#that actually is exactly the sort of makeup she does! among others!

[universallypersona]

hai hai do yu have mime bomb hcs :3

Truth be told, This was slightly hard to make since I couldn't exactly grasp alot of HC's of him like the rest but YESSSSSSSSSS

TW: SENSITIVE/MATURE TOPICS AHEAD

I'd like to believe he had some sort of traumatic past as a child to become a mime. For an example; He might've ran away from an abusive family in France and never looked back, He had to beg in the streets but he was amused when a Mime earned some coins so maybe the Mime gave him tips and tricks how to be one BUT the Mime was also teaching him pickpocketing before the Mime disappeared with no trace, which I assumed Mime Bomb just expertise how the Mime did and the V.I.L.E. found him as a "unique student"

The creators didn't specify exactly if Mime Bomb was mute or not but I do HC him as mute since it would add more to his past, and I think it'd be so cool if they add more characters with disabilities for more rep if interpreted correctly (I don't know if it is rude for assuming a character has a disability but if so I'll gladly take this down)

He does not have like.. ACTUAL, REAL AS IN REAAALLL friends but he does have people who know him but not personally. Although, I do think Neal the Eel is one person who he is much closer than to everybody else he's ever known

He's great with kids though, Just that sometimes the kids get scared because of his makeup

He's probably the first one to know if something is going on ngl or he could be THE mastermind itself when he needs to 'take down' someone which is awesome as well since it's cannon as heck that he can move without the opponent noticing him

He does not have a specific music taste but he's always seen playing Jazz music so people assume he only likes that type of music (He played rock music once and most V.I.L.E. agents were shocked for a second before they just shrugged it off)

He. Loves. Black. No cap, No borax. But, He does like the color blue and red

Knows — NO, HE. IS. GREAT. At tap dancing. I JUST KNOW ITTTT

Doesn't know how to cook BUT he is awesome on baking. Just say the name of the dish and he already has the ingredients prepared

So far, He's actually had a slightly good relationship with the gang except for Sheena, She finds him creepy and one time she punched him when he appeared beside her so suddenly out of reflex/defense (He was unconscious for three minutes in the clinic ngl)

Among all of the gang, Antonio is probably one person who doesn't mind him at all. Antonio, as well, is by far mostly used to Mime Bomb's sudden appearances unlike the rest

Not a lot of people consider him as a "threat" but they do know he doesn't like to be underestimated which is why most of the time they just shrug him off

I hc him to be aromantic though since I really think he's just "Y.O.L.O" to other people. In addition to that, I think he's probably never had a certain crush whatsoever and is most likely more focused on himself ngl

HE LOVEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS CATSSSSSSSS. He sometimes tries to bring one to V.I.L.E. but it ends up with him getting in trouble and forced to drop them off on the streets again :((

THAT'S ALLLLLLL BYEEEEE

[thedeadthree]

fun fact: ilu. no legit fun fact: my oc alma likes to paint in her free time! 🎨 do any of your ocs have creative hobbies? ❣️

ROSIEE FUN FACT ILUU ✨🥺🤍😤 ALMA MY BELOVED i adore her so much! a talented lovely! (and i eenvy her doing art in her free time! that’s the goal for me ✨🥺) she’s the cutest!

oh i sure do! edelgard is a pianist both professionally and in her spare time! it’s a comfort for her! diana paints in her limited spare time! is an oil painter and loves when she’s not forging sjznjxjx to paint chiara loves to sing in her spare time and even sang at her wedding to cosimo ✨🤧 ! iryna draws horror art in her free time and professionally! and polina loves dancing! goes to galas and clubs, etc to do just that! OH AND FINALLY esther makes art out of burning kitchens down ajzhxj she likes to do little works of art through makeup like this!

send me a fact about your oc and I’ll send a fact about mine! 🤍

[bughead-in-the-comics]

Bughead Trivia: Some of Jughead’s Hobbies were Influenced by Betty.

During a regular hangout at the chock’lit shoppe in Thought For Food (Jughead’s Double Digest #167, 2011), Betty complained that Jughead only talks about food so she decided that what he needs is a new hobby to help him expand his interests. After leaving Pop’s, Jughead immediately visited the Riverdale hobby shop to buy a kit for model building. Of course, the scale model he built was later revealed to still be food-related (a sort of fast food town with a pizzeria and a burger joint, among other things), but it is sweet that he took Betty’s suggestion seriously. She is one of the few people in Riverdale who can actually influence the very individualistic Jughead in some way and it is very evident in the number of hobbies he has taken up over the years.

While reading a book in The Unfolding Crisis (Archie’s Pal Jughead #124, 2000), Betty suddenly asked Jughead about his opinion on origami. Jughead was unfamiliar with it, so Betty tried to explain that origami is the art of paper folding and showed him the page with a how-to guide. Jughead tried following the instructions out of curiosity, but he ended up discovering that he has a natural talent for it when he successfully folded a “pretty paper ballerina” on his first try. He became so obsessed with origami that he started folding every piece of paper he sees: Coach Clayton and Coach Kleat’s game plan, Dilton’s Blue & Gold layout, Professor Flutesnoot’s test forms, Ms. Beazley’s menus, Principal Weatherbee’s speech notes, Mr. Svenson’s paper towels, and even Reggie’s candy bar wrapper.

In Summer Fun.. and Some 'R Not (Jughead #316 1981), Jughead took Betty’s suggestions even seriously when he put his trademark laziness aside to try a bunch of summer sports. He tried everything from windsurfing and beach volleyball to diving and surf boarding. Although he proved to be quite inadequate when it comes to all those sports and he eventually resorted to what he does best (eating, of course!), Jughead still showed in this particular story how much he valued Betty’s opinion by trying out all of her ideas without any hesitations.

Another Jughead hobby that was influenced by Betty is cake decorating, which was featured in Cake Mistake (Archie’s Pal Jughead #135, 2001). In the story, Jughead became interested in the art of cake decorating after Betty told him that she taught herself how to do it by simply watching an instructional video by Marta Stewmeat. Jughead, who decided he wanted to learn how to “adorn a cake so festively” like Betty, borrowed the said video, bought a multi-nozzle pneumatic decorator, and went on to ice every random thing he lays his eyes on (much to the Riverdale townsfolk’s dismay, of course). 

Betty's influence over Jughead also made him change his mind about certain activities that he would otherwise not touch with a ten-foot pole. In The Quiet Man (PEP Comics #266, 1972), Jughead was very vocal about his dislike of miming. He even went as far as making fun of the people who perform it. A furious Betty, who flat-out accused him of having no culture, insisted that miming is an ancient art form that is very difficult to pull off. Years later, in the story Mime Your Own Business (Jughead #39, 1992), Jughead went full-on Marcel Marceau by performing a mime act at the park: he entertained passers-by while sporting the stereotypical mime outfit consisting of white facial makeup, black suspenders, and a silk opera hat. To say that Betty approved of this change is an understatement. The girl was charmed.

Volunteering is not exactly considered as a hobby, but Jughead has developed a habit of offering his services to help the needy because of Betty. Thanks to her, he has gotten involved in a string of charitable acts that include donating books for a charity drive, signing up Hot Dog as a therapy dog to comfort hospital patients and nursing home residents, painting a mural for senior prom, working at the chock’lit shoppe for a day to give Pop Tate a much-deserved vacation, coaching a pee-wee baseball team, building a sand castle inside a mall, preparing dinner at the community center, running a marathon to help raise funds for hospital equipment, donating toys to the orphanage, doing a bunch of chores to help celebrate Svenson Appreciation Day, raising a Christmas fund for the senior citizens of Riverdale, taking photographs for the retirement community’s prom-themed dance, serving food at the homeless shelter, and a bunch of other things. He even donated his prize money to The Goodwill Girls, the philanthropic group founded by Betty. ♥

[detective-crescend]

break up with your girlfriend (i’m bored)

There is a game that Klavier Gavin sometimes likes to play.

‘Likes’, however, may not be the appropriate term.

It isn’t a nice game, or one that makes him feel like a particularly good and decent person. And yet, when he wins—which he almost certainly does, on all but two notable occasions—the rush of chemicals that his victory incites within his clearly damaged mind will cover up all but the most persistent cries of outrage from what remains of his decaying moral compass.

It is a private challenge, it is a weakness he has long since conceded to… it is played like this:

There are plenty of people in the world who would love Klavier Gavin simply for what he represents. Conversely, there are people who will despise him for those very same reasons.

When the small voice in the back of his mind begins to speak too loudly—the one that sounds so very familiar, calm and leveled while it interrogates his every action—when he, in turn, begins to doubt himself, Klavier will search out the nearest member of the latter group. The more this individual seemingly dislikes him, the better the effect. And, having identified someone who must dislike Klavier more than he dislikes himself, he will do whatever is necessary to change that person’s opinion.

Sometimes it is as simple as attention and kindness, gifts and persistence; sometimes it is through a display of vulnerability or chagrin that is only somewhat manufactured for the moment. Though Klavier’s motivation for doing so is horrifically selfish, the goal is to be perfectly genuine in his search for their affection. It needs to be; only once his target has offered up their adoration can he tolerate himself once more. If it is a false version of Klavier that they are idolizing, it only strengthens the voice’s position inside his own mind.

The point of this game is emotional intimacy, not physical. Klavier has never been in the game of intentionally breaking hearts. One of the cardinal rules that he has set for himself, then, is that his appointed convert must be maintained as a friend, not a lover. In actuality, the majority of the rules pertain to limits and boundaries—monetary, time, distance, and attitude—or to create clear definitions of what constitutes a win or a loss of the game. It is important, Klavier feels, to keep things consistent among matches and, therefore, fair.

But, although Klavier has flourished in this diversion since his now distant childhood, he had also never encountered a contender quite like Apollo Justice before.

It wasn’t that Apollo was particularly difficult to read or to predict what it might take in order to shift his perception—on the contrary, Klavier had known exactly what needed to be done to achieve his goal almost immediately upon meeting the man. Whether or not Klavier is capable of it, however, is where the debate hinges.

There are rules that will need to be broken, for one thing, along with a set of small, concealed truths that must be unearthed—things that Klavier had long since been in the habit of burying below several layers of his own psyche. As of this moment, there are only two that Klavier has managed to excavate and examine with any sense of composure.

The first, that Apollo has beaten him so thoroughly in Klavier’s own game that their exchanges have ceased to be a game at all. Instead, they have taken on the frantic and impetuous nature of an entirely different emotion. Klavier’s desire to win Apollo’s affection had ceased to be a simple desire; it now felt like a need, pulsing bright and warm from somewhere so deeply within him that he had long since stopped believing it was possible to feel this way at all.

The second truth—both far more recently understood and infinitely more frightening—is that the aforementioned need may, in fact, be love.

It is not as pleasant an emotion as he had once anticipated, more like gnawing hunger that rumbled when Apollo was absent and roared with an open maw when he was nearby. It made Klavier indecisive and introspective in an entirely different way than the voice in his head, made him overthink every word he spoke and every thing he did when Apollo was nearby. It made him impulsive and greedy, wont to push his luck at every opportunity he could possibly take.

And, as luck would have it, this emotion was ruining any chance he could have with Apollo in the process.

“I am performing at a local studio tomorrow,” Klavier is attempting to begin one afternoon, in the immediate aftermath of a trial he has just lost. Though he’d meant the words to sound suave and unintentionally cool, the force of Apollo’s indifferent gaze strangles the words into an awkwardly insistent rush. “Would you like to come, as my guest? You may bring Fräulein Wright as well.”

Before him, Apollo’s dark eyes narrow, his hands still in the process of packing up the strewn remainder of his courtroom notes. “What kind of performance?”

“It is for a streaming service, ja?” Klavier replies, grinning through the nerve induced flips his stomach has been performing since the moment he opened his mouth. “They invite artists to come for an interview and to cover a song of the audience’s choice. There is usually free food and drinks.”

“So no Gavinner’s music?” Apollo looks skeptical.

“Nein, I promise.”

Another moment of cautious consideration is given before Apollo eventually, reluctantly, nods. “Trucy’ll kill me if she finds out I said no. Text me the address and time.”

Of course, it isn’t until hours after the requested message had been sent that Klavier thinks to check the status of the polls online that will decide the theme of his performance. One glance is all it takes to know that his invitation could be nothing but an absolutely terrible idea.

The damage, however, had been done.

As such, Klavier wakes the next morning with his emotions an odd amalgam of dread and anticipation that carries through the remainder of his day. By his arrival at the indicated studio—far earlier than the time he had provided to Apollo due to the ever-necessary addition of hair and makeup—Klavier is certain he has thought of nothing else the entire day other than Apollo’s arrival.

“Trucy couldn’t come,” Apollo says later, looking exceedingly uncomfortable in clothes other than his courtroom ensemble. It is the first time since the Guilty as Charged concert that Klavier has seen him in anything so casual; he had forgotten that, in the absence of hair gel and when wearing something that is not a shocking scarlet in hue, Apollo looks good. Good enough that Klavier is far from the only one casting surreptitious looks as they walk together from the lobby to the studio.

Those small glances are enough to send his imagination into a tailspin that, consequently, causes his response to be just moments too late to sound entirely casual. “But you still came.”

“I already said I would,” Apollo replies, ignoring the delay with a dismissive shrug. “It would’ve been rude to bail at the last second. Anyway, Trucy made me promise I’d record your song. When is it, by the way?”

“Twenty minutes—I won’t keep you for too long, ja?”

The problem is, during a performance, Klavier is practically incapable of any sort of critical thought at all. Years of practice have led to a near Pavlovian response to the appearance of a camera in his face; at just the glint of a lense reflection, any doubts or worries he had previously been wrestling with will be delicately tucked away to make room for the public persona Klavier presents to the world.

The same thing happens, here. Within moments of the interview starting, Klavier forgets about his apprehension in having Apollo present for this performance. By the time he eventually starts to sing, he’s forgotten about Apollo sitting just beyond the camera in a plastic folding chair all together.

The song picked for him to sing is almost certainly a joke, intentionally selected due to his recent and rather outspoken declaration of bisexuality. But Klavier has never been one to back down from a challenge or to let anyone know they’ve gotten under his skin. His take on Ariana Grande’s morally bankrupt classic is stripped down and irrevocably smoky, just the sound of Klavier’s voice and an electric guitar with absolutely zero changes to the lyrics, as was expected.

Klavier is not singing to Apollo, precisely—as far as he is aware, Apollo does not have a girlfriend from which to break up with—but a song will always sound better with some sort of emotion attached to it. Klavier has long been in the habit of searching any lyrics that are not his own for a handhold that he can grab on to relate to; here, the idea of wanting someone unavailable, no matter the cause, is an easy enough choice.

And things go seamlessly for the majority of the song. It isn't until nearly two minutes in, just as Klavier is finishing the bridge, that his gaze slips past the camera he has just recently glanced up into, and finds Apollo’s eyes wide and locked upon his. Perhaps it is not entirely professional, to maintain uninterrupted eye contact with the opposing counsel as the lyrics “you can hit it in the morning like it’s yours” are murmured seductively into the microphone bent towards one’s face. The suspicion is confirmed when, thirty seconds later, the song’s end is met by an uproar of applause from everyone except Apollo, who stands and leaves the room altogether.

“Stop messing with me,” Apollo shouts in the parking lot when Klavier has finally caught up with him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, I don’t know what sort of advantage you think you’re playing at, but stop.”

[seasonsofeverlark]

you & I (just meant to be)

Author: @rosegardeninwinter​

Prompt: This silly, silly ditty was inspired by two (count ‘em! two!) lovely prompts which are as follows “Peeta can’t stop staring at Katniss in her costume :0” and “Everlark meeting at a fancy dress party dressed as a ‘matching’ pair, although they don’t each other - maybe a famous couple but who don’t need the other … Joker and Harley Quinn, Batman and Robin or my favorite: Anna and Elsa from Frozen … Peeta would make a wonderful Anna” - I thought these two went well together, and took a couple of creative liberties to make them jive. Hope you lovelies like! [submitted by @deardiaryithinkiamaghost​ and @wendywobbles​]

Rating: T, for implied Everlark shenanigans 

Author’s Note: Thank you to my dear @archersandsunsets​ for her second pair of eyes on this one and to all the lovely moderators and coordinators of @seasonsofeverlark​, the true MVPs. It’s been a busy month, so I apologize for any incoherence. Sometimes, the heart just wants goofy modern AU fluff. Alrighty, Chatty Cathy is done … enjoy! 

____________

“Katniss, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Prim exclaims, though it sounds pretty pathetic with her congested, pinked nose. “You make the perfect ice queen!” 

“I don’t think that’s usually a compliment,” Katniss says dourly, plopping down on the couch where her sister is situated with several fuzzy blankets, a box of tissues, and a large bowl of ice cream. She can’t taste it very well, but it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. Prim is in denial. 

“I wish I could go,” she whines, holding the “o” in a long, dramatic note. 

“I wish I could stay,” Katniss shoots back, holding the “ay” just as long. 

“No you don’t,” Prim shoos. “You love our friends.” 

“I do,” Katniss sighs, plucking at the silver sequined sleeves of her—well, Prim’s—Elsa costume. It’s too long on Katniss, with her sister’s good half inch on her, but it’s all they’ve got. Her original plan was to pull the classic black top and pants plus cat ears, but when it became apparent Prim wasn’t budging from the couch this Halloween, the real snowy blonde princess of the family had insisted Katniss take her outfit. 

“You can’t show up to Finnick’s in a slapdash, last second costume, Katniss,” she’d said. “The man lives for Halloween. Don’t insult his extravagance with plastic headbands and tails.” 

“I do love our friends, but … I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m tired.”

“Just half an hour,” Prim says. “Snag me some candy, make some pleasantries” — “okay, Jane Bennet” —  “and then come home. At least one of us needs to show up. Just pretend to have a social life for thirty minutes, okay? For me.” 

Katniss rolls her eyes as she gets up from the couch in a twinkling of blue overlay and snowflake hair pins in her braid. She does a quick once over of her shadowy makeup in the hallway mirror as she grabs her car keys. “What do you want?” 

“Chocolate. Anything with chocolate and peanut butter. I’ll save it for when I can experience taste again,” Prim calls back. “Oh, and if Delly’s cousin is there, all of the cupcakes he brought.”

“Mmkay. All the chocolate and cupcakes, coming right up,” Katniss says with a resigned smile. On her way out, she clicks on her phone. It’s just now eight. She resolves to be firmly ensconced in bed by nine at the latest. She gives her sister a wave, keys jangling. “I’ll be back. Soon.” 

At ten thirty, Prim looks up from her Harry Potter induced doze to find she’s received a text from her sister. 

Staying a little later. Fifteen minutes maybe. Have the treats.  

