#surprisingly not my first fandom dream but my first gap one!

[purrpickle]

I had a dream earlier while I was napping that Mon went to England to visit her father in GAP the Series canon and found out that she was actually part of the British royal family. The rest of the dream before it splintered me off to something new was Mon trying to find Sam as she kept having to hide from the paparazzi/news and Lady Grandmother (who now wanted to marry her to Kirk I think!?) so she could explain to Sam that this changed nothing between them.

What. A. Ride.

[ink-and-flame]

Kinktober Day 10: Better than the Day Job

Kinktober Day 10 Prompts: Prostitution (actual) ~ Hairbrush spankings ~ Over the-knee spanking Fandom: Bright Tags: Exophilia, Prostitution, male escort, spankings, first time, bdsm, reader fic Pairing: Orc/Human, Nick/Reader

[Author’s note: Look. I don’t know why I am like this, I just am. I am why we can’t have nice things. It has been a while since I have done a reader fic, so please excuse any issues with tense.]

The world was a strange and scary place sometimes. You lived your life, kept your head down, worked to keep yourself afloat, took freelance jobs where you could just to make some extra cash, and tried to stay out of trouble. The neighborhood you were in wasn’t the best, but it also wasn’t the worst. It was, however, all that you could afford. The best you could do, an apartment above a shop. The noise wasn’t so bad late at night, the weekends were a bit stressful though as it was crowded and sometimes leaving your place made you nervous with all the people hanging around.

After time, you had begun to recognize the jerseys and the jackets. That specific color of orange, it was the local orc clan turned gang. You didn’t really know much about the Fogteeth, you knew enough to know to just leave them be. They really hadn’t been in your area when you moved in, now you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting one. Not that you would, you weren’t eager to get shot for throwing rocks, plus it was kind of rude. 

You had never had any issues with orcs in the past, and gang or no gang, you weren’t about to start now. You figured if you left them alone, they would leave you alone, and so far that had worked out beautifully. They still made you nervous, but the reality was that almost any group or crowd kind of did.

It took time to get used to all the staring, hearing them speak their own language, knowing they were probably saying things about you as you walked by. Or maybe you were paranoid, maybe they were just talking about their days, or sharing recipes. Still, when they stared and then spoke to each other, it felt like it was about you and you just had to pretend not to notice. 

Life was weird, but it wasn’t unpleasant. There were still some things missing from your life, and while you could ease some of the loneliness with online chat and meeting up with friends, they couldn’t really help you with all of it. You didn’t have a friend with benefits option to go to, and even if you did, what you were seeking was something you weren’t sure you wanted your friends to even know about. 

Again, you blamed the internet. Reading erotic stories had always been a pleasant way for you to spend some alone time, but the further down that rabbit hole you fell, the more interested you became. The kink stories had slowly, over time, become your favorite and you had been fantasizing for months about strong hands holding you down. Of orders being given and rough sex. Spanking in particular had gotten you to squirming more often than not, even your dreams were filled with it. While you had no practical experience, your mind was happy to try and fill in the gaps, which was how you ended up where you were now.

There were some things in life you had never done before, lots of things actually, but the one thing you thought you would never actually do is hire an escort. Which really was just a fancy word for prostitute, but it still helped the idea go down a little better in your head. This was much easier than cruising down the street, and the website promised discreet sessions with trained professionals. You felt that going through a service was going to be safer than trying to pick up a stranger and hoping they weren’t a murderer in disguise. 

Their website was nice, professional looking, and quite well organized. You could search by a variety of criteria based on what was most important to you. Skipping over gender and race, you looked for anything that would filter by kink. It took a bit to find what you were looking for, mostly because you were still learning the technology. Each profile had a picture, though because your internet was being a bit slow, not every picture was loading or loading fully. At the end of the day, looks didn’t matter, you wanted something specific and that was what was important. 

Scrolling through the options you wavered back and forth between a nice female domme, and a male dom. Both had their advantages. A woman might be a bit more understanding of your first time, but that wasn’t guaranteed. In the end you went with male, because that's where your fantasies had gone. You wanted big strong hands manhandling you. Filtering on just the male profiles you had narrowed it down to two. After removing the sadists, as you just weren’t ready for that much pain. You were stuck between two that listed themselves as sensual dominants with the option for daddy dominant scenes. 

All in all it was a little confusing, you had no idea what all the different types of dominants really meant, and at the end of the day, sensual sounded right to you. You didn’t want someone that was too much into pain, this was your first time after all. After flitting back and forth you flipped a coin, random was better than no choice at all and since neither picture would load you couldn’t use appearance as a tie breaker. 

Jak Blackburn it was, which was a strange way to spell a name but it was probably supposed to be Jack and ended up being misspelled or was just an unusual spelling. It was likely that this wasn’t this guys actual name. Chances were he wanted some privacy. If you were an escort you certainly wouldn’t use your real name. 

Now you just had to book the session and hope you didn’t chicken out and cancel it. Which you almost did the moment after you saw it processing which forced you to step away from your computer. It only took a couple of minutes to receive a notification on your phone confirming that your payment method was valid and offering a list of scheduling options. You were surprised to see a block of time available later this evening. Were you really ready so soon?

Surprisingly, you guessed you were since you clicked it and confirmed it. Your method of payment would not be charged until after the session. You would have to provide confirmation of services received, but they required a valid payment method on file in the event that someone might try to get out of paying. You weren’t too worried, though you hoped the charge showed up as something discreet on your bank statement. You really did not want to have to explain that if anyone should ever see it. 

Feeling nervous you decided to clean up your place, in a mad panicked rush. Not that it was crazy messy, but it was a little cluttered and you were embarrassed by the thought of some stranger judging how you lived your life. After that you decided on a shower to freshen up, that would leave you only a few minutes to get dressed, but you weren’t worried about what to wear as you assumed you wouldn’t be wearing it long. Or that seemed like it would be the plan. 

Settling on an oversized tshirt and some shorts you sat on your couch sipping a drink as you stared at your phone. Part of you hoped he cancelled, part of you were afraid he might. You were excited and nervous, so much so that when the doorbell rang you almost tossed your drink across the room. As it was you only spilled it a little bit. Setting down the glass you got up and went to the door opening it. 

Of all the things you had been expecting, the tall orc in a suit was not it. There was something about him, something unusual but also familiar. It nagged at you, tugging at your mind, but you couldn’t quite place it. Realizing you were just staring you stepped aside and gestured him in. Your face was flush with embarrassment. 

“You seem surprised?” 

His voice was deep, quiet, gentle sounding. Closing the door you turned to him and nodded. “Sorry,  I didn’t mean to stare. I have been having issues with my internet and the pictures on the profiles weren’t loading for most of them.”

He looked surprised and his body language changed. “We can cancel at no charge. You should have informed them of the issue. I fully understand.”

He was so polite but you were a little confused. “I don’t need to cancel. I didn’t go into this with any kind of ideal in mind. Looks really aren’t what is important to me. Would you like to sit down so we can discuss?”

The orc nodded and sat on the chair near the couch. He set his bag on the floor and looked at you, his expression guarded, but gentle. He didn’t look angry, more confused than anything. You smiled awkwardly at him as you sat down and pulled your legs under you. 

“So, um, this is something I have never done before. Uh, hiring an escort I mean. Well I haven’t really done any of it before and this seemed like the most logical course? I know that sounds weird but I felt that going through a website and trying to hire a professional was safer than trying to meet some rando off the internet from some dating app or chat room and hope he actually knew what he was doing, and wasn’t a murderer or something.”

“That makes sense. You chose a good site. Everyone on it has to go through a vetting process. If you are concerned I have some credentials here I can show you.” 

Shaking your head you smiled. “The profiles were pretty thorough and linked to several pieces of documentation. I am certain that you can do what your profile says you can do, or I get my money back.”

Jak nodded and braced his forearms on his knees and leaned forward. “Since you didn’t know I was an orc, I know this isn’t that. So what am I here for? I don’t want to make any assumptions, but I brought enough of a variety of items with me that we should be ok, but I can also improvise.”

“Um, well, see.” Now you were feeling shy and nervous all over again. “I um. I want someone to spank me. I mean I want other things, but I feel like maybe I should start there before I get too crazy you know?” Well it was out. The cat was no longer laying comfortably in the bag. 

Jak smiled, a soft smile. “I see, I can do that. Are you wanting any kind of sexual contact or just the spanking?” 

“Oh.. uh.” Well that was not the question you thought you would struggle with. You looked him over and found that he was attractive to you. Not that you had ever really looked at an orc that way, but you hadn’t exactly not looked either. They tended to be tall, muscular, strong, those were ideal, but with Jak, it was simply his eyes. Despite the situation, his eyes held genuine kindness. Part of you wanted to know him, the real him, and not what you were paying for.  “Do I have to decide right now?”

“It would help. There can be a sexual aspect to spanking and it would help me to know if you want any kind of sexual contact at all, or just the spanking with no other kind of touch.”

“OH. ok, I thought you meant like penetrative sex type sexual contact. Um. I don’t know? I honestly don’t even know if I will like being spanked.” You shrugged looking a little embarrassed. 

Jak rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Ok, we will need to take this very slow and keep it simple. Instead of a safe word we will use color code. Red means full stop, the scene ends and does not continue. Yellow is pause, green is good to go after a pause. I will need to warm you up first. That means clothing stays on, and I will strike you gently through your clothes before we work up to clothes coming  off.” The orc paused. “Would you be willing to tell me the rest of the fantasy, or what made you decide to finally try?”

“Oh, well I guess I just have been having these dreams for the last few months and they have been making me a little crazy. I don’t want to be in control. I want to be held down, to feel strong hands touching me. I want it rough and to feel maybe a little bit helpless.” Your face was bright red now and you were fidgeting a bit while not making eye contact. “I know, it is probably super cliche and silly, but that is what brought me to this decision.”

“I don’t think it is weird, and I am flattered that you chose me, even without seeing me. I hope that I can help you fulfill some of your fantasies and needs.” Jak leaned down and grabbed his bag. “Would you like to move this to the bedroom?”

Standing up you lead Jak to your bedroom and sat on the bed looking up at him. He really was quite tall and built. The suit somehow just made him look more imposing and while you still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you knew him, you also weren’t sure you cared. He didn’t seem to recognize you, or if he did he hid it well, so whatever this familiarity was, it wasn’t going to be an issue. 

Sitting on the bed with you he reached out and grasped your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “Jak is the name I use for this, it isn’t my real name. Normally I don’t give my real name out, but you seem like a trustworthy person and I would actually like to hear you using my real name if you are comfortable with it.”

This was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Somehow you had made him feel comfortable with you and you were now curious what his name could be. Maybe that would give you the clue you needed to know who he was. “Of course, and I will keep it confidential, along with everything else we do tonight.”

“My name is Nick, and I appreciate the discretion.” 

Nick, well that really didn’t narrow anything down. It didn’t really help at all, it only made that feeling that you should know stronger. Deciding to ignore it you squeezed his hand. “Well it is nice to meet you Nick, you can call me anything you want to.” You laughed and blushed covering your face with your free hand. 

“Well then, I suppose I will just have to call you princess.” His voice was soothing as he pulled you closer up into his lap. His large hand rubbing your back in a soothing motion. “Would you like to lay across my lap for this sweetheart?”

You nodded swiftly, not trusting your voice and squeaked a bit when he easily flipped you onto your stomach and draped you across his legs. He hadn’t even strained himself, and you weren’t exactly a waif or light. Your thighs squeezed together at the thought of just how strong he really was. 

When he said he would start slow, he clearly meant it. The strikes were slow and gentle at first. He seemed to know how to control his strength well enough that at first it barely felt like a tap. Soon enough you were feeling warm and squirming in his lap. So far it had been rather pleasant and your mind was running away with possible scenarios on how this night could go from here. 

“I think we are ready to remove some clothing don’t you princess?” 

“Yes sir?” Your voice was hesitant, you weren’t sure how to respond or if it was even right to call him sir. He did make an almost growling sound so you couldn’t gauge off that, but maybe it was a good sound. 

You wiggled off his lap and stripped down to just your shirt and underwear. “Is this ok?”

“If that is where you are comfortable, then yes it is perfect.” Pulling you back across his lap Nick began again with gentle taps.

Now with only your underwear as a barrier you could feel those strikes a little more now. The pain wasn’t  uncomfortable, it didn’t even really hurt. There was more of a warm feeling than a feeling of pain. When his tempo increased you felt the first sting of a real strike and it made you jump a bit. The sound you made surprised you, a moan was not what you expected, but that was what came out. You were beginning to come to terms with how much you actually liked this. 

Nick continued to spank you, slowly, gently, increasing the speed and strength of the strikes as you wiggled and moaned on his lap. The more he hit you, the more you began to like it. The wetness between your thighs was noticeable now, at least you noticed it, and you were certain he did too, how could he not. 

You weren’t the only one aroused. You could feel something hard pressing into you, and there was really only one thing that could be. If what you were feeling was any indication, Nick wasn’t small in that department and that just made you squeeze your legs tighter. This time when he spoke, his voice was more gruff, deeper, husky in a way.

“Are you ready to take off the rest sweetheart?”

Standing up on shaky legs you nodded as he braced you while you tried to remove your clothes. It took a few tries, but you were naked in front of him now. You wanted to be shy, but you were far too aroused to care, and he wasn’t being paid to find you attractive. That alone made things a little easier. Though you had almost forgotten you were paying for this.

“You are quite beautiful. I can tell you are aroused, so I will ask again. Would you like any form of sexual contact?”

Well he was certainly not beating around any bushes and you hesitated before nodding slowly. “Maybe go slow?”

Nick nodded and pulled you back down into his lap. His large rough hands caressed over your bare bottom and you felt a thrill go through you. Again he started with small strikes, but this time he started a little harder than before. It didn’t take you long to get worked up again as his strikes fell faster and harder. The sound of skin hitting skin rang through the bedroom and you felt yourself clenching and throbbing. A desperate noise in your throat somewhere between a moan and a whine. 

“You are so beautiful like this, so very beautiful. Can you handle more? I have a paddle with me, or if you have a hair brush?” His voice had a deep growl to it when he spoke.

“Hairbrush.” You panted and made a tiny sound of distress when he lifted you with one arm and lowered you onto the bed. 

He came back from your bathroom holding your brush. It had an oval shape and was made of wood. You had never looked at it that way before, as an item you could use in a sexual way. After this, you might need to buy a new brush because you weren’t going to be able to see it as anything but a paddle. 

Nick lifted you back onto his lap, again using only one arm, and if you didn’t know better you would think he was trying to show off. Of course any thoughts in your head disappeared the moment the brush impacted your bottom. You cried out, loudly, as he began with slow deliberate strikes. He was more gentle than when he had been using his hand, and that was a blessing as this stung. It hurt a lot more, but it still felt good. 

Your core clenched desperately around nothing as you moaned and begged, you didn’t even know what you were begging for, but you needed something. There was a moment when you felt nothing the brush no longer hitting you when you felt Nicks hand press against your back holding you harder to his lap. His other hand pushed your thighs apart and his thick fingers slid over your clit and folds. Your cries became more desperate as pleasure shot through you. 

Whimpering and whining you continued to beg as you finally felt one of his fingers push into you, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. It was embarrassing, or it would have been embarrassing if you had two brain cells to rub together, how quickly you came from just that stimulation alone. 

Laying across his lap limp, panting, shaking slightly, Nick lifted you up and cradled you in his lap. You snuggled into him and now that the pleasure was fading could feel just how much your ass hurt. 

“I have some lotion I can rub on you. Just lay here, I will get that and some water for you.” 

Nick laid you gently onto the bed and moved out of the room into the kitchen to get some water from your fridge. He set it on the nightstand and dug through his bag producing the lotion. First he rubbed it on you, making sure it soaked into the skin before helping you sit up and holding the water while you took sips. 

“What about you?” your voice came out in a croak. 

His arousal had been, and still was obvious. How could he make you feel so good and not have the chance to feel good himself. 

“You are sweet, but that isn’t what you are paying me for. This is about you, not me.”

“You are right Nick, I am paying, and I want you to feel good too. Show me how?”

There was something fragile in his eyes as his expression softened. You still couldn’t place who he was, but in that moment, who he was, was someone you wanted desperately to know better. 

“Please?” 

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

In Defence of Team Purple Lion

Voltron: Legendary Defender and its final season remains as one of the most poorly received children’s shows in the past decade. The show was a reboot from DreamWorks of the popular Voltron franchise owned by WEP LLC (World Event Productions) who were responsible for the first version of the show Voltron: Defender Of The Universe (1984), an adaptation of the anime show GoLion by Toei Animation. It initially started strong when released in 2016, with a premise that of a typical mech-centric kids’ show; 5 pilots of 5 robot lions coming together to form one big robot (Voltron) to fight against a big bad alien villain in space, however despite the formulaic appearance it proved to be a captivating watch with detailed and beautiful animation as well as surprisingly deep subject matter. The themes and messages of the show touched on darker topics such as racism and genocide with the backdrop of a complex portayal of war while still balancing it with the light-hearted and goofy dynamics of the diverse main characters, played by a diverse cast. Produced by Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, both of whom had worked on the acclaimed Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend Of Korra, the story set up promised an equally deep and intricate story for VLD as had been the case for ATLA and LoK, as a result the show attracted a large and varied fan base beyond just children, many fans adults eager to see how the story and darker themes would be resolved as well as how the minority representations would be treated.

The final season released on Dec 14th 2018 came as a great shock to fans, not only were they intensely dissatisfied with the ending, virtually no one from any area or sub fandom was happy with the season as a whole and at the time of this article’s writing it has lower than a 6% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. The show and its producers faced massive criticism over insensitive representations of minorities, an unsympathetic and condemning end for an abuse victim despite redemption for their abusers and a disempowering arc for the main woman of colour character in which she was sidelined and dismissed by her male counterparts up until her sacrifice. The core themes and messages of love, forgiveness and acceptance regardless of race were completely subverted, instead conveying to an impressionable Y-7 and above audience the opposite; heritage and race define a person rather than their own actions. As well as fans, many parents of kids who watched the show expressed unhappiness with the final season due to the toxic and regressive messages it sent. Soon after the season dropped a petition emerged to “free the original season 8 of Voltron” due to the belief that the final season was in fact an edited product of what the creators originally planned. This belief was sparked by visual inconsistencies in the season itself, the audio description not lining up with the action on screen (now fixed), one character not being played by her voice actor but her voice actually another character’s with the pitch turned up as well as comments from the cast and animators, now deleted. The strongest claims of edits were made by Tumblr user Leaking Hate in her initial meta Chasing The Ghosts Of Season 8 and the follow up, a more detailed breakdown, Seek Truth In Darkness in which she presented an alternative story that had been edited and cut down for reasons then unknown, with narrative and visual evidence from the season itself to support her argument. She and a few other fans officially came together in February 2019 to form Team Purple Lion, a team of analysts dedicated to finding the truth behind the disaster of the final season. However, since the fandom had had a poor history of harassing the show’s creators over ships (romantic relationships between characters) most attributed the poor story and resolve to an attempt to keep things neutral romantically between characters in a poor bid to please everyone. As a result the petition and campaign were merely linked to lack of shipping satisfaction for the fandom and dismissed as more toxic fandom behaviour that had been displayed previously by many fans.

Petitions and campaigns like these are not uncommon after a show or film’s ending, similar situations might be the HIMYM backlash in which fans were so unhappy with the ending of the show that there was a petition for an alternative ending, as well as the petition to Warner Bros regarding the Snyder Cut of Justice League. Both of these have actually succeeded with the Snyder cut of Justice League set to release in 2021 and the HIMYM DVD box sets containing the alternative ending, however what makes the Free VLD s8 campaign now led by Team Purple Lion unique is its claim that there’s an original finished product that the creators intended for release but was edited after completion to produce the poor final season that was released on Netflix. Often corporate meddling in creative works is common but it has not been documented before as a post production occurrence changing the finished work, it’s always taken place pre-production as was the case with Disney and Colin Trevorrow’s original script for ep. IX or during production, in the case of Justice League and Zak Snyder.

Since the start of the campaign in Dec 2018 there’s been continuous investigation and action taken by TPL to provide proof for their claims and the movement has evolved into a fight for creators’ rights, still active now a year and a half on. Their investigation early on resulted in discovering the IP holder (those who own the trademark) WEP as the ones with control over the show and therefore responsible for the released edited season 8. They’ve since defended DreamWorks and the showrunners from criticism in favour of requesting WEP and specifically President Robert Koplar, self proclaimed “steward of the property” for the original season 8 by the showrunners that was not released. There’s also been strong advocation from TPL to keep the protest against WEP’s interference with the creative team’s work peaceful to avoid dismissal and belittlement due to prior instances of the VLD fandom’s toxic behaviour that often included harassment of showrunners and toxic fan behaviour ranging from abusive remarks online to death threats, after the final season rumours were flying and the EPs faced abuse from upset fans so there was an active effort to stay civil on TPL’s part. 

TPL and the #FreeVLDS8 movement has continuously faced criticism and backlash since its start regardless, the response from fellow fans ranging from supportive to downright disbelief and even the showrunners stating publicly [March 28th 2019 Let’s Voltron podcast] that there’s no “alternate cut of Voltron” branding the idea as a “conspiracy theory”. Claims of harassment have been attributed to TPL and the legitimacy of their allegations questioned, one fan questioning the possibility of the edits’ execution as well as others categorizing them as fans creating a theory based on shipping fulfillment. The controversy and consistent campaign a year and a half on interested me greatly, therefore after being led back to the movement by the very comments discrediting them I approached Team Purple Lion for comment on the aforementioned claims as well as conducting my own research and investigation into them. 3 members of the team, Crystal Rebellion, Dragon Of Yang and Leaking Hate spoke to me openly about their campaign and my own research produced some interesting results as well. 

The basis of their argument is set on the show’s final season being an edited product, when I asked about what pushed her to this conclusion and writing her initial meta Leaking Hate explained that a mutual friend of Crystal and her’s drew their attention to it through the story saying: 

“It’s interesting, nearly ALL of the episodes had a moment or two in them where Lotor [male villain] COULD have reappeared, and didn’t. Do you think he was written in to be the savior all along, and it was the higher ups that said no, good boy Lance [one of the main characters]? It seems like, given the narrative, and even given this season, it should have been Lotura [Lotor and Allura ship name], and all that wasn’t just feels… off. And not as a Lotura stan, I mean in general.” 

“And YES I had. There was a narrative gap where Lotor should have fit, but for some reason wasn’t.” Hate said, “The initial conclusion we jumped to was that Lotor had been removed in the writing stage.” 

It wasn’t until another friend mentioned a key scene out of place in the story and she went back to view it that she started to suspect the season had been changed from its original state. The scene in question was one in which Lotor says “Follow me!” at the end of Allura’s dream sequence in s8 ep8 Clear Day, despite his death being established before and after this point in the story. “There was no reason for that Follow Me shot to be there,” Hate explained, “unless the action of the viewer following Lotor had been removed.” Having studied a Fine Art degree and therefore well versed in animation and visual art she was able to recognise scenes that had been edited unusually throughout the season once she actively searched for other visual evidence. The Follow Me scene as well as others she found are displayed in her Ghosts meta, all indicating a different story from the one told in the show, along with the evidence Leaking Hate presented some initial ideas on what the story was (a redemption arc for Lotor and several sub arcs for the main characters that resolved their stories and previously set up story beats).

