a dozen boxes of lemons and two casks of wine. “As for our illustrious general,” Madison wrote, “the rich Madeira should flow in copious streams.” 

The two finally met in person in the winter of 1781-1782 (Brookhiser 31), when the commander in chief came to Philadelphia to plan the war’s end with congress. In Madison, Washington found “devotion, hard work and (in time) good advice. The younger man provided a gift which he revealed man years later in a discussion of Washington, “The story so often repeated of [Washington] never laughing,” Madison told, “is wholly untrue; no man seemed to enjoy gay conversation, through he took little part in it himself. He was particularly pleased with the jokes, good humor and hilarity of his companions.”

“Madison’s filial admiration for Washington was what almost any revolutionary, especially of his generation, would feel. But Madison would have more opportunities than most to serve his idol”

In November 1784, Washington went to Richmond to lobby the assembly for improvements to the Potomac. A bill was also introduced by Joseph Jones but after Jones left the legislature to take a seat on the Governor’s council, Madison took over management of a bill supported by Washington. Washington supplied the prestige and persuasion while Madison got the legislative work done. “Your own judgment in this business will be the best guide,” Washington acknowledged in a letter to his “partner”. As a result, the Potomac River Company was chartered in the spring of 1785, with Washington as president. 

Madison’s first visit to Mount Vernon followed in the fall (Brookhiser 45). After he left, Washington extended an open-ended invitation to further collaboration: “if anything should occur that is interesting, and you leisure will permit it, I should be glad to hear from you on the subject.” He sighed his letters with “affectionately. At Madison’s urging the assembly had given Washington fifty shares in the Potomac River Comany, valued at more than $22,000. Madison drafted a letter for him, asking the assembly to give the profits of his shares to charity. This would not be the last time Madison would be the General’s “ghost-writer”.

As one of Virginia’s representatives in Annapolis, Madison had called for a convention in Philadelphia. As a member of Virginia Assembly in Richmond, he wrote a bill to approve the recommendation he had made. With Madison’s input, the assembly picked a slate for Philadelphia that included Edmund Randolph, Patrick Henry, George Mason, Madison himself and George Washington headed this list. Henry refused and Washington did not want to go either. Madison spent all that winter and spring “wooing” him. When he wrote Washington in December 1786 to tell him that he was on the list of delegates, he underplayed his own role in putting Washington on there. “It was the opinion of every judicious friend whom I consulted that you name could not be spared… In these sentiments, I own I fully concurred.” On his way back on congress in December 1787, he stopped at Mount Vernon to speak with Washington. Madison would also provide Washington with updates as to what exactly was occurring in the congress chamber. 

George Washington took the oath of office in New York City on April 30th, 1789. Madison left no description of the day but he had stopped at Mount Vernon on his way back to New York in late February to help Washington write his inaugeral address. Madison wrote a more wieldy version, in six paragraphs. After Washington got the speech in the Federal Hall, Madison wrote the House’s response and Washington’s answer to the House’s response.

Whenever Washington’s abilities were questioned in the House, Madison came to the defense of him. When Washington asked Thomas Jefferson to be Secretary of State and he refused the first time, Madison was to play “matchmaker” and floated the offer back to Jefferson who finally agreed in February 1790. Despite James Madison’s disapproval with Bank Bill in February 1791, Washington had not yet during his presidency exercised his veto power. Washington talked the Bank Bill over with Madison, “listening favorably as I thought to my views,” and asked Madison to prepared a veto message. 

1792, Madison’s new political party named itself the Democratic-Republicans, but Madison’s most urgent task went far beyond politics: it was to persuade George Washington to stay in office for a second term as President of the United States. In the Spring the Commander-in-Chief asked his advisor how to let the country know that he would retire at the end of his term. Madison offered his opinions on the proper time for such an announcement (mid-September) and the proper manner (an article in the newspapers), and drafted an eight-paragraph Farewell Address. But he included a plea, “Having thus, Sir, complied with your wishes…I must now gratify my own by hoping [that you will make] one more sacrifice, severe as it may be, to the desires and interests of your country.”

Washington seemed above this. Madison “cherished Washington and his own closeness to him, could not acknowledge how much closer Washington had become with his former staff [Alexander Hamilton],” (Brookhiser 110). Washington subsequently decided to stay on at the urging of others such as Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. By 1793, Madison’s secret endorsement was for Philip Freneau. Freneau was a Princeton friend from their college days who published a newspaper openly attacking Washington and others of the rising Federalist party and sentiment. Jefferson and Madison distributed the papers. 