Prim checks the time stamp. The text was sent forty five minutes ago. This might be cause for alarm were it not for the text underneath Katniss’s, from Finnick. It’s a photo, taken in front of a makeshift photo op with purple and silver and orange streamers in the background and cutesy little bat and pumpkin and vampire fang cardboard props for people to hold up. It’s captioned “You can’t marry a man you just met!” 

Prim brings her hand to her mouth to catch a laugh before it turns into a cough. Her sister, Elsa costume sparkling in the flash, is pretending to shake her finger disapprovingly at her “Anna” counterpart. The laugh breaks free this time. Prim grabs for her tepid tea to soothe her throat as she cracks up over the really incredible image of Peeta Mellark, Delly Cartwright’s stocky older cousin, in a red braided wig, and strikingly accurate green rosemaled gown, sitting quite comfortably, if amusingly, over his athletic build. He’s pretending to gripe back at Katniss about why exactly he can marry Hans of the Southern Isles. Their mock scowls barely contain smiles. 

Prim quickly fires a text back to Finnick: How??? Did that happen??? 

Finnick’s text comes through a second later: The Lord works in mysterious ways! Idk!

Okay but like?? Yes??

I know!!!!

Some people are worth melting for???? 

Her cold never bothered him anyway? *finger guns*

Omg. 

Katniss arrives back at the house at five to midnight, and Prim pretends to be asleep, watching with one eye cracked half open as her sister unstraps her silver heels and dumps them by the front door, drops her keys into the bowl. Sets down a full bag of what Prim can only guess are cupcakes and sweets. 

She’s humming under her breath. It sounds like the chorus of “Love is an Open Door.” Prim wonders if it’s possible that her folk and indie music loving sister actually listened to a Disney album on the way home. Katniss unbraids her hair and shakes it loose, dropping the pins on the side table as she sinks into the squashy chair kitty-corner to Prim’s couch. She curls up, knees to chest, making her look like some sort of ice mermaid as she takes out her phone and taps something on it, still humming. Prim watches her chew her cheek pensively, as if deciding to send the text. She takes a deep breath and taps one final time on the screen, then drums her phone nervously against her lips for a moment. Prim’s nerves are firing with anticipation. 

They wait a silent minute. Two. Three. Three and a half — 

Katniss’s screen lights up again and she flips the phone up to stare at the reply. Her whole face softens. Eyes, brow, edges of her mouth. Katniss bites her lip and closes her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the chair cushion with a contented sigh. “‘You know what’s crazy?’” she sing-songs in a mumble under her breath. “‘We finish each other’s sandwiches … I’ve never met someone who thinks so much like …” She yawns. “Me.” 

“You know,” Prim says, and Katniss shrieks, sending her phone flying to the carpet, “Peeta Mellark strikes me more as a Kristoff than a Hans.” 

“Prim!” Katniss yelps, going red. “Wha — what? What do you mean?” 

“So we’re done with stupid plastic cat ears for Halloween then I take it?”

[the very next Halloween] 

“Whoa. Okay.” Peeta sits up from the pile of cushions at the head of their bed, eyes wide and staring in approval, pupils gone dark. “Katniss Everdeen in cat ears is not something I knew I needed until this moment.” 

“Oh sure,” Katniss laughs. “Because it’s definitely the cat ears that are doing it for you. Not these.” She hoists one stockinged leg up onto the bed like a mountain climber posing for a magazine. 

“Well, those are certainly part of the appeal,” he teases, reaching for her leg, running his hands up and down the silk tights. “As is this lovely number.” He toys with the hem of her dress, a strapless black velvet thing that falls just above her knee. “Where’s this from?”

“Jo,” Katniss sighs. “She says if I’m going to be a cat, I need to be a Gretchen Wieners level cat.” 

“For whose benefit, I wonder?” Peeta muses, cheek nuzzling gently at her lower thigh. 

“You wonder?” Katniss laughs, taking her leg away and flopping onto the bed. She glances over at him, eyes sly and somehow soft at once. “I don’t.” 

“I can’t help thinking,” he muses. “that this is something of a counterproductive plan on Jo’s part. Because now, I have a sudden and distinct interest in staying in tonight.” 

“Oh?” Katniss raises a come hither eyebrow and pushes up on her elbows to accept the kiss he plants on her lips as he crawls over her, urging her back to the headboard. “Is it the cat ears?” She reaches up to give the (already molting) plastic and faux fur ears a flick. 

“The Kat ears,” he says. He nips softly at her real ear and she shivers. “The Kat nose.” He kisses that too. His nose nudges her head back, inclining her neck at the perfect angle for him to plant a stretch of kisses down it. “The Kat neck.” His mouth wanders down the front of her dress and he scoots down the bed with it. “The Kat’s cradle.”

“You have that,” she says, hiking her legs up to hug around his middle because her arms can’t reach to hold him. “You’ll always have that.” 

“A piece of that Kit Kat bar.” He kisses her stomach. “The whole Kit and Caboodle,” he teases and she laughs loudly, but on a dime his tone is changing, from silly and playful into husky and dangerous, as he moves lower. “Kitten,” he murmurs and her fingers curl in the bedsheets at the name. “Grab my phone,” he tells her, hooking his fingers around the band of her tights, “Tell Finnick we’re going to be late.” 

An hour or so later finds the cat ears lost somewhere among the remains of their costumes and a hasty snack of pepperoni rolls cooking in the convection oven. Peeta, festooned in boxers and an old apron, presides over the food like it needs a baker’s supervision. Katniss perches on the counter, wrapped chest to toes in the white sheet she pulled from their bed, feet batting absently at the cabinets. 

“This is a good look too,” he tells her, gesturing with the salad tongs he’s using to handle the pepperoni rolls. 

“What is? This sheet?” 

“I was thinking more along the lines of sexy ghost.” 

“Or sexy Roman senator,” she laughs, tossing one edge of the sheet over a bare shoulder. “Sexy Julius Caesar.”

“You’d make a good Julius Caesar,” he says. 

“Why?”

“You’ve got that “came, saw, conquered” vibe. Least that’s how I felt that night at Finnick’s party.”

“Conquered?” 

“I was gonna say seen, but — yes. Conquered too. I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He snaps his fingers. “Sexy ice queen? Definitely.” 

“I’m not exactly sure what kind of Freudian analysis one could make on falling in love with the guy dressed as your fictional sister but — ”

Peeta shrugs as the timer beeps, and he sets to fishing the pepperoni rolls onto a plate for them to share. “I choose to think of it as a metaphor for how the two people you love most in the world are your real, actual sister …” He sets the rolls beside her on the counter and sets his hands gently on her sides. She lets the sheet fall and pool slightly around her waist to cup his face as he leans in to kiss her forehead, very gently, thumbs rubbing circles on her hips. “And some loser who has the luck of … oh, I guess having the same first initial and hair color as she does,” he jokes. 

“And the same beautiful heart,” Katniss corrects in a whisper. “I mean that.” She’s rarely so sentimental to anyone except him. She smirks. “And I haven’t even started drinking yet.” 

“Well, my pretty kitty,” he starts, wrapping both his arms around her middle and hoisting her off the counter. She rolls her eyes, even as her hands card through his hair. “The night is still young.” 

[kmpac]

Noona No More

➸ 18+

➸ Summary: You are a stylist for the biggest group in the world, which has some decided advantages, but it also has some definite distractions. The biggest of which being Park Jimin. After a performance goes slightly wrong, you get your chance to tell Jimin exactly what you think of him and turns out he has some things to say about you too.

➸ Word count: 6K

➸ Pairing: Park Jimin x stylist noona

➸ Genre: Slight Angst, Smut, Fluff if you squint

➸ Warnings: Jimin crying (it broke my heart to write it!), some foul language, dry humping, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (because, of course!)

➸ A/N: I have been on tumblr for a while, but haven’t ever shared anything I’ve written. Being a mom in my 30s, it has been literally 15 years since I actually wrote anything, but I’ve been inspired by Jimin lately. My sweet ultimate bias. I just adore him. With the encouragement of some ARMY friends, I decided to share this. We will see what happens and if anyone reads this. Lol. I have never written warnings before, as this is my first time writing smut. I’m so sorry if I forget something. If you see anything I should add, please let me know!

Being a stylist for BigHit had some decided advantages; working for a company that cared for its employees and paid well not being the least of which. But BigHit was also full of idols who were not prima donnas, which from your 10+ years in the business had taught you was an incredibly rare feat. The worst thing you had to deal with was boys falling asleep in the styling chair or wanting to play in front of the cameras that followed them everywhere. No, you had it really good, you couldn’t deny.

That did not change the fact that being a stylist for Big Hit, and primarily being assigned to BTS had some decided disadvantages as well. Primary among these disadvantages was one – Park Jimin.

Jimin was the kind of person that would sit quietly making polite conversation with you making you feel seen and important and not like a prop in his everyday life. But he was also the kind of person that would brush just slightly too close to you as he stood from his chair and would cutely say “excuse me” with a knowing smirk as you blushed from ears to toes. In other words, he was dangerous. He was charming, sweet, sexy, funny: all the attributes to make any woman weak at the knees. Unfortunately for you, having a crush on your gorgeous idol subject was not an option if you wanted to keep your job. Not only were you required to be professional in order to carry out your duties, but it was also the road to heartbreak, and you knew it. Idols weren’t allowed to date openly, and for BTS it wasn’t only impossible with their superstar status, but was impossible due to their schedules. You knew well the hours they put into their work and had more than once blow dried and curled their hair as they fell asleep standing. They worked hard, but play was something foreign to them.

So when Jimin would flirt just before a show, you assumed it was only to get into the mindset of his stage persona, not to personally give you a heart attack. It was the only form of comfort and a wakeup call that you could offer yourself.

That was until one particular day when your whole world turned upside down.

You were backstage at an award show, curling Jimin’s hair as his sleepy chin dipped to his chest. His lips were puffy and adorable as usual and his makeup was flawless so you could barely see his cute freckles that you wished the makeup people wouldn’t hide. His complexion, too, was a bit too light, but you always attributed that to a broken sense of the beautiful in this country. Pale did not always equate to beautiful and tan could be gorgeous, like Jimin’s own natural honey skin tone that made him look like candy you could eat. Come to think of it, it was probably safer for your sanity that they did adjust his complexion, if that thought was any indication of your fragile state of mind around this man.

“You will be needing another dye job soon,” you said casually as you assumed his half asleep mind wouldn’t even register it.

Without even opening his eyes, he uttered, “will you do it, Noona?”

“If I’m the stylist on duty, of course.”

“You are the only one who is gentle. I always feel like my scalp is on fire when anyone else does it.”

“You exaggerate. And I don’t do it any different than anyone else.”

He looked up then as you were midway through a curl of the iron and grabbed your wrist, “promise you will be the one who does it, Noona.”

You were distracted by his eyes that were so much more than the colored contacts he wore. Even those couldn’t distract from how jaw dropping and gorgeous his eyes were, especially as he had some of the most honest and forthright eyes you had ever seen. This man didn’t do secrets.

“I will try,” you offered, though you knew you would do nothing of the sort. Dye days were the worst because you spent hours upon hours with one boy exclusively and you couldn’t handle that with Jimin. He was your Achilles’ Heel.

“Thanks, Noona,” he said as he closed his eyes again.

You hated him calling you Noona. It made you feel old. Sure you were both adults, but you had 7 years on him and such matches just didn’t happen in Korea. Not that it mattered, anyway, you reminded yourself as you turned to grab the hairspray, because Park Jimin would never look at you that way even if you were his age.

The boys rushed out of the room in a whirlwind shortly after with last minute checks of wardrobe, makeup and hair as they went to perform. It was always a mad house just before stage, and the boys were jumping around and singing to warm up their voices, and overall getting hyped up so they had the energy they needed to go full out. There were a lot of people there to see them, and they never disappointed.

The moment your life turned upside down though, started just as you were backstage, putting away most of your equipment and cleaning up any mess left backstage as you and your fellow stylists watched the boys performance on the monitors in the dressing room. The boys were performing Dionysus to perfection. Every move was as accurate as in rehearsal, even with the jet lag and exhaustion of the boys. They were used to it, they would say, but you always felt for them. Jimin was front and center doing his incredible solo spotlight as the boys made a V formation behind him to “Where the Party at” when it happened. Jimin’s voice squeaked and it came out rather profoundly on the monitors. The boys rarely made mistakes of any kind, or if they did it was largely overlooked by the audience, but there was no hiding this moment as he was the focal point.

You could tell by his face for that split second that he was shocked by his voice, but then he went right back to being the exceptional performer he was born to be. You forgot about it entirely until the moment the boys finished the performance and came back down the hallway to the dressing room. You were all crowded into one of the bigger rooms at the show, but even still it was hard to shove everyone in who accompanied the boys, but any crowd was quickly forgotten when you saw Jimin’s face.

He was puffy around the eyes and slightly red. His face was contorted with a grimace and there were definite tear tracks on his face. Tae had him under his arm, practically dragging him into the room. When he made it inside, he completely lost it. He started crying in earnest and fell to the floor against a wall as he shucked off his 3 million Won jacket and cast it in his makeup chair.

The makeup artist assigned to Jimin made no show of emotion as she took her kit and went to sit beside him on the floor to clean him up. She turned back toward you, who was still standing shell shocked in the middle of the room, and asked you to grab the dabbing paper from her station. You quickly went to her side and offered her the materials, which she quickly put to work. The boys would no doubt be called to stage at any time to accept one of their millions of awards they would win tonight, and there was no time for tears. You sat beside him as he attempted to get control of his emotions. RM was hovering as his stylists scurried around him and Tae was shouting praises to Jimin to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to help.

“Noona,” he said and your focus went back to his face and you saw he was looking at you as his makeup artist reapplied his eyeliner in a hurried fashion.

“Yes, Jimin?”

“I messed up. Did you see it?”

“See what?”

“Don’t joke,” he said as he adjusted his position and you tried not to make eye contact. You didn’t want him to know that, yes, you saw him, and yes, you noticed the mistake, because admitting it meant everyone saw it, everyone heard it. You wanted to distract from that, but you didn’t know how. You were quickly shuffling through a million statements you could make that would give comfort without making him feel worse, when you felt his hand slip into yours discreetly. You looked down and then straight into his eyes. What you found there had your heart beating wildly out of your chest. Such an open look of desire to be comforted, to be heard and understood, and it conveyed only a desire for honesty, and though you couldn’t ever verbalize how you knew that, you still KNEW.

You took a deep breath and looked around as all the boys and their stylists began to shuffle toward the door. Before long it would only be the three of you in here if you didn’t manage to get him up and out the door on time. His makeup artist was still going about her work with such wicked accuracy and precision that you marveled at her talent.

“You messed up?” you asked as your eyes were still on the makeup artist, “Who cares?”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you knew there was no going back. The makeup artist stopped her work and Jimin completely froze staring at you.

“You aren’t perfect, Jimin, and you aren’t made to be. Sometimes you are so insanely talented that I think the whole world forgets that you are just a guy. Just a man. And that’s ok.” At this you made eye contact with him and grabbed his hand more fiercely. Jimin was looking at you with a guarded expression, but his eyes were alight with tears or something else – you couldn’t tell.

“You know that, right? You know that you are perfect in your imperfections, even when you mess up?”

He blinked back at you but didn’t speak. The makeup artist looked at you and stood to leave the room to give you a moment. You couldn’t say why she did that, but some cosmic intervention must have made it happen, because as soon as she left you realized that you and Jimin were the only ones left in this room filled with half full garment racks, makeshift beauty stations and piles in every corner of the room filled with people’s belongings.

“Do you really think so?” He asked, bringing your attention back to his face.

“Think what?”

“That I’m perfect, even when I mess up.”

“Of course, I do! Life is messy, and it never goes according to plan, but that’s what makes it beautiful, people are the same.”

His eyes looked down in disappointment, but he wasn’t crying anymore so that was something, although that look made you confused as you felt like you were getting through to him, if not for that expression.

“You know, I failed my final exam in beauty school the first time.”

“You did?”

“I sure did. And if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be here.”

“What do you mean?”

You laughed at the open look of curiosity on his face, “My dream had always been to work for YG and I probably would have stayed there forever, but because I failed and my spot was taken I bounced around from job to job with company after company until no one would take me on except Bang PDnim. And now, all this time later, I’m stylist to the biggest group in the world. How is that for No More Dream?”

He smiled at you then and even chuckled lightly under his breath, but his eyes never left your face.

You looked into his open honest eyes for only a moment and yet it could have been days for how your heart began to beat out of your chest. It was one of those defining moments in life. As you looked into his perfect eyes, it was as though you were tied together in that moment, where two souls were speaking though your bodies were silent. It was not something you could verbalize and you didn’t want to. Time didn’t exist in that moment.

That is until you heard the bell alerting them of a commercial break, which would allow them the moment to go back to their seats on the stage. It woke you up and reminded you that you were still sitting on the floor with a pop star who needed to get to his seat before the gossip started. After his mistake on the stage, he didn’t need people speculating that he was backstage crying (even though it was true).

“Ok, let’s get you out there,” you said as you went to grab his bicep, which was surprisingly firm and strong for such a skinny man, but you had no time to think on it, as he interrupted you with your name. He never called you by your name.

“Wait,” he looked at you again in earnest and you felt the blush rise on your cheeks as you waited for him to say whatever he would say.

“I know you hate being the center of attention, and getting any kind of praise, but…thank you”

“You’re welcome, Ji-“

“And…I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but…” he looked behind your back at the door that now contained no one, “If this is my only opportunity, then…”

You had no idea what he was talking about and were about to turn around and head toward the door, no matter his requests for you to wait. He had to go.

But before you got fully turned toward the door, he grabbed you by your wrists and spun you to the wall behind the open door so you would be secluded, and then crashed his perfect plush lips on yours. You had often imagined what being kissed by Jimin would feel like. Soft, gentle, like pillows against your mouth, because his lips were so fluffy looking.

This was not that, though. He was rushed for time, so his lips were tight and brutal against your mouth. In a second, when you went to take a breath, his tongue was in your mouth stealing your hastily taken breath with the greed of his. His hands were in your hair, and his solid front was pressed firmly against yours. You were taken so off guard you forgot to respond to his kiss, to take advantage of running your hands through his hair that you had just styled a few hours previously and still looked gorgeously coifed. Instead you were practically paralyzed against the wall with hands at either side of your head, but as the heat of his body seeped into yours and the semi hardness in his pants connected with your softness, you gasped in pleasure suddenly.

The sound shocked him out of his trance and he stepped away apologizing profusely to you. Instead of listening to him wrongfully assume you weren’t into him, you decided to show him just how much he was wrong by grabbing him by his neck and merging your lips back together. Like two people starved of each other you grabbed and pulled and pushed with a fiery passion and one of your legs lifted off the floor to wrap around his waist as you rubbed your center against his front seeking friction from the only man you ever wanted between your legs for as long as you live. He growled and took your leg off his waist and set you back on your feet in a show of great restraint.