[Image Description: A close up of Prince Lotor’s face from season 8 on Netflix, staring directly out of the picture at the viewer. There are subtitles showing his speech at the bottom of the image, saying “Follow me!” End ID]

After Team Purple Lion’s formation Leaking Hate went on to publish a part two to her initial Ghosts meta, a 21k word meta entitled Seek Truth In Darkness which contained all visual evidence of edits found in the season as well as an extrapolation of the initial story indicated by said edits. The original story appeared to resolve unfinished narratives and arcs that the released s8 dismissed and the treatment of the representations in the show better, from respect towards minorities to an empowering arc for Allura, the main female character. Despite the original season having a more positive story, negative feedback from fans has been more common than positive. When I questioned the team members on it Leaking Hate mentioned “most people who believe we’re wrong tend to think we’re wrong in our premise” Dragon of Yang confirming that “it’s usually the premise of “VLD was edited after completion” that people disagree with”. However the screenshots they present as visual evidence hint at some truth in their argument, the first screen cap shown below indicative of some poor edits made to the animation since 3 characters are essentially cropped out of the picture.

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: an Altean pilot, Merla, Keith, Hunk’s shoulder, Pidge, the top half of Allura’s face, and the top half of Lance’s face. End ID]

Likewise this screen cap shows a split screen visually unbalanced with 2 characters at the bottom partially cropped out as well as the character on the left side with a much larger screen space than the other characters.

[Image description: A split screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: top left Shiro, below him is Keith in a larger section and Allura in a small triangular section below and to the right of Keith’s section. In the middle is a section showing Honerva’s mech stabbing the Voltron-Atlas mech with purple lightning shooting out. On the top right is Hunk, below him is Pidge, and below her the top half of Lance’s face. End ID]

Seasons prior to the final had always had visually balanced split screens with each character centred in their frames appropriately, indicating these and other s8 shots like them as an anomaly.

Hate reconstructed both screencaps based on what she believed they were originally:

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: an Altean pilot, Merla, Keith, Hunk’s shoulder, Pidge, the top half of Allura’s face, and the top half of Lance’s face. On the top, right, and bottom of this screencap is dark pink background with the black lines of the split-screen extending to the edges of the colors, marking out where the rest of Hunk, Allura, and Lance should be visible if the view had not been cropped. With the lines extending out, Keith’s portion of the screen is also extended, leaving a completely removed section of the split-screen remaining, which is highlighted purple in this image. End ID]

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: top left Shiro, below him is Keith, below and to the right of Keith is Allura in a small triangle section, the bottom of her face slightly cut off. In the middle is a section showing Honerva’s mech stabbing the Voltron-Atlas mech with purple lightning shooting out. On the top right is Hunk, below him is Pidge, and below her the top half of Lance’s face. On the left, right and bottom of the screencap is a dark pink background with the black lines of the split-screen extending to the edge of the colours, marking out where the rest of Lance and Allura should be visible if the view had not been cropped. Keith’s portion of the screen is smaller and a small dark pink section to the right separates his portion from the middle. Below him where his portion originally extended to is a section coloured dark purple that extends a little further to the left of Allura’s portion. End ID]

Other noticeable examples include scenes with the female lead Allura where her proportions do not match with any prior drawings of herself indicating that she was another character redrawn, Leaking Hate suggested Lotor as his proportions fit each instance. 

[Image description: 2 pictures of Allura in the Blue Lion from a front and centre angle side by side. On the left Allura has her eyes closed and her arms stretched out holding onto the controls, the entire cockpit is glowing blue. On the right Allura’s eyes are open with a determined look on her face, she’s slightly hunched with her arms gripping the controls, the cockpit is coloured normally. End ID]

The image on the left is of Allura from s8 ep13 and the one on the right from the same episode a few minutes later, scaled so the interiors (which are unchanging 3D models) are the same size. She is notably taller in the one on the right with her head reaching above the seat and her frame bigger, with wider shoulders and thighs.

These are just a few out of the many examples of edits made that Leaking Hate presents in her metas along with her reconstruction of the original season based on what each edit indicates. While the reconstruction is to some point subjective, the visual inconsistencies are clear and can be easily checked by watching the show at each point said to be edited.

The timeframe and possibility for the edits’ execution, called into question by a fan on a twitter thread (now deleted) stating “it’s not physically possible to make that many edits in 2 months and with leftover budget”, was also addressed by the team and their work. Leaking Hate clarified that “it wasn’t 2 months” that they took place in, “it was 6. The edits began in mid July”, a fact determined by voice actor Jeremy Shada mentioning in an interview released on July 23rd that he had gone in to record new lines at the time. Hate also said, “It’s less of a question of would they have time than it is, well. They did do it. It was nearly impossible. But the fact that it is done shows that they did.” She went on, “I think people misunderstand when we claim it was ‘edited’. They hear “it was reanimated”, but it wasn’t reanimated. There is NO new animation in the edited s8 at all. As far as I can tell, 99% of the edits are composed of tracing, clever cuts and sleight of hand.” This is backed up by all the visual evidence they present as well as their work, claiming absence of animation (making the story disjointed and incoherent in places) rather than new, additional animation changing it. 

Crystal Rebellion added, “One thing that strikes us (I feel pretty confident speaking for everyone in this case) is that Studio Mir [responsible for animating the show] is impeccably flawless with their work. Their previous work before Voltron: Legendary Defender, and even Seasons 1-6 and most of 7 are beautifully animated. Stunning. Season 8... is not. Studio Mir also had a viewing party for VLD: S8 - and they reported that they loved the final product; so the animators saw Season 8 after it was completed. The season, however, that aired, was really shoddy animation, rough transitions, music mistakes, and what appear to be alterations to still images - it isn't their usual quality of work, and moreover, the animators have stated that they don't recognize what aired. Often we've been asked something like 'Maybe they just didn't know what scenes they were animating' or 'Didn't know the intended finished product' but in this case, it is documented that they saw the final season and that it's different from what was aired. The poor workmanship in what we see from S8 - all the edits Hate goes through to find and explain, coupled with Mir's disbelief, is indicative that the animation studio had no idea this happened. That means it 1) Happened post-production and 2) It wasn't the Studio that changed anything. Dos Santos mentions in an interview [March 4th ABTV] that they were cut and pasting mouths and moving frames around - no time, no budget, and no staff left. It was all them, after it had been completed - after Mir had seen the original rendition and loved it, that all this happened. The parallel point to that to further support it is, had this been written in the script from the beginning, we would've seen a flawlessly animated season with a painful storyline. We don't see that.” 

Although Mir’s reaction to the season they viewed in October (before its official drop) has since been deleted, one animator’s response to the season 8 that was released on Netflix is still online, comparing the show to a house and stating that “every single brick of the last season is very upsetting” but “everything else is good” (translation can be found here), making it clear he was not pleased with the final product. Joaquim Dos Santos does also mention in the interview Crystal references that changes were made to season 8 after season 7 dropped, stating, “You can probably see it in the animation. If you really pay attention it’s like, it’s literally our editor cutting out mouths and puppeting different dialogue.” It’s documented that the epilogue was added to s8 late after s7 dropped however it does not have any dialogue, this statement paired with Shada’s about “still recording on Voltron” begs the question, what change was made besides the epilogue? Hate shows in her Darkness meta that Shada’s character Lance was used to replace Lotor as well as Allura in key scenes, if Shada was still recording lines (unusual since audio recording is done very early in animation production) then it would have been for these moments.

Not all criticism has been based on the editing premise however; the story they present as the original has garnered negative comments as well since it featured Lotor, a divisive character due to his moral ambiguity and previous condemnation as a killer, and predominantly focused on his redemption as well as relationship with Allura. The narrative makes it clear that Lance, the blue paladin and one of the main characters popular with fans, would not have been the focus as he was in the released season and would have been replaced by Lotor as Allura’s partner. When I brought up the claims of bias in their reconstruction Leaking Hate pondered on it. 

 “Do I love the story because it is Lotura, or do I love Lotura because the story makes me love it?” she mused, “I think it's all the same. I was able to pick out the original story because of my bias in favour of Lotor, Allura, and Lotura. Had I not been invested in those characters, and that ship, I would have had no reason to look. I am not reconstructing based on wish fulfillment, or what I want to see,” she asserted, “but the story I am finding happens to be a story that I love.” In regards to Lance and her analysis on him she stated bluntly, “I HATE Lance. Were I reconstructing based on wish fulfillment I would have him alone and miserable. But that is not a good story. The real story of OGS8 has Lance coming to love himself and to learn to accept Allura's friendship as equally worthy as her romantic affection. It has him grow into a good man, and it has him become Allura's right hand when he helps her save the man she loves. It is an uplifting and wholesome message for little boys and grown men alike. And I think it is equally important that we save S8 for Lance as it is that we save it for Lotor and Allura.” When I mentioned that some would find her dislike of Lance an argument against her she also added that “they are right to.”

“I would not trust someone claiming to have found the 'real' story if I knew they hated Lotor or Allura.” However she admitted, “I don't hate him all the time. I think, if the Lance we get in OGS8 is the Lance I believe is there, then I will find him tolerable, if irritating.”

While it’s true that Hate is critical of Lance and his character, the reconstructed story she presents in Seek Truth does reflect her words, giving him an empowering and sympathetic arc growing from his previous immature and womanising character into a selfless, respectful friend. The team have also put their efforts into creating and realising the story in their reconstruction of the original s8, Rise and Atone, and so far it has stayed true to what they’ve promised, addressing characters and their arcs, the only deviation made being a romance free conclusion in a bid to stay ship-neutral. Dragon of Yang explained the narrative decisions they made with R&A stating clearly, “If this was wish fulfillment, we would have stopped at one detail or another. Every character’s arc was halted and destroyed beyond reconciliation or catharsis. Every character deserves their story to be done justice, and open-endings give that catharsis VLD originally had while remaining respectful to everyone’s shipping preferences. VLD is a story of hope and growth, to deny that a character has grown since day 1 is to deny that there is a story there to be told, and that in turn denies a person out there - who likely identifies with that character - the feeling of being seen. The best thing we can do as scholars and as activists,” she concluded, “is try to recreate the vision the staff had originally made and do so with care and attention to the work they put into every line.”

As for the harassment claims attributed to Team Purple Lion by both fans and The Voltron Store on twitter, there’s not much to support them, and in fact a great deal to disprove them. The team has maintained a level of professionalism in both their work and in their conduct online, consistently citing sources and providing proof for claims as well as campaigning respectfully. Hate commented, “they seem to be conflating our protest with the general hatred being thrown around in the fandom. We've made a point to emphasize polite but firm protest and advocate reaching out through official channels.” While there is a lot of anger and hate from fans towards the show and the producers, none of it has been from Team Purple Lion. Their protest has continuously avoided and often defended the producers and voice actors, who have been regularly attacked by other fans during the show’s airing and since due to the poor conclusion, all of whom TPL have made clear are under NDAs and cannot comment freely (although it’s worth noting, they stopped actively promoting the show on their social media after the season 8 release). Instead their questioning has focused on WEP, the company who own the Voltron trademark, after discovering through a meta analysis of a VLD episode signs that they were meddling with the creators’ vision of the show and ordered them to change it against the producers’ wishes. While it was only a speculative piece, WEP’s quick reaction to the release of said meta by claiming through their Voltron Store twitter that they “do not have any influence over the creative direction of the show” despite ignoring fans for months after the season release suggests some truth to it. Twitter user Eros compiled all evidence of their involvement since then in a Twitter thread and the majority of it is damning, their denial directly contradicting statements from the voice actors and producers prior to and after s8 that confirmed they were the controlling party and had creative input, as well as the creators’ desire to tell a progressive and empowering story however not being able to because of “other controlling parties” outside of DreamWorks. WEP have also made contradictory statements to fans about the season, saying that “nothing was edited” yet agreeing with a fan that a lot was left out and a director’s cut would sell well, as well as mocking another who left a Facebook review (March 16th 2019) complaining of being hung up on, replying to them that an “imposter” answered their phones:

[Image description: A facebook review of The Voltron Store. Text from the top reads as: 

Reviewer (name coloured out) doesn’t recommend The Voltron Store. 

Review reads: Terrible customer service. They literally hung up on me mid sentence and it was clearly not a case of a call accidentally being dropped. Extremely disappointed by the lack of professionalism!

The Voltron Store’s reply to the reviewer: if you actually talked to us you would find we are very nice people! And we never hang up on anybody EVER - unless they make outrageous claims like Power Rangers is better than Voltron!

The reviewer’s reply: The Voltron Store I did speak to a woman who identified herself Stephanie briefly, but I will never speak to your company again. Thank you for the response but I don't appreciate being called a liar. Please see the attached screenshot for proof of my abruptly ended call back in January. I desire to have no further communication with your company now, I simply decided finally other people deserved to know my personal experience.

Below is a screenshot showing the reviewer called The Voltron Store’s number.

The Voltron Store replied: We do not have a Stephanie here. That must be the issue: you dealt with an imposter! We would review the security cam footage but it does not go back 2 months. End ID.]

In stark contrast to WEP, Team Purple Lion has responded to criticism and addressed it, as well as reaching out to media outlets to clarify and correct poorly sourced claims, however have been faced with no response. Their questioning of WEP and their requests for the original season 8 on social media have been civil; their replies to the Voltron Store posts on Twitter containing no insults or cruel remarks, the harshest only critiques on the company’s lack of tact promoting a show and its merchandise that many considered offensive and toxic due to the last season. “At no point did we set out as some kind of campaign to “attack WEP” or “demand a new season”,” Crystal Rebellion said. “We were a handful of people looking at what amounted to, to use a metaphor, a puzzle that had technically been assembled but most of the pieces didn’t match up properly. We eventually decided to take the pieces that didn’t line up and look at what the picture was supposed to be. There was no ulterior motive - we just wanted the truth. When we realised the truth and it became obvious early on that Mir had seen the original season, we became convinced there was an unedited s8, perhaps in Mir’s backup drives. People saw it, which means it was a completed product, so it became a campaign to ask for it, it’s what the fandom wants, it’s what is profitable.”

In the face of all the negative response and disbelief, Team Purple Lion have gathered an overwhelming amount of evidence to support their case, not only from the show itself but also corroborating statements from the production team and cast as well as WEP’s conduct in response to the campaign. As a result TPL have gained a great amount of support and followers from the Voltron fandom, and are still gaining more a year and a half later. “I gotta give a shout out to Cosmic Royalty,” Leaking Hate said, “a group of Russian fans who reached out to us asking if they could do translations of our work. We host their translations on our website now and there’s apparently a group 500 strong on the Russian social media site VK that supports the work we do together!” Violet Howler on Tumblr has also been a big supporter as well as new fans, recently revealing themselves in the wake of good news, the fight to get the original season seemingly won as Leaking Hate displayed in her most recent meta. In it Hate outlines evidence for the franchise’s ownership changing hands from WEP to DreamWorks and therefore the release of the original season, based on the recent repromotion of the show through articles, new merchandise from the store and the new store designs that all suggest the release, since there would be no other reason to promote a show that was a PR disaster, so universally hated. Regardless of all the opposition and discredit they have faced, confirmation of the truth of Voltron’s original season 8’s fate is expected this summer before the official art book is made available, in the form of the season’s release itself. Whether the fans will be happy with it is another story, however Leaking Hate emphasised firmly that fan satisfaction was not the point, or at least not entirely. “Nothing is perfect, and nothing will please everyone. Especially a show like VLD, with almost 35 years of legacy and fans behind it. There are people who will not like the original season, there are even some who will prefer the edited one - I’m sure the WEP executives are some of them. But it will be the season it was supposed to be, the one that was a labour of love. There is so much love and care poured into every frame of VLD, this was a story that the people working on it wanted to tell; it was more than just a job to them. It was created with love, and it was with love that we fought for it, and when it comes down to it that’s what VLD’s meta narrative was about: love.”

[muddy-t-wheels]

(Please ignore me) So I had this dream a few weeks ago, and it’s been stuck in my head since then...

Very quick summary: Our world combines with MHA Universe, I become an Art/English teacher at UA (more of an assistant teacher for Present Mic), and I was reminded of how stubborn people can be. Also soulmates exist in this world for some reason...

So in the dream, both worlds were collided, and faster than you can blink, anything MHA related was whipped from the face of the earth, and while it took a while- everyone silently agreed to not speak of the fandom/content for a very long time. Which of course was very sad, but it is what it is. One of the more common trends that happened was that anyone from our world was as “Qurikless as it gets”. It also came to the attention of everyone in both worlds that while soulmate marks don’t exist in our world, apparently they did in the MHA world.

A few years later, I had become an established teacher, specifically due to the fact that many students seemed to be drawn to me, even if I hadn’t taught them at all. One day, I had gotten an email from someone in Japan, asking if I would be interested in a teaching for the future heroes of Japan at “U.A. High school”. While I was surprised, and thought it was BS (for obvious reason), I decided to respond for the fuck of it, YOLO.

But low and fucking behold, the email turned out to be legit. Principal Nezu and I started exchanging emails back and forth until plans were formed. I had become fluent in Japanese, got a house to call home where I could move in with my mom and sister (we are all very close). Eventually it was agreed that I would assist Hizashi Yamada with teaching English (grammar wise) but I was also going to be the art teachers. I the day came up when I went and met with Nezu and I vividly remember the ending question of the meeting. 

Incase you can see the image: (Nezu: Alright, so all the paperwork is filled out, I do need to ask this, since you’re quirkless and all... How will you defend your students?)

(Me: Ah yes, I thought a good bit about this and I came up with some ideas!)

(Me: I went ahead and got a permit to carry a specialized gun! The gun can shoot tranquilizer darts. The darts can stun most people for roughly one hour. Of course, I can understand if you or others dislike this idea so I also started taking Wing Chun class-)

Yes, I know conceal carry permits don’t really exist like they do in America but it was a dream ^^”

(Nezu: Oh no, you’re fine, just make sure the students don’t see it!

Me: Wha- I mean, of course, but will the guardians of students be okay with this?

Nezu: Ignorance is bliss now have you thought about what your “quirk” should be? From what your references told me, I think “Mom” could be a good one!)

We had spoken about me faking a quirk to see how long it would take anyone (outside of the faculty of course) to notice that I was indeed quirkless.

(Me: ...

Nezu: ... Do you not like “Mom”?)

This then led to us discussing what my “quirk” would be. We had agreed on calling it “Mom” and essentially allowed me to release a caring/nurturing aura that made most people feel drawn to me in the sense of seeing me as a “mother figure”. With it, the “quirk” it allowed me to be in tune with certain individuals that I grow close with and could vaguely sense if they were in great distress.

After this I was brought to the teacher’s lounge and introduced to all the other staff members. When the principal left, I sat and talked with the teachers of 1A, who eventually asked who came up with the fake “quirk” idea, and when I told them the reactions were defiantly mixed...

(Aizawa: You... You’ve got to be kidding me!

Me: I wish I was... 

Hizashi: OMFG! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! HAHAHAHAH-

Me: That makes three of us-

Toshinori : ...

Me: Four of us... ow my ears)

Not too long afterwards, I became an official member of the U.A. staff. Nothing too major happened for a few years had passed, and one winter morning I was getting ready for work when my sister came into my room to do something (idk what) but then asked when I got a tattoo on my back. Confused, I questioned what she was talking about, she took a picture and showed me the image. Sure enough; there was a blue flame on my left shoulder, a purple heart in on my spine, and a red wing on my right shoulder... defiantly looked like a tattoo! 

We did some quick research we learned that at the age of 16, people from the world of quirks would get their soulmate marks. However, all soulmates must reach the age of 16 before the other soulmates get their marks. Another thing we learned was that once the marks appeared, soulmates would be able to talk with each other via their minds. We also learned that it was becoming more and more common for people in our world to get soulmate marks!

With all this information, it started to get me worried. I was 22 (going based off the year), and if one of my soulmates just turned 16 then there was a bit of an age gap. Don’t get me wrong, it could’ve been bigger but it irked me a little. I also realized that the marks were sensitive to certain fabrics, so I had to quickly change the shirt I was wearing.

Soon enough I began to hear my soulmates’ voices, I had two, and they would “talk” often. Apparently they knew each other and already had an established relationship, so I kept quiet for a bit... until one of them made a bad joke that caused me to snort and respond to the terrible joke. Yeah, it freaked them out at first, but it got us talking, and we learned things about each other!

Eventually years flew by, I was an established teacher at UA and I had fallen into a routine. I knew who my soulmates were (Hawks and Dabi (incase it wasn’t painfully obvious)), they didn’t hide their identities very well, and I had somehow managed to keep my identity mostly under wraps (idk how (I’m very talkative) but they always asked questions about me). They would constantly pester me so that they could know more about me, and I would just... keep quiet.

At one point, I had stated that it would probably be better if the two forget about me, saying that I was shoe horned into their relationship because of the worlds colliding. If it hadn’t my mark wouldn’t be on their backs, so I got some medication that would help remove myself from their relationship. It started working, after roughly a year or so (at least going based on the calendars nearby) their marks and voices were starting to fade.

During the year of me teaching class 1A (and protecting my students from various villian attacks) I eventually met them in person (begrudgingly). Thankfully they didn’t seem to recognize my voice, however I did get the idea that could sense something was off cause I noticed they would be nearby. So I got in contact with a close friend of my and called in a favor. We went to school together and were constantly mistaken for couples because I was very affectionate while he would throw hands with someone if they got too close for his liking. So I asked if he would join me for a “date” so that some people would potentially get a hint and leave me alone.

He agreed and came to Japan and we went to the U.A.’s school festival together, we even went the extra mile and got matching fake tattoos so they would act as our “soulmate marks”. Surprisingly it worked- when the students asked who he was I stated he was my date (which wasn’t a lie). Eventually, I had stepped away to go get us something to drink, but when I had returned I saw he was being confronted by two people.

I sighed trying to think of what I could do before getting and idea. I had begun to shake the two soda cans before walking up to the two individuals and getting their attention, once they turned to me, I opened the cans and sprayed it in their faces. They stumbled back in response, obviously caught off guard, I stated that they need to cool down and began to walk away with my friend in tow. I got us something else to drink, and we continued on with the festival.

We enjoyed the rest of the festival and waited to see Eri and Aizawa off, before we left, we were approached by some of my students who wanted to know my relationship with my friends. We looked around, making sure that we were in the clear before confessing that we were just friends. That this was all just a ploy to get some people of my back and to hopefully stop pestering me. We even showed that the tattoos we were wearing were fake, everyone seemed to understand and agreed to keep it under wraps.

Thankfully things seemed to flow smoothly from there on, nothing to crazy happened. However, one day I was doing some training and decided to take a break. I was wearing a simple tanktop and sweats, which wasn’t too bad, since the soulmate mark was almost completely faded at this point, it would take a keen eye to see the remains of the “tattoo”. I was lost in my own world when two soda cans were dropped into my lap, two voice stated that I looked like I needed to cool down.