With the Whiskey Rebellion underway, Washington called up the militia of 15,000 led by Alexander Hamilton. This passed without protest from Madison but aspects of the affair worried his nevertheless: “a standing army was necessary for enforcing laws.” Madison worried less about the attack on western Pennsylvania than an attack on public opinion by George Washington. Washington believed that the crisis had been stirred up by the Democratic Societies. Edmund Randolph wrote to Washington that a Democratic Society in South Carolina had named itself “Madisonian.” This, Washington had not liked at all. He was attempting to uphold the law, while Madison was “consorting with its enemies.” (Brookhiser 120). Washington and Madison had disagreed on many things over the past four years, but now Washington began to suspect that his old friend was growing against him. 

In 1794, Aaron Burr introduced the bachelor Madison to Dolley Payne Todd whom he soon married. This courtship was encouraged by George and Martha Washington (Brookhiser 121). By April 1796, Madison began to take on Washington directly and his unhappiness showed. Despite their recent political disputes, he and Washington and still maintained somewhat of a friendship. He had supplied with his Madeira, helped with him canals and constitution-making; Washington had even blessed his marriage. Madison reminded the president that he was not a “king”, that the government had not “hereditary prerogatives and reminded him of the power of public opinion. Yet Madison admitted Washington’s “high authority” and insisted that he himself used only “decent terms” to refute it. Madison divided mind weakened his argument.  Washington found it easy to reject the younger man’s opposition. He ended the relationship. Though Madison would attend a few state dinners at the presidential mansion, he and Washington exchanged no more letters, paid no more visits. Madison’s own side was unhappy with him too. They blamed him for not fighting Washington “enough”. 

In his Farewell Address, Washington followed the advice Madison had given to him four years earlier about how to “set the stage.” George Washington died on December 14th and Madison moved that the assembly wear mourning throughout their session. “Death,” he said, “has robbed our country of its most distinguished ornament, and the world of one of its greatest benefactors.” Madison had never fully accepted the estrangement to Washington and stayed rather loyal till the end. In 1818, many years later when establishing the University of Virginia, one of the texts Madison added to library was Washington’s first inaugural and his Farewell Address. 

[ncttrashaf]

What If I Make You Cry?

 A/N: I couldn’t help but write something for you all before my exams start on the 11th of this month. Please wish me luck, keep me in your prayers, and let me know how you feel about this little thing I wrote in a hurry :(((

~Admin Ayu ♥

Characters: Mark x Reader x Johnny Genre: Angst, Romance. Warning: Language, Mentions of sex (idk is that a thing?) Word count: 2,896

Mark wished he could kick himself.

  Right in his shin, just below his calf. Donghyuck had once kicked him in his calf and it didn’t hurt much. So he should settle for his shin. He looked at Johnny who was smiling at his phone, the curve only spreading across his face as his thumbs stormed away on the screen. ‘That could’ve been me,’ Mark thought to himself. But he knew, it was too late.

  Mark had met you on your 18th birthday, an addition to the small, homely party that he was unable to avoid due to his closest friend’s incessant persistence. Mark hadn’t felt the nervousness till he stepped across the threshold, realising he had just stepped inside a completely unknown household in a very personal celebration. Mark felt sick with guilt and embarrassment and was subtly planning his friend’s death later that night.

  Mark barely knew at that moment that the one whose deathbed was readied in his mind would become the one Mark would become the most thankful to; because he had introduced Mark to a person who changed a lot for him later on, who made him feel an entirely new feeling, an entire new anxiety.

  He had introduced Mark to you.

  You weren’t the least bit fazed by the idea that your easygoing and impulsive cousin was bringing along a friend you had never even exchanged greetings with. You were open to meeting new people and also took great delight in getting to know people. You liked being associated with every sort of person, it added to your experience.

  So when you received Mark warmly, handing him a glass of frappe you had made yourself for the evening, he felt relieved to say the least. He visibly let his stiffened shoulders down with a loud sigh and turned to his friend, exclaiming that he was worried he’d be a displeasure to his aunt’s family and his relatives.

  “What? No!” his friend cooed, “We’re cool people, we like crowds.”

  Mark later realised that you didn’t. You didn’t mind people, but you weren’t particularly fond of crowds either. You were a very balanced blend between a very outgoing person and a reticent soul. He liked talking to you, he liked exchanging regular texts, snaps, and smiles.

  He liked you.

  And so did the man who always made up for the emptiness he constantly felt living in a country thousands of miles away from his family.

  Johnny liked you, too.

  Mark could kick himself for having invited you over on his 18th birthday, which was months after yours. Mark could kick himself for having introduced you to the older members, when he could’ve only let you hang out with the younger members. Mark could kick himself for having let you share interests with Johnny, though he had no control over that.

