#the wristband is making me feral

[mathewboeser]

he looks so sad and pretty. i just want to hug him 🥺

[vodika-vibes]

tipping your chin to make you look into their eyes with a liiiiitle extra smut w/alpha-17 please (can you tell that i go feral for him? 🫠)

The Gambler

Summary: You're a high ranking official from one of the most wealthy corporations in the galaxy, and they have turned their eye on Kamino, sending you there to ensure that they get what they want. And, while there, you get what you want too.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1969

Warnings: Smut, oral m receiving

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that this took so long, I promise I didn't forget, I'm just slow sometimes. I hope you're still here, nonny.

“So, this is Kamino?” You prop your feet up on the table, and lean back to look out the window watching the rain streak from the sky. “I admit, aside from the cloning technology, I don’t see much here that’s worth our time.”

There’s a low laugh from the woman sitting across the table from you, “Oh? And here I thought that you could wring credits from a stone.”

“I can. But I'm not seeing any credits to be made here.”

“None? At all.”

“Perhaps if we were allowed access to the clones-”

“The longnecks would never. And even if they did, the Jedi would bar it.”

“Jedi, always ruining everything,” You scoff, as  you tilt your head back to look at the white ceiling, for a moment, numbers slide across your vision, informing you of all of the open projects happening across the galaxy.

Across the table, your partner falls silent and you know that she’s seeing the same thing.

You are both high level employees of Heartwares, an intergalactic company that travels to planets in distress and helps them recover, in exchange for the planet becoming the property of Heartwaves.

It’s all above board.

After all, the company puts a lot of credits into these planets. It’s not a cheap expenditure, fixing the side effects of natural, or man-made, disasters. The planets that Heartwaves acquire are happy to have them there. Happy for the help and happy for the jobs.

Kamino is just the most recent planet to fall under the scrutiny of Heartwaves.

You drop your feet to the floor and stretch your arms over your head, “This is so boring.” You say with a sigh, “Honestly, you’d think that they’d be thrilled to have us here.”

“They are an amphibious people,” Your partner reminds as she pulls a hologame up from her comm, “Perhaps they’re happy with the status of Kamino.”

“Hm…perhaps.” You cross one leg over the other and bounce your foot, “I can’t imagine why.”

“Of course not,” She replies, “We��re both mammalian, after all.”

You stop bouncing your foot, and turn your gaze to her, “It occurs to me,” You muse thoughtfully.

“Yes?”

“We may be speaking with the wrong people.”

She pauses and lifts her cybernetic grey eyes to meet your own, “And so the gambler returns.” She presses a button on her wristband, and the room fills with a low hum, indicating that the jamming device has been activated, “Tell me.”

You lean back, your arms folding over your chest, “It occurs to me that there are more clones than Kaminoans on Kamino.”

She pauses and leans back in her seat, her own arms folding across her chest, “You suggest that we bypass the Kaminoans all together and instead negotiate with the clones.”

“I am.”

“They might say no.”

“Then we have lost nothing more than our time, and since we’re here anyway-”

She taps her lower lip with her knuckles, “Alright.” She finally says, “Go, play your hand. See what interest there is. I’ll stay here and negotiate with the Kaminoans, if they ever show up.”

“Copy that.” And then you stand and meander your way out of the room. 

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so much, there’s no one to stop you from wandering through Tipoca city. And your visitor's pass opens a lot of doors. And the ones it doesn’t…well, what the longnecks don’t know won’t hurt them.

If they don’t want visitors getting into certain rooms, they should make sure that the locks can’t be hacked.

And if you insert your own personal bug into their system, so you’re able to take a peek at all of their data and learn any embarrassing secrets that they might not want you to know about-

Well, that’s a them problem, isn’t it?

You manage to wander for a lot longer than you’d manage to pull off anywhere else in the galaxy, and in fact, you’re only stopped when you find yourself in something that can only be a training room of some kind.

There’s a single man in the room, a clone, clearly, based on his armor. Though he’s so much bigger than any of the other clones that you’ve seen and spoken to. 

Information slides across your vision for a moment, and you focus on it. 

Ah. Alpha class clone. One of the earlier clones. Designed to be bigger and stronger. You blink the information away and focus on the man himself. He’s definitely noticed you, he’s either ignoring you or has decided that you’re not a threat.

And, really, he’s right. You’re hardly a threat.

“You aren’t meant to be in here,” He finally says.

You walk around the edges of the room, and then lean against the wall, your arms folded, “What the Kaminoans don’t know, won’t hurt them.” You reply, “Or me, for that matter.”

“I could tell them.”

You shrug, “You could. But I don’t think you will.”

He turns to face you fully, “Heh. You’re right, I won’t. Alpha-17, this is my training room.”

You flash a sly smile and introduce yourself, “I’m from Heartwaves.” You explain with a tilt of your head.

“Ah yes, the company who is slowly taking over the galaxy.”

“Well, everyone needs to make a living,” You reply with a small smile.

“The Kaminoans are never going to hand Kamino over to you.” Alpha-17 warns his arms folding across his broad chest as he watches you walk over to a weapon rack. 

“Oh, probably not.” You agree easily, “That’s why my partner is waiting to talk to them, and why I’m here.”

He raises a single brow, and you take it as permission to continue.

“You see,” You say slowly as you trail a delicate finger across a training blaster, “It’s occurred to us that there are more clones than Kaminoans on Kamino. And while this planet might be hospitable for the Kaminoans themselves, it can hardly be called the same for you.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re possessions. The Kaminoans own us.”

“Cloning is a tricky grey area.” You allow as your fingers drop to a blunt blade, “However, even a slave is able to ask for help from Heartwaves.” You turn to look at him, a small smile on your lips, “They just have to ask.”

“What’s your game?”

“No game. The company feels that they can make money on Kamino, and I’m starting to agree. And if the Kaminoans aren’t willing to hear us out…well, I’m not above a little underhanded tricks.”

You step away from the weapon rack and walk over to a console that allows Alpha to control the way the room looks, and you trail your fingers over the sharp edges.

“What do you get out of it?”

“Oh, I get paid no matter what you say. I have no horses in this race, so to speak.” You thoughtfully gaze at the console, “You, however, have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”

He scoffs.

“It’s true. Heartwaves doesn’t keep slaves, we’re not Czerka. You and your brothers would be free to choose what you want to do with your lives. Where you want to live. How you want to live.”

“It’ll never happen. The Republic won’t allow it.”

“I’m sure that if we throw enough money at the problem then the problem will go away.”

He releases a quiet laugh, “You’re something of a risk taker, aren’t you?”

Your smile is sharp, “I’m very good at what I do.” You pull your hand away from the console and walk over to him, “What if I can make this a better deal for you and your brothers?”

“How?”

“A cure for the increased aging,” His breath catches in his chest, and you smile, “And surgery to remove the mind-control chips from their brains.” You lightly press a single finger over your lips, “There are so many interesting little secrets in the servers…and now they belong to me.”

“Do you always cheat like this?”

“When I want to,” You grin at him, “I like stacking the deck in my favor.”

Alpha steps closer to you and then his finger is under your chin. He tilts your head up so you’re looking in his eyes. And then his hand drops so it's resting against your throat.

And you should probably be afraid, but you’ve never been afraid of a man in your life, and you’re not going to start now.

“You’re not intimidated at all.” He murmurs, something like awe in his voice.

“I’ve never let a man intimidate me before in my life,” You reply, “And I’m not going to start now.”

“I agree to the terms,” Alpha says as he walks you back to the console and presses several buttons on the screen, allowing the scenery around you to change into something that, almost, looks like a forest. “All of them, and you’ll give us the cure for the rapid aging and get those chips removed.”

You smile at him, and blink once, activating the visual computer located in your eyes and you quickly draft the contract, sending it to your datapad, and sending all of the information to your partner, before closing the interface again. And then you pull your datapad off your hip and hold it out to him, “All I need is a signature.”

He grabs the datapad and scans all of the information on the screen, before he signs the bottom, and hands it back to you.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” You purr as you slide the pad back on your hip.

Alpha hooks his finger around the collar of your shirt, and tugs you so that you’re flush against his chest, “Oh, I agree.” And then his lips are against yours, and you’re eagerly kissing him back.

It’s been far, far too long since you’ve been with another person, and he’s cute. So win-win for you.

He effortlessly lifts you and walks you so that your back is pressed against a tree, and you know it’s not a real tree, but it feels real against your back. 

“I’m going to fuck you, ad’ika.” Alpha purrs as his lips latch to your neck, “But first, I want you on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

You laugh breathlessly, “You have to let me down for that.”

“Was always the plan.” Slowly he lets you slide down his body, and sink to your knees in front of him. You take a moment to pull a tube of bright red lipstick out of your hip pouch, and you apply a fresh layer, pulling an approving groan from Alpha, and then you reach for his codpiece.

His hands get there before yours do, and he swiftly tugs his codpiece off and tosses it to the side.

He does allow you to tug his blacks out of the way to allow his cock, long and hard, to bounce free. He’s a little bit longer than average, and have a very nice girth that you know will feel amazing when he’s pressing into you.

“See something you like, ad’ika?” Alpha asks.

“Just thinking about how amazing this,” You grip his cock firmly and give him a stroke, “is going to feel when it’s inside me.”

“Well, you can’t have that until you do what I saw.” Alpha fists his hand in your hair, and presses the head of his cock against your lips, “Open.”

Obediently, you part your lips and teasingly dart your tongue out to lick the head of his cock.

“You’re just asking for trouble, ad’ika.” Alpha growls as he pushes his cock into your mouth, “I’m going to fuck your face, and then, if you’re good, I’ll give you what you want.”