I had frozen up and slowly looked up to see that both Hawks and Dabi were standing behind me, I gave a weak smile with an equally nervously chuckle. I quickly got up to get away from them, but I was grabbed just as quickly, and thrown to the grown with them still standing over me. I sighed and chuckled once again and held my hands up by head.

The last thing I remember was me saying, “Alright, alright, you caught me, but the mark is almost gone so if you two just waited a little bit longer, you wouldn’t have me as a soulmate anymore. So why on Earth are you two still chasing me?”

Dabi smirked, “Probably cause we wanted you to be our soulmate! Fucking idiot- If you thought we were just going to leave you alone after you stated that we would be better off without you then we have some serious problems.”

Hawks chuckled, “Yeah, but don’t worry, we figured out a way to fix this, it just requires a lot of lovin from us! We gotta get that mark bright and vivid again!”

AND THEN I WOKE UP!

[monkeydluffy19920]

Respond: Is Sanji a pervert?

In reference to/inspired by [x] @cruising-on-pirate-dreams

It’s always been an interesting topic to see how people interpret Sanji’s character, in general. Usually, if he is not liked in fandom, he is seen as a hardcore pervert who thinks nothing more than that and all the arguments are based on his will to peep women and his nose bleedings. Then, there are other thoughts, that consider that his ero- kappa side is partly an exaggerated gag made by Oda-sensei.

Ever since the beginning, it's been fun to ponder the reasons behind the characters’ behavior and Sanji is not an exception. Actually, he was one of the characters I didn’t completely like in the beginning, because back then, during the elementary school, it was hard to understand why would someone fall in love with (almost) every lady they meet. Then slowly his characteristic started to open more to my blind eyes and the more I saw the soft side of Sanji and how much he puts effort on his friends, the more reasonable it was to see why he is so popular among fans. It seems like the hate he gets is mostly because people pay attention to his lust-side and examine it only from one point of view.

There was a very interesting analyze written by @cruising-on-pirate-dreams about Sanji’s personality and tendency to be called pervert. In comparison, the fellow fan used Absalom and there were good points to be lifted up:

Absalom without a shame used his devil fruit skills to lurk on both Nami and Robin and never gave a rat’s eye whether Nami or Robin liked his forceful style to approach them. Both of them were clear objects to him that he licked and touched without permission, he even said openly that he likes Nami more because she is weaker in his eyes and later he kidnapped her and made her unconscious so he could marry her by force.

Sanji has a tendency to put himself into the submissive position, especially when it comes down to interacting with women. Yes, of course, he has this “I need lady~!”-kind of side but it’s remarkable how the more familiar/closer the woman is, the more submissive he actually is, in other words, he never puts himself above the ladies, especially when it comes down to interacting with Nami and Robin.

Before the Whole Cake Island arc was published, I’ve written in Reasons to love Mugiwaras - Sanji - post that I actually do believe that despite the reputation and what he gives out of himself in public (being tough and ladies man), deep inside he is actually very broken and vulnerable and once more of his past was revealed after the time skip, the more sense all the headcanons and speculations started to become logical.

The flashbacks in the Baratie arc showed that he was on edge of dying after the shipwreck which gave a little pieces of information about him but after the Germa66 and Sanji’s links into it were revealed, it was even more clear that he indeed had a terrible and traumatic childhood and suffered from great amounts neglection and abuse by his biological family until he escaped. The new supplement/update of the background story finally gave a further and more detailed explanation of why Sanji doesn’t see self-worth in himself and always puts others in front of him. He has put himself under the target line for his nakamas many times without caring how his own life and his dreams of finding All Blue would be thrown into waste if the worst-case scenario happened.

Thankfully, there was someone from the family standing by his side and therefore Sanji grew very close to his mother. Unfortunately, she passed away early due to the illness (that actually protected Sanji to become an emotionless killing machine like his brothers) and then he was again left all alone in his personal hell.  Sora’s death might’ve left a certain gap in his heart. Perhaps the reason he treats women kindly (especially the ones he really adores) has roots in Sora’s way to support Sanji and maybe inside his core, he decided to continue sharing her mother’s legacy of kindness. He might appear like a tough guy who swears like a sailor but only the fact that he has saved an enemy from starvation tells that Sanji truly has a heart of gold, just like Sora.

It’s highly likely that behind the scenes and below the surface,  Sanji could be actually looking for similar acceptance and unconditional love he got from his mother. But why then do all that ero-kappa stuff and womanizing when being around women? Mainly I still believe that it’s a continuous character gag just like Zoro’s poor sense of direction or Nami’s greediness but somehow it feels that there might be logical reasons behind this behavior.

Of course, it’s easy to interpret and only think that he is just a lustful pervert from the fact that his locker is full of girl magazines and that especially during the crew’s reunion after the time skip when it felt like Sanji couldn’t control himself with his nose bleedings.

However, if one takes a look to past 20 years One Piece has existed, it’s remarkable to see how much Sanji actually does pay respect to women, especially towards his crewmates. He doesn’t only give compliments on their appearance (i.e how cute they look) or use polite suffixes (”chan” and “san”) while communicating with them, he also praises openly and sincerely their skills and how strong they are. So, it’s obvious that Sanji definitely sees more than just their bodies.

Then to body swap, what @cruising-on-pirate-dreams wrote as well in another post. It’s easy to be seen that Sanji was happy that Law happened to swap his and Nami’s bodies and yes, he took peeks and adored the body features. However, because of this ero kappa-gag, one perspective is easily being left out of the spotlights (if readers didn’t pay enough attention): He did take good care of Nami’s body and he was aware how his actions can affect on her body and reflected on them many times. He smoked in her body but felt bad for doing that. Now it could be easily argued: “If he cares about Nami, why did he smoke in the first place?” but the answer is simple, he is a chain smoker and besides, Nami herself did give him the permission and the cigarettes in Punk Hazard.

Well, despite Nami’s warnings, he did take her jacket away when she wasn’t looking but he had a good reason (Kinemon’s torso was underwater and he happened to be the best swimmer out of the options) and besides, he apologized, just like he apologized for harming her lungs with his cigarettes. He also kept constantly worrying whether the diving would be too much for Nami’s body under the circumstances.

So, if Sanji really does only see Nami as a sexual object he wouldn't have feel an urge to apologize for things he did when their bodies were swapped. If she’d only matter to him for lustful reasons and for good looks, he could have taken the advantange on her by taking everything away and do more exploring (if he was alone) but he didn’t because obviously, they were busy solving the mess Caesar made but mostly, (putting aside the comedy-reasons) he knows that going further would have been way too disrespectful and would have violated their nakamaship (and would be against the fact that he has protected her purity back in Thriller Bark and tried to avoid to stain her) especially if he later got caught somehow and it would anyway make no sense if he wanted to hurt her in any way intentionally. 

So, at least for me especially Punk Hazard was an arc that proved that despite the comedy, Robin and Nami are clearly not objects for Sanji and although he surely has felt some lust towards them, he respects the boundaries treats them well and speaks with much softer tones to them and even uses certain suffixes while addressing them. 

Someone asked the reasons behind the suffixes and whether there are any deeper meanings  Oda’s response was that he was basically inspired by his older staff members who wanted to be treated as they were younger. Zeff taught Sanji chivalry and perhaps this detail of the story was really based on Oda’s real life.

Back to the previous topic, why is Sanji portrayed as a pervert? Well, mainly for sure to make balance with comics on heavy storylines and because being interest in opposite-sex openly seems to be part of who he is but then thinking below the surface, what if those wild nosebleeds and dreams about peeping women are all actually just a mask of him? Yes, he does have a crush easily on women he meets and flirts with them but what if there is more than that?

Actually, one of the headcanons I’ve had for years is that Sanji has experienced a traumatic loss that has given him the deep fear of losing the others he holds dear (and that’s why he'd be so sacrificial) and Whole Cake Island sort of supported that thought. It can be possible that because he was strongly bullied by his siblings and despised by his own father (being called a weakling and so on), this all has stained his self-confidence below zero for good and it still will take time to see that he is worthy. Hopefully, Luffy’s words back in Baratie and the retrieval team’s efforts and experiencing his lowest point before the tea party opened his eyes for good and gave his character the chance to grow.  

Like many fans agree, the only place where Sanji has complete confidence is anywhere that is related on his profession, cooking because Zeff convinced that the “chibi-Nasu” really does have potential in becoming a chef, otherwise, he can be surprisingly insecure although he doesn’t show it up openly, perhaps he hides it with this kind of actions.  On top of that, Zeff raised Sanji to respect women so if he really was a pervert and didn’t care about what his foster father taught, then perhaps he would act more like Absalom. However, (again setting the comical aspects aside), I think Sanji himself knows where to cross the line when it really comes down to women. Most likely Zeff wouldn’t approve if Sanji really thought that women are just objects of lust and Sanji probably doesn’t want to disappoint (even unconsciously) someone who saved him from certain death and raised him as his own child. 

Only Oda-sensei knows completely his character and knows the answers but Sanji’s behavior makes me wonder that what if actually at some point he has created kind of an “alter ego” to protect himself? What if he built himself a personality full of confidence so no one would see that deep inside, there is a fragile boy and a wounded man? Well, this is all just speculation so it’s hard to say whether there is any truth behind these thoughts or not but shortly said, Sanji is a great character and there are definitely reasonable reasons for his behavior, in general. However, he indeed is stuck in these ero kappa- gag and it’s sometimes a shame indeed that some (potentially shippy) moments are ruined by those weird faces or when he goes too lustful but on the other hand, it might be just Oda’s way to keep the series’ focus on the main points instead of romance

It’s really hard to believe that Sanji would actually be a pervert as in the term is officially described but once again, it’s all about interpretation. However, if one takes a closer look to the comparison between Sanji’s and Absalom’s interest in Nami (and other women) and comparing it to the facts of what perversion is in terms of human behavior,  it can be easy to tell that out of these two, Absalom is the true pervert.

[littlesailorinthesun]

retcons, the timeline, and shining nikki

I recently received the Lore Files book, and though it’s in Chinese, a few friends of mine have helped me dig through it. If you aren’t aware, the book is a 2020 release: an official compendium of lore as well as an artbook. It’s only available in Chinese, but it is what it is; at least I don’t have to concern myself with bad translation this way. 

This post is less of an essay and more of a rant, for what it’s worth. But to those who like the story as much as I do, perhaps you’ll find it interesting as well. 

The lore book is... comprehensive.

It’s interesting what it decided to go into detail on, and what it decided not to. Many characters had about as much information as you could glean from their first story appearance and did not go into further detail, such as the Mayor and Starlet. Some were surprisingly more elaborate.

It answered some questions, though not as many as I would have wanted. As was implied before but never directly stated (my nemesis), Bobo is the descendant of the True King, aka the “Lightbringer” - an unofficial translation, but apparently pretty true to the literal meaning. What’s more, even more information was given about this mysterious figure, such as his real name, exactly when he lived and died, and a few more specifics about his life. 

However, it didn’t confirm many popular implied-but-never-directly-stated fan theories (a topic I hope to elaborate on later on this blog). It did give a couple of shreds of evidence that supported them. But I’m sort of a person that likes solid proof, if you understand what I mean? That’s why I take so much care to write when something is unconfirmed.

New information

Some more information it gave contradicted some older information. One of which I’m a little sensitive to is regarding Ace. She was previously listed as a Sagittarius on a Weibo post, and a little-known (I think?) fact is that this information was reflected in-game during the Brave New World event! In the pavilion screen, each character (Bobo, Lunar, Kimi, and Ace) had a constellation next to them that corresponded with their canonical zodiac, so there were multiple pieces of evidence indicating Ace’s zodiac. However, her new zodiac is Aries with a birthday of March 28. It also contradicted her height and made her seven (!!!) centimeters shorter than her previously-stated height (167cm -> 160cm). 

Other characters with new birthday information given were Xiao Zong, Nidhogg, and (I guess) Cesare. (We could have assumed Cesare’s birthday was the same as Chloris’ before, but it’s nice to have confirmation.) While the book gave us Nidhogg’s age (28), it did not directly state Xiao Zong’s in his profile. However, a glimpse into the timeline at the back of the book showed us Sayet’s year of birth, and Sayet is canonically older than Xiao Zong. The only thing is, Sayet would be ninety-seven were he still alive today. Xiao Zong being younger than 97 feels, frankly, absurd to me, considering this is a man who apparently lived so long he got bored with life. It’s also possible that he lied to Sayet about his age. But this is all we have to go on!

What about Shining Nikki?

At first glance, this book seems to be a shockingly unifying force that marries Love Nikki lore and Shining Nikki lore. Spoilers for the ending of Love Nikki, but we learn in the very first chapter of Shining Nikki that Nikki saw Lierlide, a god-like edgy handsome white-haired boye (let me thirst okay), destroy all of Miraland and that’s basically why she’s not in 680 anymore. 

Well, the book has several pages with pictures of Lierlide and the Ark, and even an explanation of what the Ark is. That’s pretty cool. 

But then you flip to the timeline at the end of the book, and you’re left scratching your head. 

Shining Nikki has a detailed account of the Apple independence war, set years before the main story, but the timeline writes that Apple gained independence in 147 New Era after an uprising against colonial rule - two very different dates given. 

It also writes that the Mercury Bank was established in 478 New Era, which is even more absurd. Even just a glimpse into SN lore will show you that Mercury is already a major financial presence. (You can even see one of their buildings in this recently-released PV!)

Finally, the last thing that was not in the lore book (from what I’ve seen), but was released at the same time as the book was released, is a post that claims, among other things, that the first computer in Miraland was created in year 556. Given that we see actual computers in Shining Nikki as well as a host of other technology, even social media, I don’t think these two facts are reconcilable.  

So are they trying to be compliant with Shining Nikki or???

Resolving the gaps

How does one resolve these inconsistencies in the timeline? It seems that they’re trying to do just that by claiming that, around the time of Shining Nikki, everyone entered an extended shared dream. This shared dream also included advanced technology and, to an extent, influenced the world afterwards. Information about the dream was written both in the post linked above as well as in the book. It feels like what they are trying to insinuate is that that shared dream is Shining Nikki.

However, this was never stated! The only things we know is that the dream and Shining Nikki were said to happen at the same year. The shared dream occurrence is meant to be an explanation for why they started their calendar over, NOT an explanation for Shining Nikki. As I understand it, they don’t actually have an explanation in Shining Nikki, and from what I’ve seen, only Nikki has called it “year 0″ there. I don’t know what calendar system they currently think they’re using. Please feel free to correct me if you know more, though.

Even this feels shaky, though, when you try to think about how long this dream would have lasted if every piece of information given in Shining Nikki that contradicts this timeline was included. Mercury (the man) is over a hundred years old, and he’s not the only ridiculously old person who has memories stretching back years. Would people have been born inside the dream, like the eighteen-year-old Haizhe who is strongly implied to be an ancestor of Kimi’s? 

It feels like they could have easily just not included these contradictory things in the timeline. It is not like the writers of this book didn’t know about Shining Nikki’s existence, as the entire book opens with it. So it seems likely that they are doing it on purpose to fuel the theory that Shining Nikki happened, but it happened in a dream-world, and the progress they made was lost when everyone woke up. If this is true, I’m guessing the meta-reason for doing this would be so that SN could do whatever it wanted with the plot and still have it be an enjoyable experience.

But remember, it's all just a theory, a game theory

I’d like to stress again that this is still only a theory and that not every piece of evidence holds up. However, it’s something I’ve been throwing around in my head, and receiving my copy of the book and going through it brought it back to the forefront of my mind.

It’s also pretty clear that considering the book retconned other previously-stated facts, perhaps this is just yet another mistake, and they aren’t that familiar with Shining Nikki after all beyond how LN is meant to end. Or perhaps they decided on purpose to only join the two stories with LN at the end and SN at the beginning, and beyond that each story was free to include its own lore without having to confirm each individual detail with the other, which sounds like it might make logistical sense. I don’t know the full story regarding who writes what, to be honest, so this is just me throwing things at the wall and hoping they stick. 

Finally, as pretty much all of this information I just wrote about was never officially translated to English, I’d like to thank the amazing translators of this fandom who have provided us with so much valuable information from both Love Nikki and Shining Nikki. Being able to read the text as translated by someone who understands the story is incredibly valuable. The things I wrote about are not based on Google Translate in case that is a concern. But I’m liable to mistakes like any other human, so let me know if I misspoke.

[bubblyani]

Poetic, Piano Lovin’

(Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

A Lucifer Morningstar One Shot

Rating: Slightly Mature

Author’s Note: Finally got around to watching Lucifer after all this time, and the first few episodes compelled me to write this one shot. I hope I did the show justice. Tom Ellis is such a joy to watch and I can’t wait to watch the rest of the show. Never expected to write anything Lucifer related so this was really spontaneous. Lucifer fandom, Enjoy!

As you sipped on the cocktail you ordered, you could not help but observe the spectacle that inhibited at the LA Night Club that was called LUX. The glamour of the flashing lights, the temptation of the dancing flesh and the music that was simultaneously hypnotic yet chaotic. You’ve certainly entered the Den of Desire. And at that Den, the night was indeed young.

Your friend Harold, was nice enough to take over your night shift at the office, just so you could actually have “a night out” or “loosen up a bit” in his words. And frankly, you wondered if that was all worth it tonight.

Until you finally laid eyes on him. And you wondered that no more.

Tall, dark and very handsome, this man had presence that made itself known the moment he entered the premises. And you were a willing witness. Been quite a while since you were enamored by a stranger at first sight, you felt it evidently when you discovered your involuntary jaw drop, that you managed to cover up by pressing your lips. You wondered how could anyone posses such charm in one body. And the other women, even the other men around surprisingly reacted the same, reminding you that you weren’t the only one. Chuckling softly, you shook your head in embarrassment, lowering your head to hide your silliness.

Except, when you looked back up. And his gaze was locked in yours. Those eyes washing over you from across the room. Just you. No-one else.

Were you dreaming? For it felt unrealistic enough. But just to be sure, you maintained your composure. Getting up slowly, your hands slithered over your purse, walking away from your seat as if to explore the rest of the club, hoping he would follow.   Your eyes suddenly caught the sight of a beautiful piano, that sat right in the middle of the club. And it managed to charm you more than the lights, the dancers and the trance music ever did. Looking over, your eyes stealthily searched for him. You sighed in dejection as you could not find him anymore. “A piano lover I take it?” A warm, velvet voice crept in from the side, startling you as you discovered the handsome stranger standing right next to you. “Hah…what can I say? I see a piano…and I’m instantly drawn to it”  you said, running your manicured hands over it. “I can empathize…” the man said,  “I supposed you could call it…magnetic” Impressed, you fully turned to him. “Lucifer Morningstar” he said, extending his hand over to yours, “Welcome to LUX” “Y/N…” you replied, shaking his hand in return, “…pleasure” you said, feeling your breath quicken as his thumb brushed along your palm to your surprise. “I can’t help but ask…” you began, “Who plays this here?” “I do…” Lucifer replied, as he sat on the piano stool. And admittedly, you were quite impressed, again. “And I can’t help but ask, what brings you here to my playground?” This man knew his way with words, and you liked it. “Well, I’ve always wanted to come to LUX and see what the fuss was all about. Besides, I have to admit I was more than curious about the charismatic owner of it, word spreads like wildfire, you know” You were also surprised how confident your responses were, given the breathtaking view that was presented to you, sharply dressed in a fine suit. “And how do you like what you see so far?” “I’m afraid I can’t disagree…with what I’ve heard” you smiled mischievously, inciting a look of pure satisfaction from the man in front of you.

“Mr. Morningstar…”


“Lucifer…Please” he insisted.

“Yes…” attempting your hardest not to swoon by his seductive tone, you continued, “I cant help but notice all the looks most people are giving me here…” you cleared your throat, “indirectly of course…of why would someone such as yourself seem to be spending his time with me?” “ Well Y/N” Lucifer began, “You certainly seem to have some charm and beauty that I couldn’t take my eyes out of…” “Flattery…” you smirked, “really… the best way to bring in new customers” You remarked teasingly. To which he flashed his smile, “Guilty” His eyes managed to undress you. You felt the effect as a new heat grew between your thighs. And you certainly felt it to a higher degree than usual.

But sudden ring of your phone distracted your otherwise tense moment. You sighed. It was a text from Harold. “Shit…” you muttered. “Everything okay?” Lucifer asked with concern. “Yeah just…” you paused, “My friend from work…he…I…I gotta go” You said, reluctantly putting your phone away, forcing Lucifer to get up from his seat. “No…You can’t just leave like that” he said in protest. You pouted. “Unfortunately I have to…” “Tell me Y/N…” he said, as his voice grew deeper.   “What is it that you truly desire… right now?”

For a moment you felt as if you were the only occupant in the room. For a moment you were liberated from all constraints and you had nothing to lose.

“I really want to help my friend out at work, or I will be feeling guilty for the rest of my life” you said, “But I also want to stare into your beautiful eyes, until you ravish me on top of this piano until my legs turn into…Oh my god…” you covered your mouth in shock, “…did I just say that?”

You swore you saw his eyes burn with desire, or you wanted to believe it to be so. But before Lucifer could answer, you were reminded once again of the urgent dilemma. “I’m really sorry…” you began, “but I gotta go…” Giving him an apologetic look, you quickly dashed out of the club, unaware of how Lucifer Morningstar’s eyes didn’t leave you until you disappeared.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Harold looked up from his pile of paperwork, as he found you in the office.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, “You’re here”

“Yeah…I came as fast as I could” you said breathlessly, trying to recover from your panting, “What’s going on?” You asked, with your hands on your hips. 


“Well the system just crashed…” he began, pointing at your computer, “…and I have no idea how to get it back up online ” Harold said, with a tone of concern,“I’m really sorry I ruined your night…”

“What? Nah…all good. Don’t worry about it. I owe you that much” you said without hesitation, guilty of your surprising confession earlier at the Club.

You sighed, as flopped in front of the desktop, stretching your arms.

“It’s gonna be one long night”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Maze was certainly not happy to find a customer at LUX during the wee hours of the morning. Therefore her mood wasn’t exactly forthcoming when she found you at the entrance.

“I’m sorry” you said nervously, holding a cup of coffee, “I forgot my phone here” You managed to come up with a White Lie, and you didn’t know why you did it. Frankly, you didn’t know why you ended up there at all.

“Don’t worry…I will be out before you know it” You yelled apologetically as you walked in to the empty premises, which had the occupants of zero at present. Excluding you of course. Running your fingers over the piano keys, you were reminded of the short yet seductively sweet encounter. You wished that aspect of the night had continued, curious to see how it would have ended.