  Mark just watched from afar as you conversed away with the older man who had hopped a little when he realised that you were an adult, also months into it.

  “I want to pursue a career in journalism, I want to write books whether it be fiction or non-fiction, I want to be a public speaker. I can’t explain how much I want to do!”

  “You know, my favourite author’s like that too-”

  “Malcolm Gladwell,” they announced together, indulging in a rather small, but hearty fit of laughter.

  Mark politely interrupted, “You both are getting along well.”

  You had opened your mouth to politely reply in affirmative, however Johnny took it to another level as he called you ‘his sorta person’, making Mark quietly disappear.

  Even though the blush was apparent in your cheeks, your smile did falter when you noticed your friend resorting to helping Taeyong cook, who politely shoved the younger boy away saying that he should enjoy his party when the actual reason was that Taeyong wanted to avoid setting the kitchen on fire. Mark felt incapable, untalented, and boring. He felt that his company was too lackluster to even be associated with your presence. So he chose to keep away from you throughout the evening, playing with the kids.

  Johnny and you exchanged numbers. Johnny and you texted each other. Johnny and you talked over the phone. Johnny and you exchanged snaps. Johnny and you became friends. Johnny stole you from Mark, and Mark let him. After all, Johnny had promised Mark that he will help set you two up. Mark felt threatened, but he trusted his older friend.

  “Johnny, I really, really like her.” Mark confessed to Johnny one night, a month into the new reliance you and Johnny had found in each other.

  “You… like her?” Johnny’s eyes were widened out of proportions, his usual relaxed form was then sitting straight as his grip on Mark’s arm tightened.

  “Yeah… why are you so surprised?”

  “Because,” Mark felt his thumping heart relax as Johnny’s grip loosened, “I would love to help you two out!”

  Johnny went on for a month talking to you, telling Mark that he was just making sure you felt the same way for the boy who had his heart set upon you, assuring him that he won’t let any opportunity slip by. Every day, for a split second, Mark would question himself if he could trust Johnny.

  ‘Of course you can!’ Mark would scold himself in his brain, ‘He’s your brother, he’d surely help you!’

  One night when Mark was writing his raps, absorbed in his blank pages, Johnny texted him. Mark bolted to his door and left it unlocked for Johnny, who walked in after a minute.

  “Hey Mark,” Johnny apologetically got to the point after having spent minutes talking about Taeyong and Donghyuck fighting, Ten and Doyoung fighting, and Ten crying, “I’m- I’m sorry bro… she doesn’t feel the same way. She told me she likes this other guy, but she won’t tell me who it really is. When I asked her if she possibly had any feelings for you, she laughed it off… I’m sorry bro.”

  Mark smiled and let Johnny know that it was okay, that he could deal with a little crush and get over it, that it was not that big of a concern.

  Mark was lying.

  You and Mark were still good friends, but not how you both once were. Things had changed. Mark couldn’t bring himself to be as frequent with you as he once was. And you had pulled away from him as well. Mark realised you both had drifted apart, and he was struggling very hard to accept it.

  A week before your birthday, Johnny called Mark in his bedroom. The latter boy genuinely thought it had something to do with their comeback or work, however, he felt the sky break down upon him as Johnny informed him.

  “Mark… I really like her, and I think she likes me, too… since you had said you’ll get over her, I wanted to ask you; are you?”

  Mark thought for a moment about how restricting your love life from expanding was going to be of no help. Thus Mark said he was very much over you, happily helping Johnny plan a small surprise for you on your birthday with a heartfelt confession.

  By the end of the week, you and Johnny were dating.

  Mark had promised himself that he won’t ever frown upon your relationship. He felt happy that two of his favourite persons, two persons he genuinely loved and admired, had reciprocated to each others’ feelings. Two of his favourite persons had feelings for each other, were happy with each other, and smiled together. He was happy for you and your boyfriend. But somewhere deep in his heart, he felt empty. Because, he had lost two of his favourite persons, he had lost them to each other.

  Johnny and you got along well and everyone could see it. Everyone was happy when they saw you both off for the evening to celebrate your 200th day. However, when Johnny came back to dorm earlier than he was supposed to that night, undoubtedly livid, everyone realised the problem.

  Mark couldn’t help but eavesdrop as Johnny ranted away to Jaehyun and Doyoung.

  “It’s been over six months Jaehyun, six fucking months! She won’t even let me touch her hip!”

  “Johnny, you’re four years older! She may be an adult, but you have to understand she’s still pretty young. Give her some time, I’m sure she will open up with time.” Doyoung lectured.

  “I can’t believe you were expecting sex tonight.” Jaehyun laughed bitterly.