You hum around him and he groans, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

[carnal-lnstinct]

End of Year Wrap

Another year coming to an end and another joy in working behind this blog. There has been so much good to come this year that of course I have to give the credit where it is due and it comes from everyone who follows, interacts with, and encourages the content of this blog. Thank you all! Always for the support, the idea sharing, the requests, and everything that has helped make this an unforgettable and fun experience for me. From the bottom of my heart, the love I have received has been so meaningful to me.

Happy Holidays and A Happy New Year to everyone!

Individual appreciation

For those who made this year much more enjoyable than it already was and just some kind words to those who, even without realizing it, never fails to be just what I needed at the right moment ♥

@blue-wristbands

My dearest friendo! You have been nothing less than a blessing to this blog. ♥ Always supporting my wild musings and inspiring me left and right without even trying. Plus your art is amazing and I hope we all get to see more of it in the year to come. Your kindness and friendship has been very special to me, I hope only the best for you!

@emmacornell

First off, thank you for opening my eyes to the joy of Raditz and his thighs potential. I'm thrilled that in this year I had the chance to interact with you, share interests with you, bounce ideas off you (EVERYONE THANK EMMA FOR SCOURGE OF THE STARS RIGHT NOW), and actually get to see your writing! You catch a lot of references I make in my fics and tags and that always puts a smile on my face! You are without a doubt someone who keeps me excited about writing and I need you to know your writing is beautiful and with your blessing we may see more of that in the future! And I mean be feral about it

@kayisonline

We've gotten to interact more towards the end of the year and you've really been a delight to talk to! I feel honored that you trust to speak with me about things in your life and share some of your interests with me! Especially about Gohan and Vegito ♥♥

@beneathstarryskies & @actuallysaiyan

Protect these two at all costs! I had to acknowledge you both together because I consider you guys the dynamic duo of my dash! ♥ You are more than an inspiration to me than you know and I lose my mind when you reference me in your posts. We have a lot in common which is an even bigger bonus and there are not enough words to say how great a pair of writers you are. I am looking forward to what ideas you bring out for the next year! Please always be kind and patient to yourselves, your writing is always amazing and we will always love it!

@missnebulaasnebul

fellow Vegito lover 🤝The niche you created with your blog is so special and that one VegitoxBlack!Reader fic killed me please always write more for the fusion boys. Your headcanons especially are so well versed and thought out, it gives so much more depth to fusions than "they're just goku and vegeta fused". That is love and that is care put into what matters most to you and these are so important! I'm happy to know your blog exists and can't wait to see what you make next. ♥

@miss-taura

You are very kind and have been since the first time we spoke! You have also encouraged fics for SS4 of all saiyans and that is crazy but I'm crazy with you and I cannot lie. ♥ Our interactions have been brief but always so pleasant!

There are so many people that have brought so much friendly interaction and support whether one-offs or on the regular that I can't quite think of everyone, but thank you all so, so much! You all have my love.

For the future

At this time, I'm not certain of all the events and holidays I will be participating in, but I will keep everyone updated as much as I can. Favored events will definitely come back and feel free to recommend any events you think would be a good fit for this blog. Requests will continue, but I will be using the rest of December to work on my own fics. I look forward to doing more events, get into collabs, creating new series, and, as my comfort grows with writing characters, expanding on writing requests if possible!

Lost WIPs

Can't send off the year without some writing wips that didn't quite make it, so since I have nothing better to do than to reflect on the stories and wips here's a synopsis of things I thought I wanted to write but didn't 👌🏾 (yes they are mostly dwd-related it rules my thoughts 24/7)

Neither Goku, Nor Vegeta - Vegito

Because of course I wanted a Vegito version of it! Though, I wouldn't have written him as jealous as Gogeta was rather than just obnoxiously confident of the impression he would leave on the reader. What can you do about it with his dick inside ya? Nothing, that's what!

Pouncy Super Saiyan 4s

This one was just a headcanon post for signs SS4!Saiyans give off before they "pounce" on the reader. I love an excuse to write feral, needy boys okay. there was gonna be cuddling

Toppin' Vegeta

Gotta get wasted and top saiyans, that's the key. But I got writer's block with this one and didn't go back to it.

Yandere!Goku

This one was less yandere and more of some just straight-up evil au. Like if the wishes made on the dragon balls worked like a monkey's paw or evil genie's wish. So if Goku dies and you bring him back to life, what did you bring back with him? Did you bring all of him back, or what is this creature possessing the body of the strongest warrior on Earth who fucking READS MINDS? Kinda inspired by AHS:C0ven

Hard At Work - Lifeguard!Raditz

When you go to a resort and thick-legged lifeguard keeps finding you around the beach. All from an ask I sent emma ♥ Would have been about that ONE THING I can't avoid in writing but actually on purpose.

Remaining Saiyans AU

That AU I wrote before about how surviving saiyans are basically hunted and captured as the last of their kind to be put to work or...used. And of course it would have been an au where SS4 is the default look. My dropped Vegeta fic for smu//tember would have been an introduction to it to see if I really wanted to delve into that au but I guess I didn't. Actually I might still do it but it would be a loooong time before it comes out xD

DWD Sex Pollen Trope

I didn't know EXACTLY what the SP Trope was until I looked it up and realized it was basically the Elysia fruit from DWD Valentines Day fic. I loved the idea of the fruit so much I wanted to write another fic about it where A) Chi Chi actually got Goku to grow an Elysia Fruit Tree to sell the fruit and it just fucks up the atmosphere and those around it get super horny for science or B) Kamidere goes to the planet Ambrosi to get another fruit and takes Goku and Vegeta with her.

DWD Yamoshi!Vegeta x Kamidere Reincarnated Trope

I don't fully remember, but I did want it to be like if Yamoshi was reincarnated as Vegeta and upon becoming a SSG remembers his past life and interactions shared with the God of Destruction who came to Planet Vegeta. As in Goku and Vegeta were not her first saiyans to be fond of. Also further going into the dream of the Super Saiyan God (or seer fish prediction, whichever is "canon") that is really why she went searching for him.

Divinely Favored Follow up

This was just going to be two fics, one for each pairing where Vegeta and Goku reveal what the winner wanted from Kamidere. also more threesomes with the wives because why not. It was just gonna be "normal" for the pairing now. Spice up your marriage with a destroyer god 👌🏾But I think where they ended is fine and didn't need a follow-up.

Lot of good, fun ideas with poor timing and planning put into them. Maybe they die with the year, maybe I come back to them and tweak them with a fresher approach. We will see ♥♥♥

[mdhwrites]

Beta Amity Looks More Like a Beta Boscha

This probably reads as a joke but like... No. Seriously. What the fuck is up with Beta Amity’s design? I don’t even think it’s a bad design but the main traits of it are: Black wristbands with SPIKES ON THEM. A bright pink sundress. A glorious mane so out of control and big that it puts hair metal bands to shame and makes Adagio from My Little Pony ask what shampoo she uses. What of literally ANY of that reflects on Amity? You know, the high society girl who is under strict watch by a set of parents where one looks like a suburban housewife and the other casts the silhouette of DRACULA. These are regal mother fuckers... And she looks like the epitome of pop punk. Now... I’m not going to claim “How is she supposed to be a hard studying, closet nerd, queen bully the same as this?” because the Beta designs were always supposed to be older. They would theoretically grow into them. I actually really like Beta Luz as a possible, older Luz because you could see how her optimism died so she now looks more like a stoner, doesn’t care as much about her hair getting long but still straightens it and possibly carries the bat around like a security blanket. How do you get from canon Amity to whatever feral lion is Beta Amity? Like... The genuine best guess I’ve got for how her parents let her dress like that is... They don’t. It looks like what she might become if she’d rebelled without Luz and thus got disowned and kicked out. The bracelets help defend herself, the dress might be one of the last things she has without holes in it and she can’t afford a proper haircut so she just let it grow out. That is pretty close, without DRASTIC alterations to her entire family, how I could see that happening. It’s close to how if I give an older Amity larger, longer hair it’s because she’s so devoted to her studies that she just hasn’t gotten it cut. She still would probably keep it in a ponytail because it helps keep it out of her way though and keep it under control. It’s just more practical that way. Which is... Actually part of what I miss about her S1 design as a quick tangent. I personally think it still has been her best design, though I like the long hair version too (even if both Luz and Amity seem to be trending towards their Beta designs in S3 and I don’t know about that. At least in Thanks to Them.) It strikes the most unique silhouette, said the most about her character and was generally just a much more interesting design than the other two. I mean... the short hair made it become a problem where without color, I couldn’t tell Luz and Amity apart because they had practically the same haircut and same design if they were both in uniform. However, losing the ponytail does imply losing some restraint and embracing chaos to some extent which fit her character arc and so did rejecting her mother’s green hair. So... I get why, I just still think S1′s design was the best. Anyways, getting back to the Beta design. So... Why do I say Boscha for this then? Well... The design to me speaks of someone who is so confident, so in charge and so ready to throw down, she doesn’t give a FUCK what you think about her look. It’s a punk look after all. There’s a reason why I first thought the entire fandom characterized the betas as brutal, murder happy hobos because the designs, ESPECIALLY AMITY’S are SO AGGRO. And for an older Boscha who has grown in confidence and maybe even finally supplanted even Amity as the top of the school... It works well. She undid the bun, let it grow out some, and I like the idea that she’s kind of comfortable in almost anything so why not a sundress that will catch your attention but still let her move freely so she can kick your ass? It’s not a design I would give an older Boscha but it still works WAY better as an older Boscha than an older Amity. Which... raises the question of why it ever was Amity’s design? There’s a LOT to be said that a lot of Amity’s character traits are really just useful for making her parallel Luz and make it easy for them to have a villains to lover’s arc (barely in my opinion if I’m honest because of how briefly they’re against each other) and that’s a whole blog in and of itself. The rebuttal would be of course that it’s fine to design a character around their narrative role and expand from there. That’s what I do commonly as a writer. A character forms as much out of necessity as from just a general concept. But what was Beta Amity’s original role then? Was the design just to pull the same trick but harder in episode 3 that canon Amity does? Where she seems utterly unhinged and caring WAY more about things like classes and status than she literally ever will again, to the point of feeling out of character? But also would have been stuck in an outfit that felt out of character? Or was the original plan for Beta Amity to be a true antagonist for a while with the pink dress being a hint that she had a soft side? She was meant to genuinely clash with Luz more? Or is it just a design that Dana doodled and genuinely dropped fifteen minutes later and yet still included as pre-production material? Honestly that last one feels plausible mostly because of how unplanned the show feels. I don’t know. Just in general I don’t know. The Beta designs and attitudes in general have never been compelling to me. They’re good designs, I borrowed a lot, probably more than I should have, from Beta Luz for Daina in Rich Witch design wise. But as characters? I don’t know. No one has ever made a super interesting pitch to me for why they’re more interesting than trying to make a genuinely natural evolution to the younger versions of the characters which the Betas don’t often feel like with how the fandom portrays them. But yeah, those are my thoughts. What are yours?