“Long night ?” Clutching your chest, Lucifer Morningstar certainly seemed to read your mind as he appeared in the midst of your wandering thoughts. Exhaling, you nodded in acknowledgement. “Yep, managed to survive thanks to many many….” Pointing at your cup, “many cups of coffee” you said with a grin, “Feels fulfilling…although it happened with a little sacrifice” You couldn’t help but admire how handsome and irresistible he looked, even at 7 in the morning ,“What are you doing here?” You asked, getting up from the stool, proceeding to walk towards him, “You should be waking up… to someone beautiful after a night of excitement” your tone laced with reverie. “Has anyone told you how poetic you are?” Lucifer asked, taking the finished coffee cup off your hands. Like a gentleman. Chuckling, you attempted to come up with a response. And it seemed that you failed. Especially when you found yourself slowly backed against the piano by him. “I guess I can call myself a poetic, piano lover who…rushes to her friend in need” you managed to form an answer, finally. Placing his hands on the sides of the piano, Lucifer grinned when he surrounded you. 
“Well I think, you need a bit of spice… to fire up that poetic piano lover eh?” “True…” you said, “I’ve been told I need more excitement in my l-”

Lucifer’s lips managed to shush you fast as he kissed you with much fervor, which you didn’t hesitate to return. Suddenly leaving the piano, you felt his beautiful hands resting on your waist, bringing you closer till there was no gap in between. Your legs suddenly felt lighter the moment he lifted you up, and placing you on top of the piano instead.

“No! not here…” you breathed, pulling away “…this is too holy” you joked, indicating the beautiful piano. “Ah darling…” He said, swiftly spreading your legs open for him to get in between them. A gasp escaped your lips, as his long fingers grazed over your panties, skillfully getting around to the waistband so he could pull them down.

“Nothing is holy in the eyes of the devil” 

______________________________________

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it.

Check my LUCIFER MASTERLIST here :)

[zosociologist]

@brownskinsugarplum76 you didn’t skip a beat with this one ma’am!

Nicknames: Lay-Lay / Lay (can replace y with an i for both)

Name: Hallai (pronounced “Ha-lay-ya”)

Zodiac: Libra (ion remember all that extra moon solar system hi-low stuff)

Favorite Artist(s): [Rock/Oldie Goldies related since this blog is mainly for that] Led Zeppelin (obviously), The Police, Rush, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Beatles, Talking Heads, The B-52′s & R.E.M (ATHENS GANG GANG!!!), The Clash, Joni Mitchell, Jethro Tull, Steely Dan, Yes, The Who, Kajagoogoo, Prince, Gorillaz, Culture Club, Billie Holiday, Hall & Oates, Fleetwood Mac, James Brown, Os Mutantes, Spirit, Funkadelic, Chicago, Queen, The Rolling Stones, The Mamas & The Papas, Strawberry Alarm Clock, The Association, The Band, Ohio Players, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Love, CAN, Jim Croce, The Yardbirds, The Specials, Electric Light Orchestra, Janis Joplin, The Amazing Blondel, Frank Zappa, Sam Cooke, Living Colour, System of a Down, Duran Duran, Oingo Boingo, The Mills Brothers, Dionne Warwick, New York Dolls (I would put more but this is way more than there should be lmao)

Favorite Sports Team: Bold of you to assume I watch SpOrTs ....I meaannn besides UFC & Figure skating ion really be in the cut like that my dudes, and like Plum I suppose I rep the Georgia Bulldogs....to an extent....only because I’m not too far from UGA

Other Blogs: 

@pinktiger501 (My VERRRYYY first blog that I opened when I was 14...you can literally see my gradual phases of fandoms I’ve been in change by the year)

@aceblankthoughts (I think I made this sideblog when I was 16? It was supposed to be an aesthetic/minimalist blog but I failed and it turned out just as chaotic as my first one)

@melanated-writersblock (I made this just last year! May second favorite blog I’ve made after this one. My Korean music sideblog where I ALSO write fics for artists as well)

Do I get Asks?: Surprisingly yes! It makes my heart happy

Blogs I follow: In total I follow 1,309 folks on here

Tumblr Crushes: I have none

Lucky Number: 1,999

Wearing: (Right Now) my blue MTV shirt and black shorts, (In the next hour) my dark plaid trousers with my black Led Zeppelin tee over a white turtleneck and my platform black velvet doc martens (today is my first day back at uni for the Spring semester so I gotta make a good impression)

Dream Vacation: Staying at a nice house in Italy with a decent amount of land and probably a vineyard for a summer. Or a trip to Seoul with a few of my homegirls (we’ve been talking about this since my sophomore year of highschool, it’s gonna fucking happen before I turn 30). Springtime in France, I wake up and walk to the balcony of a cozy penthouse studio apartment with a vintage feel while listening to a Billie Holiday record while I read a nice book and eat my morning breakfast after a night of getting my back blown out by Timothee Chalamet.................................yeah probably too specific-

Dream: To be a world renowned film and tv show producer/actress/director/writer/singer/etc. and whenever I’m not working on big film or tv projects I’d like to be a film professor at a big university or at least do guess speaker lectures about film and tv at ivy league universities on my down time. (whew! the ambition.....THE FLAVOR!!!)

Dream Car: A 1974 Cadillac Eldorado, Toyota Sequoia (I have a 2003 model but a newer version would slap), and a Murcielago Lamborghini

Favorite Food: Cuban food & Bahamian food. Period. 

Drink of choice: Cuba Libre, Sangria, Sky Juice, Goombay Smash & garapiña

Instruments: My voice is my number one instrument I basically hopped out the womb singing. I played trumpet...middle school through highschool...7 years of my life wasted on an instrument that I felt no connection with (and I STILL can’t fucking read notes!!!). Love the piano but can’t play for shit. And I wanna play the guitar so bad but I haven’t started yet and I’m already 20 and I feel like it’s too late but oh well I’m still gonna try.

Languages: Spanish (thanks to my Cuban dad...my phrasing and accent is impeccable but I’m not fluent and I’m fucking failing my ancestors), I use a lot of Bahamian slang because of my mom and I sometimes confuse my friends (it’s not my fault they don’t know wtf a boongie is), and Korean (started teaching myself when I was 15, I can read and spell out hangul but I haven’t practiced in a while...if I keep it up for a year or so I could be fluent....which is a shame.....I should’ve been fluent in Spanish instead........)

Celebrity Crushes: (Sheeesh...we’d be here all day) okay so......Sting, Robert Plant, Roger Daltrey, Anthony Kiedis, Duff McKagan, Eddie Vedder, Josh Kiszka, John Boyega, Trevante Rhodes, Timothee Chalamet, Dacre Montgomery, Florian Munteanu, Seulgi, Jeongyeon, SZA, Indya Moore (aaaand we’ll call it a day for now)

Random Fact: I marathoned both Magic Mike movies the day I turned 18, and I used to scam men on BBW dating sites and made $379 by the end of it.

Tagging: Umm......lemme tag @fan-with-issues @duffshairdye @slashscowboyboots @hallyudoinchica @rogers-wateringcan @ilovetomkeiferslips @xx-kurt-cocaine--xx and anyone else that would like to do it!

[beatrice-otter]

That Tender Light

Title: That Tender Light

Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series

Relationships: Spock/Nyota Uhura (TOS)

Written for: LittleRaven in Star Trek Holidays 2019

Betaed by: phnelt

Word count: 11,497 words

Rating: teen

Summary: Spock and Nyota are colleagues and friends, nothing more. But now that Spock's bond with T'Pring has been broken, he can't help noticing Nyota in new ways.

On AO3. On Dreamwidth. On ff.net

Nyota was sitting at her desk playing games on her PADD while she waited for Christine. They'd been on opposite schedules for a couple of weeks and hadn't gotten a chance to talk. But now they were on the same shift again, so they could get together for tea and games, and given the rumors flying around the ship, Nyota wanted to check in to see that Christine was alright.

Half the rumors painted Spock as some sort of cave-man sexist pig throwing a temper tantrum. Half of them painted Christine as some sort of sex-crazed nymphomaniac. All of them had Christine as the subject of a brutal dressing-down.

None of it made any sense. Spock was unfailingly courteous and respectful in the best sense, and, like Captain Kirk, never failed to support the female officers and crew under his command when the situation called for it. Nor was he prone to viciousness of any kind. Sardonic was as bad as he got. Christine was a professional and would never sexually harass anyone, but especially not a patient.

And none of that even took into account what came after, with Spock countermanding the Admiralty's orders, the back-and-forth to Vulcan or not, Spock having a wife no one knew about (with poor Christine being right there when the surprise was sprung, which hadn't exactly quieted the rumors down any), and then the captain coming back to the ship unconscious. From Vulcan, of all places! One of the safest planets in the Federation! Nyota was confused and upset, and she didn't like either feeling.

The door chime rang. "Enter!" Nyota said.

It was Christine, impeccably groomed and styled as always, but still visibly worn.

"Christine!" Nyota said, tossing her PADD aside. She got up and hugged her friend. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, please, Nyota, not you too," Christine said with a groan, sinking into one of the chairs. She buried her face in her hands. "Spock was ill and not himself, and anything else is bound up in patient confidentiality."

Nyota took the other chair across from her friend. Christine was so obviously disturbed by the whole thing that that couldn't be the whole story even without considering the rumors. "Must have been some illness," she observed carefully.

Christine snorted. "You don't even know the half of it, and that's all I'm going to say. But I can tell you that if Vulcan actually gave Starfleet Medical details on certain aspects of Vulcan biology, along with the cultural issues surrounding them, this whole mess would have been handled quite differently. And that's all I'm going to say. Frankly, this whole week has been hellish and I don't want to think about it one minute longer."

"All right," Nyota said quietly, taking her curiosity and locking it away for now. She wouldn't want to challenge Christine's professional ethics, and in any case, supporting her friend was more important than Nyota's questions getting answered. "What are you up for tonight? Game? Movie? Do you want distraction or just relaxation?"

Two days later, Spock asked her if she would like to resume their weekly jam sessions. He'd skipped the last two without notifying her; looking back, Nyota wondered if that missed session had been the first sign something was wrong.

She had to think about it; she'd always enjoyed playing with Spock, he was the only musician on the ship who could really keep up with her. And she considered him a friend (although, given Vulcan emotional reticence, she had no idea whether he considered her a friend). But that had been before he'd said … whatever he'd said to Christine. Before she'd been so forcefully reminded that he was alien, and that there was a lot about Vulcans that nobody knew because Vulcans just didn't talk about themselves.

Nyota got along just fine with people of many different races; you had to, as a communications officer. But she didn't like how he'd treated Christine, and she didn't like realizing she understood him less well than she'd believed she did. They'd never been close, but they'd been comfortable in each others' presence, and Nyota was decidedly uncomfortable now.

In the end, she went; whatever had happened between him and Christine, he'd been ill at the time and Christine didn't seem to be holding a grudge. If Christine wasn't, then it would be unreasonable of Nyota to do so when she didn't even know what had happened. And it was in one of the private gathering spaces on the rec deck, which was neutral territory if anything was.

Besides, the underlying problem was that Nyota had thought she'd understood Spock, and realized she was wrong, and a lack of understanding wasn't a problem that could be solved by avoidance.

"I apologize for missing our last two sessions without notifying you," Spock said as he tuned his lyre and she soaked the reed of her algaita.

"Apology accepted, Mister Spock," Nyota said. "I understand you weren't yourself." That she was not holding against him. The inconvenience was minor, and it was likely a symptom of his illness. It didn't make her any more comfortable about the rest of the situation, but she appreciated the courtesy.

"I was not," Spock said briefly. Was she imagining things, or was he uncomfortable? Sometimes Spock was surprisingly easy to read, for a Vulcan; sometimes he was perfectly opaque.

"Can I ask if you've apologized to Christine?"

That stopped him. His head shot up and he frowned slightly. "What should I be apologizing for?"

"What should you be apologizing for?" Nyota was incensed. "I don't know what happened because the rumor mill has gone crazy and she won't tell me because of confidentiality issues—although how you can claim confidentiality when it was in a public corridor with multiple crew members walking past is beyond me—but you tore a bloody strip off of her in public, and started a lot of very nasty rumors about both you and her, and you're the first officer and you've been mostly off duty since then so you may not have gotten any grief for it yet, but she has had no such protection."

He was very nearly green. "I did not—there are a number of substantial gaps in my memory of the last week. And there were occasional hallucinations and a number of very odd and lifelike dreams. I do not remember any such exchange, but that means little; and I cannot give you any idea of what my mental state was at that particular moment."

"Then why weren't you in sickbay?" Nyota demanded. "You were even still on the duty roster at that point, and if what you say is true you were certainly not competent to be giving orders for lunch, much less anything else."

"Unfortunately," Spock said, "when one's mind is imbalanced, rational judgment is often an early casualty. By the time the symptoms were undeniable, I was not capable of formulating a logical response to them." He hesitated. "May I ask what the rumors are?"

Nyota summarized them briefly for him, not going into the gory details but giving him the broad strokes of the main rumors.

"I see," he said, when she had finished. His shoulders were drooping, and he would not meet her eyes. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap. She had rarely seen him this discomposed. "Yes. I shall have to apologize. The altercation, whatever it was, was undoubtedly my fault, as was the public nature of it." He looked troubled, and slightly folded in on himself, and Nyota felt sorry for him. The whole thing must have been a nightmare—possibly literally.

"But you are better now?" Nyota said. "And Doctor McCoy knows what he needs to know should it happen again?" She was dying to know the whole story, but it wasn't her business as long as it didn't interfere with the running of the ship.

"Correct on both counts," Spock said, "although the chances of it recurring during the rest of Enterprise's five-year mission are miniscule."

"All right then," Nyota said, reassured that things would return to normal between them. She checked to see if her reed was ready. "Since the last time we met, I finished transcribing the next duet in the sequence into European musical notation, would you like to try it?"

"Certainly," Spock said, sitting up straighter so that he was a model of Vulcan stoicism. Nyota tucked her curiosity away and turned her attention to the music.

Spock took his time putting his lyre back in its case, so that Uhura left the practice room before him. He very carefully and deliberately did not watch her go, focusing instead on asserting his biophysical control so that he could stand and walk back to his quarters with no outward sign of his arousal.

He had always known that Uhura was a beautiful woman; that was obvious to anyone with eyes. But he'd never reacted so viscerally to her or any woman before, save T'Pring at the wedding-that-was-not.

Her hands as she'd trilled! The dance of her fingers over the instrument! So precise, so graceful! He had not been able to tear his eyes away, and felt ashamed at how he had gawked at her. She, of course, had not noticed; hands were not generally a major part of human visual erotic stimulation, and Vulcans certainly did not spread the details of their own sexuality around. Spock could not quite decide whether it was better that she had been unaware of his gaze (thus sparing him embarrassment) or if would have been better had she had known (thus being able to decide whether or not she wanted to be so gazed at).

Spock walked quickly to his quarters and took out the medical tricorder Doctor McCoy had given him for self-monitoring. His endocrine system was within normal tolerances, and none of the secondary symptoms of Pon Farr were showing. He was merely aroused.

He should have expected something like this. Vulcans matured differently than humans did, with two puberties, one in adolescence and the other at first Pon Farr. He was now fully adult, not subadult, and sexual responses were stronger in this stage of life. Moreover, he was no longer married; his bond with T'Pring had ever been tenuous, but it had curbed and absorbed some of what little sexual drive he had had as a subadult. Now, he needed a new mate, and every fiber of his body and brain knew it.

Nyota Uhura was beautiful, intelligent, competent, compassionate, and musical, and he respected her a great deal. Moreover, she was the woman he spent the most time with both in public and in private. It was only natural that he should find her alluring. If she were Vulcan, and not his subordinate, she would have been very nearly the perfect woman for him.

Alas, even if he wished to have a human mate (and after T'Pring, the idea had a certain appeal regardless of Nyo—of Uhura's—personal attractions), she was still his subordinate, and the regulations concerning such relationships were stringent, for very good reason.

This would require a great deal of meditation.

Nyota was cursing Nomad and going through all the drawers in her cabin, trying to learn as much about herself as she could, when the door chime sounded.

"Come," she said, walking from the bedchamber into the living room/office.

It was the ship's first officer, Commander Spock. The only time she could remember meeting him was when he administered the professional tests so that she could be re-certified as an officer. He had been somber, but without the hesitation or pity that marked virtually all of her interactions these days, and pronounced her 'Remarkably proficient as always, Lieutenant.'

She didn't know if he was a friend. But his presence had been easier to bear than all the friends who stopped in to hover awkwardly and tried to bond over reminiscences of things that were forever lost to her.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Spock said. "How are you settling in?" He was tall, the impression enhanced by his perfect posture. His face showed no emotion, but he didn't feel cold, merely still. He was very attractive, but somewhat intimidating. He entered her room with a catlike grace she couldn't help appreciating.

"Some moments better than others, Commander," she said. "Re-learning the academics is—well, not easy, but in some ways it was more of a refresher course than anything else. But anything personal—it feels like I'm a ghost in my own life. Some things I can piece together on my own from my records and the ship's log and conversations I've had since Nomad wiped my brain; other things, I really can't."

"I would be happy to help in any way I can," the Commander said. He had a nice voice, she noted, and wondered if he sang. "We regularly gathered to play music together, which you called our 'jam sessions.'"

"Ah!" Nyota said, brightening. "Then you can definitely help." She went to her bedroom and took out an instrument case. "What is this? It's obviously a double reed instrument of some sort, and it's not an oboe or one of the instruments in an Earth orchestra, and I haven't had time to dig through the computer's music database and figure out what it is."

"That is an algaita, an instrument from West Africa, especially prevalent among the Hausa and Kanuri peoples. You brought it because of all the African instruments you play, it was the smallest and thus easiest to fit in your mass allowance, thus serving double duty as a reminder of home and a musical instrument."

"But I'm not a Hausa, or Kanuri, am I?" Nyota said, frowning. "My file says I'm from Kenya in East Africa, part Kikuyu and part Luhya." And, judging from the items in her quarters, very proud of her heritage … which she no longer remembered anything about. Her insides twisted at another reminder of all that she had lost, and she carefully focused on keeping her breathing steady. She'd cried enough over her state, in the last few days; she was tired of feeling sorry for herself.

"That is true," said Spock, and she turned her attention back to him. "You never told me the story of how you came to learn that particular instrument."

"What other instruments do I play?" Nyota asked. Focusing on concrete things she could re-learn was much better than wallowing in grief.

"Your primary instrument is your voice," Spock said. "As for other instruments, you are competent on a wide variety of Terran stringed instruments, both African and other; most recently, I had been teaching you the Vulcan Lyre. You are apparently accomplished on the marimba, although I have never had the pleasure of hearing you play, for the Enterprise does not have one, nor any xylophones or other similar instrument."

"That's … a lot," Nyota said, dismayed. There was still so much to learn. Would she ever be back to what she had been?

"As with your hand-to-hand combat re-training and the operation of your station, muscle memory should make it easier to re-learn than it was to learn in the first place," Spock said.

"Yeah," Nyota said with a sigh. Well, start with the ones she had available on Enterprise, and the rest she could choose to re-learn—or not—at some later time when she had them available. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, where are my manners. Please, sit," she said, gesturing at one of the two chairs in the living room. "Would you like something to drink? I've got water and tea and some dehydrated drink mixes of various kinds."

"Tea would be appreciated," Spock said, taking the offered chair. He was easy on the eyes, and enjoyable to watch move, and she indulged in that for a second before getting out the tea caddy. She'd been through enough she deserved a bit of harmless pleasure.

Nyota let him choose what type of tea he wanted, and set the "hot" tap in the bathroom sink to the correct temperature for that type of tea. (Thankfully, it was labelled on the package, so she didn't have to look it up.)

"Well, Mister Spock, here you are," Nyota said when the tea was ready. She handed him one mug and sat down with her own, blowing on it to cool it. "I'm sorry, I don't know if there are any cultural things about hospitality I should be doing."

Spock tilted his head. "I cannot speak to your cultural practices, as I have never socialized with you in your quarters before. Were we on Vulcan, in a formal setting, the etiquette for serving refreshments is quite intricate. But we are not on Vulcan, we are not in a formal setting, and under the circumstances you have many other more important things to learn."

Nyota groaned. "I know. It's all so overwhelming and there is so much that I'll never get back. I want to take a break from thinking about it, and yet there's really nothing else I can think about." In a way, that first day or so had been the easy part. Everything had been so confusing, but she hadn't had any idea of just how much she needed to re-learn.

"As you know, I have been consulting with Doctor McCoy about your condition," Spock said.

"Yes," Nyota said, nodding. "Because Doctor McCoy knows the neurology, but if he were able to find a way of fixing my brain, he'd need some sort of specialized equipment and he's 'a doctor, dammit, not an engineer.'" She was quite proud of her mimicry of Doctor McCoy's irascible tone of voice.

"As you know, the chances are negligible that we shall find a technological solution at this point," Spock said. "However, from what scans have been able to determine, the majority of your memories are still there; Nomad did not erase the entire contents of your brain, merely severed the linkages necessary to access them."

"Yes, I know," Nyota said, a little irritated. "I have been paying attention to my own medical condition, Mister Spock."

"Of course," Spock said. "But while it is impossible at this time to build a device sensitive enough to physically rebuild those linkages, it has recently occurred to me that a sufficiently gifted and trained telepath might be able to do so."

"Really?" Nyota asked, feeling her heart begin to pound. "Where's the nearest telepath?"

Spock twitched, a little. "Vulcans are touch telepaths, however—"

"When can you do it?" she demanded. "Now?"

"No," Spock said. "I am not a trained healer. The nearest such is on Vulcan, a two week journey from here by shuttle."

"Shuttle?" Nyota sagged. "I'd have to leave Enterprise?" She had only a little over a week's worth of memories in her entire life, at least memories that she could access at the moment. The majority of that time, she'd been in sickbay. She had no memories of any place other than this ship. Something in her gut twisted at the thought.

"Possibly," Spock said. "I have not yet discussed this possible course of treatment with Doctor McCoy, and I would need to contact experts on Vulcan to make arrangements. But I wished for your consent before anything was done. Many humans would have qualms about allowing an alien telepath such intimate access to their mind; in order to work, the telepathic healer would have to have access to even the most personal of your thoughts and memories."

"Mister Spock, if it would get my memories back, I'd agree to have my memories broadcast across the quadrant!"

"Fortunately, that will not be necessary," Spock said, raising an eyebrow. "Very well. I will begin making arrangements."

Spock, Uhura, and Doctor McCoy had gathered in the Doctor's office to consult with a Vulcan healer over subspace. Spock was anxious to hear the verdict, for he very much hoped that the lieutenant's brain might be healed. It was more than the compassion he might feel for any sentient so injured, and more than the concern of a superior for one under his command. Uhura had handled her situation with a grace and courage and tenacity that Spock deeply admired. It spoke to the strength of her character, and his admiration for her had only increased.

He did not have long to dwell on this, however, as Healer T'Vyr was admirably prompt, and once the call had connected, wasted little time on pleasantries before sharing her conclusions. "While there is only a 29.4% chance of complete memory re-acquisition, your hypothesis is probably correct that a majority of the still-extant memories could be made accessible," Healer T'Vyr said over subspace.

"That's wonderful!" Uhura said. Indeed it was; Spock had to exert some control to keep his relief from showing.