  “I’m sorry I’m a man with a healthy sex drive. You’re one to talk, being the one who goes to bars every week for a fuck.” Johnny spat at Jaehyun, shoving his hand off his shoulder.

  Mark felt dejected at Johnny’s disappointment, and enquired how you were doing. You were a crying mess when he called. You were sad and just as disappointed. Mark could feel an impending breakup, and he was ashamed to admit the little hope that had bloomed in his heart already.

  However, you and Johnny made up in a week and resumed as usual. Johnny promised you that he won’t ever rush it, that he won’t ever try to initiate something that could cause you discomfort.

  Mark was crestfallen, to say the least.

  However, he was observant too. He noticed Johnny and Jaehyun’s outing every week for a ‘walk’, and always insisted to join them. His insistence had gotten to a point where Jaehyun and Johnny were almost sneaking out every Friday night.

  As a friend, he felt liable to you. You had every right to know that your boyfriend was seeking sexual pleasure from strangers at a bar just because you had set some restrictions. You had every right to know that your boyfriend had resorted to other women to obtain release, which he couldn’t get from you. Johnny was cheating on you, and you had every right to know.

  It took Mark an hour to convince your cousin to take you to the bar on a Friday night, but he complied. Mark had given his friend a hint which was enough to rile him up, further requesting him to not attack ‘that tall jerk’ physically, since he wanted the two people actually involved to sort it out among themselves.

  “THERE’S NOTHING TO SORT OUT!” Mark heard your scream from behind the closed door, “Johnny, we are over.” You were crying frantically by the time you had ran out of the dorm, your sobs still audible. Mark wasted no time to run off behind you after a very small but heated exchange of words with Johnny.

  After a stressful and tiring five minutes of wandering, Mark finally caught you in his arms. He brought you back to the dorm and let you in his bedroom as Donghyuck quietly slipped in Taeil’s. He sat you down in his bed and waited for you to ease from your cries, to relax slightly.

  “Johnny told me that was the only thing he could do to keep our relationship healthy and alive…” you quietly told Mark, “He said that he is still emotionally attached to me, but he couldn’t help getting in some other woman’s pants… if he actually liked me at all, why would he cheat on me like- like this?” you whimpered, hiding your face in your hands as your started crying again.

  Mark recalled the little fight he and Johnny had had before Mark had run off to bring you in. Johnny had angrily retorted, “I will treat her however the fuck I want!”

  If Johnny could not treat you any better, Mark could. He didn’t think twice before he told you how he actually felt about you.

  “I like you… I like you very, very much, y/n.”

  You stared at his face as your jaw fell, your tears drying on your cheeks, “Since… since when?”

  “It’s been almost two fucking years, y/n… I couldn’t tell you earlier because you didn’t feel the same way, because you liked him. But… I had to tell you now, I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

  You stared at him for five minutes straight, before sighing long and resting your head on your palms, “I- I can’t believe this…”

  Mark stared at you as you laughed to yourself, afraid that something had possessed you, or that you had lost your senses from all the shock you were constantly receiving.

  “We got played… real hard! Oh my goodness, oh my…” you quietly mused to yourself.

  “What- what do you mean?” Mark asked you as he kept his hand on your shoulder, still somewhat in denial of what he doubted he was to hear.

  “I- I didn’t like Johnny, I liked you Mark. I had feelings for you!”

  Mark stared at you agape as his hand fell from your shoulder.

  “Johnny had told me that you liked someone else… he was there for me when I was rotting in the misery of having lost you to some other… model or idol or something! I grew attached to him since he was so nice and always there for me, and I started dating him. I-”

  “What do you mean?” Mark’s shook you softly, his eyes tearing up as the truth unfolded before his eyes.

  “I won’t say I never developed feelings for him, I- I did… but I always liked you Mark, I ALWAYS liked you…” you were on the verge of tears as you concluded, “He lied to both of us…”

  The next day you broke up with Johnny, telling him you didn’t want to base your relationship with someone off lies and deceit. Mark let Johnny know through a text that from then on they would only share the professional relation of being members; nothing more or less.

  Johnny was left desolated by his own choice. He felt guilty, finally all his actions weighing down on him. He barely talked to anyone and mostly kept to himself. The only time he was ever on his phone talking was when his mother would call, and he would mostly cry to her.

  “I messed up big time, Mom. I lost my best friend and my girlfriend.”

  And you and Mark were into a prospective relationship by then. You both got closer with time, helped each other out with even the littlest of issues, and became each others’ most trustworthy friend. You both were inseparable by the end of three more months.

  Doyoung set you two up for dates, finally getting you both to give in to each others’ emotions and start officially dating.