His head hit your chest as he tried to catch his breath and gain control back. The bell was ringing again to say the commercial break was over.

“Fuck,” he grunted out toward the floor as his face continued to be hidden from you. “I have to go back out there.”

“I wish you didn’t, but you are right and the others will be back soon,” you said referencing the other staff.

“Please know,” he said as he lifted his head and made eye contact with you, “this isn’t just physical for me.”

You took a shaky breath through your nose to gain control of your beating heart, “Same here.”

He smiled at that, wide and with his gorgeous eyes.

“I thought I was too old for you.”

He chuckled as he wiped his pants off from sitting on the floor, “I thought I was too young for you.”

He turned to leave as you heard familiar voices approaching.

“We aren’t done here,” he said as he pointed at you and then ran out of the room, just as the others returned to the room.

You stood at the door and watched him go. At the last minute, he turned and smiled at you and like the tease you always knew he was, he licked his bottom lip and bit it.

You knew you probably looked like a love sick puppy as you leaned on the doorway watching him go with a light blush on your cheeks, but you couldn’t help it.

Just before he went on stage, though, you ran out to him calling his name. As your cover you fluffed his hair that needed no fluffing, but to him you whispered, “Don’t call me noona anymore.”

He tried to hold in his laugh but leaned down as his eyes scanned the backstage to make sure no one was looking as he whispered back, “you got it baby. I’ll see you after.”

Then he winked and was gone.

_____________________________________________________________

You did your level best to focus on the performances and your cleanup of the back room until the end of the show that night, but you couldn’t help but relive that kiss over and over again in your mind. You had kissed Park Jimin! The most famous idol in Korea. The literal It Boy of the country, probably of all of Asia. He was beyond beautiful, talented, kind, funny, and did you mention gorgeous? You kept stealing views of his perfect flirtatious eyes in the monitors as you packed up your belongings and shuffled to load the Big Hit vehicles for the end of the show. Every time you caught his eye, you felt like he was looking straight back at you (which was silly since you knew he was just looking into the camera to make eyes at the fans).

After the show everyone was exhausted and piled into the black tinted windowed vehicles to lead them back to their hotels. BTS got a private floor of the fancy hotel designed for performers and the famous actors who presented the awards. You on the other hand were staff, and not just staff, but support staff, not managerial staff, like Sejin who stayed in the hotel with the boys so he was on hand in case of emergencies, and not like the body guards and personal assistants to the group. You were just a stylist. Suffice to say, you didn’t expect you would see him again tonight when you went back to your budget hotel down the block from the venue. Jimin had promised he wasn’t done with you (the thought of that statement made something in your lower stomach twist, even as your legs rubbed together), but surely the circumstances being what they were, that would be impossible.

You were winding down for the evening after washing your face and brushing out your hair and were about to put on a sleep mask and turn on some late night TV program to fall asleep to when your door rattled as a heavy hand hit the door. Like any self-respecting Millennial, you were immediately terrified at the prospect of an unexpected visitor, and ironically, your mind was so full of his kiss that you were beyond astonished and taken by surprise, when you opened the door to Park Jimin in the flesh. You would have pinched yourself to wake up from your obviously delusional dream, but then he started walking in through the door without invitation.

You backed into the room surprised as he threw the keys in his hand on the table and started shucking off his boots as he closed the door with his leg.

“You drove here?”

He nodded.

“How did you even find where I was staying?”

“I’m clever, and Sejin isn’t as protective of his planner as he thinks he is.”

In a moment, you were in his arms. If he had given you time to consider the state of the hotel room, with your belongings strung out across the bed, including your bra and underwear you planned to wear the next day, and your cosmetics strewn across the countertops and tables, you might have been embarrassed. Instead, he was like a man possessed as he took advantage of your surprise, like he had done that afternoon at the show, as well. In a rare moment of confidence, you wondered if he had imagined being with you like this as many times as you had imagined being with him.

His mouth encapsulated yours like he was afraid you would run away if he stopped. You were so incredibly consumed, you didn’t have one thought of stopping him. It was like a dream come true. And having him in this intimate environment that smelled like you and was filled with your things after the previous night’s stay, you felt your whole body come alive.

His hands were in your hair, but his arms were so tightly wrapped around you that every inch of your body felt sealed in his arms. As he walked with you in his arms toward the bed, you only had time to think about how good he smelled, like citrus and some kind of flower. In a word, he smelled delicious. And his body was so solid against yours, and hair and skin were so soft, which you knew because you couldn’t stop your hands from devouring him even as your mouth was completely drowned in his lips.

And GOD his lips. Were there two such lips anywhere else in the world that tasted, felt, and looked this beautiful? Not that you could see them right now as your eyes were rolled back in your head in ecstasy, especially as he drove his stiff shaft into your clothed center. You moaned wantonly and he pulled away to stare in your eyes. His face flushed and lips swollen, even more than usual, as he lay you down on the bed and leaned over you.

“Is this ok?” he asked and you sputtered out a yes in reply as his smiling face fell to devour you once again.

His hands began to loosen the ties on your robe and he slowly ground his heavy anatomy into your clit, which only furthered the fire in your belly.

“Please,” you started chanting as he ripped your robe open and quickly took up residence on your unclothed chest like a man starving. You whined wantonly, who could blame you? You had to remind yourself again that Park Jimin was the one currently running his perfectly pointed tongue over your pert nipple. As he did he moaned in a voice so deep you would have believed it was someone else if not for the evidence before you. His hands were soft as they ran across your sides and your ribs and gripped with his ring clad fingers on your waist. You found yourself growing wetter by the second as you imagined him bruising your hips with those ring clad fingers. It was a thought you often had when you watched his fingers wrap around his microphone when he performed.

“I can’t control myself,” he said, bringing you out of your trance. “If you don’t want this, tell me so now.”

“I want this!” you practically screamed as you lifted your hips to grind against his clothed member. He practically growled in response as he pulled away and stared at your unclothed body. He started to slowly remove his jacket and unbutton his white button up shirt. For your part, you lifted onto your elbows to drink him in, as you pulled your robe from underneath of you and threw it across the room. You were still wearing your underwear (thank god they were cute ones) but your upper body was bare and your hair was draped in what you hoped was a seductive way. He was biting his lip, meanwhile and slowly untucking his shirt from his pants as he, one arm at a time, removed his shirt. It was so hot and sultry, you felt another gush of liquid between your legs as you moaned. Jimin, for his part, seemed to grow more bold and flirtation the more you seemed to enjoy yourself. With the grace of a dancer, he stood to his full height as he finished shucking off his shirt and tossing it across the room. Until that moment you had been fully concentrated on his eyes, but you couldn’t deny that his perfectly sculpted stomach and chest were a very welcome distraction. You had never seen anything so perfect before in your life. From his honey skin, soft and smooth and free of blemish, to his dusky nipples that made your mouth water, you were ready to eat him alive right then and there. You lifted to do just that as you took in his muscular stomach and his sexy tattoo. Your hands followed the trail of your eyes and it took no time to dig in to the feast laid before you.

Your tongue was currently swirling around his perfect nipple, when a particularly high keening noise left Jimin’s mouth. His enjoyment encouraged you to be even more bold as your hand found the front of his trousers. He took a big inhale as your hand connected with his member. The softness of his balls as you brushed them made it even more extreme of a contrast as your hand connected with his engorged manhood. It made your mouth water as you imagined taking it into your throat.

With that thought you pulled away to make quick work of his pants. Jimin was vibrating, practically, with anticipation as his hands joined yours in removing his slacks. His belt flew across the room, and his pants and boxer briefs came off in one shot like lightning. Your eyes again devoured the man, and for the rest of forever you knew you would never see anything as beautiful as a naked Jimin. He blushed slightly as you took him in from head to toe. He knew what he looked like, but obviously was not used to being appraised so fully. His blush only increased his sexiness, so you decided to tell him.

“You are literally the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

His smile could have outshined the sun and in that moment you promised yourself that you would make an effort to be vocal with him to keep that smile on his face.

Now, with only your underwear as a barrier, you both finally realized the gravity of the situation as things got more serious. You began to crawl backward on the bed, as he went on hands and knees to chase you up the bed. You bit your lip and whined at the intensity in his eyes, and he growled at your wanton behavior.

In a second he was back on you and now his unclothed dick was the star as he rolled his hips into your center. You were already so close, it was embarrassing, but you didn’t even care. You wanted him: carnally, emotionally, in any way he would give you himself and you would thank him for any shred of it.

“More baby,” you heard yourself beg, “please, more! I want more, Jimin!”

His lips met yours as he gripped onto your lower lip and bit it, causing you to whine again.

“What do you want from me, Jagiya?”

Your eyes shot open at the use of that word, but it only brought a warmth in your heart as you answered his question.

“I want you to make love to me, Jimin. Please…”

He wasted no time as he descended down your body with open mouth kisses. His pillow lips making you so crazy you thought you could probably just come from his kisses, but he went too quickly down your body and before you knew it he was biting into your underwear to pull them down your legs.

You lifted up to watch and what you saw made your heart explode and your lower lips vibrate in anticipation. There before you were the eyes of a man possessed as he stared straight into your soul and his mouth wrapped around the lace of your underwear.

God he was sexy. He always had been, but nothing had prepared you for this. He hadn’t even brought you to orgasm yet and you were already certain that he was a sex God.

As your thoughts swirled with his perfection, his glorious lips took up the position of your underwear as he slowly but surely wrapped his perfect lips around your throbbing nub. Your panting intensified and you found your hands fisting in the sheets as he began to suck. In between sucks, he would moan about how wet you were for him and instead of being embarrassed you felt sexy and powerful. Jimin had the incredible ability to make you forget his status in a moment of passion and only feel how much he worshiped you. Or at least that was what he did to you.

His fingers meanwhile, found your entrance and as your lips quivered he plunged a ringed finger deep into your hole without warning. You whined loudly as you threw your head back in ecstasy against the pillows. You felt him moan into your nub as you did so, which only intensified your internal struggle. You began panting his name as he continued to assault your nub with licks and sucks as his curved tongue would periodically flick out and tease your lower lips, whilst his first finger took a completely different rhythm, driving into you with abandon. The contrast of feelings and intensity brought you to orgasm faster than you thought possible. With a gasp, and a sharp inhale, you felt your silent scream as it racked your body with shivers. As you came down, and the sensations began to settle into over sensitivity, Jimin’s tongue licked up your liquid heat like it was ice cream. He even sucked on his first finger from ring to tip as he sighed into it at the taste of your release.

You think you might be in love.

In no time he was climbing up your body and smiling at your ecstatic face. You were so fucked out, you had no thought to be embarrassed. Instead you hooked your legs on his perfect ass and pulled him into you.

“Put that perfect dick in me this instant,” you told him as you were out of breath.

“As you wish,” he giggled. With no hesitation he drove himself into you harshly, causing both of you to exhale a fluttered breath. His forehead made contact with your own in an intimate gesture as his perfect lips pouted out to connect with your lips in a feather light kiss. You could have cried at the intensity of his gaze as he slowly began to pump in and out of you.

His dick WAS perfect, as you had said. Just the right size, not too big, not too small, and thick to stretch you in all the right places. And more importantly, he knew how to use it. He lifted one of your legs to drape across his shoulder as he ground himself deep inside of you. You had always been completely convinced that the G spot was a mystical imaginary body part, made up by women who couldn’t tell the difference between an internal orgasm and a clit instigated orgasm, but you stood corrected. As his hips rolled in a movement you had often seen when he was on stage (though admittedly, had never seen quite like this!) you felt that foreign fire burning beneath his pressure. You were about to explode again as Jimin’s hips quickened. You watched his stomach muscles clench and pull taught over and over as his wave motions grew quicker by the second and his moans grew in intensity.

“Fuck, I forgot a condom!” He shouted even as his motions grew more rapid.

“I’m on the pill. Shut up and fuck me!” You panted as you met his movements with your hips.

“God, you feel so good, Jimin.” He moaned at your praise, so you continued practically in a whine, “you are so fucking sexy, I want all of you! I’m so close again. Your dick is perfect! You are amazing! Oh my God!”

And just like that you both grew silent as you crashed over the abyss together. Your high pitched squeal came out even as your lips quivered and squeezed him of every last drop. He meanwhile groaned into your neck as his cock spluttered out the last of his cum into your waiting heat.

It took a while before you regained your breath enough to speak and when you did, you instantly felt embarrassed at the openly affectionate look on his face.

“I couldn’t wait to have you. As soon as you said it wasn’t just physical for you either, I’ve thought of nothing else.”

“I guess I should have trusted you when you said you would find me after,” you laughed, as you brushed his hair away from his face as he fell down beside you. His member was slowly decreasing in size, but you made no effort to remove him from inside of you.

“You should always trust me when I make a promise,” he said with intensity in his eyes, but immediately turned shy, like the humble duality king you knew him to be. “I hope it is ok that I came here.”

“Obviously!” you said much too quickly and much too loudly, causing Jimin to giggle and whisper ‘cute’ under his breath.

“I didn’t plan to come here just to attack you, but then I saw you and I couldn’t resist.” His eyes were on fire and completely set on you.

“I’m glad you did,” you said with a blush as you looked at your hands as you covered your face, “I’m afraid I would have been a mess if you hadn’t broke the ice, so to speak.”

“Why?” He asked earnestly and you almost laughed at how clueless he seemed.

“You have to be kidding.” When he didn’t respond, you sat up and looked him straight into his eyes as he lay back against your pillows. “You are Park Jimin, Lead Vocalist and Main Dancer of the Biggest Band in the world. It Boy of Korea, and literally the sexiest man alive.”

He smiled cockily at that last comment and asked you if you really thought so, but when you quieted him, he turned more sober.

“I get it. But all those things mean is I’m completely unavailable. My life is my job. I don’t have a lot I can offer.”

You tried to contradict him, but he stopped you with a hand on your mouth.

“Despite this…I find myself wanting to risk it all to be near you. I’ve been trying to get your attention for months, ever since you took a more primary role on my styling. I won’t lie to you, you are beautiful, gorgeous even, but I try my best not to pay attention to beautiful faces when I know it isn’t a good idea to get involved, but then you say things to me that completely change my outlook on something, or heal me with just a word, and I can’t help it…”

You were frozen in a seated position on that bed. Your cheeks were on fire at hearing this confession, and you opened your mouth to return the praise, but he stopped you with a kiss.

“Will you let me call you Jagiya? Can I be with you despite all the challenges?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he stopped you again.

“Before you answer, please think about it. We won’t be allowed to have a regular relationship. Not only will we have to be secretive with the outside world, but we will have to be secretive with the company as well. It’s never explicitly said, but I’m not publicly allowed a relationship, and in the eyes of the company this means – they don’t want to know about any exploits we have. As such, even at work, we will have to keep it a secret. Are you ok with that?”

Even with these challenges, you didn’t even hesitate when you accepted him, just as he is and promised to have him in whatever way he was able to give you.

With that he smiled like a man truly content, and his eyes swam with unshed tears, as he fell down beside you in bed. His chin upon your shoulder, as his lips coasted across your neck.

It didn’t take long for things to escalate again.

To say the least, you didn’t sleep much that night. Nor would you again for the foreseeable future.

[wayward-wlw]

A Day in the Sun

I hope I haven’t missed the deadline on wedding posting! Here’s a Claire-centric wedding fic :) 

AO3 Link 

*** 

They aren’t her dads.

Claire’s pretty insistent about that, because she had a dad. Sure, she has issues with Jimmy. She still feels a little abandoned, still thinks he was an idiot, sometimes she’s pinned with a rage so sharp and bright it scares her, just because she thought about the choice he made when she was just a kid.

But the rage passes, and she remembers that he was her dad, and for the first nine years of her life, he did okay at that.

(Now that she’s a hunter, she’s learned that having an okay dad for nine whole years is an anomaly in this business, something to be grateful for.)

Jimmy was her dad, so Dean and Cas are just Dean and Cas.

Except once at Cas’s bachelor party.

She’d had a bit to drink. She’d actually had a lot to drink, snuck carefully whenever everyone was too busy toasting Cas or dancing to notice what was in her glass. The world had gotten round and had started to spin just enough to make it seem more fun. She’d started dancing, clinging to Kaia with sweaty palms and swinging her around with abandon, her head thrown back while she laughs.

After a while they’d both sat down to watch the festivities, and Kaia had slumped over, her head in Claire’s lap, and Claire had stroked her hair and smiled at Jody and Cas dancing, making up for their complete lack of skill with sheer enthusiasm. 

The word had been like a bucket of ice poured over her head, launching her into something closer to sobriety. 

After a while even she had started to doze off, and that’s when Cas had come over, shaking her awake to help her back to the motel room.

She remembers swatting at his hand when he’d tried to help her stand. “’M fine, dad.” 

Cas froze, his hand an inch from her arm. “Claire—” 

She hadn’t known whether to try to laugh it off, or to pretend it hadn’t happened, but she’d been drinking, and suddenly that word had seemed so big and so important and so distant that there were tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to ruin the makeup she’d worked so hard to make look this careless. 

Carefully, Cas stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder, giving her plenty of time and space to pull away. 

Cas didn’t smell like Jimmy, didn’t even really look like him anymore. He moves differently and talks differently, and when she leaned into him in that moment, he hadn’t hugged her the same way she remembered Jimmy hugging. 

And that, strangely, was okay. 

When she’d stepped away from Cas, still a little teary, Jody had stepped in, and then Alex had crushed in on her other side, and Patience, her extra senses dulled with alcohol, hadn’t even noticed Claire’s little misspeak, so she shouted “Group hug!” 

And suddenly Claire was surrounded on all sides, and Cas is crushed against her, the button on his stupid coat pushing into her cheek hard enough that she thinks it’ll leave a mark. 

Now all laughing, Claire’s mistake and outburst forgotten, everyone had filed out and back towards the motel while Donna began a joyfully off-key rendition of Piano Man that should have gotten them all arrested. 

When she wakes up, it all comes flooding back to her, and Claire is left with the very firm reminder that they are not her dads. 

She leaves the crowd and the noise of wedding preparations to sit on the impala. As long as Dean doesn’t need to go anywhere, she’ll be left alone here, which is exactly what she wants. 

She looks up, afraid she’d somehow called him because she’d been thinking about him, even though he said it didn’t work like that anymore. “Cas.” 

She needs to think, get her head sorted out before she goes back in among the guests and the joy and the excitement.

“Claire?” 

“Are you… alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You were drinking last night—” 

Claire rolls her eyes. “You going to lecture me?” 

He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. “No. How’s your head? I’m told sometimes there are headaches.” 