"Indeed," T'Vyr said. "However, there remains a significant problem: no Vulcan mind-healer I have contacted has any experience with Human neural architecture. None have ever even mind-melded with a Human. Ideally, the healer would have melded with Lieutenant Uhura prior to the Nomad's attack, but failing that, they would need to have melded with multiple humans prior to the meld with the Lieutenant, so that they might know what a healthy human mind feels like."

"Where are we gonna find telepathic healers with that much experience, if there aren't any Vulcans?" Doctor McCoy asked. "Are there other species in the Federation with telepathic healers?"

"Possibly," Healer T'Vyr said. "However, there may be a simpler solution. This will require delicacy, but if Human brains are anything like Vulcan brains, the telepath will not be the one performing the re-association; the Lieutenant will be. Vulcan brains, and indeed those of most sapient species, make such connections easily so that memories may be formed in the first place."

"That's true of Human brains, too, ma'am," Doctor McCoy said. "Unless there's trauma of some sort involved."

Spock was filled with a sense of foreboding that was most illogical. He could predict the solution the healer was about to suggest, and it would be efficient and logical. While it would require him to reveal certain personal issues to the lieutenant, his privacy was not more important than her health.

"Spock, having studied your school records, I know that you melded with two humans over the course of your telepathic training, your mother and your foster-sister," Healer T'Vyr said. "Your instructors note that you have a delicate telepathic touch, and your instructor in telepathic ethics gave you a satisfactory report."

"I am not a healer," Spock noted.

"You may still be more qualified to help the Lieutenant than any Vulcan with healer training," T'Vyr said, "provided the Lieutenant is comfortable with accepting your help. In any case, as long as you do not try and force any connections, there should be no harm in trying. If you do not succeed, there would be nothing to stop the Lieutenant from travelling to Vulcan and being seen by a healer here. Or finding telepathic mind-healers elsewhere in the Federation."

"Well, that sounds like something we need to discuss on our end," Doctor McCoy said. "Thank you for your help. Lieutenant, you have any more questions?"

"I thought you didn't have any healers who had melded with humans on Vulcan," Uhura said. "Yet you still think I should come if Spock can't do it?"

"Lack of experience with Human brains is a solvable issue," T'Vyr said. "Although there are not many Humans on Vulcan, there are some, and the chances are very good that we would be able to find several who were willing to meld with your Healer to give them experience. It is not, however, ideal; mind-melds are, by their very nature, extremely intimate, and it is an enormous thing to ask of someone, to meld with a stranger, when they themselves have no medical or other need."

"I see," Uhura said.

There were no further questions, and so the communication was ended.

"Well, Spock, why didn't you say you could do it in the first place?" McCoy said.

"I am not a healer," Spock said. "If there were some sort of time pressure, and we could not wait to get Uhura to Vulcan or a healer here, then I would have volunteered."

"But—"

"If an away-team member had an injury requiring surgery," Spock said, "it would be appropriate for me to perform any emergency first-aid necessary, but not to perform the surgery myself, unless the landing party was cut off from the ship and the crew member would die without an immediate operation. The brain is a very delicate organ. Non-healers are taught to communicate through melds and regulate our own telepathy, not make adjustments in other peoples' minds."

"Point taken, Spock," McCoy said, crossing his arms. "But the Healer thinks you'd be capable, and I agree with her reasoning. What do you say, Nyota? Want to give Spock's magic fingers a try?"

Uhura frowned, looking him up and down. "Yes," she said, "but I think the Commander has reservations?"

Spock nodded. "As the situation is not time-critical, some discussion of the issues involved is necessary."

"Of course," McCoy said. "You can use my office, I'll be in the general sickbay."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Uhura turned to him with a frown. "Commander Spock, would you be okay with melding with me? If it's so intimate?"

"Under the circumstances, the intimacy would largely be on your side," Spock pointed out. "There would undoubtedly be some sharing on my part, as I do not have a healer's training in clinical shields. However, I would have to go through every memory of yours that I could find and present it to you so that your mind could make the appropriate connections. You would have no secrets from me, quite literally."

"That would be true of any telepath I saw, though, whether you or a healer on Vulcan," Uhura pointed out. She got up and began to pace. "The difference is, I know you, and I'm in comfortable surroundings here. My other option is travel to a place I've never been, trusting strangers with the secrets locked inside my skull that even I don't know about."

"The benefit to strangers doing this would be that you would never have to face anyone with that intimate knowledge of you again," Spock pointed out. "If I did it, and discovered things about you that you would rather I not know, you would have to see me every day, unless you transferred off of the Enterprise."

"Do you think I have any secrets that embarrassing?" Uhura asked, pausing.

"Unknown," Spock said. "You have always seemed to me to be a remarkably transparent individual, but you are also quite competent at undercover missions and any deception required professionally. And, obviously, you did not confide in me if you had any secrets you did not want me to know."

"Obviously," Uhura said with a snort, resuming her pacing. "You seem reluctant. It's your choice, Mister Spock, but I'd rather have you; I don't want to leave Enterprise and put myself in the hands of strangers. And then there's all the other people who'd have to have melds to give the healers experience, if I go that route, it's not any fairer to expect that of them than it is for me to expect it of you, if you would find it unpleasant."

"On the contrary, I suspect I would find it a pleasant experience," Spock said. "That is why I hesitate."

She stopped again and frowned at him. "I don't understand, Mister Spock, why would finding it nice be a problem?"

Spock gathered his courage. He would not have chosen telling her this way; might never have chosen to inform her of his feelings. Hours of meditation in the time since his … divorce … had been insufficient to settle within himself what his long-term personal goals should be, and until and unless he had decided to pursue a relationship with her it would be unprofessional to burden her with the knowledge of his affections. But there was no help for it. "I have recently discovered myself attracted to you, Ms. Uhura," he said. "Not merely to your body, but to your intelligence and quick-wittedness and personality, as well. I had not said anything yet because it was new, and I recently experienced a major life transition and wished to reach a state of personal equilibrium before making any large changes. In addition, given our respective ranks and positions in the ship's hierarchy, any relationship between us would require a great deal of care."

Uhura blinked several times, opening and closing her mouth before speaking. He studied her, and she returned the attention in kind. He could not trust himself to discern her reaction to his confession, but he hoped she was not offended. She did not seem to be.

"That's flattering, Mister Spock," she said at last, "but I don't know if I—"

"I am not asking for any reciprocity at this time, or even if such reciprocity might be possible in the future," Spock said. "If nothing else, your own mental state is such that you need time to recover and learn to stand on your own before making any serious relationship changes of your own. However, you needed to know before consenting to any mind-meld between us."

"Because I might find out during the meld?"

"Because if I wished to, I could almost certainly alter whatever feelings towards me you possess during the meld, and you would have no way of preventing it," Spock explained. "If nothing else, I could alter or create memories for you that would make you more disposed to accept my attentions, or simply prevent any memories critical of me from being remembered. I would never do any of those things because they would be an absolute violation of every ethical and moral standard, but I have the power to do them if I chose, and you have only my word and a week's acquaintance with me to base any decisions on."

"Oh," Uhura said, eyes wide. She swallowed. "But any telepath could do that, yes?"

"Yes," Spock said. "But a telepath who did not previously know you would have less motivation for such a crime, and tampering would be immediately obvious if, for example, you declared your undying love for someone you had only just met and wished to transfer to Space Central on Vulcan."

"Whereas you and I have served together for almost two years," Uhura said, thinking it through.

"And you have been known to flirt with me," Spock said. "As a sort of game, I believe, but an observer might not know that."

"And there's no one else here to double-check your work," Uhura said. Her body language was more closed off than it had been even thirty seconds earlier, and it grieved him to see, but it was better that she understand fully, and make an informed decision.

"Correct," Spock said. "I would never alter your thinking or your memories for my own benefit without your prior consent, but you have only my word for that. I can tell you that I would probably find exploring your mind to be a pleasurable experience, for I greatly admire you as a person and as an officer." He set aside his embarrassment to deal with later; right now, Uhura's future and mental health were the primary considerations.

Uhura made a face. "Would that be … an erotic sort of pleasure?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not in the physically arousing sense," Spock said, "although Vulcan notions of the erotic are different. I assure you, your memories would not become part of any fantasy life on my part."

"But, again, I would have only your word for that," Uhura said.

"Correct," Spock said. "I hope you understand why it is important that you understand fully the range of possibilities before consenting to any meld between us."

"Or between myself and any healer on Vulcan." Uhura closed her eyes and shook her head. "Can I talk with someone about this?"

Spock ignored his initial wish to deny her so that his private feelings might remain so. It was a logical question; since she had so little experience of his character to draw on, consulting with others who knew him better was the only way to get enough information to base a decision on. "If they understand that it is a private matter not to be gossiped about. Doctor McCoy would probably have a valuable perspective." Also, he understood the importance of patient confidentiality and would probably not tease Spock excessively about feelings he learned of in such circumstances.

"What about Christine?" Uhura asked. "She's been such a help since I lost my memory, and I know we were friends before Nomad's attack."

Spock swallowed. "Nurse Chapel would be acceptable," he said slowly, "and given her position as a nurse she has certainly seen me at my worst, in circumstances few others have. However, I believe she has an unrequited crush on me. She is a professional, and would not let it color any advice she gave you, but—"

"—but she might be hurt to know you were attracted to me and not her," Uhura said with a nod. "All right, I'll think about it and let you know."

Spock bowed in acknowledgment.

"You and Spock have a nice chat?" Doctor McCoy asked after Commander Spock had left.

"It was … revealing," Nyota said wryly. Flattering—she doubted he was the type to fall in love lightly, or based on superficial things, so to know he was attracted to her was a compliment both to who she was now and who she had been before the memory wipe. How she felt about him was a question she simply didn't have the energy to think about right now. Not while she had such a momentous decision to make.

"And? When are you going to do it?"

"You're so sure we're going to meld," Nyota said.

Doctor McCoy shrugged. "You heard Healer T'Vyr, he's the closest thing to an expert there is, and he'd make sure the job was done right. If you're not comfortable with him for some reason, you can go to Vulcan, of course, but I don't see why you'd spend that much time in a shuttle craft just to have a stranger poking at your brain."

"And I could trust him?"

"Yes," McCoy said without hesitation. "Absolutely. He drives me batty sometimes—and I do my best to return the favor—but his ethics are rock solid."

"Even when there's a lot of temptation?" Nyota asked. She was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Yes," McCoy said. "That's when he tends to get the persnicketiest about things. Mind if I ask what exactly is bothering you? It'd help me to answer any specific questions you might have."

"He's attracted to me," Nyota said. "And … fairly deeply, if I was reading him right." His earnestness when he talked about all the things he saw in her, and the depth of his disquiet with confessing his feelings … no, this was no passing fancy.

"Spock's in love with you?" McCoy said with a splutter, standing up straighter.

"He didn't say he was in love with me," Nyota said. His surprise confirmed that Spock's affections weren't lightly or easily given. "He said he was attracted to me."

"Given how strictly he controls his emotions, it would have to be a pretty strong 'attraction' to be worth mentioning," McCoy said. "Why'd he tell you?"

"He wanted me to know because he wanted me to know what I was agreeing to, and tried to scare me off by pointing out that he could rearrange my mind to make me love him back." Nyota paused and thought for a few seconds. "Of course, if he were planning on doing something like that, he wouldn't have warned me ahead of time."

"That's Spock all over, though," McCoy said. "Making sure everything is done the right way, making sure you know exactly what you're getting into. Well, I can see why you'd want to ask about things, but I'd sooner believe he could fly without antigrav boots than that he'd take advantage of anyone telepathically like that. Still, if you'd rather go to Vulcan and have someone who's not in love with you rummaging around in your brain, I'll make the arrangements."

Nyota sighed. "I don't know. The idea of what he could do is frightening, but then, any telepath could do that. And this way I wouldn't have to leave Enterprise and have a stranger rummaging around in my mind."

She thought back to his confession that he would probably find pleasure in melding with her. She didn't begrudge him that; he was not the type to be creepy about it, and better that he liked it than imposing something he found distasteful. "I think I want Mister Spock to do it," she decided.

"You can have as much time to think about it as you want," Doctor McCoy said.

"More time won't change the options," Nyota pointed out. "I don't have enough experience to make judgments on how trustworthy any telepath is. You say he's trustworthy; well, I believe you. And I like him, what I've seen of him. And I am tired of wondering who I was before and what I'm missing now."

"Fair enough," McCoy said.

The meld was a success. When it was over, Spock left Uhura in McCoy's capable hands and retreated back to his cabin to meditate. He was in great need of it.

A deeper knowledge of Uhura's mind had only proven how fascinating a woman she was. His baser instincts were tempting him to dwell on what it might be like to have her in his mind always, but he had given her his word that he would not use what he had learned about her in the meld to fantasize about, and he intended to keep that word.

Still, he now knew first-hand that any bond with her would be completely different from that which he had shared with T'Pring, and only partially because she was human and T'Pring was Vulcan. T'Pring had isolated herself from him, responding in the most superficial way possible, and that only when ignoring him was not possible. Spock had responded in kind. But Uhura had welcomed him, in the meld, and he did not think merely because she desired his help. He doubted she would shut him out.

Of course, he acknowledged, the same might be said for any Vulcan woman who agreed to marry him. T'Pring had never desired to be his bondmate; it had been chosen for them, and her parents should have seen her reaction and found someone else for her. If he married now, it would be to a woman who had chosen him, and if T'Pau offered a potential match with a woman who was not compatible with him, it would be simple to decline. It was illogical to believe that because Uhura was the first eligible woman he had melded with who did not find his mental touch a burden, that she was the only such woman in existence.

It had been only a short time since T'Pring rejected him. Long-established research in both Vulcan and Human psychology clearly showed that making major decisions or changes too soon after a major loss such as a divorce or bereavement was likely to result in suboptimal results. Thus, as he had concluded from the beginning, it would be illogical to seriously consider a new relationship, either with Uhura or through the offices of T'Pau as matchmaker, until the debacle of his marriage was far enough in the past that he could view it with at least a degree of equanimity.

He turned his meditations to the now-familiar task of acknowledging and taming his feelings for Uhura.

Two days after the meld, Nyota laid on her bed in her quarters, staring up at the ceiling and trying to concentrate on the music she was listening to. It was completely different from any style of music in her personal playlists, and as far as she could tell she'd never heard anything like it before in her life. It was just what she needed: something unlikely to trigger any of the memories that she could now access, thanks to Spock.

Ironic, after spending a week digging for memories so frantically.

A lifetime of memories was a lot to go through, and the meld had been very intense. She felt like her brain was a dresser that had had its entire contents scattered about the room, examined, and then put back in place, and she wasn't quite sure there was room for everything. Her brain felt very … full.

The door chimed. "Come in," she said, sitting up.

It was Christine. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she walked through the sitting area to the bed chamber. "And what are you listening to?"

"Sixty-year-old popular music from a non-aligned world called S'hrevlar," Nyota said. "It's very distracting."

"I can tell," Christine said wryly.

Nyota turned it off. "And are you asking as my nurse or my friend?"

"Both," Christine said. "The meld took a lot out of you and Spock both, but he's back on duty and you're not."

Nyota sighed. The meld had taken hours, and been very draining. And then had come all the work of putting the memories she could now access into some sort of coherent order and narrative. In the two nights since, her dreams had been eventful, and Doctor McCoy thought that REM sleep was probably the best thing for her, so she was trying to take naps in addition to her normal sleep cycle. But even while she was awake, she was constantly seeing things with new eyes and putting together the puzzle pieces of her mind. "It's getting better," she said. "It's definitely much better today than it was yesterday, and better this afternoon than it was this morning when I had my checkup. It's just … it's just a lot, and I'm so tired. Not sleepy, just worn."

Christine hummed. "I can't even imagine."

"Hopefully, you won't ever have to," Nyota said, and changed the subject. She'd spent enough time dwelling on her own problems, recently, and not enough time just hanging out with her friend.

She and Christine had a nice chat, and after her friend left, Nyota flopped back on the bed. Now that she had (most of) her memories back, she was glad she hadn't told Christine about Spock's affections for her, when she'd asked Christine's opinion on Spock's ethics. That would have been awkward, and unnecessarily hurtful to Christine. (Reliving her memories of that mystery-shrouded trip to Vulcan had been one of the few times that Spock's own emotions had come through in the meld—he hadn't been able to hide how embarrassed he still was over the whole thing, how he'd treated Christine but also something deeper he hadn't shared with her. It felt like ages ago, but hadn't been all that long before the encounter with Nomad which had wiped her memories.)

Wait a minute. Nyota narrowed her eyes as something occurred to her. Spock was married! To that Vulcan woman who'd called them when they arrived at Vulcan! What was he doing falling in love with her if he was married? She'd thought Vulcans had better control over their feelings than that.

She rose, checked her appearance in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, and went to go ask him about it.

Spock was in his quarters and responded promptly when she pressed the door chime.

"Ms. Uhura," he said, inviting her to take a seat. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Thank you," she said, slightly taken aback. He'd never offered her tea before, but then, she'd never visited him in his quarters before.

"This is theris-na'na, which is more palatable to humans than most other Vulcan varieties of tea," Spock said, presenting her with a cup after a few minutes work.

"Thank you," she said, taking a sip. "It's good!" She didn't know how to describe it; it wasn't like any Earth tea she knew. But it didn't require sugar or milk or lemon or anything to make it drinkable.

"Kh'halwer nash-vey k'odu," Spock said. When Nyota hesitated, he went on. "The traditional response is th'i-oxolara kh'harwa."

She repeated it carefully. "I don't know that I've ever heard you speak Vulcan before."

"You still have not, as there is no single 'Vulcan' language."

Nyota felt her cheeks heat. She knew Vulcan, like most planets, had a plethora of languages; she so seldom fell prey to the common practice of labelling the most common language of a planet as the planet's only language. "Any language of Vulcan," she corrected herself. "What language were you speaking?"

"Shi'Kha'ri," Spock said.

Nyota raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean, the language that is most commonly called 'Vulcan' by offworlders?"

"Precision is important," he said severely, although she could tell he was amused.

"Are there any other cultural expectations?" Nyota asked.

Spock took a sip of his own tea. "Vulcans—at least, those following Shi'Kha'ri manners—do not typically speak when food or drink is being consumed. However, outsiders often find the silence to be … oppressive, and I have never minded one way or the other."

"Ah," Nyota said. She'd lost the momentum she'd had when she came here, but she still wanted to know the answer. "Spock, when you told me you had feelings for me, you implied you were considering asking to start a romantic relationship with me."

"Yes. Although I am not ready for any such step, just yet, and may not be any time in the immediate future."

"But you're married!" Nyota burst out. "Your wife called the bridge, what was her name—"

"T'Pring," Spock said, somewhat harshly. "She divorced me."

"Oh." Nyota was taken aback. "I'm sorry." She thought about the timing. "Wait, she divorced you when you were sick? So sick you could only be treated on your homeworld?"

"Yes." Spock sighed. "To be fair to her, Vulcan divorces require both spouses to be present with a priest or healer, so that the telepathic bond may be severed. I had not been back to Vulcan in many years."

"And if she'd asked for a divorce, would you have taken leave and gone to visit?" Nyota asked.

"Yes," Spock said, "although it is considerably more complicated, and difficult, than obtaining a divorce on Earth."

"Still!" Nyota said. She paused. "I'm sorry for bringing it up, it must still be a sore spot."

"Yes," Spock said dryly. He looked aside. "Vulcans prize marriage very deeply, and while my relationship with T'Pring was never close, it was still—I have not been alone in my own skull since we were betrothed at age seven. It is … more difficult than I would have thought, to adjust. A part of me would like to remarry immediately, merely so that I would not have to learn how to be … solitary."

Was he trying to hint that he wanted a serious relationship with her? No, Spock wasn't the type to beat around the bush. But it did put his feelings in a different light. "I'm not opposed to marriage, eventually, but there are a few necessary steps first," Nyota said. Such as deciding if she felt more for him than just 'very attractive man she liked a great deal.'

Spock blinked and looked at her. "I did not mean to imply that I wish to marry you in the immediate future. My apologies for the imprecision. No, if I wished to marry quickly, I would ask my clan matriarch T'Pau and she would find an appropriate Vulcan woman for me to marry. Indeed, I have no doubt that she will soon begin presenting me with possible options whether I ask her to or not."

"So Vulcans go in for arranged marriages," Nyota said, wondering if the T'Pau he named was the T'Pau—if so, no wonder the admiralty hadn't punished the captain for the diversion to Vulcan. "I'm sure based on all sorts of logical criteria."

"Yes," Spock said. "Telepathic and mental compatibility being one of those criteria—which is one reason I should not have been so surprised when T'Pring … did what she did. She and I were never close, even when we were first betrothed."

"And you were seven?" Nyota asked. That seemed terribly young. On a more personal note, the meld would have undoubtedly given him an idea of whether they were telepathically and mentally compatible. Now she was curious what she would have learned about him, if the meld had been more reciprocal.

"Yes," Spock said. "Seven is the customary age, in my clan."

"Why so young?"

"Vulcans are more psychologically stable when we have telepathic bonds, and that is around the age when our bonds with our parents begin to fade," Spock said. "And it is traditional. Not all clans bond their children, or do so that young, and not every House within every clan does it; but most do."

"And now you have no bond," Nyota said, softly, trying to imagine it. "What does that feel like to you? Do you miss it?"

"Like a missing limb," Spock said. "Understand, I do not wish T'Pring back; but I do wish to be bonded. However, the most expedient way to achieve that would be to marry whatever woman T'Pau suggests, and I do not know that marrying a stranger simply to be bonded would be an optimal long-term solution."

"Well, it's sure not the solution I would choose," Nyota said, shaking her head. "I suppose you don't know any unmarried Vulcan women?"

"No. I have spent most of my adult life in Starfleet, in majority-human environments, and approximately 90% of all adult Vulcans are married."

"Ninety percent?" Nyota said. "Wow!" She considered all that Spock had told her. "So when you said you were going through a major life change and needed to figure out what you wanted out of life before even considering whether to act on your feelings for me, you weren't exaggerating, were you."

"I do not exaggerate," Spock said. "In addition, there is another critical consideration: your feelings and wishes, which you have never discussed with me. And the fact that you are currently recovering from a significant trauma. Your resilience is most impressive, and I wish to support you in whatever way you require. Requesting major life changes on your part at this time would be … both selfish and thoughtless."

"Thank you, Spock," Nyota said, touched. "I do want to … settle back in to my life, so to speak, and I hope things will go back to normal as quickly as possible. Well," she said, correcting herself, "as normal as things ever get on Enterprise. I hope I didn't just jinx us."

"Luck—and jinxes—are illogical, Lieutenant," Spock said. "Statistical analyses will always reveal that, when the observer's biases are corrected for, improbable things do not correlate in statistically significant ways to any individual, object, or vessel."

"Spock, two things," Nyota said. She was happy they'd had the conversation, happy to have learned more about him, but still, she was relieved to have the conversation turn lighter. "First, when we're off-duty, you can call me Nyota." After rummaging through her brain, he knew her more intimately than any other person ever had, and it seemed silly to stand on formality. She'd never offered her first name before, but then she'd always felt constrained by the gap in their ranks, but then again, he'd never been this candid with her, either. "Second, how else do you explain all the things that happen to this ship without luck, good and bad alike?"