  Johnny had walked in on you both when you both had had your first kiss, leaving him with no other option but to request for a break to the company. He couldn’t endure the pain that he had brought upon himself, so it was apparent that some time away from all this, from you and Mark in particular, would be very helpful. Seeing you both together could only worsen him, thus he opted to finally go home and sleep in his bed like he had once  said in an interview.

  After two weeks Johnny took the earliest flight he could, after settling matters in Korea, to Chicago. He didn’t bid you two goodbye, and that somewhat hurt. You and Mark were in the living room, complaining over how Johnny didn’t even care to leave a text, trying to avoid the pain dwelling in both your hearts.

  “Kids!” Doyoung called out to you both as you two chatted away, “Well… Johnny left you two a note, a letter… would you like to read it?”

  Mark was hesitant, but you jolted up from your seat and took the letter from Doyoung’s hand, hurriedly thanking him as you sat down by yourself and unfolded the letter, not even caring to show Mark.

  Mark placed himself gently beside you as you read the letter out loud, Doyoung quietly leaving as he sensed the tension brewing in the atmosphere.

Mark and the girl I love,

Excuse my tackiness and read on.

I am very, very sorry. I cannot even explain how bad I feel about all this. I wish I could end my life for messing up so much. I don’t know what had gotten into me… I really don’t. As I write now, I’m still crying, I’m still in pain, and I am very much sorry. Please, if you have it in your hearts, please forgive me.

I hope you two remain happy together. I kinda ship you two now, if that’s any consolation… but again, that’s the least I could do after all I actually did…

Mark buddy, stay well.

Y/n, I love you.

From your one and only, Johnny Suh.

  Mark just watched as you broke down to tears by the end of the letter. You couldn’t comprehend as to why you felt so heartbroken for a moment before you finally realised that, though you had initially developed feelings for Mark, somewhere in between you had fallen a little bit in love with Johnny as well, enough to feel all the pain, enough to feel miserable to a point where you couldn’t even function properly for days. Johnny is very good at comforting people, Mark isn't. He only stared at you as you cried on.

Mark wished he could kick himself. 

[winemum-ignis]

Insomnia (Chapter 1/?)

Notes: placeholder title because I am shit.  The first installment of my pre-’worst bachelor party ever’ Gladnis saga.  Those 2 just give me so many feels. And a big thank you to @tsunderegrumbling​ for proofreading for me when my brain was done with reading it.

3802 words. Gladnis. Pre-Roadtrip. (AO3 link will come when I post it)

Footsteps were quiet as perfectly polished shoes carried Ignis out of the crowded room that the festivities were taking place in, loosening the tie that hung decoratively around his collar just enough to relax a little.  Hands settled on the balustrade that circled the outside balcony area of the grand hotel, enjoying the cool breeze that blew through tawny brown hair in contrast to the warmth he had just come from. A slow exhale had him relaxing property for the first time that evening.  The view from his current position was, in lack of a better phrase, breathtaking. When you were constantly caught in the hustle and bustle of the city it was easy to become numb to its beauty, to stop even noticing the spectacle that it was.  From his standpoint, you could see everything. The lights from the high rises twinkled in the dark, lighting up the night sky and drowning out the ever-present stars that looked over them, the shadows of people moving past windows as everyone continued to go about their business, each living out their own stories completely oblivious to the legacies that were being built around them.  The skyscrapers soon gave way to smaller architecture, in the distance the suburbs could be glanced as men, women, families started turning in for the night, the quiet of these areas a stark contrast to the constant hive of activity that was the centre of insomnia.

As a finger rose, idly adjusting his glasses, green eyes looked out past the buildings that together made up Insomnia. Out there in the distance you could catch a glimpse of the stars that flecked across the sheet of pitch black.  Out at the docks on the outskirts of the city they would be reflected in the still waters, like the eyes of a peacock feather watching but never seeing.

Having become quite preoccupied with his sightseeing, he didn’t notice the encroaching footsteps until they were a few paces away from him. Glancing over his shoulder he was surprised to see the tall presence of Gladiolus.  If he was going to receive any company out in the fresh air he had been anticipating the notoriously sulky Prince who would no doubt be eager to escape the social side of the evenings event.  And perhaps it would have been him had he not been whittled down into approving the attendance of his school friend.  Ignis had had a very firm stance on not allowing Prompto to come along for the night.  He didn’t have anything against the boy, he had brought a certain brightness back to Noctis that he had lost all those years ago, he just didn’t see him being able to have the required grace and composure that would be required at a royal event. The Prince has been persistent if nothing else and while promises had been made and deals brokered Ignis finally let up and granted him the chance to invite him along.  Normally the jubilee celebrations were limited to those who worked in the citadel, that was excluding the true milestone years of course.  King Regis’ silver jubilee had been a grand affair to say the least; the entire city had been invited to partake in the celebrations and it seemed hard to believe that had been 4 years ago.  From what he had seen though, the blonde eighteen year old had been on his best behaviour so far in the evenings proceedings.