[m1lkt00th]

more sketches of these two but this was right after i got their designs lol

[ID: A digital sketch using black line-art and a solid gray background of Clay, an anthro bear, standing to the left of Gloam, an anthro cat. /End ID.]

[ID: A digital sketch using black line-art and a solid gray background that depicts Clay and Gloam sitting together while Gloam is speaking in the top right corner of the page. Their speech is indicated using red speech bubbles. In the bottom left corner Gloam is holding a tablet with a tentacle and a mug with another tentacle. They say, “The study of the ‘soul’ sure is fascinating, isn’t it?” In the bottom right corner of the page, Gloam is standing in an open cardboard box. /End ID.]

[ID: A digital sketch using black line-art and a solid gray background of Clay on the top of the page. Two sketches are labelled as ‘1’ and ‘2’. 1 shows them holding their paws to their chest with the text “Without magic, what am I? What purpose do I serve?” 2 shows them wiping away a tear with the text “Heh, who am I kidding? People like me don’t have a purpose.” On the bottom of the page Clay exclaims “A new episode dropped!!” They are wearing pride wristbands (bi and transgender). Clay is to their left with the text “FR?” (For Real?) with a transgender wristband dangling off of their tentacle. /End ID.]

[ID: A digital sketch using black line-art and a solid gray background of Gloam, an anthro cat, and Pearl O’ Wisdom, a feral cat, being depicted as stepping into a blue light. Gloam has their head down and their shadow is indicated using purple strokes. Both of the orbs at the ends of their tails are illuminated by the blue light./End ID.]

ramble under the cut

i literally just got these guys a day ago and i already have a general ??? story for them.

theyre probably just going to be me exploring new (?) themes and ‘venting’ about things that bother me. i wouldnt say vent but bring attention to in a healthy way instead of me stewing in my negative feelings

i mainly want to develop and explore magic !! gloam is mainly ‘mind’ or psychic based stuff like “future sight” or “memory searching” and bringing forth holograms and stuff. clay’s magic would be fire based which isnt all that interesting to me atm. i do want to explore how fire magic is used by people who (unlike clay) have experience with it.

but something that’s always intrigued me has been how certain metals and chemicals in general burn. there are so many pretty colours fire can make! pretty colours like pink or green arent good when it comes to the gas they produce though so. hopefully i’ll learn more about those as i explore this world

[lihikainanea]

Would Tiger ever ask Bill to give her a show? Would she ever want to watch him just touch himself? Would Bill be okay with that? And not as a punishment for anything but it’s what she asks him for.

What a delicious thought, sweet nani. I absolutely think she would--in fact, what if it happens after she sees the photos from the new shoot?

Maybe that's what she scribbles on the back of her favourite photo. Not necessarily what she wants him to do TO her, but what she wants him to do FOR her.

When he's done his interviews he snaps his fingers, and she shyly hands the photo back. Bill is ace at a poker face, he never wants her to feel judged or like he's shocked at her request.

I mean, he is a little bit. She's never quite asked for anything like this before--but all he does is take a few seconds to read it, and his lips tilt up into a devilish smirk.

"Good girl," he praises, and pulls her up for a deep kiss.

He goes around closing up his office--shutting the lights off, cleaning out the coffee machine. And then he holds his hand out to her and she takes it, as he leads her out.

And listen, once they're back home? Oh, the show starts. He makes her a cocktail, puts some music on low. He dims the lights and pulls her to the bedroom, where he sets her up on the armchair in the corner. And then he backs away and real slow like, he takes off his shirt. He pulls it over his head and tosses it to the side, then clasps the wristband of his watch.

"Leave that," tiger mumbles, her throat already dry. "You can um...you can leave the watch on."

He smirks at her again, and gets started on his belt. He takes it niiiiiice and slow, and judging from the way tiger has barely blinked--she's really enjoying it.

He's already half hard by the time his boxers come off, and it's solely from the way tiger in unabashedly ogling him. He sits down on the edge of bed, and catches her eye as he wraps his fist around his length.

"See what you do to me?" he rasps, and it's gravelly and deep. He starts pumping his hand up and down his length.

"Slow," tiger says, and god he's so proud at the way she's keeping eye contact with him. "Please. Slow, please."

He moans, but he slows his hand down as he squeezes at his tip. Tiger leans forward in her seat.

"How...how does it feel?" she asks.

"So good kid," he tilts his head back as a moan escapes his throat, and tiger licks her lips at that long, beautiful neck of his craning back, "But you do it better."

"Keep talking" she says quietly.

"The things you do to me sweet girl," he works his wrist up and down his shaft and his breath catches, "God I've never had it so good. The way you feel, the way you smell, the way you taste."

He hears her exhale a shuddering breath, and his hand speeds up.

"I can't get enough tiger. You drive me wild--" he stops and lets out a loud moan; tiger can see the veins pulsating beneath his hand and she presses her legs tighter together, "It's only you, kid. Always."

She can tell he's close and she gets up, moving closer and settling on her knees in front of him.

"Just like this," he groans, his other hand reaching to cup her cheek, "God every time you get on your knees for me I could fucking explode."

She puts her hands on his thighs and he jerks, his hand picking up speed and squeezing tighter.

"Oh god," he groans, and she can see his stomach clenching as he sucks in deeper breath.

"Mine," tiger murmurs, craning forward to lick at his tip. It's enough to send him over the edge, and she quickly moves his hand to wrap her mouth around him, plunging down until he hits the back of her throat.

Bill lets go a feral moan, fisting his hand in her hair as he empties down her throat. He twitches, his thighs spasming as his jaw clenches and his vision goes black.

"Oh my god kid," he says through clenched teeth, "You could fucking kill a man dead."

[aftergloom]

Feral Opress x Reader (You) Summer Love Headcanons - Part II

I am having THE BEST TIME with this series. It's eating my head.

Pairing: Feral x Reader (You, She/her) Rating: PG Word Count: 1,770 Notes: So soft. Summer love anthems all the way through. Mentions of Savage and Maul too. Next round will see the spicy stuff, I think. Some of these HCs are definitely more plot-beaty and will likely become drabbles. No use of Y/n.

Part I is here. Part II is beneath the cut.

That Savage got a part-time lifeguard gig was no surprise. Seeing the big guy with a blot of sunscreen on his nose, the sunglasses, the shitty plastic whistle, the tank top and flip flops? It fit. That Feral stole the key to the community pool when Savage was passed out on their ratty living room couch one night so you could break in like civilized delinquents instead of going over the wire fence — that was inspired. Pool staff padlocked that damn thing, and even with the lights off, you could still see Feral’s grin as you both snuck inside. You spread out your towels on the edge of the deep-end beneath the diving board, sticking your legs in to that tepid water that smelled too-much of chlorine, and felt like it too — the water too-slick with chemicals as it slipped around your calves. Feral kept that private smile to himself for a good five minutes until you asked him what he was thinking. He asked if you remembered the night of the bonfire, and called it, “Revenge.” Two minutes later, you were still fully-clothed and treading water, a tingle in your nose burning a little because you’d inhaled with your gasp when he knocked you in. You can’t remember a time when he’d ever laughed so hard, but you forgave him at least a little when he peeled off his own shirt, tossing himself in beside you with a splash, shorts still on and grinning like an idiot. You forgave him extra when his warm hands touched your skin, lifting you to his lap so you wouldn’t have to swim.

You pretend not to see what it means to Maul when you glance at him; seeing him staring up at that stage for the first time. He’ll never confess it, but to you it looks like a bit of destiny escaped him with the tour comes to town, and the only thing he’s good for is opening for some three-chord punk group who’s not even on the main bill. The smile he gives you looks wrong on his face — because it’s more of a grimace, really — and he hands you a wristband which doesn’t even let you go backstage. Feral find you minutes later, staring after Maul’s retreating form, and he doesn’t have to ask what’s wrong. Some truths between brothers don’t need words, you think. He offers you a paper drink cup that smells like too much rum mixed in with the soda. You share the same straw, passed back and forth, until sometime later, somewhere lost in the crowd when the sun sets behind the main stage, Feral leans in to steal the last sip, and catches your cheek instead. “Trust me,” he tells you, and loose and warm, Feral helps you onto his shoulders so you can see when Maul takes the stage — head bowed, lost somewhere in obscure contemplation before he begins to play. It’s moments before Maul looks up, the murmur of the crowd not the roar he’d hoped for, so you raise your arms, and you know he sees you wave. Feral cups his hands to his mouth, and bellows into the night, “Yeah, Maul!” There’s a fuzzy feeling in your chest, and before you know it, you join in. Just the two of you. Shouting. Making a din. Maul holds your stare in the silence, and finding some resolve, you think you find that old, consuming fire in his gaze when he looks back to his guitar. It’s the calm and still of the power he commands, gathering to him on a rush, like the inhalation into the microphone before he roars into the first song. You think it’s the best set Crimson Dawn has ever played.