"Even million-to-one chances occur with some regularity given a large enough sample size," Spock said. "And calculating the odds of any given happenstance is difficult when one is studying the unknown."

"True," Nyota said, "but Enterprise isn't the only Federation starship exploring the unknown, and I've spend enough time gossiping with my fellow communications officers to know that odd and improbable things happen to us at a much higher rate than they do to our sister ships. Do you have any statistical explanation for that that doesn't boil down to 'we're just lucky that way'?"

Spock opened his mouth, but hesitated before speaking.

"I thought not," Nyota said triumphantly. "I'm back on duty starting tomorrow. I'll see you on the bridge in the morning, Spock." She slipped out the door with a smile on her face. It wasn't often she got the last word in a debate with him without cheating in some way.

It wasn't until she was back in her quarters that she realized he very carefully hadn't asked what her feelings toward him might be. Which was considerate of him, given how unsettled she was right now, but still left the question: how did she feel about him? He was very attractive and compelling, of course; she'd always been quite aware of that. And she enjoyed the challenge of sparring verbally with him (and flirting with him when she could get away with it). And he was a friend. But she had always considered him unattainable, and so never put much serious thought into the question.

He was very intense, and that was a quality she appreciated in a partner. The thought of all that intensity focused on her … she shivered, tingling a little. There was a reason she'd never let herself seriously consider his attractiveness. He'd been unapproachable, untouchable, and why open herself to that heartbreak? She'd had her fill of hopeless crushes as a teenager, thank you.

Except now he wasn't unapproachable.

Of course, part of that intensity meant that he wanted a serious relationship that might lead to marriage, and while Nyota had always thought she'd probably get married some day, it had always been something to set aside until some nebulous future after she was done with her adventuring. But a fellow officer on the same ship, that was a relationship she could have while adventuring. And once the Enterprise's five year mission was over, they could always ask to be posted together, if their relationship were still going strong then.

It was an appealing picture.

But what if they tried a relationship and it didn't work? He was much farther along in his attraction to her than she was to him. That might change, but it might not, and she didn't want to hurt him.

She laughed out loud at the absurdity of that thought. "Nobody knows how a relationship's going to end when they start it," she told herself. "And you never know, he might realize a relationship with a human is nicer in fantasy than reality and dump me."

Well. She wasn't ready for anything right this minute, but … it might be an interesting thing to try in the future.

Spock spent the rest of the evening working out a statistical analysis of the Enterprise's mission thus far, as compared to other starships on similar missions throughout Federation and pre-Federation history, and concluded that while the Enterprise was indeed (thus far) more likely to experience unusual events than other starships, it was not the only ship to experience such a pattern, and past performance was no indicator of future events, and so it was just as possible that Enterprise would soon experience no more than the normal unforseen events that happened to any exploratory vessel, while some other ship would find itself experiencing a string of unusual events.

The analysis was not as convincing as he had hoped it might be, but he sent it to Nyota's inbox anyway.

The next morning on the bridge, she got it, sent him a wry look, and set to annotating it in between her attention to her work responsibilities. By the end of the shift she had sent it back to him with insightful comments at every weak point in his analysis, and a note. "Still sounds like luck to me.—N"

Instead of allowing Nyota time to ease back into her life and work and Spock time to contemplate his wishes and priorities, the next mission was exactly the sort which happened to Enterprise more than other Starfleet vessels. The mission to Halka brought a dramatic twist and proof of alternate universes all at the same time. The scientific results were fascinating; the alternates of their crewmates were appalling.

It only took a brief interview with the alternates for a deep fear to plant itself in his gut: did his counterpart harbor similar feelings for the other Nyota, and, if so, what would such a man do to the object of his affections? It was illogical to dwell on the possibilities. Spock was certainly not responsible for the conduct of his alternate, and there was nothing he could do to protect Nyota except finding a way to retrieve the stranded away team, which he and the entire science and engineering teams were working on as quickly as they could. Meditation sufficed to keep his fear leashed, but could not relieve it.

It took a great deal of effort to maintain his control when the away team returned safe and sound, and Nyota showing no signs of trauma beyond that of a stressful undercover mission.

"Still don't believe in luck, Spock?" Nyota asked, after the debriefings were over and she'd had time to rest and write her report. "What other ship would have run into such a thing?" She proved quite immune to his logic and statistics, but the debate was entertaining anyway.

After that were a string of missions that, while noteworthy in themselves, were hardly out of the normal range of their experiences, and then came a mission Spock had been dreading since it was put on their schedule: a trip back into the Federation to pick up ambassadors and escort them to a neutral location for a summit. While he was grateful for the opportunity to see his mother, he could quite easily have gone another eighteen years without speaking to his father. But that was not an option as first officer of a ship his father was travelling on.

Nyota got to their usual practice room before Spock, and was warming up on her algaita by playing a song that had been popular when she'd been a teenager. She was surprised when he walked in with a middle-aged Human woman wearing Vulcan robes. "Hello," Nyota said. "I'm Lieutenant Uhura. Spock, do you need to reschedule?" Maybe the woman was a diplomat and needed something.

"Oh, please don't on my account, I've been looking forward to hearing him play," the woman said with a fond look at Spock, patting him gently on the arm. Spock looked mildly embarrassed.

His mother, perhaps? Spock's mother was Human, though Nyota hadn't known his mother was a diplomat. And why had he brought her here? They weren't even dating yet, much less at the meet-the-parents stage. And wasn't that telling, she realized, that apparently her subconscious thought of dating Spock as a matter of 'when' and not 'if.'

"Lieutenant Uhura, this is my mother," Spock said, confirming her guess. "Doctor Amanda Grayson."

Nyota blinked. "The Doctor Grayson, who worked on the Universal Translator team? The first Human to teach at the Vulcan Science Academy?"

"I see my reputation precedes me," Doctor Grayson said with a smile.

"I don't want to take time away from you and Spock, because I'm sure it's been a while since you've seen one another, but I would love to talk with you about your work," Nyota gushed. "As head of Communications, so much of what I do uses your translator as a base."

"Not just my translator, I was one of a large team," Doctor Grayson said with a smile. "But I bet Spock would find the conversation interesting as well."

"Languages are a hobby for me, not a vocation," Spock said, "but I do have some interest in the field, and even more in the computer programming which undergirds the Universal Translator's work. I would be quite interested in such a conversation as well."

"Wonderful!" Doctor Grayson said, clapping her hands. "I'll listen to you practice��please don't mind me, or think you have to perform for me; I'm just interested to hear what my son is up to these days—and then we can go get some lunch and talk linguistics, as I know Spock won't mind talking during his meal."

That lunch with Nyota and his mother was the pleasantest two hours Spock had spent in a long time. Of course his mother got along well with Nyota; they both were good people with excellent taste and similar interests. (He steadfastly did not contemplate how his father would react to learning his son wished to marry a human instead of a Vulcan woman of sufficient standing to make up for the alliance lost with T'Pring's challenge; in this, as in most things familial, Spock had no doubt that his father would be deeply hypocritical.)

After the surgery which saved his father's life, Nyota came to visit Spock in his quarters while he recovered. He'd been lying in bed in his meditation robe when she chimed for admittance. The doctor had been forced to take a significant amount of blood, and Spock was on strict orders to rest and eat well for a day or two while his body replenished the supply.

"Come in," he said at the door's chime, rolling out of bed and wincing at the lingering light-headedness.

Nyota stepped in. She was beautiful as ever, and it was pleasant to see her in something other than a uniform. The colorful caftan suited her, as everything did. "I'm not much of a chess player," she said, "and I know that's your game, and I don't know any Vulcan games, but if you'd like to play a game I could learn. I know when I'm sick or injured, the boredom is almost the worst part and I can't imagine it's any better for you."

"An untaxing entertainment to pass the time would be appreciated," Spock said. "If there is a game you are fond of, I am sure I could learn well enough for our purposes."

"You're the one who's under the weather, so we'll play one of your games," Nyota said. "When I'm injured, you can return the favor."

"Very well," Spock said, and got out his kal toh set, putting it in the simplest mode. As both a musician and a linguist, Nyota's skill at pattern-recognition was significantly above average for a Human, and she might find the game interesting.

"I noticed your parents touched a great deal, just their fingertips," Nyota said, making conversation in the middle of their second game. "It surprised me, because Vulcans generally avoid touching other people."

"Being touch telepaths, touching others with bare skin can easily result in unwanted reading of surface thoughts," Spock said. "Given that the majority of nerves which carry telepathic information in Vulcans are in the hands, touching hands is far more intimate than any other part of the body. But Vulcan marriage includes not just physical and emotional intimacy, but mental and telepathic intimacy as well."

"And that touch was … intimate?" Nyota asked.

Spock sighed. "As a child, I was often embarrassed by how visibly and frequently they touched in that manner."

Nyota laughed. "I was embarrassed by my parents kissing. But that didn't stop them—my dad would make their kisses noisier and more theatrical to tease me."

"My mother had that impulse as well, although my father would rarely indulge her outside our home," Spock said.

Nyota hummed and reached out to touch a piece.

"I would not advise that," Spock said.

"Why? No, no, don't tell me, I'll figure it out." Nyota frowned and studied the set for a few minutes, before her expression cleared and she made a much better move.

Nyota sat in the rec deck chatting and laughing with Christine and a few other friends. Spock was sitting on the other side with the Captain, and she couldn't help sneaking looks at him. She had a very good view of him from here, long and lean and graceful, relaxed and content.

He really was very attractive. And she knew him much better now than she had a few months ago. They played kal-to regularly now, in addition to their jam sessions. Even their music had changed. Where once they had focused exclusively on the music, now it was a jumping off point for discussions about music theory, other musical experiences they'd had, and anything else that came up. They'd been growing closer, and she enjoyed spending time with him.

That internal slip she'd made when he introduced his mother really had been telling, she realized. It was a 'when' and not an 'if,' at least from her point of view. And she was ready to be done with waiting.

"What do you think, Nyota?" Christine asked, and Nyota turned her attention back to her friends.

She did make a point of rubbing her fingers together where Spock could see. And from the looks he was sending her way, he'd noticed. She smiled.

Nyota left the rec room, headed for her quarters. "Lieutenant, may I speak with you?" Spock was always more formal in the corridors and other public spaces.

"Why, of course, Commander," she said, voice honeyed. She waited for him to catch up at the turbolift.

"May I ask the purpose of that display?" he asked, once they were inside. He was tense, every line of his body taut.

"I'm back to normal, and I'd be interested in trying a relationship if you are, Spock," Nyota said. "And I thought I'd give you incentive to make up your mind, one way or the other."

"I—you are sure?" he asked, hesitant in a way she'd never seen him be.

"Yes, Spock, I am," Nyota said. "I wouldn't tease about that." She shrugged. "Now, I know you have a lot of decisions to make, and this is probably a bigger deal for you than for me, as Vulcans don't date casually the way Humans do. I don't know if you want to actually try something, but I'm ready if you are."

"I am very unlikely to be content with casual anything," Spock said.

"I kind of figured," Nyota said. "I can't say I'd be willing to marry you right now, if you asked me, but I can't say I'd mind that as a direction to explore. And if we're going to start exploring in that direction, I'm as ready now as I'll ever be. You might need more time, and I respect that. But if all you need is a sign from me, well.…" She held up two fingers, as she'd seen his parents do. His eyes widened and from this close she could see his pupils dilate.

Slowly he stretched out a hand to match, and his eyes closed.

Oh.

That—she hadn't expected to get anything out of the finger caress. But she could feel him, not as clearly as in the meld, no direct thoughts, but she could feel the pulse of them, and the arousal that had been thrumming through him since she started flirting in the rec room. Then he began stroking his fingers against hers, and that was even better.

She really wanted to kiss him, and she leaned in to do just that. He met her halfway; well, of course, he could feel what she wanted. And the kiss was even better, because he didn't let go of her hand and she could still feel him, and he her.

Most first kisses were just a little awkward as you got to know your partner's body, but not this one. Spock could tell exactly what she wanted, and the result was a kiss that made her toes curl and her knees go slightly weak.

The turbolift beeped as they arrived at their destination, and they disengaged. Fortunately, there weren't any people waiting for the turbolift, because if she looked as dazed as Spock did, and people saw them, the rumors would spread at lightspeed.

"Well, Mister Spock," Nyota said, "I call that a promising experiment. But I think it needs further testing, don't you?"

"Indeed," Spock intoned, following her down the corridor.

[our-smooty]

It’s Easy; You Please Me

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Touch-Starved, Trans Male Character, Begging, Reunions

Summary: Murdoc is home. Where does he stand with his family and, most importantly, his singer?

The night he got back after they’d all met up and made up, the band threw him a welcome home party. Not the type of party he would have thrown, but a good party, with booze and food and his choice of movie. It was, he thought, one of the best parties he’d ever been to.

It was later now, and the majority of the band was asleep. Russel snored like a log from the floor, while Ace and Noodle took up the other sofa. Beside Murdoc, 2D was still awake, but only just, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Hey D,” Murdoc whispered. The other startled a tiny bit but recovered quickly, turning his hazy gave to the bassist.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you just go to bed, instead of droolin’ all over the sofa?” His voice came out a little gruffer than he’d intended and he winced. Not home for even a day and he was back to being an asshole.

2D didn’t look offended though. Instead, he stood and stretched. “I guess I will if you don’t mind.” He nodded to the two on the couch and Russel on the floor. “Should we try’an wake them up?”

Murdoc shook his head. “Nah, leave them be. Noodle’s big to carry up to bed anyway.”

2D shrugged and turned to the staircase. Murdoc stood as well, his beer empty and his eyes drooping. Satan, it’d been months since he’d slept in his own bed, in his own room. The promise of a soft mattress and sheets almost made him moan.

He followed 2D up the stairs and headed straight for his own door. Just as he grabbed the knob he heard the singer clear his throat behind him. Murdoc straightened and turned to face the other man.

“D’you maybe wanna share a splif with me, before bed, Muds?” he asked, producing a joint from the pocket of his jeans. Murdoc eyed it.

“Eh, I guess. Come’on in then.” He turned back to the door and walked into his bedroom for the first time in months. Surprisingly, everything looked exactly as he’d left it, meaning it was still a complete tip.

2D followed him in and sat on the bed, comfortable as anything. He began patting his pockets for a lighter, frowning when he didn't find one.

“You gotta light?”

Murdoc produced his lighter and tossed it to the singer before turning to face his closet. He was wearing a spare set of clothes Noodle brought for him, but he was really craving the pure pleasure of picking out his own clothing again. He settled on a comfortable black long sleeve shirt and grey sweatpants. A quick trip to the bathroom and he was comfortable and ready to help Stu smoke that joint.

The singer was laying back on his bed, already puffing away. Murdoc stomped up and grabbed the joint from his lips, taking an angry drag.

“Don’t smoke it all without me you prick,” he growled, smoke pouring from his mouth. Stuart just grinned and snatched the splif back.

“Whatever, Muds. Don’t be such a grouch.”

“How about you stop being such a cocky arse,” Murdoc snapped back. Nudging Stu over with a hard wave he clambered up beside the other, sighing in relief at the feeling of his bed.

“Good to be home, eh?” 2D said with a head tilt. Murdoc nodded, more concerned with the softness of his pillows than what the dullard was saying.

“It was… weird without you here.” Murdoc didn’t know what 2D was fishing for. They’d already hugged and made up when he’d arrived. He’d even cried a little when they’d all stopped being angry with each other and given him a great big family hug. What more could the singer want?

“Was weird, not bein’ here,” he answered, taking another hit. He relaxed, just like he’d done when they all hugged him. Murdoc hadn’t had a lot of chances for pleasant physical contact in prison, and now that he was back at home he found himself craving it just a little. He’d noticed himself putting a hand on Noodle’s shoulder, or an arm around Ace much more than he normally would have during their movie marathon, and rubbing shoulders with Russel as they fought over the last slice of pizza. The only exception had been 2D; after the first hug, the singer had kept his distance the entire night, almost like he as avoiding Murdoc.

They were close now though, with their thighs and shoulders nearly touching. Murdoc could feel the heat of 2D’s body through both of their clothing. He inched closer little by little to the warmth with each pass of the joint. Eventually, he relaxed back right up against 2D. The singer eyed him from the side.

“Gettin’ comfy there?” He joked, making no move to shuffle away from the bassist. Murdoc huffed and moved closer to the edge of the bed, a slight blush on his cheek.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, feeling embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to get so close to 2D. Their relationship had always been rocky, and the things 2D had said to the press were still fresh in his mind; though they’d made up, he wasn’t sure where he sat with the singer.

“You don’t have to squish yourself all the way over there Muds. I didn’t mind.” Murdoc stared at him for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When 2D went back to smoking, he decided the singer must be telling the truth, so he moved back to his previous spot. The feeling of another living human was more comforting than anything he’d felt since being locked up.

“So,” Murdoc began hesitantly, “how was my replacement then?”

2D looked up and shrugged. “Ace? He’s a good bassist and a cool guy.”

“Hmph,” Murdoc grunted. A slow smirk spread across Stu’s face.

“You’re jealous,” he sing-songed, nudging Murdoc’s shoulder with his own. Murdoc growled and shoved back harder.

“I am not! What do I have to be jealous of, his receding hairline?”

2D snickered. “Don’t be mean, Muds. Ace is a good guy.”

“Then why don’t you go smoke with him?” 2D’s smile faded a little, and he sighed. Murdoc scowled to himself, worried he’d wrecked the tentative ceasefire between the two of them.

“Cause I wanna smoke with you. And I missed you…” Murdoc snorted.

“Bloody good job you did of showing it.” 2D frowned and held his hands up placatingly.

“Not like you did much better, took you nearly drowning in shite for you to admit you’ve been a right cunt.”

He was right, Murdoc knew that. Nearly dying again had put a lot of things into perspective for him and he really was going to try and do better. It was just hard when Stuart could be such an annoying prick all the time.

2D lowered his hands, staring at them in his lap. “I thought maybe we could start over and be mates again.”

“We were mates before,” he replied testily. At least, he’d thought they were still mates.

“Yeah but, not like good mates.” 2D passed him the joint and Murdoc inhaled the last of it, ashing it on his bedside table.

“Oh you want to be good mates with me, do you Dents?” he teased, just to watch the other blush. Surprisingly 2D stayed calm, turning a little so they were face to face.

“Well, I was hopin’...” the singer trailed off, his glossy black eyes studying Murdoc’s face. The bassist began to sweat as 2D leaned in, his chest and face inches from his own.

“Hopin’ what?” he hummed, trying to keep his cool. In this position, it was easy to let his mind wander to times before when it’d been just him, the singer, and his Winne. Messy sheets and panting voices filled his senses, ghosts of the past back to haunt him over what he’d lost.

2D was even closer now, the heat of him radiating through Murdoc’s entire being. “I was hopin’ it’d be better this time.” He leaned in, one of his hands steadying him over the bassist, the other hand coming up to rest on Murdoc’s shoulder. Murdoc physically shuddered from the touch. He hoped 2D hadn’t noticed, but he knew he had. The singer smiled smugly as he leaned in further, their lips millimetres apart.

“Stu…” Murdoc murmured, waiting for the singer to close the gap. This felt unreal, like a dream or a particularly cruel bad trip. He’d given up on ever having this again with the singer after their 3rd album.

“S’gonna be different this time Muds, I'm gonna make it different.” With that his frontman closed the distance between them, chapped lips meeting soft ones. The light kiss sent fire through Murdoc’s entire being.

The singer must have taken this as permission to continue because suddenly Murdoc found himself with a lap full of lanky limbs. It was more contact than he’d had in months, and it was overwhelming. He let out a small gasp, which again 2D took as a good sign, using Murdoc’s distraction as a chance to deepen the kiss. 2D was grinding down against Murdoc as well, the bulge in his pants causing enough sweet, sweet friction to make the bassist shake.

Murdoc was dangerously close to coming already and they hadn’t even touched skin to skin. Each swirl of the singer's hips, each twirl of his tongue was setting Murdoc’s nerves alight in an overwhelming rush. He realized that his hands were still hanging limply at his sides and immediately changed that, taking fistfuls of the signer’s shirt in his hands. 2D made a happy noise in the back of his throat. When he pulled back from their kiss Murdoc tightened his grip, not letting Sto get too far.

“Murdoc…” the singer moaned, running his hands up under the Satanist’s shirt. He quickly found the other’s nipples and rolled them in his fingers roughly. Murdoc let out a wrecked moan, the stimulation too much to take.

“2D!” he hissed, bucking up into the other. Stu smiled sweetly and leaned back in close, his lips coming to rest against Murdoc’s ear.

“You’re so sensitive…” The singer licked the shell of his ear, then bit the lobe. Murdoc howled. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re all alone in jail.”

2D latched onto his neck now, sucking and biting with enthusiasm. As Murdoc tried to cope with the sensations bombarding him, the singer was trailing one of his hands down and into the bassist's trackies. Murdoc didn’t realize his hand was there until it was delving deeper into his core.

“F-fuck!” Murdoc cried. He could practically feel the smirk on 2D’s face against his skin.

“No pants, eh? Were you thinkin’ of comin’ on to me?” he teased, one finger circling Murdoc’s clit, the other still pinching a nipple. “You must have been desperate these last few months.”

If only you knew, Murdoc thought, teeth clenched, body tight. Sure, the pleasure he was feeling right now was off the charts, but what was really doing him in was the attention. It’d been such a long time since he’d been held, or had anyone to hold. The sheer overwhelming feeling of another person giving him attention and pleasure was doing more to push him to the edge than anything Stu’s fingers were doing.

“Ngh... ah... fuckin’ s-shit!” Murdoc grunted, jerking violently. 2D, somehow sensing Murdoc’s need, connected their lips in a deep kiss. The bassist whined into his mouth, letting himself be utterly devoured. When 2D’s fingers travelled down, then inside him he nearly screamed, desperate to be full.

Fingers weren’t enough. He needed more, more of everything and he tried to get a grip on the other’s trousers to speed things up, but 2D batted his hands away. Slowly, the singer unbuttoned them himself and reached a hand inside. Within a few seconds, he had his cock in his hand, pumping it slowly, his other hand still touching the bassist.

“D’you need this?” he asked, waggling his prick. Normally Murdoc would have laughed in his face, 2D’s dirty talk having never been quite up to his standards, but right now all he could feel was the need to be closer.

“I-I--” Murdoc stuttered, biting his own tongue to stop from begging.

2D leaned down, close enough to speak right into Murdoc’s ear. “I need you too, Muds. It’s been so long.”

With that, he pulled back both his hands--much to Murdoc’s displeasure--and reached for his shirt. Sensing that they were finally getting somewhere, Murdoc did the same, shucking off his track pants as well. He raked his eyes over 2D’s thin frame; the singer was just as hot as he’d been in the beginning, at least to Murdoc.

“Beautiful…” 2D murmured, running both his hands up the Satanist’s calves and thighs. His grip came to rest at Murdoc’s hips, pulling him toward the edge of the bed in an arousing show of strength. As he leaned into Murdoc’s sex the bassist had the fleeting thought that maybe 2D had been working out while he’d been away.