“Fine,” She says, without bothering to tell him about the ibuprofen she’d already taken and would need to take again soon. 

“Good.” 

They’re silent for a minute, and a bird starts singing shrilly from a nearby tree. 

“Last night—”

“Sorry about—” 

They both stop and look at each other, but Cas gestures for her to go on.

“Uh, sorry about what I said last night,” She says, scuffing her foot in the dirt, refusing to look at him. Jimmy’s face, Cas’s face. Dad’s face.

He seems surprised, from what she can tell without looking at his face.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” He says slowly, as if he’d had a speech prepared, but she’d already gone off-script.

“Why?” She asks.

“I… I’m not your father.”

Claire laughs a little raggedly. “I know, dumbass.”

He frowns at her language. “Really, Claire. I’m sure this must be… difficult for you.”

She laughs again, but this time there’s no humor in it at all. “That’s the problem,” She admits. “It’s not that difficult at all.”

He tilts his head, the funny, curious puppy dog look he probably should have stopped doing a long time ago. “I don’t understand.” 

She shrugs, chewing on her nail. “I don’t know, I guess… you fill the void, or something.” 

“Last night… I didn’t call you dad because you look like Jimmy,” She admits, looking away, trying to find the bird in the tree so that she doesn’t have to see his reaction to her confession.

“You…” 

Cas nods slowly. “Family doesn’t end with blood,” He says, and it sounds like he’s quoting someone. 

“Sounds like something Dean would say.” 

“Something someone said to him.” 

Cas leans into her arm, bumping against it just hard enough for her to know it was intentional, and waits for her to look at him. 

When she finally does, he smiles. “I’m very glad you’re here. I don’t—I don’t have a lot of family left, and what I had wasn’t… ideal.” 

“No one’s family is ideal,” Claire says, then has to pause to wonder if he’s seen the breakfast club, and if she needs to add that to the family movie night list. 

“Mine might have been a little bit messier than most,” He says. “But… I want you to know that I’m very honored that you’ve let me be your family, Claire. It’s—” 

“If you say some stupid bullshit about not deserving it, I’ll punch you,” Claire says, softening her words with a smile. 

“For what?” 

He puts his hands up, conceding the point. “Truly, thank you, Claire.”

She flushes, looking away and swallowing a sudden lump in her throat. “Yeah, uh, thank you, too.” 

She shrugs, digging the toe of her sneaker into the dirt. “You came back.”

Carefully, Cas puts his arm around her, and she goes willingly, leaning against his chest.

“Sometimes I hate him, you know,” Claire admits.

“Claire—”

She doesn’t let him try to take the blame for Jimmy’s choice. “I hated him for leaving, but… if he hadn’t done it, if you hadn’t picked him… I never would have become a hunter. I never would have met Kaia or Jody or Alex or Patience or Dean or Sam. They’re my family too. I wouldn’t trade any of it.” 

Cas nods. “Half the people at our wedding have tried to kill us. Dean and I have tried to kill each other. Love is very complicated sometimes.” 

She laughs. She’s heard the stories, but it’s still hard to picture Dean and Cas fighting, aside from their snippy little arguments. They love each other; it’s clear as day. She can’t really make herself believe they’d ever hurt each other, even though she knows they have.

Not that it really matters. All’s well and all that.

“So…” She smiles hesitantly. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

The smile that splits Cas’s face is so wide it seems to involve his entire body. The sun gets brighter, as if he’s turned up the saturation on the whole world.

“Yes, I am.”

“Nervous?” She asks.

He shakes his head. “Why would I be?”

“People usually are, I think.” Claire hasn’t been to a wedding since she was a kid, when she’d been a flower girl in her mom’s friend’s wedding, and this doesn’t feel anything like that.

Cas shrugs. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I love Dean, and he loves me.” He smiles, like the idea of that is still new and incredible. 

“Are you ready?” He asks.

“Glad you two finally figured that one out, it was getting a little embarrassing.”

Cas rolls his eyes, and Claire smiles.

“For…”

“Your speech at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

“Yeah,” She lies. “Absolutely. I have it all worked out.”

“It’s all ready,” She assures Cas. “But, uh, I should go practice.”

Later, she will run to Jody, with Kaia’s hand gripped in hers, and force them both to sit down and work out a speech with her. (“How do I start?”

“Start with a funny story about him, or like, when you met or something.”

“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to celebrate the guy who possessed my dad, and the man who didn’t think that was weird.”

“Okay, maybe not that.”)

He smiles and hugs her quickly. “I should go find Dean.”

“Isn’t it bad luck or something to see him?”

“We’ve already had all our bad luck.”

It takes about four hours of work for her, Jody, and Kaia to get something usable onto the notecard. Claire isn’t sure that it’s perfect, but she thinks it’s as close as it’ll be, so when Kaia squeezes her hand as the rehearsal dinner is starting and asks, “Are you ready?” Claire smiles and says yes.

She steps up and takes the microphone from Jack, whose speech was his usual blend of baffling and adorable. He gives her n enthusiastic thumbs up, and she smiles back, taking a deep breath before she turns to face the crowd.

“Someone told me once that family doesn’t end with blood.” 

Dean’s mouth drops open, and his eyes go glassy as he reaches for Cas’s hand. Claire has to fight around a lump in her throat to keep going.

“We can’t let it, in this job, because a lot of us lose our blood family.” Claire thinks about Jimmy and her mom, and family dinners that always started with a prayer.  “And sometimes we’re mad about it. Sometimes we try to get revenge.”

She locks eyes with Sam and Dean. She knows their story, knows how it started.

Then she looks at Cas. “But sometimes it’s easier to let go of being angry and just… live. I’m glad I picked the other, because if I decided to get revenge on the angel that possessed my dad—” There’s an uncomfortable ripple of laughter through the crowd “—I would have missed out on the best backup family I could have found.”

She raises her glass to Dean and Cas. “You guys aren’t my dads, but whatever you are, I love you, and I’m happy for you. Congratulations.”

She manages to sit down and hide her face in a sip of champagne before the first tear breaks free.

[arcade-conspiracy]

Hey! can I request a bnha & death note romantic matchup?

I’m a Capricorn sun (cancer moon and libra rising) I have brown eyes and blonde hair (bleached) i’m 5’6 with a slim build. I love art like drawing and painting, art history, and baking! & actually majoring in biomedical engineering lol

I absolutely love to hang out with my friends and being spontaneous like just going out for coffee (im addicted to Starbucks and I’m lactose intolerant lol) or to a museum or just talking. I HATE bugs and I cry if one is ever near me lol.

I’m b l i n d so always wearing my glasses haha also I love having a sense of humor and i’m always making jokes out of everything. I also have anxiety and can be way too emotional sometimes. I’m an ENFP & also I love tie dye clothes, makeup, and everything pastel. (Definitely art hoe aesthetic)

My love language is probably receiving/giving gifts and words of affirmation.

My ideal date would probably be going out to eat, and to a museum or an aquarium or something fun that we can explore. I also love just going to the mall and walking around and I might be addicted to shopping. I really don’t like to be outside too much bc of the bugs so no hiking or camping or anything like that

Thank you sm!!

You didn’t put a gender preference, or if you did I missed it. Hopefully this is okay! If it’s not, I’ll gladly rewrite! <3

I match you with,,,

Misa Amane!

Yeah she’s kind of a lot but she’s also very passionate when she believes in something,, in other words she’s borderline obsessed with you in a good way

Literally will not be leaving your side unless you force her away. She wants to be close to you at all times

Slightly a possessive thing, slightly just cause she likes talking to you, watching you do things, just being around you in general

Shopping dates! Oh my lord, the amount of time that she’s taken you shopping is insane

She always makes you try on things she finds cute, and makes you watch her try on cute stuff too

It’s fun for the both of you, and she has the money to be doing it all the time, so she figures why the hell not!

You know that photo of the girl doing the other girls makeup? Yeah, that’s you guys

She will gladly let you do her makeup if she thinks you’re good at it but she also really loves doing yours too

It can be a really intimate thing and she knows you’ll both come out looking cute af!

She gets being over emotional about everything, let’s be real, so she’ll try her best to understand

Hype queen! Will be complimenting you constantly!

She just says what she’s thinking most of the time, and she definitely thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous among every other positive word in the book, so she’s gonna make sure you know

Izuku Midoriya!

He can also be a lot, in a completely different way, but honestly he’s just so sweet at the end of the day

Would adore to take you to a museum, or someplace similar, especially if it’s a museum of something he’s knowledgeable in, or something you’re knowledgeable in

He loves telling people information, but he also loves hearing people talk to him! Especially when it’s you, or it’s something you’re really into!

He is suuuppeeerrr understanding and patient, especially with you

If you’re ever anxious, he is quick to reassure you and he’ll 10/10 do whatever he can to make you feel better

He also doesn’t mind you having any “extra” strong emotions, I mean, he has some pretty intense emotions himself sometimes. It’d be hypocritical if he was bothered by it, haha!

His love language isn’t exactly words of affirmation, but more just encouragement

He gets too nervous trying to actually compliment you or anything of that sort, so he tends to just throw out anything motivating and positive he can think of!

Not super into impulse hang outs or last minute plans, but he’ll put up with them if you’re the one dragging him along

He does enjoy himself, it can just be jarring randomly being pulled into an outing like that! If it’s with you, he’s okay with it, though,,

[shining-red-diamond]

Shallow Waters (Part IV)

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Hendery x Brittany (OC)

Rating: PG-15

Genre: fluff, some angst

Warnings: mentions of the reproductive system and childbirth, brief partial nudity (nothing graphic)

Euphoria was all Brittany was high off of as soon as she kissed Hendery. Even on their walk back to her house, she couldn’t shake the feeling of overwhelming happiness and love. She knew she liked her friend, but when they held hands earlier she had a hunch that it possibly was about to turn into something more. The kiss on the beach under the full moon confirmed it.

“So,” she smiled once they got back into the house, “does this mean we’re together now?”

“As in ‘lovers?’” Hendery asked. He had the terms ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ before, but more among the adolescents and a few adult humans. They just sounded so mundane to him and preferred the term “lover.” To him, it actually meant the one he’s with was meant for him.

“Yeah.”

“Hendery thought he had always been Brittany’s.”

Brittany giggled. “I guess everything was confirmed tonight.”

With a smile, Hendery leaned down and kissed her again, this time with more passion and eagerness to where he had now picked her up slightly.

When he broke the kiss, Brittany asked him, “Would you like to live here? With me?”

Hendery thought for a moment. Move in with the woman he was in love with? It would mean not finding a spare rock to sleep on or moving around so much. He would have a place to call “home.” The ocean was right there in the backyard, and there was water inside the house.

“Hendery will live with Brittany,” he nodded.

“You will?” she smiles.

The merman cups her face and whispers, “He will, because Hendery loves Brittany.”

Brittany smiled at him for a moment before she whispered back, “Brittany loves Hendery, too.”

Pulling her into a hug, he couldn’t stop smiling. There was no doubt in his mind that he had found his mate. He didn’t care that she was a human, or that he was a merman. All he knew was that his heart wanted her and to be with her for as long as he lived.

Brittany pulled back and yawned a little. “I think I’m about ready to go to bed.”

Hendery nodded as he felt tiredness consume him as well.

“Where will Hendery sleep?” he asked as he followed her to the bedroom.

“If you’re comfortable,” she replied as they reached it, “the bed is big enough for two.”

The mattress was queen-sized and covered in blush pink sheets and a grey comforter. A few pillows decorated the head of it, and a large knit blanket sat folded at the foot of the bed.

“Is the bed comfortable?” Hendery replied as he poked the mattress.

“Very,” she smiled, “it’s not gonna bite you.”

Hendery chuckled at her joke.

Show then showed him how to turn down the bed sheets before excusing herself to change into her pj’s. Hendery undressed himself but left his boxer shorts on (Brittany promised to take him shopping soon), and when she returned a large yellow t-shirt and some shorts covered her body. Her face was clean of her makeup, and Hendery’s heart picked up speed as soon as he saw her bare face.

“Brittany looks so beautiful,” Hendery smiled.

Her cheeks turned red as her hair upon his comment.

“It’s only my pajamas,” she giggled as she started turning off the lights, leaving only a starry sky projector on as a night light.

“She’s still beautiful,” he insisted, his eyes following her as she crawled under her bedsheets.

Hendery followed suit, lying down on the cushiony pillow and facing her. Brittany faced him as well, and the indigo light from the projector outlined her features. His fingers lightly stroked the smooth skin on her cheeks. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he felt to love someone so beautiful and full of light. Her loving him back seemed like a dream only that morning until their kiss on the beach.

Brittany had always wanted to love someone, but never in a million years would she fall for someone only specified in fairytales. Hendery was real, and he was hers. She was his. Nothing could separate them now.

“Comfy?” she chuckled after a while.

“And warm,” Hendery smiled. “Can Hendery hold Brittany?”

Without a second thought, she scooted over to him, snuggling into his side. His bare skin was warm as they wrapped their arms around each other.

“Is this how humans sleep?” he whispered, his lips ghosting her forehead.

“One of the ways,” his lover answered. “Typically, couples sleep intimately like this. Just holding each other in a loving embrace.”

“Hendery has seen merfolk together in such a way. Their ways of showing love are similar to humans.”

“Have you ever been with a mermaid before?” Hendery shook his head. “Mermaids were afraid he would hurt them with his teeth. Hendery has never been with anyone, because he is different.”

Brittany kissed him right beneath his jawline, and he blushed.

“Physically, yes,” she nodded. “However, they missed on getting to know the Hendery that I know. The Hendery who loves to learn about the world around him, who knows how to tell amazing stories about creatures only humans know to be legends, and the man who loves with all of his heart. Despite the two rows of teeth top and bottom, the only thing you tear into raw fish.”

Everything she said was the absolute truth. Hendery wasn’t a confrontational being. Sure, he was protective over the ones he loved and cared for, but he would never fight anyone for no reason. He hated that his sharp teeth scared some beings off; his lover reminded him that he could do more than just eat or fight with them. He hoped that one day his teeth would be a useful tool somehow.

Brittany, although not a mermaid or creature of the deep, was the first female he had ever had any sort of connection with. All of friends knew his future wouldn’t be a sea inhabitant, but Hendery knew Brittany was the one for him.

“I love you, Hendery,” she whispered before closing her eyes.

“Hendery loves Brittany, too,” he replied before kissing her forehead.

-

Thunder and raindrops tapping on the window awoke Hendery the next morning. He was facing the large window, and the curtains were open just a little bit. The sky was covered by a blanket of dark clouds, and lightning flashed every few seconds. Flipping his body over to snuggle Brittany, he discovered nothing but an empty space where she would be.

Any feeling of panic quickly dissolved as the scent of something cooking entered his nostrils. He climbed out of bed and walked down the hall to find Brittany cooking in the kitchen. Her pajamas still hugged her body, and her hair was now tied up in a messy bun.

As if she sensed his presence, she turned around and smiled when she saw him.

“Good morning, babe,” she greeted before approaching him with a kiss.

“Good morning,” he smiled as his arms snaked around her waist. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs and French toast. I have your fish set out for you, but you’re welcome to try some of what I made.”

“Brittany knows Hendery’s stomach can only handle fish,” he reminded her.

“I was just curious.”

He kissed her forehead. “Hendery appreciates Brittany’s offer.”

“The fish is on the table,” she smiled as Hendery sat on the bar stool. “Ever had rainbow trout before?”

Hendery smiled open seeing his meal on the plate. “Hendery’s favorite.”

As the two ate their breakfast, they pondered over what they could do as it was raining out. The beach was out of the question until the storm blew over, so their only option was to remain indoors. However, Hendery could still get his hydration from a bath. He also wanted a lesson in something else that wasn’t grammar or language related.

“Could Brittany teach Hendery about humans?” he requested.

“As in how they behave, or…?”

“How their bodies work. Hendery guesses they’re similar to merfolk.”

“An anatomy lesson,” Brittany clicked together. “It’s a lot, but I’ll teach what I know.”

“Everything?”

“Everything that I know. I’m not a doctor, but I’ll try.”

Hendery grinned. He then realized he was starting to feel a little dehydrated, so he requested to take a bath. His lover obliged and quickly cleaned up the kitchen before heading to the bathroom to get everything ready. Hendery has stripped himself of his boxers, but Brittany made no avail to look at him. She wanted to give him privacy.

“Can the water be cold?” he requested as she started to fill up the tub.

“Sure,” she nodded as she adjusted the temperature. “Was it too warm yesterday?”

“It was fine, but Hendery likes cold water. It reminds him of the ocean, and it’s better for his health.”

“Ice cold or just chilly?”

“Moderate.”

Brittany nodded, and soon enough the tub was filled with water in the desired temperature. The merman stepped in and sat down, transforming into his merman form at will. His lover left the bathroom and returned with a large textbook and a stool. She scooted the stool close to the tub and placed her book on the floor next to it. She then went over to the shower and pulled out the soaps for hendery to cleanse himself with.

Hendery only needed hydration, but after his first bath he was starting to enjoy cleaning himself and seeing how shiny his purple tail was in the light.

“Are you okay with candles?” Brittany checked as she pulled an unused, pink candle from another cabinet.

“Candle?” Hendery had heard the word around, but never really knew what it was or meant.

“It’ll just help the bathroom smell good.”

“Oh, okay. What scent?”

“Strawberry blossom. I’m someone who likes floral and fresh scents.”

The moment she lit the candle with a match, the aroma invaded Hendery’s nostrils. He had smelled strawberries and their blossoms before, but it had been a while; and this candle smells exactly like it.

“Nice,” he smiled. “Hendery likes this scent.”

Brittany just smiled as she put away the matches.

Once she sat down on the stool, she picked up her book and opened it. It was only a teacher’s edition of a high school anatomy book, but it had every human body system and was easy to follow. As Hendery listened to the anatomy lesson, he carefully lathered his torso and tail with the sweet smelling soaps Brittany had for him to use. He paid very close attention to everything that poured out of his lover’s mouth and memorized every diagram that was shown to him from the cardiovascular system all the way to the endocrine system.

The reproductive system, however, made him nervous. Males and females were the same up until that area of the anatomy. He had seen a dolphin being born, but never a human nor merfolk. The thought of childbirth being a painful process for the woman was hard for his mind to wrap around. Having a family of his own seemed exciting to Hendery, especially with the woman he loved, but he hated the thought of her in excruciating pain from just having a baby.

“Hendery is scared that if Brittany gets pregnant it will hurt her,” he declared, worry laced in his voice.

Brittany blinked. She wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. How was she to answer that?

“Well,” she said once she came out of her stupor, “childbirth has been painful since the dawn of time. Most human babies are born in hospitals, and the mom can get what’s known as an epidural to ease the pain.”