The heatwave hits hard in early July. Your flip-flops stick to the asphalt, and it’s a fight to find shade. There’s a picnic bench out behind the ice cream parlour where Feral works on weekday afternoons, and at the end of his shift, when the sun goes down and he takes his little paper hat and apron off, he meets you out there with something new to try: they’ve got a hundred and eight flavours, so he never shirks. Today, though, he’s brought you a sugar cone topped with soft serve. “It’s old school,” he says, taking the seat opposite you, and even before he hands you the cone, it’s already starting to melt. The backs of your thighs stick to the paint-chipped bench, the gouges in the old wood an ancient vandalism from kids who’ve spent their summers here before you. Feral digs out new marks absently as he watches you considering your cone; waiting for it to drip. When cold vanilla cream touches your knuckles, you struggle to lick it up, but the gleam in his gaze slows your progress, turning you hesitant, and then warm in ways that not even the stifling summer air can account for. Maybe, you think, this is how things change; in the way you watch each other when something innocent as a darting tongue can hold the attention longer than sweat-stuck skin and the discomfort of an absent breeze. The look he wears heats you in different ways, and when you do manage to look away, you see what he’s been carving into the picnic table: your initials.

Feral marks off two days on the calendar that hangs in the Opress brothers’ kitchen. One at the end of July, and one in August. Circled in red Sharpie. You don’t know what they mean until he picks you up after you close up the record shop for the evening. It’s Wednesday, and he knows you don’t have to open the next day, but while he’s fond of spontaneity, you can’t explain the immediate butterflies that start thrashing in your belly when you find him leaning against the passenger door of his car, waiting for you wearing a grin that’s a little uncertain. That’s how you find yourself, sprawled hours later on the hood of his beat up Corolla, staring at the sky as the radio plays — headlights off in the semi-dark as Feral’s fingers trace your palm: a little uncertain. Like something is on the cusp of happening, and you’re half afraid of what it might be. Half bubbling with excitement. “I don’t want to rush this,” he says on a breath, and the confession leaves you a little tight in the chest. When the first stars begin to fall, you think you understand a bit better, but you know the feeling intimately: “I don’t want the summer to end.” Two dates: two meteor showers. August doesn’t feel so far away, and August — not unlike the falling stars overhead — signals an end. You smile privately to yourself when you lift Feral’s arm, tucking in against his chest so that his exhale ruffles the hair on the top of your head. He stiffens, maybe in surprise, before pulling you closer — resting his lips against your skin. You tell him with a half-smile, “I don’t mind,” knowing that when the September chill begins to creep in, the heat of him will still be there to warm you; that while he might not kiss you tonight, when he does you don’t think either of you will be able to stop. And that’s okay. “I think I’m more of an autumn person anyway.” He plays with your hair. You listen to his hearts. Sometime, later, when the sky starts to pink with the first blush of dawn, the dew setting on your clothes leaving you damp even though you’re wrapped up in his arms, you feel the brush of his lips against your skin.

It happens all in a rush. From blue skies and white puffy clouds, drifting fat and lazy overhead as you lay on the grass — the destruction of a picnic spread between you — to grey skies; to the deep rumble of thunder in the distance. Not so far that you couldn’t feel the first grumbles of atmospheric discontent, but far enough that you shouldn’t have had to run for the car park. “We have time,” Feral said, preoccupied. Maybe he had other things on his mind. You’d stuffed him with nearly half a loaf of crusty bread, a block of fresh feta cheese, olives, and a salad made from chunks of tomato and cucumber harvested from the community garden behind the rec centre. Feral’s bottomless appetite notwithstanding, he looks to the storm that’s descending, and opens his mouth to say something — like there’s still something missing; a hollow that food can’t fix. A furrowed notch sits between his eyes when he looks at your legs, stretched out on the picnic blanket. Close enough to touch. You’ve given him invitation enough, and yet he’s held back, leaving you increasingly nervous when the conversation becomes strained. When the first heavy drops of rain hit your skin, you know it’s already too late, but you both try anyway — throwing everything into the middle of red and white checks, gathering everything up. “Run,” he urges, but you’re not going to leave him to get soaked. You both make it halfway across the slippery park, skin damp through to soaked, your hair sticking across your forehead, when finally, you round on him, demanding what his problem is. Thunder crackles overhead, and the rain starts in earnest, dumping buckets over you both — standing there like idiots — staring at each other with your ruined picnic. He drops the bundle, wiping down his face. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” he says, exasperated. “And —" He points accusingly at the sky. Flaps his arms. Barks a laugh. His shirt sticks to his chest, the water running in rivulets down his face. Your dress is wrecked. Your sandals squelch as you take two very firm steps towards him, breathing hard from your half-hearted escape. Rain drips off your nose. Your lips. His too. Stars, he’s handsome, you think — and the way he looks at you? The rain is cold but Feral’s touch is warm as he cups your cheek, brushing away trickles of water. Heated skin. Mingled breaths. Your eyes flutter shut, but you can’t think of anything smart to say, so you opt for the next best truth: “It is.” Because the world won’t wait for either of you, but you? You’d wait for him until the ends of the earth if he’d stop being weird about — “— Wanting to kiss you,” he says. And that’s when Feral leans in, parting your lips with his as if you’d both been waiting for the exhalation after breathing each other in.

[snarwor]

Sudden random thought but: Din and Boba meeting in a bdsm club. Maybe Xi'an is abusing Din and Boba intervenes OR just cute smutty fluff w kneeling and feels!

The fucking teakettle noise my brain is making I LIKE U

Listen this is my first headcanon format thing so bear with me 😅

Because power structure Boba OWNS the club

As much as I love proper BDSM in fics my feral need to hurt/comfort Din Djarin is greater, so yes, this would be his first time at one of these clubs, and would be wearing the little wristband marking him a sub, and club regulars would see Xi’an going for him and get uneasy

Especially when Boba’s watchdog alights on it from where she’s ignoring eight other suitors

Fennec knows they love being ignored but this is a different kind of captured attention

She’d have some kinda comm, and go “boss,” and that’s IT Boba just APPEARS

and it seems like the whole club is just watching this go down, they’ve all heard rumors of Boba Fett handling things himself, the man’s gigantic and hard to miss, and when he sees Fennec’s eyeline the temperature in the whole club drops

All they can hear is the slap of a palm on a face too sweet to need it, those closer to the scene can see the tremble in the shy sub’s shoulders as he tries to keep it together

And this wasn’t what Din signed up for either, this isn’t fun and hadn’t been since Xi’an had found him

Everyone holds their breath when they hear an almost lyrical tone growl out, “Why don’t you check what his color is, Xi’an?”

And she hadn’t even heard him come up, wrapped up in the cruelty of it all. Din’s face is flushed and he is miles away now, trying to think of anything but this. He doesn’t even know if he can speak, let alone check in.

Trying to save her own ass, Xi’an scoffs and says “He wasn’t any fun anyway,” and walks away before anyone can punish her.

It’s like the whole club had fallen away when Boba kneels down to look at Din. His face is burning with embarrassment. He doesn’t even like being in public, always felt too exposed, can’t even look up at Boba because what if he’s just as bad? He’s got a bright red band tattooed on his thick wrist, some facsimile of the Dom wristbands half the club is wearing.

“Why don’t we get you somewhere quiet, little one?” Boba would ask, his voice much softer and oh. Yeah. Din could follow him anywhere.

It’s on shaky knees that he follows Boba through the club, and it’s funny that Boba wanted to take him somewhere quiet, when the place was still as a graveyard.

The moment they’re through a velvet curtain Fennec steps into power, snapping at the eight suitors to get her a drink. The club goes back to normal, though everyone wants to know what’s happening behind the curtain....

Where Boba is handing Din a water bottle and taking a seat in a wide armchair. And Din feels...not guilty, but he knows he doesn’t want to be the taller one right now. He has no idea what to make of the other man, and his confusion and indecision must show becayse Boba crooks a finger at him and he nearly falls into it.

There’s a cushion by the chair that Din kneels at warily. “What’s your name?” Din asks, before he can stop himself.

“I am Boba. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” the answer is nearly punched out of him by the care in his tone. “What are we—”

“What I want you to do, little one,” Boba would say, bringing a hand to rest on his thigh. A massive hand. A hand Din knows could do much more than Xi’an, but he wants on him anyway. “Is relax.”

And that might be asking too much because Din Djarin and ‘relax’ haven’t been on the same planet, let alone sentence, in years. But for Boba, he’d try. Something about him says safety, even if most of him says danger. Maybe Din’s too fucked up for this.

But the second his head rests down on Boba’s thigh, it all goes away. The club, the sting in his cheek, the embarrassment, the worry, the billion other things Din has on his mind, they leave without a fight.

“Good, little one.”

And those words are two things Din never knew he wanted to be. And yet here he is, and he never wants to leave.

[upperranktwo]

Tag Game

Tagged by @uselessvalshit

Rules: Answer 10 questions, make your own and tag 10 people I feel too awkward to tag  but I like answering questions (I know im answering this dead late ahh)

1. Very specific and vivid memory you have from your childhood? - My parents wedding back in august 2001 (So I was 5) I remember walking around with my twin since my other sisters were 3 & 2 and as a result couldn’t do fuck all. I remember blowing bubbles and sitting on steps

2. Fanfic/writing trope that makes you go feral as soon as you see the tag? I don’t read fan fics so I don’t really have any tropes that I lose it over 

3. Are you the type of person that clings onto anything you got gifted, even if it’s just taking space or you can get rid of it eventually? - Depends on the item tbh. I lose a lot of things but I try to keep things people give me. If we stop being friends I’ll probably get rid of it or give it to a sister. 