That was the final coherent thought to enter his mind, however, as the singer immediately began parting Murdoc’s folds with his tongue. The hot, slickness of the muscle against his clit felt wonderful and it was all he could do to grab the bedsheets in an iron grip. He whimpered as 2D moaned against his core.

“You taste good,” he panted, one hand still on Murdoc’s thigh, the other obviously working his own cock. “I thought about this when you were gone.”

Murdoc moaned again in response. It was like his body was a sponge, soaking up the affection and pleasure endlessly. Eventually, it’d all spill out, but for the moment he was riding the wave as it crested and fell, waiting. “S-shit! Stu!”

The hand on his thigh travelled down until the singer had 2 fingers pressed deep into Murdoc’s cunt. The bassist grunted, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Shakily, he brought his hands up to 2D’s head, threading those lovely blue locks through his fingers before fisting them in deep. He needed to get control back. Tentatively he began thrusting against Stu’s mouth, taking the pace into his own hands. When he received no objections, only encouraging moans, he smiled weakly.

“S-so d-d--oh fuck!--did I, D,” he admitted. He shuddered as 2D slowed down to match his grinding. “Satan I d-dreamed about you doin’ this.”

2D raised his eyebrow but otherwise didn’t move from his position eating Murdoc out. He looked good down there, almost too good and again Murdoc felt the rising need for more. He wanted 2D under him, filling him, and he wanted it now.

“Lemme ride you, D. C-come’on,” he groaned, letting up his grip on the other's hair. 2D seemed to consider his request for a moment, his movements slowing down to a tortuous pace. Murdoc almost regretted asking when the singer smiled up at him, face slick.

“Sure thing, Muds. Gimmie room.”

With a bit of shuffling around, they were back in position. 2D, now completely naked, was sprawled out on the bed under Murdoc, leaning up on his elbows. Murdoc was hovering over the singer’s lap, resisting the urge to grind his pussy on the other’s leg.

“OK, love. Go on then, “ the singer drawled. Murdoc shot him a withering glare, but proceeded, reaching down to line up with Stu’s cock. He sank down gradually, revelling in the stretch and feeling of fullness. It wasn’t long before he was fully seated in the singer’s lap, his hands braced on the other’s hips.

“Go on then, Muds,” 2D repeated, urging him to move with a light thrust. Now, who was being desperate, Murdoc wanted to snap, but he didn’t want to piss the singer off and make him leave. He felt like he’d die is Stu left. With shaky movements he began to grind against the younger, lifting his hips just a little before dropping back down.

“Does that fee g-good?” the bassist asked, trying to contain his own noises. Below him 2D moaned out an affirmative and thrust up, making Murdoc jolt.

“Yes, M-Murdoc! Feels so good.”

The bassist picked up speed, a warmth blooming over his middle at the sight of 2D writhing under him when just a few moments ago their positions had been switched. But still, he felt that pull, that need for physical contact. “Touch, m-me. Satan Stu t-touch me!”

Despite his moaning and carrying on the singer obeyed, pushing himself up into a sitting position and immediately grabbing on to Murdoc for dear life. His hands were everywhere, and anywhere they couldn’t get, the singer’s mouth was making up for it. He sucked and licked at Murdoc’s nipples, forcing Murdoc to cry out and arch his back. They were moving fast and messy now, any sense of rhythm forgotten in the frantic desire to be as close as possible.

“G-gonna come, I-I can’t--” 2D whined, his hips jerking erratically. Murdoc thought about the singer, coming deep inside him and he felt his end approaching fast.

“Come in-inside me, Stu, ah--!” Murdoc’s orgasm washed over him like a tsunami. He felt himself get sucked along and through it, waves of pleasure rolling over him in the most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Below him, 2D was coming as well, and Murdoc could feel him pulsing inside his cunt. Oh, he’d missed this.

As they both came down each man wound to a stop, eventually freezing in an embrace with Stuart’s arms around Murdoc, and Murdoc’s head leaning against the other’s shoulder. They were both out of breath, chests heaving, bodies worn out. Murdoc shifted a tiny bit and he felt 2D’s cock slip out of him. The feeling of come flooding out and over his thighs made him shiver.

“Missed you, Muds. For real,” 2D said, nuzzling his head against the bassist’s hair. Murdoc sighed and allowed him to, tightening his hold around the singer just a little.

“Missed you too, Faceache.”

[koreaboosworld69]

Forever Yours - Chapter 1

Authors Notes:

Hi!! This is my first time publishing something on Tumblr (like my fanfiction) so I'm not really sure how all of it works just now but I'm sure I'll figure it out, so if I get anything wrong tell me.

The fandom for this story is NCT.

The main ship for this story is JohnTen.

A basic summary of this story would be: Ten and Johnny broke 2 years ago but neither of them felt the relationship never quite finished. Given the chance, would they do it all again?

''Will you let me hold you? Will you let me keep you?''

This was the question Ten asked his boyfriend Johnny as they were curled up together in bed enjoying their shared smiles, touches and company.

Today marked the day of their 3rd year anniversary since they started dating and Johnny had decided to surprise Ten on this special night by taking him to all the sights they had went to on their first date.

Everything was the same. The beach they had went to with its golden sand and glittering waves. The bench at the park they sat on together where they watched the sun go down and the sky turn from a soft yellow, to a hot pink, to a dark shade of red. The same bench where Johnny had plucked up enough courage to hold Ten's hand and smile at him 3 years ago, their first true connection in this relationship. The restaurant they had went to at the end of the day, where there were no awkward silences as they had filled every gap with anything and everything they could talk about and where it first clicked for them both 3 years ago that maybe... just maybe they're falling head over heels in love for each other.

Johnny snuggled into Ten's arms.

''Of course I will. I'm forever yours, remember?''

Ten kissed Johnny's forehead.

''I love you, Johnny Seo.''

Johnny stared at his boyfriend.

''I'd go to the end of the world for you, you know that?''

I love you too and I'd never leave you. You're everything to me Ten, everything.''

Tears, ones of happiness, rolled down Ten's cheeks at his boyfriend's words but he wasn't given an opportunity to clean them up as Johnny had latched his lips onto Ten's at that moment. The two shared a passionate, intimate kiss, full of love.'

Ten sighed and looked down with a forlorn expression on his face, if only that promise was true.

'I'm forever yours, remember?'

'Bullshit', Ten thought as he mopped up the coffee shop floor.

It had been 2 years since that promise was broken, since Johnny had broken up with Ten.

At first, Ten was heartbroken and couldn't move, couldn't be bothered to go anywhere. All that consumed his thoughts were 'what ifs'. What if Ten hadn't been so angry when he saw Johnny with another guy that day, what if Ten hadn't ignored Johnny out of anger for finding out that Johnny had mixed his coloured and white clothes that day, what if Ten had cooked a different meal for Johnny at dinner that day.

He flickered through his mind's archive of the 3 year relationship in great detail, analysing every moment the two of them spent together, every interaction, every movement, every touch. Any irregularity in Johnny's behaviour where he didn't seem to smile as much or be as loving to him Ten blamed on himself and blamed it for making the relationship grow apart. It didn't matter whether the reason for Johnny's mood change was him or not, in Ten's mind it contributed to the breakup.

Majority of the time it wasn't Ten that cause Johnny to come home angry, it was work related, especially his boss.

Ten didn't care though, at that point he'd give anything to turn back the clock and make everything better. To always have Johnny smiling and happy. To make sure there was never a day when Johnny was feeling down. To have every day where they both just loved each other to their fullest extent, physically and emotionally, and have the perfect relationship.

Then, they wouldn't have broken up...they'd still be together in each other's arms where they belonged.

At least, that's what Ten wanted to believe.

As time passed on Ten's dream of his fantasy slowly extinguished, like a sparkler burning out in his heart.

Eventually he gave up on his fantasy coming true altogether slowly started to realise that no matter what he did, he couldn't salvage the relationship. That flame of love could be rebirthed no more.

The entire relationship had already gone beyond the breaking point, what Johnny did to him was the final straw.

Ten forced himself not to think of his boyfriend's horrendous actions which ultimately caused to two to fall apart and decided to use that energy into cleaning up the shop.

All those events lead up to the present day.

Ten now worked in a coffee shop at the corner of the road of where he lived. He made enough to get by and managed to make some really good friends over there.

Ten and Johnny's relationship had developed at Ten's home town and the two used to own a flat together. The flat was legally owned and signed  in Johnny's name however so when the two decided to split up Johnny took the flat's lease with him and Ten was forced to look for another flat (he didn't want to go back to living with his parents, not right now).

It wasn't as spacious as the one he used to live in but it was big enough, close enough to home and work and he made enough money to keep himself.

Sometimes Ten would drive up to the park or the beach and just sit there. Breathing in and out, just reminiscing about the times he had with Johnny in those places. Those places that held so much memories but it all felt like a lifetime away.

After Ten found out Johnny moved, he contemplated moving too but in the end he couldn't. It was home to him, the place where he'd grown up and he wasn't like Johnny, he couldn't move away from meaningful places so easily. He actually cared for his memories and kept them alive and wouldn't spontaneously leave without saying a word to anyone.

Today Ten was cleaning the shop with the first friend he'd ever made at his workplace, Yuta.

Yuta was very straight-forward, sassy and often liked to cut to the chase yet in times of need he surprisingly gave the best advice.

Yuta had been friends with Ten for a year and a half now, since the very first day Ten worked here. The two had gotten on extremely well together but they knew they'd never go past being friends, there was nothing else there in their relationship.

Yuta had known about the breakup for a few months and now Yuta saw that look on Ten's face, that look where his eyes are looking at you but there's no glimmer in them. They're lifeless, too focused on something else deep inside of him and many lines get etched onto Ten's face as the further he stays into that state the more his face scrunches up with emotions.

This was the look Ten got when he thought about his ex boyfriend.

Yuta sighed internally and looked at his friend, worried. He knew it had been 2 years since Ten's breakup with this boyfriend of his but Yuta didn't even know the name of the man who made Ten feel this way. Who made the whole world disappear for Ten and be the cause for all of his sadness, all his rage...but most of his happiness? Who was this man?

The most he managed to weasel out of Ten was that he was tall, dark skinned and had these milky brown eyes. 'yeah, like that really narrows it down.' Yuta thought.

Ten said that it was because he was irrelevant that he didn't bother telling Yuta his name or anything more about his appearance yet Yuta knew that was false.

He knew that deep down a part of Ten lingered for this boyfriend, wanted to spend a moment more with him, wanted to love him for longer.

Was Yuta going to say anything though?

No, no he wasn't.

Sure he was brash but that didn't mean he didn't know the difference of when and when not to say certain things to people.

''Ten?'' Yuta waded into conversation carefully like as if he was face to face with a giant creature that would bite his face off if he made any wrong moves.

''You alright?''

''Yeah, I'm fine.'' Ten responded back with a smile.

They both knew it was forced.

''Oh good.'' Yuta said.

''It's just that you've been cleaning that same spot for 5 minutes now so...''

''Oh.'' Ten hadn't even noticed, he'd been too busy thinking about... him.

Ten quickly shook his head side to side and tried to empty all thoughts about Johnny and focus back on his job.

He muttered a quick 'sorry thanks' to his friend before returning his attention fully back to cleaning once again.

''Well, I have something that'll take your mind off that boyfriend of yours.'' Yuta smiled, and started walking towards Ten.

''What?!'' Ten yelled.

''I swear I'm not thinking about my ex boyfriend i broke up with two years ago. I thought we already established I hated him. Also honestly it's fine Yuta I don't need your hel-'' Ten started, speaking fast, not taking any breaths between his sentences.

Yuta put a finger on Ten's lips to shush him.

''Save me the drabble, we both know when you have 'the look' on your face you're thinking about him.'' Yuta said.

''Anyways, what I wanted to tell you was that I've set you up on a surprise date on Saturday to that fancy restaurant a couple blocks away. Dress nice and don't be late, mystery is in the air after all." Yuta said with a wink.

''W-Who's the person I'm going with?''

''At least tell me that Yuta, c'mon you're my friend.''

''For meeee.'' Ten said with puppy dog eyes, if it would take any means necessary to coax a name out of his friend, Ten was prepared.

Yuta mimicked the action of zipping up his lips and throwing away the key.

''Nope. You're getting nothing from me.

You'll just have to find out yourself on Saturday.''

With that, Yuta skipped away with a happy smile on his face, proud of his accomplishment whilst Ten looked like he'd received word he was dying.

Which, in a metaphorical sense, he was.

'Oh god a blind date organised by Yuta.' Ten thought.

'This should be fun.'

Authors Notes:

Ooh who's the mystery date~

I hope you all enjoyed reading this and even if you didn't tell me! Criticism really helps me as a beginner writer and hopefully there are a few people out there who liked it ^-^

The next chapter should be coming shortly and I apologise for any grammatical errors and stuff, ya boi decided to post this late at night but hopefully its still good sksks

Thanks for reading!

[colorofmymindposts]

Shelter and Beacon Chapter One

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood & Manga

Pairing: Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye

Warnings: Minor canon divergence 

Rating: General 

Status: Incomplete but the next chapter will definitely be posted next week

Word Count: 930 

Chapters: 1/2 

Summary: A stormy night in Central City found Colonel Roy Mustang staying overnight at his Lieutenant's apartment.

Tags: POV Roy Mustang, Blind Roy Mustang, Post-Promised Day, Rain, Repressed Feelings, First Kiss

Notes: This is written for @raywritesthings who prompted me royai caught in a storm literal Months ago. I hope you all enjoy this, and likes and reblogs would be much appreciated!

View my work here on ao3!

The temperment of the weather often reflected his mood, he mused wryly, as the rain continued to beat against the windows, as it had been for hours. Roy Mustang sat behind his desk, his head rested on his folded hands as he listened to the sounds of all his personal and professional effects being packed away into boxes, to be shipped to Eastern Command headquarters. His time at Central Command had been much shorter than he had originally intended, but given the present circumstances and Führer Grumman’s cunning, he’d been beaten at his own game. Even without Grumman in the way, convincing the Amestrian public to elect a newly blind leader would have been a difficult campaign to push immediately after the Promised Day, which had driven people to cling tighter to stability and strength of the government.

For now, he would have to prove to East City that his disability made him no less capable as an officer and worthy of receiving promotions until he made his way to the top, a task that he tried not to think of as impossible. The rain poured harder than ever outside Central Command.  

The Lieutenant’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Something troubling you, sir?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and bringing his hands to the back of his head, attempting to seem casual. “Well, you know how I feel on rainy days.”

She gave a hum of acknowledgment. “I’ve just packed the last box. I was informed earlier today that Führer Grumman has personally arranged for a detail to transport your belongings to your new office in East City. Everything should be ready for our move back to Eastern Command, Colonel.”

He smiled privately to himself at those words. At the very least, he would have his Queen back.

“That’s good to hear. I appreciate your help with all of this. I wouldn’t have been able to manage it on my own, truthfully,” he admitted quietly, out of an equal mix of gratitude and shame.

He let on too much of his thoughts, the fears that consumed him in the unending black of day and night: the fragile newfound peace between the Ishvalans and Amestrians would shatter, his team would be irrevocably divided again, he would never reach the top of the pyramid as he’d promised Maes all those years ago. Those were the rational fears at any rate. More often, in his dreams, the only time he was able to see anything, he re-lived clinging to his bleeding Lieutenant, lying defenseless as Bradley’s swords dug into his hands, staring at the opaque white figure of Truth, paralyzed where he stood before it stole his sight and ambitions.      

Hawkeye cleared her throat, snapping him back to attention. “Edward was kind enough to stop by my apartment while I was staying at the hospital for my injuries from the Promised Day. He visited and fed Black Hayate every day I was gone, even with the condition his brother was in, because he knew I have a dog I was not able to care for in that moment,” she recounted, as Roy admittedly sat confused at the non-sequitur anecdote. In four quick and sure steps, Hawkeye crossed behind him and rested her hands on the top of his chair. “It was a small gesture, but I couldn’t have done without it. I realized why Edward had done what he did. He had been in my position.The Elrics learned perhaps better than anyone how to accept their limitations and get help when they needed it without shame. Respectfully, I don’t see why there should be much difference in their past and your own present situation.”

The tension in Roy’s shoulders relaxed, and he hid a wry smile behind one of his gloved hands. Although the Elric brothers had long departed Central City on a train to Resembool, they would never truly leave his life, would they?

“I think it’s about time to retire, Lieutenant, don’t you agree?”

“For once, yes, Colonel,” she acquiesced surprisingly. He stifled another smirk that threatened to spell the evidence of his good humor. Truly, Hawkeye had an ability like none other to turn his spirits around.

He asked with a air of feigned nonchalance, in an attempt to hide his gnawing nerves, “Would you mind giving me a lift home in that case?”

“Not at all,” she replied calmly as ever.

Suddenly her arm wound itself in the open gap between his own arm and chest, effectively linking the two of them together. With a gentle, guiding tug upwards from her, Roy knew to rise from his chair and follow the Lieutenant wherever she led him. As they proceeded down the hall, he thought to himself that in his younger days he would have never agreed to this; he had been too proud and worried that others might talk. Others did end up talking anyways, despite all of his and the Lieutenant’s best efforts. Even Grumman had made it no secret that he wanted Roy to marry his granddaughter.

They stopped in front of what Roy assumed were the entry doors of Central Command; he was able to tell as the sounds of the storm outside manifested into something less distant and more tangible. The Lieutenant unlinked her arm from his, and he could hear her unfurl the umbrella and prop the runner into place. He was glad when he felt her arm slide back over his own, a constant warmth beside him as she nudged them forward into the awaiting wet and cold.

[xdefending]

ANSWER THE FOLLOWING SO PEOPLE KNOW HOW SHIPS WORK ON YOUR BLOG

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE? :

Lorelei x some god damn peace and quiet.

Also Lorelei x someone who won’t die. That works too.

Oh, and I guess I like the classic HoK x Martin Septim ship, but I enjoy other ships just as much, tbh?

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE? :

Lorelei is chronologically 227 and physically in her late twenties to early thirties, so anywhere under legal age is where I draw the line at shipping romantically. That goes for both mental and physical age. Idc how old your immortal child is mentally or chronologically; if their appearance doesn’t match my limit at the least, I won’t be comfortable with it, sorry.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING? :  

It’s sort of a yes and no for me. On one hand, I definitely ship based on chemistry. If our muses don’t click well, it simply won’t work, and I’m not going to force it to. On the other hand, if I read up on a muse before interacting with them, and I can already sort of assess a pretty good potential for something shippy, I'm not afraid to contact the mun and plot something out along those lines. Sometimes you just know. And it just tends to happen with Lorelei more often than I initially anticipated, especially because she tends to be rather emotionally unavailable due to circumstances regarding her canon.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS/FW? :

When it becomes implied that nsfw content will be taking place, that’s usually when I put it under the cut. Inappropriate touching/groping/grinding or even just an outright “do you want to have sex?” ---> “yes, please.”

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH? :

Canon muses tend to be pretty obsolete, minus Martin. I guess I also slightly ship her with Legate Rikke because that’s who she married in her first Skyrim file, lmao. I am currently plotting to test the waters with a ship between Lorelei and @mechanicosmia​‘s Sotha Sil because I adore him and it’s something I see potential in, surprisingly. Oh, yeah and @grimhymns​ and I have a cute little ship between my bab and Serana as well.

With oc’s, there is only one ship that I’ve extensively plotted with @grimhymns​, and that’s if she’s still on board with creating Remliel (an Aureal/Golden Saint oc). There have been brief mentions of others, but nothing really developed. I’m always open to welcoming more.

Now, crossover ships? Oh, now I have plenty of those that I would love to write at some point, if I can find willing muns to write them with me. One of my dream crossover ships is Lorelei x Aloy (from Horizon Zero Dawn). I’d at least love to write a close friendship between them if one isn’t willing to write a romantic ship with them. Lorelei would stan Aloy SO MUCH, you have no idea.

ANY NOTPS? :

Not particularly; there aren’t any ships that I’m so much vehemently against. Typically, I’m pretty open to the idea of trying out anything, so long as it makes sense and I can see the potential there. I mean, I definitely can’t see potential in Lorelei being with anyone who represents the opposite of her morality. I feel like there are probably some people out there who ship the HoK with Mehrunes Dagon, for example, lmao.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU? :

Well, yes, of course. I’m pretty oblivious af, so unless you ask me directly, I probably won’t pick up on your intentions unless they’re explicitly implied ic or something. And I’d feel uncomfortable if someone just outright decided/assumed that a ship will take place without consulting me about it.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP? :

I’m always open to it, but I like to ship non-romantic ships just as often as romantic ships. /shrug

ARE YOU MULTISHIP? :

Yes. Every ship I write takes place in its own separate verse unless specified otherwise between muns.

ARE YOU SHIP-OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS? :

Somewhere in the middle, I think. I love ships, and they make my rpc experience incredibly enjoyable, but I don’t have to have them, you know. I'm more of a “if the situation calls for it” kind of person.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM? :

I honestly don’t really have one.

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU? :

Ask first, then ramble about shippy headcanons with me if I agree, lol. Because you will be subjected to my pathetic nonsense if you’re brave enough to explore a ship with me.

Tagged by: @mechanicosmia ( ilysm <3 ) Tagging: anyone who wants to do the thing /lazy

[daesungindistress]

6, 8, 19, 27

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Oh gosh, this is surprisingly hard to answer! I’m not actually ashamed of any of my fics (in this fandom anyway) and don’t regret writing them, so picking one to give the boot “just because” is tougher than you might think. They’re all my children, in a way. 😭 I could say Give Everything because it’s just a drabble at less than 1k, was hardly worth posting to begin with, but that feels like taking the easy way out of this question. Hmmm… Blackout Blues? A short, fun fic that I wrote quickly and isn’t exactly dear to me. Gravity? My only SunDae, though an AU. I can’t choose!

(Y’all are probably expecting me to say 28 Days, but no… I regret nothing.)

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Everywhere! Daily life. My job and all it entails. People I meet, conversations I have. Music I listen to, movies I watch. News articles I read, comment threads on Reddit that I spend waaay too many hours browsing through. Dreams, occasionally. Walks in nature (for Carnivores especially). Tumblr fandom – scans, gifs, videos, moodboards, edits, art, text posts. And most important of all: Big Bang themselves.

Inspiration is everywhere to be found. Just gotta be paying attention.

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

Absolutely! I don’t know if it will happen, but I would like to one day write a short sequel to Gravity. Something lighthearted and sweet… more SunDae with appearances by the other three. Kind of crack-filled though, because what else would you expect from starboy Daesung’s first days on the surface of the Earth’s – oh wait, that’s not right. He’s not a fallen star. He’s a piece of cosmic debris. And with only Youngbae and Co there to show him how to navigate his new human existence, what could possibly go wrong?

I’ve also had it in the back of my mind for-e-ver to maybe one day write an addition to Nesting Instinct. Most likely a smutty oneshot, ToDaeBae, but this time Youngbae’s reason for being there isn’t a medical emergency. I dunno, maybe?