That didn’t matter now though, and Ignis had finally managed to drown out the niggling voice in the back of his head that it may not have been wise to leave the Prince and his friend on their own in there, mostly thanks to the sight of the tall, beautifully dressed man that was now stood next to him. Green eyes lingered a few moments too long, his expression not even changing from when he had been admiring the spectacle of the city from high atop the hotel.  Both images after all were quite the sight to behold and he instantly recognised the work of the tailor that a few weeks previously he had recommended to the Prince’s Shield.  Poor Gladio had been concerned about getting a suit that would fit him properly for the occasion; not surprising considering not only his extraordinary height but also his breadth, so the Advisor had been happy to do as his job title suggested and gave him the address to a particularly masterful gentleman who had contributed a lot to his own wardrobe.

"I saw you were empty.” Gaze was suddenly averted from admiring the ‘tailoring’ and a smile adorned handsome features as he took the champagne flute that was offered to him.  Ignis had already had several that night (it would have been rude not too) but that didn’t stop him from extending a hand, taking the crystal delicately and trying his best to ignore the light brush against fingers that were calloused from years of weapons training.  With a clear ‘ching’ echoing out into the night as the lips of glasses tapped together a synchronised sip was taken before Gladio turned to look out upon the landscape that had so absorbed Ignis while he had been out here on his own.

A silence stretched out between the pair but there was no awkwardness to it, it was comfortable as the contrasting city lights and pitch black night sky embraced them, their own significance paling in comparison to the utopia in which they lived. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Ignis’ words trailed off as he turned back to the skyline, finally pulling his attention away from the figure next to him that for so long he had admired from afar.

It had been nothing but sheer physical attraction at first. After all anybody who said that Gladio wasn’t a spectacular specimen of a man had to have been looking at the wrong person.  It was impossible not to admire him even just a little bit even when they were teenagers learning their place and roles in both the Citadel and the world.  They all had important parts to play after all; Gladio had spent his life training to protect the royal line while Ignis had been taught how to steer it in the right direction and how to make the right decisions. Intrinsically very different paths but ones that would undoubtedly be intertwined.  It had been easy in those younger years after all both men in question had been able to form their first opinions on the other.  A young teenage Ignis had been able to convince himself that while the swordsman was undisputedly nice to look at with his phenomenal physical condition and naturally so defined and handsome features he simply had to be just another jock type. All muscle and no talk, head strong and arrogant and most importantly the hostility and contempt that he clearly held for the Prince who since childhood had been like a brother to the brunette was something he couldn’t forgive.  On the contrary, Gladio had perceived a much younger Ignis as just another uptight political type; book smart, up his own ass and probably with the bedside manner of a table lamp who was always defending and making excuses for the Prince.  If this had been the case then maybe their lives would have been easier; working together because they had to but no. They just had to go and get to know each other and it had all gone downhill from there.

As they stood, mirror images of each other with one hand resting on the railing of the large balcony area, the other holding their respective champagne flute, both of the men were having such similar thoughts that, if they had actually voiced, would have made their lives so much easier. But alas, neither wanted to say the first word.  Instead the silence grew, bodies edging slightly closer to each other.  This was generally the state in which they went through their everyday business, and believe it or not they were both convinced that they must have been imagining it.  For how intelligent they both were, they were undeniably dense about the whole scenario.  

Once their first impressions of each other were shattered, brains had then constructed reasons as to why the other wouldn’t be interested.  As far as Ignis was concerned, it was inconceivable that someone that looked like Gladio could be interested in someone like him.  Sure he knew he wasn’t ugly but in his minds eye Ignis was nothing in comparison to the older man even though he had long since grown out of his lanky, awkward teenager phase.  He was quite oblivious to how handsome he had become, attributing what attention he did get to simply being very good at presenting himself which he did take great pride in for his work.  And Gladio was a fine specimen of a man; he would be able to get any person he so desired so the idea that he could be the target of his affections was incomprehensible.  Those times when he had been convinced that the older male must have been flirting with him, the other part of his mind told him he must have acted that way around everyone, being just a naturally flirtatious and charming person.  When in reality Gladio was targeting him.  Ignis was always so composed and dignified and he was, well, not.  He tried so hard to read the Advisor and just when he was convinced that he might have an in it was shot down.  He had come so close, it wasn’t even a year ago and he thought he had him.  