 4. Do you like to wear any type of jewelry (rings, chokers, earrings…)? - I only really wear earrings and nose rings/studs. Back in 2013-2016 wristbands where my shit tho

5. What’s that piece of clothing that you just refuse to throw away no matter how worn out or destroyed it is? - Literally everything. What can I say, I grew up and still am super poor so I try and get the most use out of everything. Even if its got holes in or the shoes are falling apart I’ll find a way to work around it. 

6. Do you like hugs or physical contact is not your thing? - If you’re fam and you ask I’m good with hugs anyone else needs to stay away because I get iffy with personal space 

7. Do you like to put keychains or pins in your bags? If you do, please post a photo. - I have 4 key rings on my bag. 2 death note ones and 2 from the zoo one with a tiger and one one with an Andean bear. I also have a cat pin and a tiger badge. I would post a pic but I’ve lost my bag aahhh

8. When was the last time you laughed? - Like 5 seconds ago 

9. Hobby or piece of media that has kept you sane this quarantine? - Viddy games 24/7 bby 

10. Do you still own any toy from whem you were a baby or a child? - Omg yes! I have a teddy I got for my first birthday. I have some sonic toys I got back in like 2004. 

[blog-sliverofjade]

Omega Protocol 23: Bite Me

Summary: In the mid-21st century, the elite decided to cement society’s strata into our DNA, creating a genetic caste system. One of the early Omegas is cryogenically frozen and forgotten. Revived nearly two centuries later, she has no idea what she has become and has to navigate a strange new world while surrounded by Alphas, whatever those are.

Leading the military arm of his people in exile on a dangerous planet is no easy feat for Captain Niklaus Reed.  He has to build and secure a settlement against megafauna straight out of the Ice Age before families start arriving on the distant planet.  When an Omega is found in an old research base, things become… complicated.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15  Chapter 16  Chapter 17Chapter 18  Chapter 19  Chapter 20  Chapter 21  Chapter 22  Chapter 24

Word Count: 2172

Credit to @pandabearer for beta reading!

           Waking up to yet another bland room and ensconced in a bed that quietly registered her vitals made Emma want to scream, but the pounding in her head made her reconsider that urge.  Easing to a sitting position woke other pains in other places.  She winced, hissed, and grunted with each shift until she managed to swing her legs over the edge.  Geez, and she’d thought she was sore after getting knotted through her heat.  That was nothing compared to this.

           “We have got to stop meeting like this,” she muttered with a rueful pat to the mattress.  The bed must have tattled on her because a knock came at the door a minute later.  “Unless you’re Dr. Nguyen or Mihaela, go away.”  The door swung open to reveal Captain Reed.  Since there’d be no getting rid of him, she sighed and waved him in.

           “Where do you think you’re going?” he frowned.  She suppressed a shiver.  Since when was she afraid of disappointing him?  She must have hit her head harder than she thought.

           “To my own room,” she replied.  As inappropriate as it was, he wanted to kiss those primly pursed lips.  He could have fallen to his knees in gratitude that she hadn’t lost the spark of temper whenever he’d overstepped his bounds as she saw them.

           “You have a concussion.”  He could hear the edge of a growl to his voice, but she barely batted an eye.  “Do I need to sit on you to make sure you stay in bed, like you did to me?”

           “I did not sit on you!”  Her protest died as his grin grew.  “But that explains the headache.”  Grimacing, she squirmed to lay back down.  Her features were too pale and drawn for his comfort.  He’d crossed the room before he knew it and had to stop himself from touching her at the last minute.  Fists held uselessly at his side, he couldn’t force himself to turn away from her.  “Ok, fine, please help me before you have an aneurysm or something.”

           Slipping one arm behind her shoulders and another under her knees, he picked her small form up and laid her back down a bit higher on the bed.  She stiffened with a sharp inhalation and dug her fingers into his shoulders, mouth pressed into a thin, white line.  By the furrowing of her brow, he presumed she was hurting rather than afraid of his touch, yet he didn’t linger more than he had to.  If he wasn’t so focused on being gentle, he would have noticed the delicate sniff she gave his shoulder as he withdrew.  He hooked a foot around the chair in the corner and dragged it behind him while she fiddled with the bed controls until she was comfortable.

           “You’re not afraid of me,” he observed once she settled back with a contented sigh that was music to his ears.

           “Should I be?” she quirked a brow.

           “After…  You were after.  Afraid, that is.”  The memory of her dark eyes wide in terror still speared through him like a lance.  Now they were focused on the ridiculous pink camouflage blanket pushed to the footboard.  He took the bundle of fabric and unfurled it to drape over her legs before retaking his seat.

           “You were scary then,” she confessed in a tiny voice, still unable to look at him.  “You were…  you smelled kinda like him.”  With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wracking his brain to come up with the words to explain.

           “I was feral,” he began, studying palms that a short time ago were covered in blood.  “When we or someone close to us is in danger we go a little berserk in their defense.  I was… I was worried about you.”  For someone who was a member of the Council, negotiating the terms of exile, and accustomed to commanding people he found it ridiculous he was tongue-tied.

           “Is it only Alphas?”

           “Any dynamic,” he shook his head.  “Although we are more susceptible to it than others.”  She gnawed on her bottom lip until it was pink and swollen.  He ran his hands over his face to shake thoughts from his mind that he had no business thinking.

           “I didn’t know there were other people here,” she said to finally break the silence.  “On the planet.”

           “You weren’t the only person experimented on here,” he began.  Waiting for him to collect his thoughts, the Omega reached for the water on the side table.  He nudged it closer so she didn’t have to move as far.  “The early Alphas and Betas weren’t easily controlled.”  She snorted at the idea of trying to control the Captain, or Barbie, or Chimi, or anyone she knew in the here and now.  “They were stronger than the scientists, and more of them, almost all of them permanently feral.  Before long they killed their creators and had the run of the planet to themselves.”

           “I guess I should be grateful that they didn’t find me back then,” she murmured, eyes a little too glassy.  “Otherwise this might have happened sooner.”

           “This shouldn’t have happened at all.”  A crack punctuated his snarl.  He followed her startled gaze to the piece of broken armrest in his hand.  Scowling, he tossed it into the corner.  “What were you doing out there, anyway?”

           “I’m s-sorry,” she whispered, hunching in on herself.  “I was too afraid of losing even one of the chickens.”  The one flock was all they had.  They couldn’t afford to lose a good layer.  His silent glowering was worse than any yelling he could have done.  To her shame, she trembled uncontrollably, still unable to look up from her fists tangled in the sheets.

           “And what if we lost you?  Over one chicken?” he asked softly.  She recoiled as if he’d struck her.

           “Technically, I’ve lived for far longer than I should have,” she mumbled, plucking idly at the soft blanket.  It was Barbie’s, which, last she saw, was in her room.  It still carried that smell of home, such as it was.  “Besides, I’m a liability and a drain on resources.”  A growl like the one he used at the nomads’ camp erupted from his chest.  Before she knew what she was doing, she tilted her bowed head to the side, exposing the line of her neck.  Niklaus moved so quickly all she saw was a blur at the corner of her eye, then felt a bruising, tearing pain before everything went black.

           What had he done?  No one knew if she could be Claimed, being the first of them.  The instincts didn’t develop until the second generation, there was no precedence for bonding with one of the originals.  What if she couldn’t and there were problems?

           “What-?” Dr. Nguyen rushed in, summoned by the noise, and stopped when she saw the bite.  If she wanted to harangue him for his rashness, she put it aside for the little female.  After an agonizing eternity, the doctor had results from the bed sensors.

           “Well?” he barked.

           “Does she know what you did?” she snapped back.

           “Is she ok?”

           “Answer my question, Captain.”  She spat his title derisively, hands on her slim hips.  “Did she agree to this?”

           “No.”  His molars ground painfully with his need to shake her until answers spilled out.  He would accept any censure as long as she would be fine.  The Beta’s right hook caught him by surprise.

           “After all that she’s been through, you…” she hissed, words failing her in her anger, and shoved him out of the room while he was still recovering from the shock of being attacked by the normally mild-mannered doctor.  No matter how deserved it was.

           “You can’t keep me from her.”  Only Emma’s need for Nguyen’s care kept him from fighting back.

           “Oh, but I can.”  She folded her arms and spread her feet as if she’d be any kind of barrier between him and the door.  The protective rage pouring off her would have done credit to any Alpha.  “Mihaela, please grab an Alpha grade sedative.  Don’t worry about needle gauge, I doubt the good captain will cooperate anyway.”  She activated her comm wristband.  “Lieutenant Triggs, I recommend that Captain Reed be relieved of duty due to mental instability.”  She paused as she listened to his response.  “Come to med bay and see for yourself.  I suggest that you bring a couple of your people to make sure he cooperates.”

           The throbbing ache at the juncture of her neck is what woke her.  She didn’t recall getting injured there.  There was a strange tension at the edges of her awareness.  It sharpened, feeding into her own.  The voices arguing in the distance wasn’t helping her calm down any.  The monitors barely started to beep a warning over her agitated state when Nguyen came bustling in.

           “You need to calm down,” the doctor crooned.

           “You do realize that telling someone to calm down doesn’t work, right?” she asked with a cocked brow.  Nguyen ignored the snarky response as she turned off the alarm and studied the readings.  “What happened here?” she asked, gesturing to the thin skin bandage on her neck.

           “You were bitten.”  Her blithe tone sent the fine hairs on Emma’s neck to prickling.  She froze.  Bitten?  That didn’t match up her with recollections of the assault.  Sure, memories could get fuzzy while protecting the psyche, but she was fairly confident that it wasn’t from the nomads.  Wincing at the pull of the wound and the pain between her legs, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.  The doctor moved to stop her.