And OH! I do still intend to write one more part to round out the Hearts On Fire series. Fingers crossed!

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

It’s a bit of both. I start by compiling notes in a Word or Wordpad doc – whatever comes to me, whenever (if I’m not at my home computer, I’ll use the notes app on my phone). It’s messy at first – long, winding threads of thought, run-on sentences, disjointed dialogue, abbreviated names, and confusing punctuation. Sometimes a “thought” is just one line; sometimes it’s half a page of text. Because you know how it goes… when you’re really in the flow, one thing leads to the next.

For some reason I try to avoid paragraphs early on; doing that at this point in the process only slows down the flow of ideas, and the unbroken wall of text is fun to crack apart into more manageable pieces later. So everything starts out mashed together and all out of order, but… at least it’s in bullet point format? Come on, I’m not a complete slob; there has to be some separation of ideas. And I do love bullet points.

When I decide it’s time to work on the fic in earnest, I’ll rearrange this jumble of half-formed thoughts, divide into scenes (and within scenes, paragraphs), remove the bullet points… and start filling in the gaps. And after that? The most arduous part of it all: refine, refine, refine. That part I do take an orderly approach to, combing over it from end to end as many times as I feel I need to (i.e., until I’m sick of staring at it and can’t stand obsessing over it any longer). Toward the end I color words and phrases that I think need further attention. When there’s no red text left, the fic is ready to post.

So yeah, there is an element of planning and organization to my writing process, even if it starts out a bit haphazard.

[boisoup-blog]

something more than a favour, chapter 2  /  READ ON AO3  /  CHAPTER 1 fandom: Assassin’s Creed Odyssey pairing: Brasidas/Kassandra additional tags: everyone lives au, fake marriage au, unrequited feelings, slightly nsfw, best read on A03 in case it gets flagged

Kassandra didn’t know where she was, when she got there or how she got there but, regardless. she was enjoying herself. Lying on her back on the surprisingly soft ground, her feet were planted, lifting her hips towards her paramour. She was too enthralled by pleasure to look who was down there but she’s had someone else’s tongue lapping at her clit enough to know what they’re doing. Kassandra is also sure she felt hair scratching the skin around her slit, like a beard.  

One of her hands heads down her body towards her lover, to grab at surprisingly short hair. One thing she deduced was that it was a Spartan down there, a braid prominent on the top of his head. However, her investigation was stilted by a finger pushing through her folds, instantly hooking and dragging along her walls. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hand tightened in his hair, probably messing up the braid, and she moaned, it wasn’t very loud but it was enough for her lover to growl. With that one sound, two things happened, her core tightened as she moaned again, and she figured out who was pleasuring her so.

This must be a dream, she thought to herself, although she ultimately did not want to wake up. Removing her hand from his head, both hands went to his shoulders as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, to look down at Brasidas of Sparta. His eyes were dark, hooded and predatory, the hair along his upper lip covered in her. Her hands slid from his shoulders, (unfortunately his cuirass covers most of his upper body, what a wet dream this is,) to his neck, then up to cup his face, beard soft beneath her fingers.  

Brasidas opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead of words, he barked. And barked again. Every time he barked, it became more and more dog-like, until her eyes shot open, Kassandra finding herself in bed and alone. Spurred by a chorus of dogs, she swung her legs out of bed and ran her hands over her face before she stood up and marched to the window. Two dogs were sat barking at nothing. Absolute. Nothing. Grinding her teeth and scowling, she reached out of the window, grabbed the shutters and slammed them closed.  

Aphrodite must be playing with her; she’s tired, angry and sexually frustrated. Gods watch over whoever angers her today because she’s in the mood to punch someone.  

After getting dressed, Kassandra stomped into the kitchen, Brasidas nowhere in sight, only a selection of fruits and a small loaf of bread sat on a plate. He must’ve thrown something together before leaving to do whatever it is he does in the morning. Stupid Brasidas of Sparta, he manages to make her feel better without even doing anything. Still, she took the bread and a few of figs and apples, managing to carry them outside so she could stuff them in the saddle bag she recently brought for Phobos.  

She wasn’t going to do anyone any good by sitting and letting her frustration fester like an infection in an open wound. Kassandra isn’t some helpless maiden who wallows in self-pity, instead, she’s the kind of woman who goes and beats the shit out of something with a stick. Alexios also happened to be taking care of the Adrestia whilst she completes her duty as a wife, (or deals with "malakas marital bullshit," as her beloved little brother liked to put it.) either way, she knows Alexios would be put for a little sibling rough housing.  

Kassandra rushes through Sparta, the wind nipping at Phobos’ heels as they rode toward Gytheion. Fortunately, the people of Lakonía know how to get out of the way of a pent up misthios and her horse.  

She finds the Adrestia exactly where she left her, Eagle figurehead standing proud (Ikaros also perched on his mirrors head, plucking feathers,) and Barnabas and his men running around the ship. Alexios, however, was stood at the helm leering over the bees working around him. If Kassandra had to guess, he’s been barking orders all day and not doing anything himself, but did she really expect anything else?

She dismounted Phobos and stepped over the gap between the dock and ship, Barnabas chirping at her happily, welcoming her back home. If life hadn’t gone her way and she never spared Nikolaos (and subsequently spared Stentor,) never found her mother and never spared Deimos, the Adrestia would’ve been there to welcome her home. Fortunately, fate, the Gods, whatever it was, smiled on her and everyone came home safe.

“Kassandra, what brings you to my boat?” Alexios greeted with a vicious smile, trying to egg his sister into confrontation as he did. Alexios is not Deimos but, he still clings to parts his former identity; Kassandra thinks it’s like a safety blanket, he has known nothing but violence and when all else fails, resorts to it because it’s what has the highest success rate.

Regardless, Kassandra crossed her arms as she responded, “firstly, this is my ship.” Alexios’ smile got bigger, his eyes narrowed on his sister, getting the rise he wanted. “Secondly, I need to hit something.” Alexios paused for a moment, smile faltering before being replaced by a booming laugh.

“Oh, you can try.” Alexios jumped over the railings from the helm to the deck, a large thud when he landed. One day, either Alexios or Kassandra are going to go straight through the deck down to the rowers. “Marital bullshit finally gone to shit?” He asked, shoving into his sisters' shoulder, forcing her arms to uncross as she grunted a reply to him. If she were anyone else, she would’ve gone flying into the deck. (“Gods blood,” Barnabas probably thought as he tried to usher them off the ship and onto solid land.)

The two of them had unspoken rules about sparring: no weapons, no hair pulling, no kicking private areas and, most importantly, no breaking bones, except noses. As misthios, both of them needed all their bones in working order to do misthios things, like hold a sword, kick someone, count drachmae, etc.  

On solid land, the two of them circled each other, Barnabas off to the side holding all their weapons. Alexios was still very impatient, looking like he was going to pounce any moment but, Kassandra has beaten him before and she’ll be damned if she lets him win today. A smug smirk on her face, she motioned for her brother to come at her with her hands before bawling them back into fists. Apparently, that’s all she needed to do as Alexios charged into her, knocking both of them on the floor.  

For a brief second, Kassandra felt all the air leave her lungs before she gasped for air, throwing her arms over her head to protect it. Alexios immediately tried to prize her arms apart, sitting on top of her so she couldn’t escape.  

“Stop. Being. A. Coward.” Alexios argued, his plans to break down her defences going nowhere. However, being so bull-headed and impatient to win, Alexios made the mistake of bending his head down. Kassandra immediately broke her guard, grappling her brothers head, the inside of her elbow pressing on his neck. Using his neck as leverage, she managed to shake his balance and roll them over so she could let go of him and stand up.

“I’m not a coward, just patient,” Kassandra finally teased, shaking her arms out as Alexios stood up, scowling at his sister. They started circling each other again, Alexios momentarily rubbing the front of his neck, leaving Kassandra snickering. “Did I hurt you, little Alexios?” she teased again, she knew he hated the idea of being belittled, and it spurred him into making mistakes.

As planned, he ran at her, flurrying hit at her as she ducked under his wider swings, jabbing him in the side. However, what she did not expect is him to swing wildly behind him, the backs of his knuckles hitting her straight in the eye. She tumbled to the floor, completely shocked and bewildered, her hands over her eye, as Alexios stopped, concerned before teasing, “Did I hurt you, little Kassandra?”

That's when Kassandra removed her hands from her eye and scowled at Alexios, every ounce of aggression in her body ready to come out at once. “I’m going to make you wish mater was here,” she threatened, “so you could hide behind her skirts!”  

It was sun set when Brasidas finally sat down on the edge of their bed, hands running over his face. It had been a long, long, long, long, long day. Training young Spartans at the ass crack of dawn, rushing off to a military meeting with Archidamos and Agesipolis, then rushing off to another meeting with other Spartan generals. He then had 10 minutes to eat before continuing with his schedule. What made this day so much worse is how he work up this morning.

Kassandra was sound asleep, tucked against his side, hair all across her face, occasionally snoring. At first, he thought he was dreaming but, the more he woke up the more he realised it was real and she was real. His heart started an unbearable pace that kept fading and reappearing at the worst times. He was mid conversation, listening to the young King Agesipolis when the image of Kassandra drifted back into his mind, near enough making his heart skip a beat.

Brasidas finally flopped back on the bed, my mind like an ocean just filled with thoughts of her. This has never happened before, both waking up with her against him and not being able to shake her from his thoughts. He’s always been able to be professional when working, pushing whatever thoughts back to the deep recesses of his mind. But Eros & Aphrodite seemed to making it their mission to plague him with thoughts of her.

He was unsure of how long he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts doing backflips, swinging from strategy and war to Kassandra, sleeping peacefully. However, he heard movement downstairs in the entrance, then thudding as if someone was stomping their way through the house. There was only one person who moved like an elephant when they think they’re alone.  

And there she was, Kassandra, with a black eye, looking exceptionally pissed off. Brasidas fought the urge to bolt up off the bed and interrogate her until she told him what happened, instead carefully rising up from his lying position, concern painting his features. “What happened?” he asked, standing up and moving towards her.

“Oh, you know, Alexios,” she said nonchalantly, folding her arms across her chest, as she did, “I felt like hitting someone but, unlike most people, he knows how to hit back.” She was posturing it as if nothing was wrong, however, as a frequent culprit himself, Brasidas knows when there's something wrong. Plus, despite Kassandra’s ardent belief that Alexios and Deimos are different people, Brasidas can’t look at her younger brother, without squeezing the wound on his leg and thinking of Pylos and he can’t even remember what happened at Amphipolis. (Kassandra continually ignores his question of what happened, glancing off to another topic.) Brasidas did not trust Alexios and would personally murder the man if he left Kassandra with any lasting wounds.

However, Brasidas took her word for it, although, he was intrigued as to why she wanted to hit something. He supposed that she is a misthios and fights on a near enough day to day basis, maybe she just wanted to keep herself sharp, just in case. “Let me go get a cloth,” Brasidas said, before briefly going down stairs, grabbing a cloth, soaking it in the bucket of clean water, ringing it out and returning to Kassandra. “Hold it over your eye, it should reduce the swelling.” He told her, folding the cloth and placing it over her eye until she held it herself.

“I could’ve done this myself,” she told him, herself sufficient attitude surfacing. He assumes it something that growing up on Kephallonia taught her, not to rely on others when you can rely on yourself. Whereas Sparta, for all it’s tough love, teaches camaraderie and protecting your fellow soldier. Brasidas sometimes wonders if their relationship would be different if she was raised in Sparta. What would they be? Who would she be?

“Thank you,” Kassandra said, taking the cloth off her eye for a moment, blinking and putting it back on, “for the cloth and for breakfast this morning.” Brasidas, sat back on the edge of the bed, taking his grieves off, looked up at her for a moment and smiled softly.

Between the two of them, they cooked a rabbit for dinner, Kassandra kept trying to tell him that it was going to burn but, Brasidas kept telling her that he had cooked hundreds of rabbits and has never burnt one. It was a little burnt. Throughout dinner, she kept telling him, “I told you so.”  

Brasidas went up to bed first, sitting under the sheets reading war plans to go over tomorrow at a meeting, the candle light making it only just visible. Kassandra soon followed, (her armour removed earlier that evening) and she sat next to him, reading over his shoulder, taking the cloth off her eye. “That’s... a lot of troops,” she said, sounding a little surprised, “are you going to be one of them?”

Brasidas put the plans down, “yes, Archidamos wants experienced Generals to defend Arcadia from Athens.” He knew, that for once, the weakening of Arcadia wasn’t Kassandra’s fault, it was some pesky mercenary that Athens hired. “With luck from the Gods, it shouldn’t take too long.” He sighed, knowing that it would be a difficult campaign, even with Lagos still Archon, but it would be a vital foothold for Sparta.

“Well, if you need help, you know where I am.” Kassandra offered. Brasidas knew how much she had helped (and hindered) Sparta in its conquests, mostly in Megaris, Pylos and supposedly Amphipolis. “For Drachmae, of course,” she teased, elbowing him in the side, chuckling.

“For all you joke, Sparta may actually need you,” he replied, a little seriously for what she was probably expecting. He looked over at her; the black eye, given to her by Alexios, looked as if it was starting to go down. “Let me have a look,” he said as he leaned forward, then looked back, having a different angle but a better look at her eye. “Archidamos will want an exciting story for that black eye,” he warned, a hint of teasing in his voice as he directed the conversation away from battle plans.

“And he’ll get one,” she started, a victorious smile on her face, “of me pommelling my malakas brother!”  

Brasidas let out an unexpected bark of a laugh, the look on Kassandra’s face went from amused to confusion. Was he not meant to find it funny? Did she actually beat her brother into the ground? Either way, Brasidas was sure the change in the look on her face was not a good one, so he asked, “What’s with that look? Was that not meant to be funny.”

Kassandra quickly put herself back together, a placid look on her face, although whatever she was feeling was betrayed by the blood rising to the top of her ears. She lay down, pulled the sheet over herself and abruptly said, “it’s nothing, good night.”  

Brasidas was the epitome of confusion, spending a moment dwelling on what he said, what he did before accepting that he’d never figure it out. He blew out the candle and settled to sleep himself.

[pagonianychta]

Power Outage

Fandom: TMNT

Pairing: Donatello/Reader

Word Count: 1929

I keep editing this and I just need to Post It

AO3 Link

You were relaxing downstairs, taking up as much of the couch as possible and enjoying your alone time, when there was an outburst of barking upstairs from your dog. You sat up and listened intently for any other sounds under the barks, quietly making your way up the stairs. Close to your room, you could hear someone.

“No! Ahh! Bad dog, no!” They whispered. You peaked around the corner, all tension draining from your body at the sight of your friend Donatello trying to wrestle his staff from the jaws of your oh so ferocious Corgi.

“Ginger! Put it down!” You commanded and they both stopped dead, Ginger letting the staff fall from her mouth and turning to pant at you excitedly. You squeaked a toy from the floor a couple times, cooing:

“You want the toy Ginger? You want it? Go get it!” You tossed it down the stairs and off she went, leaving you to raise an eyebrow at the haggard turtle before you.

“What're you doing Donnie?”

“Well, you said we could come over while your parents were gone… right?” He sheepishly rubbed his neck, hoping it hadn’t been a rhetorical offer.

“Well yeah but… I guess I’m just surprised someone took me up on the offer,” you shrugged, heading back down the stairs.

“I mean, I can go! I don't wanna bother you.”

“It's fine, I promise,” you smiled at him over your shoulder and he looked away with a bashful smile. You headed to the fridge and offered Donnie a spot on the couch, which he accepted.

“You want a drink?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m okay.”

“Cool, catch.” You tossed a can across the room, the ninja catching it without even trying. You knew he’d be too awkward to accept your offer, so you had to force your hospitality on him.

“So.” You flopped down next to the turtle and put your feet up on the coffee table, opening your can with a satisfying hiss. “Were your brothers getting on your nerves? Or did you just miss me?”

“A little of both,” he teased.

“Well lucky for you I am very pleasant company,” you handed him a controller, “and I have violent video games.”

Donnie was more than happy to accept. The two of you settled on fighting games, because fighting each other is more fun than working together, and the next few hours flew by. There was a lot of smack talk and shoulder shoving, Donnie at one point knocking the controller from your hands entirely, frustrated at constantly losing. The skill gap wasn’t enormous, but it was pretty clear, mostly because you didn’t have to spend time training and saving the world. As such: more time for video games. The turtle had won about a third of the games and now after he finally got one more victory under his belt, he put the controller down.

“That’s it! Tapping out! I’m ending this on a victory.” He crossed his arms proudly and you rolled your eyes. Without the loud sounds of ass beating, you could hear something pelting against your window.

“Is it raining?” You both turned to the window instinctively, forgetting the curtains were closed so wandering eyes didn’t see a mutant on your couch. Just then, there was a flash and an unsettlingly loud crack of thunder that shook your home, taking the power with it. You jumped and reflexively smacked your hand against your friends chest. Silence.

“...Donnie?”

“I'm here.” He put his hand on your forearm and you groped around for your phone, using the flashlight to illuminate the room. You looked back to Donnie who quickly removed his hand from your arm and you couldn't help a small breath of relief from being able to see again.

You left the phone face down on the table to let the light shine, heading to the kitchen. There was a small lantern under the sink that held tea lights, so you grabbed and lit it, bringing the gentle orange glow back to the couch and turning off your flashlight.

“So now what?” You asked, sitting and facing Donnie. You brought your knees to your chest, afraid some demon would come out from under the couch in the darkness and grab your ankles. “Should we go to the lair if the power doesn’t come back?”

“No, this is…this is fine. If you’re okay with it,,” he shrugged awkwardly. “Spending time together. Talking.”

“Ugh, like we’re friends or something,” you teased and he rolled his eyes.

“What should we talk about?”

“I dunno.” You rested your head against the back of the couch. “Wanna tell me about the science of thunderstorms?” You teased again. Since you brought the candles, his focus had been slowly waning and at this point he was kind of listening. You were looking at him, all curled up against the couch in the gentle glow of the candlelight, and his brain was functioning at about half capacity.

“Sure,” he said quietly, “I can do that.” But he didn't. Right now, with the sound of the rain lulling you both into a comforting haze, there was no chance. In the small reach of the candles glow it was as though you were the only two in the world, everything else gone with the power.

Had Donnie always been this cute? You'd be the first the admit you'd always had kind of a thing for him, finding his brains and dorky demeanor charming, but right now something seemed… different; the gentle motion of his breathing and the way he was looking at you, almost like admiration.

The mutant tried really hard not to stare at your lips for too long, but the way they were parted just gently so made it really hard. He was incredibly nervous suddenly, but neither of you noticed the gap between you getting smaller.

“Then go ahead.” You swallowed thickly.

Closer.

“Impress me.”

Closer and then a pause. Finally, the gentle pressure of your lips meeting.

The kiss was brief and sweet, just what you'd expect from someone like Donatello. When he pulled away there was a moment of lingering between you; another crack of thunder and lightning snapped you both out of it. You'd turned to look out the window again and when you turned back there was just a turtle shell in the furthest possibly corner of your couch.

“Donatello,” an endeared smile graced your lips, knowing how he was most likely hiding from embarrassment, “you can come out.”

“I'm sorry!” His lanky self popped back out. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to- I mean, I did but- it was just, the light and the rain and your eyes-” he smacked his hands over his face, blushing furiously, “I'm sorry.” The atmosphere had gotten to you too, but the mention of your eyes caused you to color as well.

“It's alright,” you laughed, gingerly grabbing his wrist. “I wanted you to kiss me.” He peeked out from between his fingers.

“...really?”

You chuckled, pulling his hands down and holding them between you. Donnie was suppressing a goofy grin at the sight of his hands in your own.

“Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought,” you teased.

“Hey, I can reverse engineer alien technology, but I don’t know anything about-” he brought a hand up to gesture between the two of you, “-this. If I didn’t know then maybe you weren’t giving me the right signs,” he pouted and turned his head away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was this-”, you dramatically batted your eyelashes at him, “-not enough of a sign I wanted you to kiss me?”

“I don’t know! I was too busy staring like an idiot! I wasn’t thinking!”

“Well good thing because otherwise I’d be sitting here unkissed.”

Donnie just sighed. A few moments passed before a grin slowly started to form.

“What?” You laughed at his expression.

“We totally kissed,” he said with a dorky chuckle and you rolled your eyes.

“We could do it again,” you offered a bit shyly and Donnie snapped back to reality.

“What?”

“Oh,” you then realized maybe you shouldn’t have said that. “I mean, nevermind, forget I said anything,” you laughed awkwardly, immediately wanting to fall through the floor.

“No! I mean, yes! Please!”

There was an extended period of the two of you awkwardly trying to figure out how to go about this; shifting around, not knowing where to put your hands. Now you were sitting in front of each on your knees, hands resting on your thighs.

“Okay.” Donnie steeled himself. “I’m gonna do it.” Neither of you being lost in the haze of a romantic moment made this surprisingly nerve wracking. You nodded reassuringly. He leaned forward slowly, closer, and right as your lips were about to meet you couldn’t take the tense atmosphere anymore and started giggling. Donnie’s whole face flushed in embarrassment.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his in response, the ninja immediately melting.

“Gotta rip off the band-aid.” You pulled away and Donnie drunkenly swayed for a moment before falling off the couch and crashing to the ground.

“This is the best day of my life,” he mumbled. A few moments later the lights returned and you checked your phone for the time, which turned out to be a lot later than you thought.

“I think it might be time to head home, Casanova,” you smiled down at him and he sat up, suddenly remembering this wasn’t a dream and that other things did exist in this moment.

“Oh! Right, it’s probably-” he stood and was abruptly cut off by the jelly legs he didn’t know he had, bracing himself on the coffee table. You stared at each other for a brief moment in surprise and he let out an embarrassed laugh. You stood as well, lifting the lantern and blowing out the tea candles before glancing back up at the turtle who had just been admiring you while he thought you weren't looking.

“Um,” he spoke suddenly like he just found his voice, “I uh- you-” He struggled to find the words. You waited patiently, but your small smile and the way you were just looking at him was not helping.

“Do you think- I mean, would you-”

“Hey Donnie?” You walked past him and he followed you up the stairs. “Did you know I have a boyfriend?” He didn’t say anything, confused as to what you were talking about. Didn’t you want him to kiss you? Why would you want that if you had a boyfriend? And how didn’t he know you had a boyfriend?

“He’s funny and cute and really smart.” You entered your bedroom and opened the window. “He’s pretty dorky but,” you turned and leaned against the wall to face him, “he’s a ninja so, he’s kind of a badass.” It finally clicked for Donnie who got a whole new wave of euphoria, another smile spreading across his face.

“He sounds great,” he sighed dreamily and you reached out for his hand.

“Be careful going home, okay?” Donnie opened his mouth to speak. “Yes, you can tell your brothers.”

He let out a cheer and swung out the window up to the roof and when you went to stick your head out, he appeared upside down in the window.

“I um... I’ll call you?” He offered awkwardly and you laughed and nodded. Donnie kissed your forehead before leaving for good this time, spending the next ten minutes silently cheering and celebrating on the rooftop.