“What about when the child is in the female?” he asked.

“From what my cousins have told me, it can be uncomfortable; but every woman who goes through pregnancy has different experiences.”

Hendery was silent but gave a nod in understandment.

“Does Brittany want a baby?” he blurted out.

Brittany sighed, but not in anger or disappointment, just unsure. Of course, she wanted kids of her own one day; but she had only known Hendery for almost two months and was now his lover.

“You have a way with words, my love,” she gave a soft smile. “But one day, I will.”

“Hendery didn’t mean now,” he defended. “Just whenever his love feels ready.”

Before she gave him a soft kiss, she responded with a smile, “I’ll let you know.”

Setting the book on the counter, Brittany scooted her stool closer to Hendery in order to kiss him properly. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and his water soaked arms pulled her into a hug. When she was too distracted by his lips, Hendery decided to pull her into the tub, the cold water catching her by surprise as she squealed out.

“Dude, it’s ice and soapy!” Brittany squealed as they both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Hendery felt playful,” he replied as he attacked her cheek with multiple kisses.

“I figured that,” she giggled as her shorts and giant shirt stuck to her body. “At least I was still in my pjs.”

-

Tags: @strawberryguema @ezralia-writes @not-majestic-bluenicorn @queen-of-himbos @dearyongs @daybreakx @jaekissd  @lilhwahwa @fantasywayv​ @philosopher-of-fandoms​ @the32ndbeat​ @dreamystuffers​

[magioftheseas]

Sound Bites

For @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Biting taken from here.

Rating: M

Warnings: Past abusive relationships (courtesy of Junko) with all that entails, and things aren’t exactly healthy now, either. Violence, often interplaying with sexual content. While it’s not that graphic, it’s still not very safe. Please read the tags on Ao3.

Notes: I ended up having to re-do this prompt because I’m dumb. So I threw it into this fic. I was requested a Sayaka/Ibuki confrontation post-drIF and yep. Here it is. SayaBuki is underrated. 

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

When Sayaka sings, it’s like the world is on clouds. Always with a radiant smile on her face, her voice is the air under its wings, soaring and lifting without a care in the world. Sweet, precious, perfect—a real darling, that Sayaka.

She’s looking quite meek and modest now. Even in the plainest attire of a drab black suit and her hair tied up—with not even much makeup to hide the deep circles underneath her shimmering gaze... Well. There was no denying that loveliness of hers would be enough to get people throwing themselves at her feet for her to walk over.

“God, Sayaka-chan!” she can’t help but gush as Sayaka flinches from the boom of her voice. “You’re still so hot! What a sexy, sexy girl you still are! Hahaha!”

“Mioda-san,” Sayaka returns, stiff but polite. Urgh, what a dull tone of voice—but hadn’t Sayaka always spoken to her that way? From the very start? Most mainstream artists did save for Junko. Oh, Junko.

Junko, Junko, Junko.

To think Sayaka stood in front of her here and now when Ibuki was sure that she’d meet her end at Junko! It’s enough to make her mournfully strum her guitar.

“To think Mukuro-chan would betray her like that,” she cackles. “Well! Now I can be face-to-face with Sayaka-chan again!”

Sayaka holds a megaphone so tightly in her hand that her knuckles are whiter than the pure side of Monokuma. Despite that, her stare isn’t quite so dark as the dirty side of Monokuma.

“How about a duet, Sayaka-chan?” she purrs, offering her hand. She can’t keep it steady and her palm’s all sweaty. “Sayaka-chan? Sayaka-chan? Sayaka-chan? We never did get a chance to play together.”

Sayaka’s lips pull into a thin line and gosh, she really does have the pinkest lips. They’re a little chapped now but Ibuki still wants to pry them open and slip past the seam, down into Sayaka’s throat. Hadn’t Sayaka been screaming through that gun of hers to get this far in the first place? Well, unfortunate for Sayaka because Ibuki has always been a screamer.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Sayaka says, then. “I didn’t want to believe that Mioda-san was really...”

Ibuki can’t help but laugh and holler at that.

“You can’t?! You seriously can’t?! Sayaka-chan—you would’ve been the first murderer in the killing game had things gone just a little differently!”

Ah. And look at Sayaka flinch. But—look at just how quickly Sayaka regains her ground and lifts the megaphone so that it’s between them, but still pointed at Ibuki’s feet rather than her face. At her feet, feet, feet, where she’s gotten how many people throwing themselves in despair? What feeling would come from Sayaka being among them?

Hah. What a weird, almost unpleasant thought. She doesn’t want that! It’d be despairing!

Which is why she should absolutely go for it.

“Sayaka-chan,” she grabs her mic. “I’ve written a song for you! Just! For you! All Your Friends Are Scattered AND Utterly Slaughtered! Boo-Hoo! Upupupu! Please, give it a listen!”

And just as she takes her biggest breath, Sayaka—

Is quick.

Too quick.

Rewind, rewind, rewind.

Let’s rewind a little.

--

When did it all start? Was it when everyone else left the band? When she was skulking around the streets—until, until, until Sayaka appeared on the screen? An upcoming star, she still shone brightly, especially when surrounded by her friends. What a beautiful girl she was and only a year younger!

Ooh, how Ibuki longed to share her stage and to be the focus of the stars in her eyes!

But, the songs Sayaka sang were the kinds that Ibuki’s ex-band loved and wanted to emulate.

“Can’t you be like her?” they’d ask. “Why don’t you want to be like her? You like Sayaka-chan too, right? Ibuki-chan? Don’t you like her?”

And of course, she did! Of course, of course, of course! She’s screamed Sayaka’s name louder than anyone else! She’s sure of it!

But—she had her own style that wasn’t the same as Sayaka’s style. What was wrong with that? What was up with people not getting that?

There was nothing wrong with Sayaka’s way...just like there was absolutely positively nothing wrong with Ibuki’s way.

Nothing at all.

Nothing at all.

--

“Sayaka-chan! What do you think? Wouldn’t we play beautiful music together?”

“Mm, our styles are pretty different, Mioda-san.”

“All the more reason we should clash violently!”

Sayaka just laughs.

“I’d rather not do anything violent, Mioda-san.”

Just like that.

Just like that.

--

“Mioda-san.” Aah, the memory of Sayaka approaching her first and looking like an angel when cast against the orange light. How Sayaka walks in, biting her lips and looking quite troubled. “How are you?”

“How am I?” She almost screeches, unable to stop herself from giggling. “I’m doing great, Sayaka-chan! Great, great, great! Especially now that you’re here!”

And when Sayaka comes closer, she imagines it going all sorts of ways. Taking Sayaka’s face into her hands and kissing the way Junko does because sometimes��sometimes, words just aren’t enough for how she feels! Sometimes, she’s gotta pull the other close and spin them round and round!

And gosh, Sayaka’s nibbling so much at her own mouth already. Ibuki wants a nibble, too. Just a little. Just wants to take those plush lips between her teeth and nip, nip, nip.

“You’ve changed,” Sayaka murmurs, then. “Are you sure that everything’s alright?”

“Why wouldn’t they be, especially when Sayaka-chan’s here,” Ibuki dizzily asks, taking her hands and squeezing. God, Sayaka’s so cute. So fucking cute. What an angel. An actual fucking angel.

Take her, a voice whispers to her. Take her far, far away. Pluck off her pretty little wings and keep her.

“Mioda-san,” Sayaka utters, urgent now and leaning in. Ibuki immediately leans in, too. “Did someone bite you?”

“Ah.”

--

Junko did bite.

She bit so hard.

So very, painfully hard.

It was like she was trying to tear Ibuki’s lip off.

It made her want to cry, but—but, but, but—

Junko...

Junko, Junko, Junko...

--

“What a beautiful face!” Junko had squealed, cupping her face. “It’s so despairing! Uwah!”

And she pressed so close. So very, painfully close. Pressing close to her. Biting her. Over and over and over.

--

She didn’t like being that close. Holding hands, maybe even kissing was fine. But that—that intimacy wasn’t what she wanted. And isn’t it despairing to not want the intimacy of someone you love?

Maybe that was why Junko dug her teeth and nails in so deep.

Maybe.

Maybe.

--

Despite that, Mukuro was still able to slip away, wasn’t she?

And for what? For what?

“T-There’s something...” Sayaka, clasping her hands, shaken but resolute. “There’s something I have to tell you, Kuwata-kun.”

Do you really think you’ll be forgiven, Sayaka-chan? Ibuki had wondered dully. If it were that easy, then things wouldn’t have turned out like this.

--

Despite that, when Sayaka crashed her concert with the other members of the Future Foundation, she had moved with such purpose. Shouting into her megaphone, disarming whatever members of the crowd she can. Obviously, Ibuki had heard. She had heard everything.

“I’ll take care of Mi—the remnant!” Sayaka had shouted. “Get everyone you can to safety! I’ll break the speakers!”

“Maizono-san!”

“Just go! I’ll be fine! I promise!” Ibuki had heard the smile in her voice and was sure that it was as dazzling as her voice sounded in the moment. “Please, have hope I’ll pull through!”

And where had Sayaka learned that hope from? Was it the same guy that Mukuro fell for? Aah, Ibuki doesn’t even remember his face.

But she would never forget Sayaka’s uttered words not meant for anyone or anything else.

“Mioda-san... How could you?”

--

How beautiful Sayaka had been when she cut through the crowd. How blinding she was now when she screamed now. And how their voices clash and collide! It was the duet that Ibuki had always wanted with Sayaka—from the second she first saw Sayaka on the screen, she wanted them to share the stage like this, screaming their hearts out.

Sayaka, prim and pristine idol Sayaka—looked so twisted up. Like a coil. It’s all let loose. And even though she hasn’t performed in so long, she’s not a pushover. She matches Ibuki toe to toe, screeching her heart out and Ibuki can even hear the speakers crumble under the weight of her voice, amplified by the megaphone.

Aah, it makes her ears sing along! It’s so vibrant that even her brain is getting scrambled up—it’s so much that it’s hard to think!

There’s blood slicking the strings of Ibuki’s guitar. The stage is cracking beneath their feet. It’s cracking and cracking and now that she’s had everything she could’ve ever wanted, the world’s falling apart.

Yahoo! How despairing! How very, very despairing!

Aah. Aaaaaaah.

Everything falls apart. She loses her balance so she can’t play as she topples backward. Immediately, Sayaka stops with a sharp, horrified, and hoarse gasp. The last thing Ibuki sees is Sayaka lurching out, hand extended. Fingers all spread out.

She remembers—Sayaka’s nails had always been so perfectly polished. But, sometimes, she had callouses.

She remembers. Junko had the longest fingers and the longest nails. At least. They sure felt that way when shoved down Ibuki’s throat.

Letting out a garbled whimper, Ibuki squeezed her eyes tight, luxuriating in Sayaka’s last scream.

“MIODA-SAN!”

Haha, isn’t that weird? She thought to herself. Sayaka-chan sounds even more frantic than she did during our battle. If you keep that up, I’ll fall for you for real. Sayaka-chan... Sayaka-chan...

--

They’re two tangled dolls on the ground, wrapped in cable with Sayaka’s arms thrown around her. It hadn’t cushioned the fall much, but Ibuki didn’t think she’d be able to move for a while. She can’t move her hands at all now. How despairing. She thinks she broke her wrist—a flicker of her gaze and she can see it looks unnaturally twisted. How unfortunate.

Despairing, if not for the erotic way that Sayaka panted in her ear.

“M-Mioda-san...” Sayaka whispers and then whimpers, “M-Mioda-san... I-I’m so sorry...”

Ibuki turns her head. Sayaka’s crying. Her face is all blotchy and swollen. It looks hideous. The only thing Ibuki can move is her neck, so she’s able to crane her head just a little forward.

“The Future Foundation’s gonna come get you and they’re gonna save you,” she said, because even with everything all muffled and ruined, she can hear the sounds of those rushing. “You’ll be fine, Sayaka-chan. You always were.” And she gives a goofy grin which—oh! Her tooth’s chipped! Weird, she can’t taste the blood at all and that just tickles her more. “Did you know? Ayaka-chan and Satomi-chan are fine, too. Aah, but Ibuki doesn’t know about the others. Sorry. I’ve been looking for them, but...” She trailed off. “I’ve been...”

I...

“I’ve been doing...all kinds of horrible stuff. Like, not just horrible but super ultra-mega horrible. Sayaka-chan... Sayaka-chan...” She can’t get her voice higher. Any attempt just makes it break into a whisper. “I’ve been such a bad person.”

“I haven’t been the best person either,” Sayaka murmurs with a sad, reassuring smile. “I’ve been trying my best, though, so let’s try together, Mioda-san.”

Ibuki laughs. She laughs and laughs until she sobs.

When Sayaka presses their foreheads together, Ibuki chokes on another bout of tears before leaning in and kissing Sayaka’s cheek—before biting hard on her lower lip.

She was laughing even harder when the Future Foundation members arrived and wrenched her from Sayaka’s body with such force.

--

“Sayaka-chan,” she had murmured, nuzzling Sayaka’s face.

“Sayaka-chan,” she had whispered, nipping Sayaka’s ear.

“Sayaka-chaaaaan,” she hissed at Sayaka’s solemn face. There’s glass between them. If she wasn’t restrained, she would’ve bashed her head against it.

“Mioda-san,” Sayaka returned, and then, “Ibuki-chan. Let’s do our best together.”

How despairing it was that she couldn’t even scream.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 19 - In Which Jack and Charles Secure Planning Permission and Max Micromanages

Mary had liked several of Charles's photographs of Jack and the workroom and the half-finished fashions enough to post them to Instagram. And she'd liked the photograph of Charles all decked out in silk and countless jewels enough to use it as the title page for a more formal press announcement of the upcoming fashion show. The word “DECADENCE” is emblazoned across a glossy version of the picture in a stark, masculine font.

And then, in slightly smaller font underneath: Jack Rackham – Fall/Winter 2009.

His name. His name. Not quite in lights, but there, for everyone to see. For everyone to know that he is the one who did this. That these accomplishments are his.

Not that he did it all himself, of course. Mary's role is obvious. Christine is indispensable. And it's Charles's face on the cover of his press release.

The may have called Charles his muse as a joke. It seems like the sort of thing a flamboyant fashion designer would call his favorite booty call. Just the right side of pretentiously obfuscating for the older guard who might not be ready for the party boy persona they've both adopted.

But the honest truth is that Jack's come to rely on Charles in a way he hadn't quite expected for this con.

It's not exactly in Chaz's wheelhouse, is the thing. But he's worked hard to learn skills outside bashing skulls, just as Anne has.

Not that he doesn't do plenty of that as well. And gotten some good information out of it. But he's more than the street thug he'd been for so long. And Jack can't say he misses those days – not when the days they have now are so much easier.

So much less full of fear and strife and poverty.

It's almost like an extended holiday, the way they live now. All getting to pretend they're rich and soft and genteel. Getting to walk among the special, the exalted, the beautiful people. The ones with titles and money and pedigree. The ones with names that mean something.

Well now Jack's name means something too.

And not through an accident of birth. Through cleverness and planning. Through luck, of course, but also through plain hard work. Something those gilded, pampered elite would never understand.

--

Charles has been given a slight reprieve in lugging armoires around. The old Hennessy house has been emptied of all the furniture, finally, and Mary's light rigs have all been installed. All the walls repainted and all the pictures of grand empty rooms taken.

But then Max sees the reaction the upper crust have to those pictures. All the ruined grandeur on display, just to be knocked over to make way for progress, for new ways of making money – they fucking love it, the rich brainless investment fuckers.

So now Max wants to take advantage of that greed she's awoken in the elitist twits in thousand pound suites. That desire for wealth, for faded grandeur, for a past of riches and glory and conquest. But brought into the future. Brought into the now. So they can pretend England isn't just some pretentious backwater with delusions of grandeur, with visions of glory (that was never all that glorious) long past.

So Mary decides, yeah, it would be a fucking great idea to do a little promotional photo shoot of all the models for Jack's fashion show in the house, before it gets demolished. Jewel bright clothes, sparkling gems, enough gold to sink a fucking warship, all juxtaposed – that'd been the word she'd used - all fucking juxtaposed against the backdrop of the ruined townhouse.

So Jack'd worked like a fiend to get the clothes ready. And Charles's break is over.

Now he gets to lug around garment bags and makeup trunks and jewelry chests and even more light rigs – all to be placed precisely where Mary dictates, and moved with the changing light or her changing whims. All that shit's fucking heavy. And Anne's no help this time because she's been set to wrangling all the models and making sure they're properly primped and preened and posed for the photos. All under Max and Mary's watchful eyes.

Cuz Max has apparently decided that she wants to have her hand in things personally.

Not that she hadn't kept things well in hand with Jack's other fashion show – finding the models, organizing the behind the scenes contracts. Setting Idelle up with Featherstone.

But now she's actually telling Mary how she wants the pictures to look. Or more specifically, that she wants some big fancy painting in all the shots. Not the whole paining, though. Just pieces of it. Enough to tantalize, to excite, but not to show the goods.

There's even a picture where the models are holding it at the front of the shot, but it's covered by a lacy black cloth, all except for one corner, which pokes out like a whore's ankle in some repressed 1700s pin up.

Charles thinks the whole thing's fucking unnecessary. Who gives a shit if there's a painting showing too much or too little in the shot? Why does he have to be the one to move it over and over again – sometimes millimeter by fucking millimeter – until Max deems it just right? He's got other things to do with his day, thank you very fucking much.

Like pretending to be Jack's ditsy muscular boytoy, and all the hours in the gym and gossiping by the pool that takes to maintain. He better get another fucking break when all this shit is over.

--

With investors sniffing at Max's skirts like rabid jackals, ready to rip each other apart for a chance at the Hennessy townhouse, Jack broaches the topic of planning permission to Councilor Featherstone. And he does it over dinner in a private room at a restaurant where the esteemed councilor could never have gotten a reservation – and especially not on such short notice. Because for all that he has power. For all that he attends all the right clubs – the same clubs Jack himself attends. Well, the councilor's a bit of a social outcast. A bit of a dud in the personality department.

Whereas Jack is all glib charm and meaningless flirtation. Jack knows how to play the sort of high society games that result in the private table on nearly no notice that the councilor is currently enjoying.

What is it they say? Always come to the negotiating table with the outcome already certain? Well, Jack's doing his damnedest to stack the deck in his favor. And if a little show of how well connected he is, how much more he belongs in this world of high-society fops and casual displays of obscene wealth, is what it takes to get Max her planning permission, then Jack will wine and dine Featherstone at the goddamn Ritz if he has to.

Although the slightly less-upscale, though no less entrenched in British upper-class hegemony, restaurant he's chosen for tonight seems to be doing the trick well enough. Councilor Featherstone is looking around with ill disguised awe.