           “Let me up.  I’ve spent enough time in hospital beds to last a couple of lifetimes,” she glared up at the Beta.  With a sigh, Nguyen helped her to stand.  “Now, is this what I think it is?”  She pointed to the mark.

           “It is,” she nodded with as much grace and solemnity as Emma had seen when she was given the diagnosis.

           “Is there any way to break it?”  She knew she was rapidly approaching hysteria, but couldn’t bring herself to care.  The squirming knot in her chest wasn’t easing up, which wasn’t helping any.  Rubbing at it with the heel of her palm wasn’t making it loosen.  She was pretty sure she’d only succeeded in bruising her breastbone, but she couldn’t stop, wanting to carve the odd sensation out of her like a parasite.

           “Emma…” Nguyen began soothingly.

           “Answer me!”  The doctor wet her lips and sighed, shaking her head.  Continuing to dig at her chest, the Omega began pacing the small room, her quickening steps mirroring the manic spiral of her thoughts.  I’m trapped.  I was finally starting my life.  Free of illness.  Got a job.  Making friends.  Real choices.  He ripped that away from me because he thought I couldn’t function as an independent adult.  Because of what they did to me.  It’s all been taken from me again!

           A slender hand gently tugged her wrist away from her breast.  Startled, she looked down to find her own smeared with crimson.  Nguyen said something, but she couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own heartbeat and ragged breathing.  The older woman was leading her towards a hospital bed.  No, she didn’t want to go back.  She was better.

           Shivers wracked her body and she sank down to the floor, ignoring the twinges in her backside.  Dropping her forehead against her drawn up knees, she tried to breathe through the impending panic attack.  Thoughts buzzed in her mind like the inhabitants of an upended wasp nest.  Society might have drastically changed during her extended snooze, but she was pretty sure both parties still were supposed to consent.  A curiously soothing sensation bloomed between her breasts as if in response.

           The foreign feeling had the opposite effect.  Anxiety shot through Emma like poison.  The doctor was speaking to her, but a curious droning filled her ears, drowning out all sounds.  She jumped to her feet and dashed for the exit, all physical discomfort forgotten in her terror.  Throwing the door wide open, the hall was thick with people who turned to stare at her in surprise.  Cold sweat trickled along the hairline of her temples and slithered down the small of her back.  Footsteps from behind spooked her into jackrabbiting again, leaping to her right.  As if someone had pressed play on a paused movie, motion erupted in the corridor.  Bodies roiled and she ducked and dodged, diving through at least one pair of legs.

           Flesh covered coils of steel wrapped around her from behind and lifted.  She threw her head back, but dazed herself against a chin instead of a nose.  Her bare feet collided with at least one set of genitals and a face before they were pinned.  A sting in her arm brought ice seeping into her blood.  Her last coherent thought was, I don’t want to wake up different again.

[emybain]

Filigree Bracelet

“Can you write a story where Adrian figures out Nightmare’s identity because her sleeve gets torn or burned during a fight and he sees her bracelet?”

requested by @insomnianovanightmare

yall...can I just say that fight scenes go better in my head than when I type them out? fr..

also this has been a nightmare (no pun intended) for the past like 24 hours because it would never post. praying it posts this time, or I will just cry!

    Adrian could feel the chill of the cathedral through his suit.

    Every one of his nerves told him that he shouldn’t be there, that it’s too dangerous, especially since the arrest of Ace Anarchy not a month ago. But Nova…

    Nova was gone.

    She had stopped showing up at headquarters over a week ago. Concerned, the Renegades sent people to check out her house, only to come back shaking their heads. Nothing. Nothing except her wristband, which had been found sitting on a naked mattress in what they believed to be her bedroom. Adrian, in denial, went with Oscar and Ruby to check out the scene for themselves. The house had had police tape across the front door, but he hadn’t cared. An investigation had been opened up to find the missing Renegade, but there hadn’t been anyone there when they went. The house had been completely emptied except for a few picture frames of what he assumed were of Nova’s relatives. Completely emptied, as if she and her uncle had decided to just up and move without telling anyone. Or they had been robbed, and something had happened to them.

They had searched the rowhouse, looking for any clues that could help them find their partner. They had gone up the stairs to the second floor, finding two bedrooms and a small bathroom. Adrian had gulped when he opened the door to what was marked, probably by an investigator, as Nova’s room. Inside, there had been two bare mattresses sitting on the floor. Across from them, an old vanity, which struck Adrian as odd. Nova wasn’t the type for that kind of furniture. She was much more simplistic. Perhaps it had been a gift from her uncle. Whatever the case, they had left disheartened. They had found nothing.

But Adrian had a hunch.

He believed that the Anarchists had taken Nova for killing one of their own.

And he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

The universe had already put him through so much.

First his mom, then the attack on his dad, then Max, then Danna...he refused to let his girlfriend go on top of everything else.

Voices caught Adrian’s attention. He stiffened, then crouched down behind some debris. A piece of what seemed to once belong to the ceiling of the cathedral.

“...in two days. We don’t have much time.” Adrian held back a gasp. Peeking around the corner, he saw the black uniform of none other than Nightmare, her back turned to him. In front of her stood Phobia, his hood hiding any facial features, if he had any.

“It’s not enough,” he hissed, voice echoing across the cathedral. “It is foolish to even consider.”

“Do you have a better plan? Or are you too busy brooding around here?” Nightmare crossed her arms. Adrian took note of her rigid posture. Clearly, even the Anarchists were wary of Phobia.

“Do not let your inner conflict out on me, little Nightmare.” The room grew cold all of a sudden. Was it just him or did Phobia grow another foot? “You cannot hide your constant battle with yourself. It grows every day. The Detonator was right in believing you would betray us.”

To Adrian’s shock, Nightmare shrank back. When she spoke, her voice was shaky, yet icy. “They’ve taken everything from me. I will kill every last one of them if it means Ace is rescued and we win.”

An airy laugh, if it could even be called that, broke out. “I have seen this fear in you many times over, and before you, countless.” He began to circle her, gliding across the tile. “Abandonment. Loneliness. Not being accepted for who you truly are-”

“Shut up!” Nightmare drew a knife from her belt. “You know, Phobia, I don’t know why I came here in the first place. I thought maybe you would care enough, but clearly you’re still playing the same games.”

Phobia hissed. “It is not I playing the same games, you petulant child. It is you, unable to fuel your anger to revenge instead of fear.”

“I will kill them,” Nightmare repeated, voice shaking. “I will avenge my uncle.”  

Cold air blasted through the cathedral, “Of course, child. If that’s the case, then why don’t you start now? I bet your little Renegade friend hiding would enjoy your anger.” Phobia vanished into the air, leaving Nightmare to whip her head around, eyes wide. The grip on her knife visibly tightened.

“Who’s out there?” she called out, turning in circles.  

Adrian contemplated leaving, blasting a hole through an outer wall and making a run for it. But he was here for Nova, for answers. He had to find out what they did with her. So, Adrian stood from his hiding spot, slowly, as if he were in no hurry. He stepped out into the light. Nightmare narrowed her gaze.

“Of course,” she growled, before pouncing on him.

He stumbled back, momentarily stunned by the force of her attack. But with a raise of his arm, he sent her flying back with a scream, hitting a wall and slumping to the ground. He made his way to her slowly, as if she were a feral animal. She remained where she was, laying with her head down and back against the wall.

“What do you know about Nova McLain?” Adrian raised his arm again as a precaution. Nightmare tensed, then peered up at him.

She blinked slowly. “What?”

Adrian rolled his eyes. He took a step closer, blocking her only escape. She pressed back against the wall, much to Adrian’s confusion. Since when had Nightmare become so...weak?

“Nova McLain. Renegade.” He swallowed. “Maybe you’ve heard of her, seeing as you keep messing up my life.”

Nightmare shook her head, confused. She must’ve been concussed, or something, from her hit. Great. Adrian sighed and lowered his arm. She was no use to him here; if he was going to get answers, he needed to take her to headquarters. Maybe then she would talk.

“Get up,” he ordered. “You’re coming with me.”

Nightmare started to stand, but fell back with a loud ‘oomph’. Pathetic. She made quite the Anarchist. Against his better judgement, Adrian took another step towards her and held out a hand. She looked at it, dazed, then raised her own to accept it.

Next thing Adrian knew, he was on his back, the wind being knocked out of him. He had gone numb from the waist down. His arms were pinned down by his sides. Nightmare hovered over him, her eyes glaring down at him from under her hood. Despite her surprisingly small frame, she was able to hold him down. It wasn’t hard, when he considered it, seeing as he only had control of his upper body.

“Don’t worry, the effects of the poison will wear off in about...twenty minutes. Enough time for me to figure out who you are. Now tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?” All traces of her assumed concussion were gone, replaced with hard, determined eyes.

“The infamous Nightmare shows mercy? That’s not what I heard two minutes ago,” he mocked. She had hold of his arms with her knees, and she put more pressure on them. Only then did Adrian notice how close her knife was.  

“I’m not all bad, if only I was given a chance,” she retorted, batting her eyes innocently. “Is it true, Sentinel, that this helmet of yours comes off?” Her free hand began roaming around his head, searching. He struggled, but she pressed the knife against his chest plate. “All I need is one puncture, one touch. Don’t even try it.” Adrian ignored her.

The back of his helmet clicked, and her eyes gleamed with pride. With one toss, the helmet was sent somewhere across the room, clanking against the cracked tile floors.

Adrian expected laughter. Adrian expected a knife to the throat.

Adrian didn’t expect Nightmare to gawk at him.