Since Ignis had first started training seriously four years ago Gladio had always offered to give him a hand; entirely for his own gain as this had been around the time he had begun to wonder if there was more to Ignis than he had primarily believed.  He never trained exclusively with him, Ignis was quite fond of working on his own or with other members of the Crownsguard to get a good, solid knowledge but when they did, oh my.  As their feelings unbeknownst to each other grew, so did the intensity of their sessions.  It was the last time they ever worked in the room together and since that moment the younger male had politely declined every offer Gladio had made of assistance since which only fuelled his believe that the brunette couldn’t have been interested in him that way despite all the signs.  It had been intense; it was hot, they were sweating, their muscles were burning and they were getting tired but finally Ignis had been able to catch the considerably stronger male off guard for a split second and pinned him to the ground.  Gladio still remembered the coy ‘gotcha’ Ignis had panted out through heavy breathes as hands held the wooden pole arm across his shoulders to keep him down as he leant over assertively.  Their faces had been so close and it would have taken practically no movement on his part to just close that gap and seal the deal and just as he was about too, when he was sure Ignis was about to do the same, the brunette instead stood up.  He looked flustered, but it was hard to tell if that was the moment or all of the physical exertion beforehand.  Gladio interpreted it as a rejection, meanwhile Ignis was trying to preserve some professionalism and decided from that point continuing to train with the delectable young man would only prove to be too much of a temptation.  The brunette had since accepted his feelings and had also accepted that trying to follow them was out of the question.

That same feeling though that had been in that training room, that had flourished between them so many times, was rearing its head again, only amplified by the silence which allowed their thoughts to take precedence as the night surrounded them.  Ignis was afraid to look away from the view to his company; the suit, the scenery, there was a high chance it would be too much for him to take and with the multiple glasses of champagne in his system he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to remain professional this time. Even as the other man spoke he daren’t take green eyes off the landscape before him, but a part of him was relieved that the silence had broken thus taking him away from his thoughts.

“I don’t know what you said or did to Prompto but I’ve never seen him so well behaved.”

“I threatened him with death.”

Gladio couldn’t contain the laugh. If you’d told him this time 5 years ago that Ignis would be one of the people who would make him laugh the most in life he would never have believed you.  It was hard on first getting to know him imagining him being the funny sort; he always had such a stony, serious demeanour when he was at work it was nigh on impossible picturing him cracking a joke, but behind that façade was a somewhat eclectic sense of humour. It was its sheer dryness that truly tickled the older man.  “Well, it worked.”  Words gave way to a relaxed exhale. “I never answered before…”  With a tilt of his glass Gladio finished the last of his drink, tongue running over his lips slowly, savouring the taste before turning to look at Ignis who was so adamantly staring into the distance.  He looked so stoic as he always did, features highlighted by the bright moonlight and city lights.  He was so handsome and he didn’t even realise and it infuriated Gladio, he just wanted to try and shake some sense into him amongst several other things at that given moment in time.  “It really is beautiful.”

He stole a glance, green eyes peered out the side of his eyes to catch the taller figure looking at him as he spoke.  Gaze met and it was then that Ignis was positive that Gladio knew exactly what he was doing and the effect that it had on him.  There was no saying as to what spurred him on in that moment; the wine lessening his inhibitions, their romantic setting, the years of romantic longing and sexual tension that had come to a peak the way beautiful amber eyes longingly looked at him as their owner spoke of beauty, or more realistically a combination of all of the above.  No matter what it was, Gladiolus didn’t even get the chance to act.

Hand released the railing it had at some point started clutching for dear life.  Reaching out, long fingers delicately coasted over the beautifully defined jawline of Gladio.  His finger tips as light as feathers against the tanned skin trailed down, brushing over perfectly pressed collar before they slid round to the back of the other man’s neck before leaning his entire body up towards him to close the small gap between them.  As lips met, it was everything Ignis had imagined it would ever be.  There was a moment of relief when the older male didn’t pull away, slightly parted lips clinging to Gladio’s as hand held him firmly at the back of his neck.  With his heart pounding against his chest, Ignis pulled back the smallest amount, his somewhat unsteady breath warm against the other man’s lips as his smile was reflected by Gladio’s own. “I’m sorry I just…” He didn’t know what he was going to continue the line with, but nor did it matter.  Before he even had the chance to ponder where he intended to go with the sentence Gladio balanced his empty glass on the balustrade so both hands were free to firmly grasp Ignis’ face pulling him back towards him as lips collided passionately.

All it would take was somebody to glance out towards the balcony to see the two silhouettes pressed together but they were all far too occupied with the night’s celebration. Instead the only witness to this moment that they had both imagined for so long was the ever-present stars. After what felt like both an eternity and far from long enough lips parted and Gladio rested his forehead against Ignis’, fingers gently stroking over his cheek as they both basked in the moment.  “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”  Gladio’s voice was a low grumble as he was unable to wipe the smile off of his face, and judging by the look he was receiving from the brunette Ignis was in the same boat.