If he were slightly more uncouth, Jack imagines his jaw would be actually agape at all the gilt and velvet and fine linens and sparkling crystal. As it is, it's more than obvious Jack has introduced him to a style of dining out that he's never experienced before. Perfect.

The entire point of this little excursion is to underline to Councilor Featherstone what a... fruitful... relationship they can have. All Jack's connections and wealth at the councilor's fingertips – and all he needs to do is pass the occasional planning permission for a project that otherwise may have languished in limbo for years. And to that end, Charles is doing his considerable best to bring the conversation around to where Jack needs it to go, namely planning permission for the Hennessy house.

A conversation that demonstrates that Charles has become considerably more subtle than Jack ever believed him capable of.

And perhaps that is an oversight on Jack's own part. Him never deigning to look past Charles's rough and unpolished exterior to hidden – really very well hidden – depths. Known for a straightforward style of smash and grab, Charles has really developed a mind for strategy of late. And something of a silver tongue, though it doesn't come close to rivaling Jack's own.

At any rate, Jack appreciates his efforts. Lord Hamilton may have been willing to come right out and ask for little favors, so assured of his power and his place in the London hierarchy he would eschew subtlety entirely - but there's such a thing as being too forward.

Jack finds that method rather gauche. And the last thing he wishes to be is gauche.

Plus, Jack would rather have the councilor's regard – his friendship, even if it is a tad one-sided – than his fear purchased compliance. Because fear may breed deference in the short term, but it leads to chafing at the yoke in the long run. And Councilor Featherstone didn't get to where he is today by being a complete pushover.

So Charles is sitting in this opulent private dining room, as the councilor sips champagne and enjoys expensive hors d'oeuvres, chatting to Idelle about a spa he went to with some of his “friends” from the health club. Which isn't even a lie. Charles had in fact attended a quote girls day unquote at an upscale spa courtesy of one of the women who lounges poolside and looks over her designer sunglasses at the tanned skin Charles is so very unconcerned with putting on display.

The fact that it was a nude spa may have had something to do with Charles being invited. But it sounds as if Charles had a nice enough time. Or at least he's talking it up to Idelle, who makes suitable sounds of impressed jealousy as the story unfolds. Commenting that she'd rather like to be taken to something like that – perhaps on a date?

Personally, Jack would pay enormous amounts of money to not see Featherstone in the alltogether – but Idelle is a consummate professional and lets no sign of displeasure at the idea show. Maybe Max ought to consider giving her a raise. Jack resolves to raise the issue once planning permission has been secured. Speaking of -

“The only thing,” Charles says, voice measured to ensure that Councilor Featherstone is paying the utmost attention. “The only thing I didn't particularly care for was how crowded the spa was.”

“Indeed,” Jack butts in, “that hardly sounds relaxing. Being surrounded by all the teeming masses.”

“Oh, the actual spa part was lovely. So relaxing after a long, hectic week...”

Jack can see Councilor Featherstone's scoffing disbelief that Charles could have anything resembling a hectic week – his schedule filled with nothing more than lounging in various decorous poses on various expensive surfaces, as far as the councilor is aware. But he has some long, hectic weeks at work...

“But as soon as you're back in the more public areas, all that work at relaxing and destressing – gone!”

“Oh, how terrible!” Idelle exclaims with just the right amount of dramatic disbelief.

“And it was supposed to be one of the more exclusive spa packages as well. You think money would go a bit further nowadays, is all,” Charles finishes. And now all that's left to do is set up the pitch...

Right on cue, Idelle chimes in with, “Too bad there isn't a more private spa. Someplace intimate.” The last is directed at Featherstone, who's blushing and looks primed for the sell.

“Funny you should mention that,” Jack says causally – but not too casually. That's the key. They have to think you're playing them a little so they won't look too deeply at how you're actually playing them. “I happen to have a friend who's looking to start up a little boutique hotel spa. You know where the Hennessy townhouse is?”

The councilor nods, although Jack doubts he was ever actually invited there.

“Well, my friend got it for a song. They were looking to move to warmer climes, you know. And she got an excellent deal for the whole package – house and furniture and everything. Which turned out to be a good thing! The whole place was falling apart, if you can believe. Just completely structurally unsound.” Jack says the last part as if it's the most boring thing in the world.

“So anyway, she's looking to rebuild. Plenty of investors already lined up around the block, of course. And there's mixed zoning, you know. And she doesn't exactly need yet another house to sit empty and eat up heating costs. Plus the cleaning service – you know how much they'll gauge you.”

Pretending that the councilor has a maid service – when Jack knows for certain he doesn't, which is why he doesn't entertain at home much – is another stab at just how different he is from the upper crust.

“Yes, of course,” Councilor Featherstone responds. “They'll take an arm and a leg.”

“So she came on the idea of the hotel and spa. For the country set, or celebrities, or whoever wants a little privacy when visiting the city.” Rich men with mistresses. Government officials with less than acceptable girlfriends. Whoever.

“That sounds lovely,” Idelle chimes in. “Perhaps we might do a spa day there sometime, dear.”

“Oh. Oh I don't know,” the councilor responds, obviously thinking of the enormous price tag attached to something like that.

“We could do a double date,” Charles gushes. “Oh, Idelle! What an excellent idea!”

“Oh, I'm certain I could arrange something like that,” Jack is quick to assure the increasingly panicked looking councilor. “Given that the proposal comes from a close personal friend. I imagine I can talk her into pulling a few strings with whoever purchases the building so we get first crack at it.”

A delicate pause. Calculated to be just enough to let the councilor experience euphoric relief that his problem has been solved - that Jack has been the one to solve it – before bringing it all crashing down.

“Of course, that's assuming the project moves forward any time in the next decade. You of all people know what London real estate is like.”

“You said the lot was zoned for mixed use?” Featherstone asks desperately. He's so close to giving Idelle her heart's desire of the current moment and he can see it slipping away.

Jack nods.

He's not even lying. There are several businesses on that street dating to just after the Great London Fire that necessitate the designation. Plus one unbearably posh cupcake bakery charging upwards of a tenner for a single cupcake.

“Well, then it should be no problem. I can even take a look at everything personally - just to make sure it's all in order, of course.”

“Oh, darling!” Idelle exclaims rapturously. “Would you?”

“Of course, dear. Anything for you.”

Perfect.

Charles grins at Jack, wolflike. And then steers the conversation to other idle gossip about the rich and famous.

Best not to let the councilor dwell too long on what just happened.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

HPHM Amortentia Scent Headcanons

Or as I like to put it, “Scentcanons!” ...I’ll show myself out. 

No but for real, I had an anon asking about this, so let’s dive in!

The question here is what would each character smell in Amortentia vs what another person would smell if they fancied said character. There are also certain characters who we have confirmed from canon. Finally, I’d like to clarify that I don’t think of Amortentia scents being exclusive to who one is attracted to romantically, just that it can go that way. I don’t want to get too deep into shipping, so any loved ones that turn up as scents probably aren’t going to be romantic interests. 

Rowan - We know they smell of parchment, ink, and lumber. As for what they would smell, I think we can safely assume they’d smell old books, tree sap, and probably Fuzzclaw? Speaking as someone who’s grown up with cats, they do have a unique and not unpleasant smell to them. Everything that reminds Rowan of home, and of what they love.

Ben - Someone who had feelings for Ben would probably smell the scent of dust, or if we want to be more poetic, petrichor. Yeah, I like that. It makes sense given how much he hides and sneaks around. As for Ben himself, I feel like he would be drawn to the scent of safer things. At least Pre-Portrait Vault. I’ve seen clean sheets, mint leaves/mint soap, and hot chocolate used as examples before, and all of them agree with me. 

Penny - I can imagine someone would smell whatever her perfume/conditioner is. Let’s go with honeydew, that kinda suits her.  Head-canons for what Penny herself would smell are the metallic scent of a Cauldron, the wildflowers from Kew Gardens (where she’s said her family visits) and also Beatrice’s hair. Come on, Bea is the person she loves the most, easily. 

Merula - Another canon confirmation, Merula smells of nail polish, cloves, and something “elusive.” (The MC/Merula hints continue, I swear to god.) As for what Merula herself would pick up on, I feel like it would be scents that are attractive, but also painful, if that makes sense? To suit her prickly nature. Stuff like smoke and soot, as well as poison ivy. On top of that, maybe something softer to counter-balance it, like pumpkin pie? 

Bill - I feel like Bill would smell of leather. Let me explain. While he’s usually depicted in a variation on his school uniform, we know from Harry’s description that he was “cool.” In HPHM, he doesn’t have the earring yet, but he does have the long hair. I feel like he’d smell of leather. As for Bill himself, gonna go with scents that remind him of home. Stuff like Molly’s cooking, his father’s jumper, even the gnomes out back. 

Andre - He totally wears perfume, he is the type. There are just certain characters (Penny is another) where you just know that’s a thing they do. So whatever type he wears, that’s what the Andre fans pick up on. For Andre himself? I’m gonna go with the scent of a sewing machine, as well as a broom shed, and maybe something that reminds him of his family, since he seems to be close with them. 

Tulip - As for Tulip’s scent, this is going to go full on fanon, and I’m going to say she smells like cherries. Because apparently when the writers were designing her wand, it was going to be made of cherry wood and be a family heirloom. I still think Sycamore suits her better, but I love that idea. As for the scents Tulip would find attractive, I’m going to go with ones that carry a hint of danger. Candle wax, for example, is always close to a fire. The scent of dungbombs feels like a given. If anyone likes it, Tulip would. Finally, I’m gonna go with pond water, because of Dennis.

Tonks - Anyone who fancies Tonks is probably going to pick up on the scent of Zonko’s. That is where she spends most of her time and does all her shopping, after all. As for what she would smell? I’m gonna say maybe a Wizarding candy, like Fizzing Whizbees. The packaging on something like a Fanged Frisbee. And even Filch’s office, because she has cherished memories of practicing mischief there.

Barnaby - Canon time, we know Barnaby smells like sandalwood and fresh laundry, which is just adorable. But I feel as though Barnaby would be drawn to the scent of the flowers and trees from the Reserve, as well as the old, dusty and musty smell of the Dueling Club. For a third scent I think I’ll go with the smell of Hagrid’s Hut. This is totally a head-canon, but I think they become very close friends. 

Ismelda - Well, this one is awkward. The game loves to make jokes about how she smells bad, but maybe to someone who’s in love with her, the scent would be nice? As odd as that sounds. Otherwise, who knows. She had to have cleaned up pretty nice for the Celestial Ball, right? As for Ismelda herself, this one is tricky. But like Merula, I think she’d be drawn to scents that have more of an edge. Fresh ink comes to mind, and perhaps burnt toast. Other than that? I’m not sure.

Charlie - This one also has canon to back it up, Charlie smells like honeysuckle and grass. As for what he would smell in Amortentia...okay, let's get the obvious out of the way right now. Whatever dragons smell like, that’s going to be one of his scents. Because I don’t care what canon says, he works with dragons in the Reserve. He just does. Other than that, I feel like maybe the metallic scent of a Snitch, because we know he’s a Seeker, and maybe the thistles of trees in the Forbidden Forest? He’s said to hang out there.

Liz - I’m pretty sure she’s supposed to smell like lake-water and hay? I cannot find the screenshots, but her scent was also confirmed by Care of Magical Creatures. In any case, Liz is a fairly straight-forward character to get a handle on. Her smells from Amortentia are mulch, (don’t judge her) as well as a Porlock’s fur, and the scent of vegetables. She’s an outdoorsy sort of girl and similar to Newt Scamander, seems to get along better with other creatures than humans.

Chiara - In terms of what someone would smell, I’d have to go with moonflowers. I know it’s the obvious choice, but how can I resist? As for Chiara herself, I’m going to go with fresh soil, hospital sheets, and dog fur. Reflecting her interests in Herbology and Healing, and also representing the sweetest baby to ever exist, Borf. I’ve seen head-canons that she would smell Wolfsbane potion, but it’s supposed to taste disgusting, so I doubt it.

Talbott - Likewise, I think it’s pretty clear that someone would smell the scent of bird feathers if they fancied Talbott. If that’s too cliche, go with whatever product he puts in his hair, since it’s always slicked back. As for what Talbott smells, I’d go with the scent of hay from the Owlery, maybe the quills that he writes his notes with, and finally the scent of his mother, or her necklace. Could be the same, at least as far as he remembers.

Jae - Anyone who fancies Jae is going to pick up his scent, so probably the scent of the Hogwarts Kitchens, since that’s where he spends most of his time. For Jae, okay...money has a unique scent. It just does. And he deals with it a lot, doing what he loves. So I’m gonna say the scent of galleons, turkey sandwiches, and maybe something with more of an edge, like Firewhiskey. Come on, we all know he’s tried it before.

Badeea - She’s a character I don’t know nearly as well, though I’d like to rectify that. I’m torn between saying that the scent of paint would be what someone else smells if they fancy her, or if it would be something that she herself smells because she loves painting. No reason it couldn’t be both. Other than that, she gives me the feeling that she’s someone who would be really into incense and various spices, like maybe sage. So it’s all chemicals with Badeea...make of that what you will.

Diego - I also don’t know him well enough to judge, but I am certain that he’s the type to wear cologne, so whatever it is that he’s wearing is what the Diego fans would pick up on. As for Diego himself, I’m gonna say the resin of a dance floor, the scent of denim (he wears a lot of it) and probably the smell of flowers? He does make a few casanova style lines about enjoying them. And not just the hellebore. 

Skye - No clue what Skye’s scent would be. Probably something strong Citrus. As for what she picks up on, gonna go with the scent of quaffles, ground coffee, and maybe the streets of Wigtown. I just feel like she doesn’t have much of a life outside of Quidditch and her legacy and has kind of turned herself into a machine to fulfil that life goal, without focusing on anything else. 

Murphy - Murphy smells like linen. Don’t ask me why, I just know that this is true. I can just feel it. It suits him. As to what Murphy himself picks up on, among other things he smells Kneazle fur, the wood of a chessboard, and the scent of chalk. I mean come on, this one one of the easier characters to figure out, give me a hard one. 

Orion - Someone who fancied Orion would seriously pick up on the scent of his hair, because that is some glorious hair. Orion himself would probably smell Jasmine Tea, Quidditch Grass, and the scent of sea salt. I’m not sure why exactly, but he’s a character who I’ve actually thought about this for before, and I think these scents are mystical enough but also give the suggestion of an overall healthy balance.

Rath - This is a case like Ismelda, where I don’t think anyone ever gets close enough to smell her, but more out of fear than the idea that she might smell unpleasant. But I feel like she smells like ginger. As for what she would pick up from Amortentia, the metallic scent of a bludger, as well as perhaps the scent of new robes, and maybe broomstick polish? Similar to Skye, I’m not sure. Not because she has no life outside of Quidditch, but we have no idea what it entails if she does.

Beatrice - I feel like anyone who fancied Beatrice (We are not getting into the debate of who that might be) would probably pick up the smell of her makeup? Because she wears a lot of it now, seemingly every day. As for what she would pick up on herself? I’m gonna say the scent of puffskeins, since she seems to be a fan of them and have one of her own. As well as the scent of the library, but specifically the Restricted Section, because I feel like she regularly breaks in. Finally, hmm...maybe something to do with home? Perhaps a fresh baked pie that her parents made? Just throwing out ideas. 

Covered as many characters as I could think of, and there were only so many scents that occurred to me, aha. I hope this helps though, anon!

[nmoroder]

L4D(2) Actor AU

This is a (not complete) list of headcanons for the Actor AU me and my bro came up with during our Expert runs and running extremely low on morale. We created this as a sort of ‘happy’ AU which would also give some room to our own ideas, so some of this stuff below may only slightly be related to original. We understand.

This post won’t be updated but instead followed by other ones if something else arises, so check ‘l4d actor au’ tag on my blog for more!

Overall setting

The Left 4 Dead universe itself is a series of 90-min movies divided into first and second season, L4D1 and L4D2 respectively. This list will further refer to them as S1 and S2;

L4D is a series about, of course, zombie apocalypse, but teamwork and forming bonds between people are brought to spotlight. Both seasons consist of episodes where four Survivors try to find a solid ground and safety with every episode ending on a cheerful note but every next one starting with the cheerfulness destroyed. The episodes share their names and events with Campaigns;

Originally, L4D was created by a team of enthusiasts, consisting of friends, families and family friends, so they are all very immersed in process and really giving their best. Their collective is also the reason their funding isn’t very high and they’re mostly using their own equipment and props; this makes the series look less expensive and polished but retains the atmosphere and the main goal: to show people growing warmer to each other and learning to stick together;

The actors’ names are mostly created by combining the face model’s first name and the voice actor’s last name, though some other versions do take place (see S1 and S2);

The safehouse graffitis are inspired by the fans’ responses from forums and contests, so it’s some sort of communicating with audience through screenplay;

The Third Strike, more commonly known as Black and White Mode which occures after second incapacitation, was firstly discovered as a camera malfunction but then the team liked it so much that they decided to leave it as a feature and add the heartbeat effect and stuff;

Main plot line consists solely of canon Campaigns (that means it doesn’t include Last Stand and Cold Stream) but there were also suggestions to shot additional episodes - the Mutations. After S1 success, the authors posted their ideas on different ‘modes’ and fans added theirs as well and thus during S2 some more episodes were made using, for example, a male synchronized swimming team to create the Hunting Party mutation. The original Hunter actor also participated and the swimmers required to copy his behavior; they did it so well that sometimes the whole Survivor team was being overwhelmed once they began the take;

There are no stuntmen on board so every fighting scene is shot with original actors. When it requires to shove someone off with a weapon (e.g. Zoey shoving a Hunter off Louis in the L4D1 intro), after the take actors always ask each other whether they hit too hard, should they improve the movements etc. Different actors have different range so it’s a tricky thing to cooperate but they still manage (I’ll come back to this topic in L4D2 section);

Most Infected, especially Special Infected encounters are improvised, bringing more life and realism to the Survivors’ response. The Hunter is responsible for a fair share of their shock as they noticed him stuck at a saferoom ceiling only after a while (this is a reference to the glitches that allow the Hunter to get stuck under the roof in Versus);

There was a suggestion to run a Kickstarter campaign to gather money for a fanservice episode especially for shippers. While it was most likely a joke from actors who didn’t mind shipping, it’s still a suggestion and not in work.