He felt the numbness in his legs wearing out. She had said that it would take longer; perhaps it was the suit; perhaps it was a bad poison. Nevertheless, her reaction allowed him to build up heat in his hand, shooting flames onto her thigh. She cried out in pain, her grip on him loosening, enabling him to push her off of him and flip their positions.

They struggled, rolling around. Adrian threw punches at her face, but she reflected them. Only when he had her pinned down did he realize that she wasn’t fighting back like before; she was defending herself. There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill. Adrian couldn’t decipher what they were from.

A glint beside him caught his attention. A portion of her jacket was burned, exposing red, angry, blistering skin beneath the remains of her sleeve. Apparently, her arm had been caught in his previous blow. But it wasn’t the jacket that caught his attention. No.

It was the filigree bracelet dangling from her wrist, with a star in its center and a clasp made by Adrian.

“Where did you get that?” He turned his attention back to her, dug his elbow into her neck. She gasped for air.

“Where do you think?” Her surprise from before had disappeared, and her hardness had returned. “You were right about one thing, Adrian Everhart. I do know where Nova McLain is.”

“Tell me.” He gritted his teeth. “Or I will kill you. For everything you’ve done.”

She squirmed underneath him, but it was useless. Finally, she spat out the response that Adrian dreaded. That turned his blood cold.

“She’s dead. I’m sorry, Adrian.” Then, her hand was on his cheek, achingly familiar and gentle and calloused. His eyes widened in disbelief, but then closed as the world around him went black.

[angelspigeon]

Rewrite the Stars - Chapter 05

Chapter 05!!! This time, the art of this fic had been provided by @Hyenaroid !!! Check their twitter, instagram and facebook while you’ll check his amazing art on AO3 just there =>  |   °|

(I really loved that fic at the moment I was writing it, I’m just sooo upset I took too much time to share it but now enjoy!!!)

Also, Hyenaroid is taking commish too sooooo check that out?

Knocks against the metal made yawn Lea in his bed.

What was that?

He rolled in the bed and took the pillow to press it against his face. He knew it was still pretty early and didn’t have to train before a moment. What time was it exactly, by the way?

Lea glanced at the clock on the night stand behind him.

Wait?

What?!

“Lea! Come join me in ten minutes under the Big Top,” a voice came out.

Firm and full of authority.

You couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to it and he didn’t want to say no but it was six am! SIX AM!

He was mad?!

Lea groaned and pressed again the pillow over his face. He couldn’t remember a thing. When the representation started? What should he do? Damn, it was almost hard to remember his name at this exact moment.

He rubbed his face and forced himself to get ready.

The voice had said ten minutes but fifteen had already passed when he arrived under the big top, yawning and scratching his belly, his hairs in a mess and his ideas unclear.

“You’re late,” he heard.

“Yeah…”

“Did you have stretched yourself?”

“No…”

“Then do it. Warm yourself. I leave you five more minutes.”

“It’s six am…”

“I know. However, if you want to do an art with me…”

“What?!” Lea cut short.

His head snapped to see Isa who was wearing a light blue top adorned of very thin strap and a black short really tiny but holding the said top in place. He had white wristbands with shining Moons and also mittens for feet. They were very tights and it was easy to know it was easier for him to work that way. His hairs had been tied in the back with just two locks and a tiny hairpin, giving him a feeling… wild, feral, untamable?

“We’ll do an art together. I asked Xemnas and he said yes. Stretch yourself and run,” he added, firm.

“Yes. But…” Lea sat on the floor to start on the floor to stretch and noticed that everything was already set around. Or almost everything? He saw no net… “… you’re sure we can?”

“Yes…”

Isa pressed his hand over his throat and moved to the side, toward the mechanisms. They were more accessible since the backstage tent was just open to them.

“I don’t think we can present an art together before two or three weeks at least but I expect us to do it as soon as possible.”

“Okay. And what about the other guy? Xigbar?”

“Braig. I don’t know.”

“And your ribbons? I can’t use fire around your ribbons. Just to be sure,” Lea pointed out, still stretching his limbs.

Isa turned his head toward him, from the board of the device, since he had brought down every kind of tool they could use.

“Obviously…”

Lea watched the Big Top. Isa hadn’t placed ribbons and it wasn’t surprising at all. He wasn’t neither surprised that the man knew his work better than him. While being a Fire Performer was something, he just had to learn how to use sticks or other objects… the rest was only magic.

“The first day, your friend appeared from nowhere, catching you…”

“Yes. That was the normal part of the art. Yesterday wasn’t really impressive however, Xemnas wanted to punish me,” Isa stated. “And now, if I’m doing an art with you, Braig will certainly change his. Or it will depend of the days… However, I believe Xemnas see this as an opportunity. He finds it cleaner when he can actually announce the arrival and the exit of every of us.”

“Yes, but the day before yesterday… It was so much exciting.”

“I believe this too…”

He walked back to Lea, watching him, standing just next to him.

The new recruit looked up at him and took the hand held out to him. Isa immediately let go on him but started to jog and he just followed him, accepting this warm up. Accepting this company.

“I’m sorry you can’t…”

“It’s not your fault,” Isa replied.

It was his and only his.

He couldn’t blame anyone but him… Xemnas said it was in right to punish him and he was certainly right. He couldn’t remember if he really wanted to kill himself at that moment or it was just the fever of feeling good for once… Later that night, he did wanted to kill him so…

“You’re okay?”

“Yes,” Isa said. “I was just thinking.”

“Yeah… But… I just noticed… your skin?”

Isa looked down to his thighs pointed out by Lea and then he let his own look slid over his arms also sparkled with blue marks. It looked like a constellation, it matched with his hairs dancing in his back and yet… those were just horror. The worst was the fact those marks didn’t annoy him that much. He was more annoyed by the hickeys on his throat…

“That’s nothing. I trained too hard.”

Lea frowned. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Lea stayed silent after this and even the warm up was suddenly and ironically… cold.

They ran five times around the ring then slow down to finally stop. Lea crouched and put his head between his own thighs, resisting with difficulty to say anything about the difficulty of this warm up.

Suddenly, he really struggled to talk to him…

He wanted to make him smile, wanted to see him shine but each time he looked him, he saw the bruises on his skin and he knew what it was to say to someone you have just got a tough work when it wasn’t that at all…

“Do you have any idea for our art?” Isa asked.

Lea folded his arms, thinking. As the other man walked to the ladder on the side of the huge mat, he moved toward the tribune. It was already six am and half, almost forty to be honest and it was very late for him. Forty minutes to start training? Way too long. He jumped on the stand at a few meter from the floor and took a trapeze. He could tell Lea was thinking, at least. He hopped it was about the art but he was definitely thinking. To be fair, he had several ideas. But he wouldn’t want to impose and invade. He could when it came of the training itself because it asked rigor to do what he did but after… He just wanted to vacuum his head with the feeling to fly.

He moved backward so he took on speed before throwing himself in the air, his hands firmly clamped around the wooden bar. The feeling was delicious, as always. It was so peculiar, a sensation nothing could brush. Not even receiving a surprise hug from Demyx. Coming forward, being pushed backward with a force he couldn’t control and yet was friendly… No wonder why he wished he could fly forever…

In his tribune, Lea hit his fist in his palm. He climbed the level.

“Isa?”

The man glanced at him. Lea followed the pendulum movement as he saw the force pushing him backward and almost gasped when he saw Isa letting go on the stick, being threw right toward the higher part of the Big Top with the strength. The trapeze moved away and Lea’s Heart missed a beat as he saw the body coming back, head toward the floor. He had missed the trapeze!

The long and firm legs bend and closed around the wooden stick as the trapeze kept moving forward.

Lea blinked when, suddenly, they were face to face, him without a word in the tribunes, Isa mocking the gravity…

“Yes?”

The new recruit was unable to reply at this exact moment, his eyes being wide and his breath taking away.

Taking your breath, stealing your mind, the Lunar Diviner was able to throw your Heart and making him fly with the Stars.

“Lea?”

Isa’s hand moved in front of his eyes. He was still on his trapeze, flying, though he was sat on it now.

“Can you come down?!” Lea called, his mind following him in this journey, letting him aghast.

The second after, he saw Isa grabbing the trapeze with his hand. He let his weight move down and holding with hand, one leg flexed, he followed the air, letting go on the stick at the moment his toes brushed the bench of the tribune.

“Woah…” Lea muttered. “You’re good!”

“Thank you,” Isa replied with a slight smile.

Lea saw him happy there and it has no price. Absolutely no price. He could understand why people would pay again and again to see someone just throwing star at them, just showing them what was passion, following a dream, living like it was the last moment…

“So… Your idea?”

“Yes! What is your favorite animal?”

Isa watched him with surprise and folded his arms. “Wolf and rabbit, why?”

“I thought…” Lea jumped above the benches and quickly walked down to come in the ring, approaching the trapeze and the hoop. “You came down and I would blow a wolf of flame. The wolf became flame around the hoop, or the trapeze I don’t know what’s the best, and… I don’t know much more. Do you have idea?” he asked with a smirk. “Ah! It will really not burn you, I swear.”

“I trust you,” Isa said, walking toward him. He frowned and watched the tools. “At what distance do you want me to be.”

“Well…”

Lea looked, too, the tools. He moved backward and flames came from his lips. They immediately turned toward a wolf you could almost hear howling.

“There?” Lea said with a smile.

“Very well,” the man replied.

He couldn’t help but smile when the wolf literally landed next to him and walked around him, like a real wolf. Isa approached his fingers without fear and he didn’t feel the burn.

“You have a beautiful power,” Isa told to him. “I hope you won’t fear it again,” he added, watching him right in the eyes.

“I’ll do my best,” Lea replied.

Isa turned and walked to the mechanisms so he could lift the hoop until his partner told him to stop.

“And now? How do you get there?”