“You could do it again if you so desired.” The way that green eyes looked at him, those bedroom eyes inviting him ever closer.  It was a look Gladio had neither seen or even imagined the Advisor was capable of and who was he too deny the alluring gaze.  He relished the  feel of Ignis’ lips against his but this kiss was but a fleeting one; Gladio was more than aware that he could quite happily spend the entire night out there with the younger man and his mouth and while it was tempting it wasn’t the reason that they were here.  A few more moments wouldn’t hurt though as that comfortable silence grew again, a hand mimicking the one that still resided at the back of his neck curling round to the  back of Ignis’ as he listened to the other man confirm what he already knew.  "I suppose we should head back inside.”

“Uuugh.”  The grunt of disapproval didn’t fail to broaden Ignis’ smile as he shared the sentiment, however he had originally stepped out for a moments peace and some fresh air and that had been a considerable length of time ago.  

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come back to mine when this is all over.” Neither man could quite believe the words that Ignis had whispered so seductively into Gladio’s ear, both for their own reasons.  The words had spilled out of him before he had even had chance to think about them and already Ignis regretted them. God’s, what would Gladio think of him suggesting such a thing?  With the alcohol clearly lowering his guard just enough to reduce his usual composure (and decorum as well apparently,) he had allowed himself to get caught up in the moment; he had wanted this for so long he had just got swept up in the romance and tenderness and had quite possibly inadvertently managed to screw it up already.  

Meanwhile the taller male was having his own internal struggle about the whole thing.  There was the primal urge that just said do it. In fact, it was actually declaring that they wouldn’t even need to go back to Ignis’ since they were technically at a hotel which had plenty of rooms better yet screw it there was a floor here that would suffice.  That was the side he wanted to listen to but he knew he had to go with the rational perspective despite how much he didn’t want to. Gladio had imagined the whole thing so many times, more than he would like to have mentioned, and this wasn’t how it played out.  “Unfortunately, we don’t all get to have tomorrow off.” There was of course more reasoning behind that, but Gladio never got the opportunity to explain what they were as Ignis was quick to interject.

“Of course. I’m sorry I sh-“ He still couldn’t believe what he had come out with, and if a chime from his pocket hadn’t interrupted him he might have realised that Gladio hadn’t taken it the way he was assuming as he leant in to try give the younger male another kiss, thwarted by the Advisor pulling out the phone that had interrupted his words.  ‘Where are you? People keep trying to talk to me and I’m tired 😴 can we leave yet? 🤞’ Saved by the text message from the young Prince, Ignis breathed an internal sigh of relief.  It reminded him just how much they shouldn’t have even kissed, let alone what he had suggested.  The person at the other end of the text should be the one he was focusing his attention on, not getting distracted by his delectable colleague.  It couldn’t happen and they had already gone too far, it couldn’t happen he continuously chanted to himself in his mind.  But he was just so…  No.  Despite how he was feeling about what he had still perceived as the rejection, maybe it was really a blessing.  Either way, Ignis feared if he was left out here any longer with Gladio he would require a shovel just so that he could dig himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness and regret he had landed the pair of them in.  “It’s Noct, I should head back in.”  

Gladio tried to get him to stay just a minute longer, to explain to the man who was clearly now trying his best to get away from him what he really meant. He should have said something different and he regretted every moment those words past his lips but if Ignis had just let him finish.  A strong hand tried to pull the brunette back towards him as he stepped back from him, but he knew there was no stopping the man when he was getting to work and that was clearly the mind frame he had now put himself in.  “Ignis…”  Their eyes locked for a moment, saying so much more than words could but all it did was cause a slight, very seldom seen blush across Ignis’ cheeks.  Picking up the empty glass Gladio had left on the railing the twenty-year-old turned swiftly on his heel.  The longer he stood here with Gladio, the more he felt the embarrassment consume him and it wasn’t a feeling he was particularly fond of.  

“I’ve got to call the driver, get him to bring the car around.” His voice was so controlled, so stern in contrast to that softness which had overcome him not long before, and as he heard it that was when Gladio knew he had lost for the night.  It took all the control that he had to not just chase after Ignis as he quickly paced his way back inside to the crowds and festivities, to just hold him and have one more kiss but instead he just watched the man go.  It would have been little consolation to know that he wasn’t alone in his feelings of shame and regret as he turned to look back into the night sky, replaying the nights’ events; the good and the bad as amber eyes stared out into the darkness that watched over them all.