L4D (Season 1)

Zoey shares the zombie movie obsession with her actress; Sonja was the most familiar with the topic among original team and provided a lot of help with setting up the scene, behaviour writing etc. Along with Louis and Boomer actors, she was the creator of original idea and can consider herself a founder of the series. She is also older than Zoey as a character, being already in her 25s while Zoey is a college student;

The original Boomer actor was a CGI specialist and offered his skills for post-processing while also playing an Infected role. He came up with the idea of a Boomer Infected himself and suggested his large physique to do the role with a little touch of computer graphics and makeup;

While discussing the major characters and personalities worth including, Zoey’s actress instantly remembered her neighbor, the big buffy tattooed guy who was her childhood friend, worked as a driver and spent his weekends with his favorite bike. She figured that it’s a nice image to have in a zombie apocalypse setting, and thus Francis’ actor made it to the set;

When it came to the image of a war veteran refusing to give in to monsters, Zoey’s actress was also the one to suggest another person to fill up the space: her father. He was younger than Bill was written to be but did the impersonating well. He’s got an overall friendly but bickering attitude towards Francis’ actor so most of lines written for Bill and Francis interaction were the ones actors remembered from their own conversations, slightly exaggerated;

Zoey’s actress and Louis’ actor were co-workers for several years and bonded over their mutual interest to zombie theme and shooting. She foud out that Sean attended a shooting range in his spare time and asked him to take her out too; thus she both found out he aces in ambidextrous shooting and got him to teach her how to wield a hunting rifle. The weapon preferences were carried over to respective characters;

Hunter’s actor became a surprise for the team as Francis’ actor brought him over saying that the guy’s got a fantastic voice (and a music band) and physique to make some badass new Infected for them. They got him to voice the crowd extras of common Infected but also came up with an idea of shrieking hooded parkour bastard to rip someone’s guts out, thus creating the Hunter as another Special Infected;

As the next Special Infected concept came out of the shadows - a lanky coughing tongue-twisting zombie who would grab the Survivors and restrict them, Hunter’s actor brought another person to the set. It was his music band co-participant who did drums and back vocals and also had an ability to eject the most horrible coughing sound out of his throat while being (seemingly) healthy. He took over the role of a Smoker;

Hunter’s actor is named Mike after Mike Patton, the voice actor for Infected and SI like Hunter and Smoker. Smoker’s actor is named Mike too but the fact that he plays drums and does back vocals is actually a reference to Faith No More, the band where Patton actually does vocals and Mike Bordin does what Smoker’s actor does. It sounds complicated but originally the idea of Hunter and Smoker actors sharing a name came from Patton voicing them both, and then I found out about the band and two Mikes present so... that was a weird but happy coincidence;

The fact stated above was the reason the team came up with nicknames just for two Mikes on the set - Hoodie and Tongue respectively. The tradition was carried over to S2 where the new Hunter actor would receive a patronizing nickname Kid from Survivors (see S2)

Of all Infected actors, Hunter’s actor was the least level-headed and even Francis’ actor sometimes doubted his past decision to bring him in. Nevertheless, Hoodie’s cheerful attitude and energy helped the collective stay positive and fuelled during especially hard days. It also brought out the less lethargic and melancholic part of Tongue and made him more lively about things;

Despite Hoodie being the Endless Energy Core which people tended to adore, he was still in a lousy relationship with Witch’s actress (her name, by the way, is different from the voice actress - it’s Rose). He kept a charmer’s attitude towards her even though she was a married woman; Rose tended to be neutral or mostly positive towards most colleagues but this behavior pissed her off big time, leading to Hoodie being injured by her stage costume claws after she punched him in the face for a really bad dating joke. Hoodie toned it down afterwards but their relationship didn’t improve much up until the end;

Witch’s actress is keen on baking and sometimes brings some to the filming set;

Since the budget was comparatively low, the team couldn’t afford a lot of crowd extras so they hired a group of people to then create an image of a Horde attacking by using CGI. That’s why there’s so much repeating common Infected on-screen;

The first season included all L4D1 original Campaigns, leaving The Sacrifice out as it was added later in a DLC. As S2 came into development stage, the team wanted to add an episode with the old Survivors team but Bill’s actor was unavailable at the time and was overall not hot with the idea of shooting movies anymore; so eventually they plotted the episode (The Passing campaign) to feature Bill being dead. The fans were shocked to find it out and demanded to know what exactly happened, thus leading to actually shooting The Sacrifice as a bonus episode to S1 (and requiring Bill’s actor to come back despite his attitude).

L4D2 (Season 2)

The collective decided to take a sharp turn on the new Survivors and create them being unacquainted and sort of separated at the start but growing closer as time passes by. The idea of S1 Survivors being almost a family to each other sounded great and played along just right but the team wanted to delve deeper into relationship problems and also have a change of scenery - and so they did;

The Infected team for S2 still consisted of some old faces (Boomer, Tank and Witch) but some had to leave the set for the time being and were unable to rehearse the roles, this being Hunter and Smoker actors. They got into music harder than zombie movies and planned to go on a tour so they could only leave their old Infected sounds as a legacy;

The new Smoker actor was a treasure Coach’s actor brought to the set. Since Coach was in fact a college coach, he kept a close eye on some problematic students under his wing and picked out the one he’d considered perfect and at the same time worth looking after. The guy was recovering from compulsory drug treatment and had some ugly scars all over his arms, making him an easier candidate for makeup;

Hoodie, on his part, brought a replacement on his own, and it was his brother - four years younger, even more insanely into parkour and a huge fan of L4D series, he made a perfect new Hunter. Despite being only a few years younger than Hoodie, he instantly became treated like a restless constant-questioner child, a literal piece of sunshine on the set, so the team came to call him just Kid. He adjusted to the nickname after a couple of weeks, though being seriously surprised at it at the start;

The actors of Ellis, Jockey and Charger all come from one family, being two sons and a father. Coach suggested the family as well, being their close friend for many years and pointing out Ellis’ actor appearance being something close to the laid-back mechanic they wanted for the new Survivors team;

Although fluently speaking in a Southern accent, Ellis’ actor isn’t very fond of it as he tried to get rid of it and move to a different state; the role obliged him to use the accent again though and it wasn’t hard to recreate, but he still didn’t take pride in it and was mostly annoyed with it and Nick’s jokes written in script;

Ellis’ actor is also the one more frequently complaining about amount of money the actors receive for their work on set. Their funding increased a bit since S1′s popularity strike but still;

Most of Ellis’ stories were written based on actual on-set incidents, usually featuring Nick’s actor (see below);

Nick’s actor, Taymour, is married to Witch’s actress and is a big fan of her performance in S1. When she heard the idea of having a snarky self-centered ladies’ man in the new Survivors team, she immediately knew who’d handle the role at his best. She also rehearsed the role of Witch just to make sure nothing bad happens to her husband on-set (also see below);

Nick’s actor suffers from constant bad luck incidents. He can accidentally break or twist something without serious effort; he’s also allergic to artificial blood and he is the reason the filming set actually features painkillers and functioning adrenaline shots. Despite all that, he’s got a positive attitude about bad luck and got used to being in a state of constant non-obvious danger, unlike others who geniunely worry about his well-being and fear that one day an accidental injury might end him once and for all;

This trait is also the reason Nick’s line “Can’t you see I’m limping here?” made it into the script - it was improvised after Nick’s actor badly hit his leg and was the last to make it to a saferoom during a take. The team liked it and decided to leave it in;

Nick’s actor treats his role with all respect and doesn’t consider it a small one despite the not so large fee. He’s also a complete opposite to the character, being a very friendly and kind-hearted guy to everyone on set; he can however switch back to his script personality with startling speed and it scared some of the new actors at first. Despite playing an asshole which is very different from real him, Nick’s actor enjoys it a lot and overall finds great joy in working with the team and bringing them together;

Bringing back the topic of being gentle to each other, Nick’s actor takes great care when it’s required to hit or shove someone in the take, keeping it mildest possible, unlike for example Ellis’ actor who can smash you in the face without a second thought;

Nick’s actor and Witch’s actress keep their loving attitude on set as well, sometimes making it hard to shoot scenes featuring a Witch killing; as they were shooting the Witch Bride scene where the same actress took place but had a different outfit and makeup, they ruined several takes by driving the dialogue in unwanted directions, e.g. “Ellis, go kiss the bride! No wait, I’ll do that myself” or “N: Sounds like my ex-wife... W: I still AM your wife, darling! >:C”;

With her husband on stage, Witch’s actress is probably closest to her role - she will tear apart anyone who dares to hit on Nick’s actor or mean any harm to him (as if his own harming isn’t enough...). The only one she’d go loose is Ellis’ actor, being an old close friend;

Ellis’ actor was the one who introduced Nick’s actor to his future wife. They’ve actually been close friends since the university and Ellis’ actor was among those who obviously saw Nick’s actor and Rose being in love but completely oblivious to it. Ellis’ actor is still kinda jealous that she took his best friend away and they can’t hang out anymore like they used to, but they get quite a lot of time on set so he’s less irritated about that;

Nick’s actor is especially supportive towards Rochelle’s actress, Shanola. She feels self-conscious because of her character’s rating being lower than expected and blames it on her performance, but Taymour keeps reassuring her that she’s doing amazing. Rochelle’s actress is also the one least accustomed to shooting a weapon and handling violence of any kind so it was hard for her to get her head into action. With the team fully supporting her, the progress sped up tremendously;

Ellis’ actor’s name is Jesy and he gets salty about people misspelling it or mistaking it for a female name. It was the inspiration to include the “El kinda sounds like a girl’s name” part of Ellis’ dialogue;

The team is overall friendly towards shipping dynamics in the series’ fandom, with the only one explicitly stating otherwise being Ellis’ actor. He’s espeicially upset with Nellis ship as people started shipping actors over it too; he stated multiple times that he and Nick’s actor have been best friends for so long that it’s simply wrong to imply any romantic and/or sexual relationship between them. He once stated in an interview that he’d rather believe an Ellis/Hunter ship and the fandom exploded with it on the next day, much to the actor’s chagrin. The Hunter’s actor, or Kid, however, wasn’t that upset and supported the idea. The team made no confirmation to any ships yet;

Nick’s actor is neutral to most ships including Nellis and doesn’t see why his friend is so angry about it. His personal favorites are Nick/Witch for obvious reasons and Nick/Hunter for less obvious reasons that he doesn’t state. He jokingly suggests Jesy from time to time to start a Kickstarter campaign for a Nellis-centered episode; it’s still unknown whether they’ll take it serious one day.

[crqstalite]

oc interview!

tagged by @spaceprincealenko​ ! tagging,,, anyone who sees this because i’ve already tagged enough people today lol.

Alexandra June “A.J” Shepard

Role: First Human Spectre

BASICS

Full Name: Alexandra June Shepard

Nickname(s): Lexi (by Miranda or Kaidan only), June (see previous), AJ

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation and Titles: First Human Spectre, Lieutenant Commander of the SSV Normandy, N7 Sentinel.

Birthday & Age: April 11th, 2154, currently 32.

Physical description: AJ stands at around 5′6″ (167.64 cm), with a mostly lithe build. Dark, nearly black eyes, and pixie cut naturally brown hair, though she dyes it red because it distances her from her past a bit. Deep scar on her neck from Akuze, and two lighter ones across her nose and jaw. Has about twenty million (more accurately, nine she keeps open) piercings from over the years, though more often than not, keeps the three up her left ear and two up her right with earrings in whenever she’s on shore leave.

Clothing style: AJ doesn’t usually intend it, but she goes for a far less ‘standing out’ sort of look than one would expect. Hiding in hoodies is usually her go to look, even though her dark makeup and bright red hair makes her rather difficult to lose in a crowd. Something like this.

BACKGROUND

AJ is a spacer kid, through and through. Mostly having grown up on various stations, home had always been among the stars (and Arcturus). She definitely doesn’t know much else, and for a time, that was okay. Having never known her father, it was just her and Hannah for the longest time. Her biotics then developed in her early teen years, and things shifted. Considering just how new they were around the time her aptitude was discovered, there were a lot of unknowns -- and to a point, that fascinated and terrified her. AJ just nearly skirted ending up at Jump Zero, which until she found out exactly what’d happened there, she was convinced her mother had effectively stunted whatever developing powers she had. Hannah had never wanted an implant for her daughter, even if she was lucky enough to still be alive after eezo exposure, she didn’t want to lose her to whatever side effects could come of it. Not to mention, AJ was just a frustrated person and frustrating person to be around. Loud, a bit of a perfectionist and not the best socially were a recipe for disaster. Funnily enough, small spaces weren’t good for a developing biotic, and a hyperactive kid with too much energy to burn. Regulating her emotions was a long and very difficult task stemming from her childhood, something Hannah just didn’t have the time or emotional capacity for. Every teacher of her’s always had something to say about the disruptive and frankly, entirely absent Shepard kid, and to no one’s surprise, it took a toll on AJ, who couldn’t really figure out why she was the way she was. No one was really able to help her either.

So of course, she doubled down on it. While she masked some things, she amplified others. AJ became a bit of a social butterfly, but only because she was rather intuitive to how others acted, and copied it near perfectly. Showing up to classes was rarely something she wanted to do, and was more than happy to sit and stare into space, or play with what limited biotic abilities she had. Which only lead to more of a rift between mother and daughter, the former who couldn’t figure out why her all around intelligent daughter was so determined not to use that intelligence for good, and the latter who couldn’t figure out what people wanted from her. They never verbally fought (well, not really. AJ can count on two hands how many times it was more a stern talking to -- and very one sided), but it was clear enough to AJ that she’d never quite be enough for Captain Shepard.

By the time AJ met Anderson around the age of seventeen, she was just near about to careen off the radar entirely. Hannah couldn’t figure her out no matter what she did, and AJ no longer really cared for what she thought. AJ had never gotten to be violent, but she was someone that her peers more respected than actually liked. One of the only students to still hold a passing grade (mostly off of exams) without having ever really shown aptitude for anything. A chance meeting during one weekend that really did turn her life around a bit, even if she was a bit put off by how kind Anderson was to her. The Alliance gave her a purpose at the very least. Her skills were put to use, and by nineteen, she’d followed in some of the footsteps that Hannah left. One of her first real deployments was to the eventual squad that followed up on leads to Akuze. One man, Walter Castillo, had taken a liking to her and took the young biotic under his wing. He was also the one that had made her begin using the name June instead of her first name, Alexandra, so that she could put some distance between herself and the girl that’d been such a thorn in everyone’s side. Staff Commander Castillo was one of her only acquaintances during that time, and like Anderson, a father figure to her.

Akuze was, evidently, the first time she’d ever failed. The entire mission plagues her like no other. She still deals with the lasting scars it left on her, and has never been able to really talk about the massacre with anyone, especially after Castillo was one of the last people for her to hear and she spent a very, very long four hours waiting for extraction, in the dark, and in tears.

After that, Shepard became a bit of a recluse. She was seen as too much of an omen to most to ever build lasting relationships with, and she didn’t mind it. She had seen herself as a disappointment to her mother for years on end and a failure to her squad on Akuze -- she wasn’t ready to add another crew to the list. She rose through the ranks rather quietly until Anderson picked her back up for a tour on the Normandy.

AJ was a name she chose for herself, in the end. Not Alexandra, who’d only be imperfect in the eyes of the people who cared about her, and not June, who’d failed the people who needed her. AJ Shepard was a blank slate, who was still tainted with the failures of the past, but was growing beyond it.

COMBAT & SKILLS

Preferred fighting style: AJ is a sentinel, which by every definition, doesn’t really make her a frontline soldier. Yet, you’ll find her leading the charge anyway. She’s trained in just about every weapon, but is more than happy to carry just a pistol into combat and relies heavily on her biotics. Mostly employing medium strength armor, and consistently will put her own wellbeing in danger for others. Some call her reckless. She is, but isn’t about to let someone die if she has anything to say about it. Not again.

Unlike her fellow sentinel, Kaidan, she’s far less about control. Not to say she isn’t capable, but when push comes to shove, she is not above cheap shots or letting loose.

Favorite weapon(s): Her pistol of choice is the N7 Eagle.

Special skills: An N7 Sentinel with extensive biotic training post-enlistment, and while fine-tuning is something she still needs to work on, her biotics are her favorite. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come. While sitting still to learn proper tech, she is definitely the creative type. Unconventional strategies are her forte, and and overload combo is the single best thing.

RELATIONSHIPS

Family: Hannah Shepard (mother), Miranda Lawson (wife).

Love interest: In her ‘canon’ of sorts, Miranda Lawson, who she’s happily married to after the Reaper War. In an AU, Kaidan Alenko.

Best friends: Has friends out of Jack (much to Miranda’s chagrin), Liara, Jacob, Kaidan, and James.

PERSONALITY

AJ is nothing if not a little bit spiky all around. She is blunt, and will never lie to your face even if it hurts. She is not one for empty compliments, at all. They piss her off, and she knows when someone’s lying to her face, even if it’s just to make her smile. Because of that, it takes a bit for someone to become even acquaintances with her, and she doesn’t like to get to know her crew that much, even if pressed. It mostly stems from her fear that as soon as she becomes as close to them as she did Walter, she’ll lose them. After they lost Ashley, it only became that much clearer. She left the investigation into Saren knowing more about her crew than they knew about her, and that was fine. That wasn’t ideal, but she didn’t know much better.

The crew of the Normandy SR-2 that followed her into the maw on the suicide mission were the first people who ever saw much of her personality, someone who was going through an identity crisis but also someone who didn’t really have anyone left she cared about, and was convinced she was defective. Her own floundering attempts to cultivate real relationships and friendships months away from possibly dying after already having been brought back weren’t futile, at least. Her past made her cynical, but given the time, it made her care for the people who weren’t out to get her that much more. While it may not have always been clear because of how quiet she was (and how many roundabout ways she had to show that she cared), by the time they arrived back to Earth, there wasn’t much question that she wouldn’t lay her life on the line for these people. Seen as a bit fatalistic at times, she only does it because, well, she can’t stand the idea of losing someone else. Suffocating almost. Still, it makes her a good friend though. 

Her love language is words of affirmation -- people confirming that she hasn’t done anything wrong, or that they still do love and care for her is all she ever wanted when she was younger.

The red, short hair and piercings were more of acts of rebellion, if anything, that followed her into adulthood. She gave it up during her service with the Alliance to revert back to brown, though went right back to it during her stint with Cerberus. Checks out and tracks that when she came back to the Alliance three years later, Kaidan didn’t recognize her at first.

[vinylhazza]

28 w/ e 💖💖💖

prompt list

28. they ask you to pretend to be their date at a bar to prevent an ex from talking to them. 

being dragged to a bar was the one thing you wanted to happen after a long day at work. granted, it was a friday and it was a day most people chose to ‘go out on the town’ or let loose - but all you desired at the moment was a nice glass of your favorite pear red wine,  your newest book you’d purchased at the local bookstore, and your sweet kitty egypt. she must have been so worried when you didn’t come home. that thought alone made you want to ditch the uncomfortable heels and fake smile you wore. 

you’d left work, drove directly to your good friends house, and begrudgingly gotten ready in front of her tiny bathroom mirror. you’d stuffed a black dress into your purse before leaving the house that morning, knowing something ridiculous like this would happen, but hoping it wouldn’t. thankfully she had makeup and a curling iron she let you use so you weren’t walking into a bar with a bun similar to a librarian (you know the one). it was all you had to work with - so you would be surprised if you didn’t look like the total train wreck you felt like.  

the bar well, it was packed. you’d stumbled in with linked arms, your friend trotting off somewhere into the sea of dancing bodies promises she’d “be right back.” fat chance. you’d shot up some conversation with a mutual friend, something about an ex who knew a guy that could possibly get her a new car, something that you weren’t interested in in the slightest. but of course, because the kind person you were, you watched your friend disappear into the crowd and off to discuss the details of their little financial exchange - leaving you to your own lonely devices.

with a pout you make your way over to the bar, making sure to not make any unwaranted eye contact with any of the other people that had the same idea as you - hoisting yourself up into a tall barstool that feels like a feat in itself to get into, but in no time you’re seated firmly on the stiff maroon cushion - browsing the rows and rows boose behind the counter. you weren’t much of a “whiskey on the rocks” type of girl - really a mixed drink type of gal. the simplest drink you’d get is a Manhattan - which sounded best right now. if you’re going to be alone for a while, the least you could do is make sure you’re relaxed - which you definitely weren’t at the moment.

“just a Manhattan please,” you tell the middle aged bartender, not quite sure if you’re using the right word for what you want, but he nods without hesitation, turning to the shelves of alcohol on the back wall - taking down a bottle and a clear drinking glass. a sigh ripples through your chest and oozes out of your mouth.

why did i think this was a good idea? you wine to yourself, all alone in a bar on the opposite side of town. somewhere you didn’t want to be, never would want to be, and only made your appearance because of your friend that is off somewhere with a friend probably much more outgoing than you. you envisioned her as a “fly by the seat of your pants” type of person - something you envied.

but instead of sulking to yourself, you decided you’d simply enjoy your drink. that’s all you had to do, look at the light at the end of the very shitty tunnel that was your day. yeah, you’d been yelled at by a customer for something that was not and would never be your fault. yes, you’d shed a tear or two in the back room because your grandma of 92 years of age buttdialed you on break thinking in was your grandma that died two years ago. yes, your feet were blistering from the heels you bought from a website that swore on everything they had the comfiest shoes around. yes, your day was shit. it was utter shit - but it had to get better right?

just as the bartender slides the glass across the slick wooden counter - a dashing boy with a head full of dark hair is leaning over you with a frazzled expression, nervousness seeping from his every nerve. he was...very attractive. it took your breath away for a moment, if you’re being honest. his hand rests on the counter right by your own that stopped the glass at the last minute - thanking the good Lord above you didn’t have to hassle with a mess of alcohol on the floor.

“please tell me you’re not here with a date or something,” the boy states, baritone voice melodic over the loud music. it was more of a plead than anything.

after your initial shock of being bothered after your attempt at being invisible, you’re shaking your head nervously, glancing around you to see who he’s watching out for all worried and anxious - just to be on the lookout so you don’t get yourself into a dangerous situation - you were scared you’re teetering that line right now anyhow.

“uh no no, no date but my friend is just over there-“ your finger points off in the general direction where she disappeared into the crowd earlier in the night, hoping she was at least in the same general area.

“then do me a favor and act like i said something funny,” he interjects quickly, scraping another barstool across the floor to sit right beside you, his arm leaning on the counter with a forced grin - visibly trying to prove something to someone.

but you give in. of course you do, who are you to mess up someone’s desperately thrown together plan of looking put together when they’re actually falling apart? you take a sip from your drink with a nod, setting it neatly on the counter before you’re laughing. and oh my gosh were you laughing - just really putting on a show.

it’s something that floods from you, like a river raging through you and you don’t even know where the water came from. he’s a stranger, you don’t owe him any favors - not a one. yet you find yourself complying to sudden request to laugh - that’s all. that’s all he’d asked of you.

the devilishly attractive boy is watching you close, with this playful glint in his eye that just keeps growing as the laughter bubbles from you - your hand raising to grab at his arm to seal the deal. you hope that whoever is watching, whatever relation he may have to them, that they believe your little facade. you have 0 clue why you are laughing with a handsome stranger in a bar after a fucked day while drinking a cocktail you don’t even care about anymore - but it felt good to laugh. even if it was fake and you looked crazy to the lingering eyes around you.

“what am i laughing at exactly?...” you stutter with a sigh and a tired smile, wiping a fake tear from your eye in an attempt to look the most joyful you’ve been in a while.

“ethan - uh ethan dolan,” he offers up his name. such a lovely name. very fitting for him as well, “and it’s just eh...you see that girl over there in the red?” he bends over to talk by your ear, not wanting whoever it is to see him being so polite with someone he’s meant to look close with.

glancing over your shoulder seemed like the worst idea in history, there were so many options for how it could go: lock eyes like the suspect, look around and find her to be a godess among men and women - totally out of your league, or simply mistake her for the wrong person. but when your head does turn, just the slightest bit, you see her. in a knee-length sundress fit for a bar - sort of on the skimpy side but still modest enough to not look too desperate. you approved. she looked like a lovely girl. that is, until her head of blonde hair whips to your direction, a glare shooting straight from her glasses framed eyes.

you snap your gaze away just as quickly, knowing it’s a fight you didn’t want any part of. you had no interest in being “the other woman.”

you’re nodding back at him with a frown, not sure why you feel this strange vibe eminating from that girl across the bar - but you don’t like it.

but - oh. oh. he’s looking at you still, observing you watch his evil ex try to seduce him back with her swaying hips across some mans bulge. but here he is, having all eyes for you. stop looking at me. wait don’t stop.

let’s just say it’s been...a while since a man has looked in your direction. you were of course not the shy type exactly - but right on the cusp. you observed the room. you made yourself noticeable that in case anyone would talk to you, you’d be the one they’d lean over to, to make their comment. but you could also make yourself as invisible as you pleased - and you’d thougt you’d done a good job tonight. but obviously with ethan sitting here looking at you, you didn’t succeed.

it’s spilling from your mouth before you could stop it, “she doesn’t really seem like your type.”

and you think for a moment , from the raising of his right eyebrow, that he’s angry. that you’d pressed a button somewhere under his dashing exterior. but then - he’s laughing. really laughing. it’s like a zap of lightening inside you, stirring up something that hasn’t been touched for years.

“and what do you think ‘my type’ is?” ethan firing back with a low tone, smiling so deviously. is he flirting?

“i’m not sure, but i know it isn’t her.” and it’s bold - to say such a thing about a person you don’t even know. maybe it’s the night you’ve had, or the fact that he’s already made you feel a sense of comfort, but you find yourself being the most honest in the moment.

he gives a nod, a simple bob of his head while still keeping those gorgeous eyes plastered on your face - waiting for something - you’re not sure what until he runs a hand through his hair and finally lets his thoughts spill out in a nervous jumble of words.

“she doesn’t give up easy that’s for sure. she’s been harassing me for a couple weeks and i can’t get her to stop and...” he’s thinking carefully, “...i uh...was hoping maybe you would be willing to maybe act like this is something like a date? just so she won’t try anything.”

“you don’t have your friends with you? you’re here alone?” you make it a point before you agree, just confused why he’s asking something so random and so elaborate. if you don’t look the part, she won’t believe a thing. girls are observant that way.

“my brother is here somewhere - i’m not sure i lost him but - are you in or not?”

and you think for a minute, lookin back over your shoulder to the door, wondering if you left right now - just grabbed your friend and went home like you had planned all day - how much you would regret it. it was simple really. in or out?

his leg bounces under the table, anxious with every minute that passes, feeling her eyes searing through his skin across the room - waiting for her moment to pounce. please say yes please just say yes.

it’s not that big of a deal right? pretend and you won’t see him again and you can go back to your normal, boring excuse of a life right? just this once?

“okay,” you smile brightly, tilting your head back and downing the last bit of your drink, setting the glass on the counter firmly with a smack, “i’m in.”

and you don’t know it - after what seemed like minutes but was actually close to an hour and half sitting there leaning into him, engaged in this little game of yours - that the same girl you’re putting on a show for had left that bar. got in her car, admitted defeat , and left. you’d been so caught up in talking to ethan about nonsense: laughing, talking, singing ridiculous songs that played over the speakers - that you hardly remembered it was fake.

it was only when you’re friend came up to tap your arm that you were pulled back down to reality. you’d been floating somewhere off in space with this high happiness that washed over you just talking to someone so freely. ethan was easy to talk to. even when you’re yelling over loud music.

and it shocked you to your core that as you got up from your seat, tripping just a bit to try and follow your friend, that ethan grabbed at your arm - a nervous expression crossing his face at the sight of you leaving. he was just having so much fun for once, never having felt so comfortable and safe with a girl he just met before.

“look uh, i know this is really random but uh...would it be okay for me to see you again?” he’s fumbling, hand still on your arm - so warm.

he’s standing now, and you realize just how tall he is. and your friend, still confused, but smirking behind you, nudges at your back with your silence. you wanted that. of course you did. but what would change if you said yes? what kind of trust would you have to put in him for just a chance at something wonderful?

before you can think too hard of the outcome of something that hasn’t even happened yet, your hand dives into the black abyss of your purse - pulling out a ripped piece of paper and a pen - jotting down seven digits that he would soon use to talk to you for hours upon hours - the same number he would call one lazy sunday afternoon, missing you, just to tell you how much he loves you. you write down those numbers and leave a little heart at the end. handing it to him felt like freedom. something inside you screamed that you shouldn’t be afraid - that you didn’t have to be afraid of ethan. even if it was terrifying to start again, start over, try to let yourself be vulnerable - you had a feeling this was a good idea.

“don’t wait to long,” you leaned in to tell him, placing the sweetest of kisses right to the apple of his blushing cheek, all while tucking the frayed piece of paper into his hand securely. his heart was racing - oh God was it racing and - what was he worried about his ex for? he watched you saunter away from him, smile lighting up your face, hips swaying just the right way, your arm linked with your friend. he doesn’t even jump when a plastered grayson slaps his hand onto his shoulder - where he stares at the door you disappeared in and out to the night - off and ready to steal his heart. he didn’t flinch when graysons sour attitude tried to interrupt the weird high he felt after your lips landed on his skin. he didn’t let it bother him because fuck - he was totally enamored by you.

don’t wait too long don’t wait too long don’t wait too long

and you better believe when i tell you he didn’t.

[nemossubmarine]

Warhammer 40k: Wrath &Glory RP #29

The party gathers together themselves, aliens and Ferrus for a little party in the conference room. Alien booze is involved. There’s a game of Truth or Dare (mostly Truth tbh) that gets called. Larry and Alice do a little arm wrestling, which Larry totally cheats in, and Alice says that she let him win.  Coco asks Tirak what’s her favorite thing about La’awali is, and Tirak says it’s how her mind works, how she always thinks about things more deeply. Tirak dares La’awali to give her a kiss. La’awali asks Larry whether he finds Tau attractive, and Larry says that sure, they’re not bad looking. Larry asks Ferrus why he doesn’t sleep with his employers, and Ferrus tells that he used to sleep with a Captain, who, when Ferrus told him he could drop off some of his crewpeople on a war-torn planet, the Captain, apparently offended for being challenged, stranded Ferrus on the planet as well for several months. La’awali does a little dance and Coco admits to being afraid of flying beavers.

We learn that Alice has once pulled a truck off from top of a sewer grate and Alice is the only one who manages to learn a Kroot swearword. Ferrus asks what Izarak’s first time was like, and Izarak admits to maybe having some relations at the Ministrum school. Izarak asks Alice, what she would like to keep hidden from someone. Alice says she wouldn’t have liked her mom to know that she worked in the pits, but apparently her mom died young. Alice asks Ferrus what’s up with his name, and Ferrus tells that all his siblings are named after primarchs in some strange ploy to gain the family some luck (he has a sister named Leman, it’s not great). Larry tells about the worst instructor he had, a flight teacher who liked to humiliate his students.

Coco tells the tale of how she and Ace met; her family had found some eldar artifacts and invited an Inquisitor to look them over, Ace was the Inquisitor’s acolyte and that’s how Coco and Ace first came to know each other, but they started dating only after Ace had been made an Inquisitor. Coco asks Izarak what his favorite part of his job is and he says helping people. La’awali shows a hidden talent for handstands. La’awali inquires about what exactly Inquisitors do, and Coco doesn’t exactly answer the question, saying she doesn’t involve herself with Ace’s business much, but as far as she know, he studies eldar culture and artifacts. Larry tells Coco how he got to Dimmamar with Iris. Ferrus tells a bit what the Captain he used to sleep with was like (some rich kid, kind of handsome, okay in bed).

Ferrus wants to know what Tirak thinks of humans and she says that they’re oddly soft and squishy with no claws and blunt teeth, which she takes to mean that they must have been peaceful at one time, but she’s sure she could crack their skulls open very easily, except maybe Alice. Tirak asks Larry what the biggest human crime is, and Larry answers that it’s heresy (ie believing in wrong stuff). Larry asks Izarak if he has any kids, Izarak says no. Alice recounts walking in on a friend working (as a lady of the night) as the most embarrassing thing ever happened to her. Alice asks Ferrus who in this room he’d fuck. Well, he’s gay and both of the men in the room are employing him in some form, so... Larry’s apparently more his type. Ferrus asks Larry to name a person in his life that he misses the most, and when Larry is unable to name a single person, Ferrus asks whether this is the sort of game where stripping is punishment. Larry answers by taking off his shirt. He also calls out for Izarak to take off his robe (implication being he has lied on a question).

Tirak tells that she might want to be a painter if she wasn’t an engineer/soldier. Coco says that she and Ace might have kids one day, and humans do not lay eggs. Ferrus isn’t quite sure what he’d do if he weren’t a Navigator, which is what Coco asks, as he has literally no experience or knowledge with anything else. Maybe something like piloting? Settling down onto a planet is out of the question. Ferrus asks Alice what she is looking for in a woman, since that’s what they had been talking about. Alice says she would like someone smaller than her, someone quite homely and kind, someone to have a quiet life with. Alice questions Coco about who she was looking for in Asphodel, and whether she was doing it at the behest of Inquisition, as Alice had heard some rumors about that. Coco tells that she was looking for Ranan, and that the Inquisition had nothing to do with it, purely personal. La’awali says she’d like to take a holiday on a Tau planet renowned for its art. La’awali asks Larry for the meaning of his name and Larry lets her know he’s actually named Laurel, presumably after the wreath, though he isn’t sure if there’s more meaning to it than that. Alice tells Larry that she joined the gang by Julo seeing her fight in the pits. She could have become his second-hand woman immediately, but she opted to work for it instead. That’s enough of truth-or-dareing for the night. But the party is far from over.

At some point during the evening(?) Larry takes Alice aside. Alice asks how Larry is finding the party. Larry says it’s good to get to relax a bit after the ordeal they’ve been through. Larry asks about Alice’s lung and says it might be good to get a doctor to look it, at the same time as they get a doctor to take the spores off. Alice says that’s probably good, but she’ll have to save a lot of money to get it replaced. There’s a bit of confusion whether Alice actually works for Larry or not, but anyway Larry hasn’t paid her. There’s many people Larry hasn’t paid, but he’s getting in a better spot with his money, hustling, picking up stray rings here and there. You know, that sort of stuff. Anyway, he asked her to join him, because there’s something he wants to tell her, namely that he actually was educated to be a pilot, by the Imperial army and used to be a pilot for the army, a genuine navy boy. Alice takes this well, or as she says “there was a saying in the gang that all soldiers are bastards, but we’re okay with hanging around with Inquisitor’s girlfriend so I guess it’s okay” and “you might have been a bastard but you haven’t stayed a bastard”. Larry lets Alice know that the navy thinks him dead, so that might become a problem at some point. Alice lets Larry know that he can ask her for help if he needs it at any point.

Rest of the party goes pretty well. Coco gets quite talkative and friendly when drunk, but she is among the first to retire. Larry makes sure to act nice and friendly with Izarak, apparently feeling bad for calling him out. Izarak seems… not too pissed (?). 

In the morning Alice talks with Michael, wanting to know about how his acid spit affects his kissing abilities. Michael lets her know he can turn it off, so if he were to kiss someone (which he is not in the habit of doing) the receiver of the kiss would not get hurt. Alice is fascinated by this answer, as she is apparently really interested in Space Marine biology. And other biology too, as she mentions talking with Ferrus about Navigator eye makeup. Michael, somewhat confused, says he doesn’t wear makeup. Alice looks at him like he’s a bit of a dummy. Michael makes the point that he’s mostly just like humans, except bigger (somehow also him not sleeping with people gets brought up). Alice bravely resists asking about Michael’s dick size.

They eventually get to Mpandex. The Forge World is covered in a thick layer of smoke as is very common with the Mechanicus owned planets. They descend through the layer of smoke and find a factory the size of a continent and a sea. They locate an archipelago with movement and a light house. They agree that La’awali should hang around the empty islands of the archipelago, while the party drops off into the sea near the islands. They drift ashore and pretend to be unconscious, except for Alice who starts dragging people away from the water.

Pretty soon some servitors approach and grab them. They are taken inside the lighthouse, where someone begins to examine them. Alice “wakes up” at some point and comes face to face with a tech-priest, who appears to be wearing a swim-suit. He’s mostly human looking, except he lacks hair and eyebrows and appears to have cut off his own eyelids. His name is Chaerilus.

Alice claims to Chaerilus that she doesn’t remember anything, and when he gets a bit suspicious Larry miraculously wakes up and confirms her lie by also not remembering anything. Larry complains pains, saying he has some kind of tumors. Chaerilus also notes that Alice’s lung should be checked out, but she says she can manage, so Larry gets taken in first. Chaerilus asks if Larry would like to stop feeling pain, seeing that he is planning on opening his stomach up. Larry agrees and Chaerilus does something to his brain, so Larry is awake during the operation. Next he takes Alice in and does the same thing. He lets her know that she should look into getting a lung replacement through whichever faction she works for, when/if she remembers it. She asks how expensive they are, he says very.

Once Chaerilus has returned Alice everyone is a bit awake. All claim memory loss. Larry says he remembers the name Ross, but nothing else. None of the others remember anything before falling into the water. Chaerilus provides them with some Mpandex swimsuits to wear, and says that tomorrow he’ll take them to the mainland so that they can be put to use. After some prodding it turns out that Chaerilus tests how clothing fares against elements / weaponry. Mpandex is the biggest under-armor / swim garment manufacturer in the whole segmentum. The party says they’re getting tired, so Chaerilus says he’ll let them sleep and he himself grabs his wide-brimmed hat and heads out to fish.