Isa glanced at him, casting him a smirk. He walked to the huge pylon and climbed at the ladder, once again. He approached the edge of the stall and jumped. Lea thought he’ll catch the hoop from there and blinked but he saw him grabbing a trapeze pretty high in comparison, trapeze that swirling with the strength, approaching him from another one, lower. This time, Lea wasn’t surprise when he saw him jump to catch the bar.

“Get yourself ready!” Lea warned.

Isa raised his thumb as a sign and threw himself in the air. When he came down, his ankles grabbed the metal. Lea watched him but was still able to see the acrobat grab the hoop and let go on the previous support. He saw him sat on the hook on the circle and, after one second, just to be sure, blew a new Wolf. The beast immediately flew toward Isa, toward the ring, and his fluffy flaming head seemed to rub against Isa as his paws were merging in the hoop, surrounding it.

Lea couldn’t help but stare the artist with the soft orange caressing his skin and a slight smile on his lips. The reason disappeared for him and he created a little bunny with his flames, bringing it on Isa’s lap.

“Is this a part of the spectacle?”

“I think… it’s not,” Lea smiled.

“However, did you like how it looked?”

“It was nice but I think it missed something…”

“I was unsure,” Isa replied. “I have to be sure what my spectacle will be to arrange perfectly this part,” he said.

He put down his hands in each part of the circle and let his body come as low as he could. He was still as three meters from the floor but just let go. Lea wanted to grab him but he saw him roll on the floor and get up. He was trained for that…

And he felt really dumb…

“After the representations of today, I should know a bit more…”

“Sure!” Lea replied with a smirk. He rubbed his skull, still feeling so dumb. “It looks so nice! Can I try?”

Isa frowned.

“Try the trapeze or the hoop? Or anything…”

“Oh… Hm… Very well. I’ll bring down one of the trapeze, sit on it, hold it tight and don’t move. I have to install the net.”

“The net…”

Lea turned his head toward him but the acrobat had already moved away. He could see the different tool moving, coming at various high. One of them, pretty large come really low. He could actually just sit on it… seeing Isa coming back with a cord he waited anyway. The acrobat seemed very severe again.

He saw him tie a long rope at the edge of the trapeze then looked toward Lea.

“You can sit on it,” he invited.

Lea didn’t wait more and Isa adjusted a bit his position before giving him the rope.

“Keep that, please. I’ll lift you. Hold very tight.”

“Yes!”

Isa moved away.

Lea was more and more thrilled. He never did that, always seeing the other artists doing that as birds unreachable.

When the trapeze moved, he did his best to stay on place and glanced at Isa, watching him lift the rope then coming install the net. You could tell he was used to this because he had movements fast and yet expert and sure. He still watched him as he moved to the ladder, once again.

Watched him again as he approached the edge of the stall and crouched.

“Throw me the rope, please.”

Lea grabbed it and watched the distance between them. He took it anyway and threw it as far as he could. Isa extended his body to grab it but the cord didn’t even brush his fingers. The new recruit couldn’t help but made a face.

“Sorry?”

“It’s not a problem. Please, still hold tight. It’ll move.”

Move?

The second after, he saw Isa move back then ran and launch himself. He grabbed the rope at mid length, making shake the whole structure. Lea had to hold very strongly and he gasped when he saw him start to climb the rope as if it was absolutely nothing…

“Well… Hello?” he said, blinking, when Isa arrived lifted himself next to him on the long bar.

This trapeze was made for two and you could sense it just now because, though they were next to each other, it wasn’t even disturbing. He watched as Isa took off the rope, throwing it near the net and then… got up to help the trapeze to move. This time, the movement was normal.

Very common.

He was still hallucinating but he was also… kind off relieved?

“That’s just a big swing!”

“A bit,” Isa replied, making work his legs for the trapeze to move faster and faster. “What did you want to try?”

“Oh… Oh! More? More!”

Lea was excited like a child and Isa’s heart felt softer. He saw he was like a child in front of a shop full of candies. Unable to just choose what was the most interesting one.

“Can I… change of trapeze?”

“Yes.”

“I got up like you?” Lea asked, still holding the chain on the side and the bar next to him.

“Stay like that. When we’ll approach the trapeze, I’ll grab it for you and held it in place. You’ll catch it and just slightly raise up.”

“Okay!”

Lea was even more excited. He couldn’t wait for it. And yet he had to because it wasn’t that easy to arrive at the trapeze. Maybe thirty seconds? One minute?

As soon as they were close enough, Isa let go on the chain on the side and grabbed the trapeze, bringing it to Lea. Which held out his hands to catch it. His fingers brushed it but… he couldn’t grab it on time. Isa had to let go on the bar and his ankles moved as they were the only things to keep him on place. He swirled and grabbed the trapeze where they were, his fingers brushing Lea’s one and he got up again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry.”

Isa caught the trapeze and, using his feet, he forced the tool to stay on place longer. As soon as he saw Lea grabbing it, he let go, letting his body fall on the net. He just swirled one time to see Lea as he crossed the air, screaming his joy, holding the trapeze very tightly.

Isa laugh softly, too.

See someone having fun like that was a relieve… a soft feeling. He wondered if Lea felt as free as he felt when he was flying that way.

And, yes. Yes, Lea was feeling free. Lea was happy! Happy and frightened! It was awesome and horrible. But he couldn’t stop laughing, trying to be someone else, to have fun as an acrobat.

However…

However, it has to stop.

“What should I do?” he asked, a bit of fear now in the voice.

“Let go. You risk nothing with the net!” Isa swore.

Lea gulped, closed his eyes and… let go. He fallen and let out another cry though… happy?

He felt himself bounced and his back landed on the net, giving him a strange feeling.

“Are you okay?”

Lea opened one eye and saw Isa, bending in front of him. He was still on the net, just next to him.

“Yes!” He opened the second eye. “Why didn’t you put the net for you?”

“I don’t need it!” Isa replied before lying next to him.

Turning his head, Lea could see his face as Isa was looking him, the feet pointing in different direction from each other.

“You don’t need it or…”

Isa smirked coldly. “I don’t need it,” he replied.

“Thank you for that,” Lea said, understanding he shouldn’t continue on the previous path.

“You’re welcome. If you always wanted to do that, why didn’t you try?”

“When I was taken over by Ansem, fire seemed to fit me better… Helping me to get over it and use it was his main interest.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven,” Lea said. “You?”

“Eight…” He closed his eyes. “Demyx was just a child. I didn’t know what to do with him…”

“You weren’t there with your parents?”

“From what I know, my mother wanted to protect us and she gave us to the first person wanting us. I took care of Demyx, I trained with Ansem… I tried to study… But I especially wanted to protect Demyx…” He glanced at Lea. “And you?”

“A fire destroyed my home and my family…” Lea whispered.

Isa frowned. “You… You mean…”

“Yeah… I did that to my family.”

“I’m sorry, Lea… Do… Do you need something?”

Isa moved his hand, bringing it next to the soft and warm cheek though he didn’t dare to touch it.

“It was twenty years ago, I got used to it… But… I wondered… You left radiant garden when?”

His own hand moved, his fingers brushing Isa’s.

“Ten… maybe eleven years before?”

“What was your name?”

Isa shook his head. “Just mine…”

“I was with you there. We were together… Why I have… no memories?”

“I was only training and taking care of Demyx… I don’t think I was that interesting.”

“I think I would have recognized you. Unless you had a big Glow up!” he laughed, his fingers almost intertwined with his.

“What is a ‘Glow up’?”

“That mean you became really sexy while growing.”

“Oh… So if I wasn’t sexy…” Isa teased.

“I don’t say that! But your boyfriend seems to think that what makes him sell!”

Isa frowned and sat in the net.

“Boyfriend…”

“He’s not?” Lea asked, sitting too. “He’s your fiancé?”

“Thanks God, he’s not,” Isa replied, moving in the net and jumping out of him.

“You…” Lea approached the edge of the net, from the other side since Isa was moving. “You don’t love him?”

Isa stopped and turned his head toward him. “Is it wrong if I don’t know?”

“Wrong?” Lea jumped in the floor. “I don’t know. But not healthy… It’s your boyfriend, you should… You should know and be happy to be with him.”

Isa looked down, hugging himself. “I don’t think I am…”

“You should break up, then!”

The acrobat shook his head and swirled, walking toward the backstage. Lea quickly followed him, getting more and more worry…

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t!”

“Why?” Lea asked.

“He’d be upset!”

“But he loves you?! He will understand it’s for your happiness and he would…”

“No. He won’t let me leave. He bought me and he wants me! I… I’m just a horrible partner.”

Lea watched him with horror and he held out his hand to grab his, to touch his skin, to try something… But he couldn’t. Not with those recent information.

“The day before yesterday… When you wanted… When you were about to… throw yourself in the lake. I heard you. You said it was nothing… I don’t know you, it could have been an argument between you and him… but now I’m asking you: is it forcing you to anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does he rape you?”

Isa seemed shocked with those words and he hugged himself more.

“No.”

“Does he ask you?”

The acrobat watched him with a frown and paced backward. “Are you mad? That’s not something you ask to someone!”

“Do you talk about him or my question?”

Isa turned and held his arms more around himself. “Both…”

Lea came to him, still not daring to touch him. He paced around him and knelt in front of him.

“You know it’s a rape, right?”

“You’re saying non-sense. He’s my boyfriend and I never say ‘no’, it’s not a rape. Have you been sent by Ansem himself? With the only purpose of getting close of the favorite of the boss and start to defame him to destroy the concurrency? That would explain why you don’t know who I am. You’re just a paw. An actor. You’re skilled.”

Isa moved on the side and kept walking toward the backstage.

Lea blinked, not understanding of the situation just slipped out of his hands. He got up and ran to Isa.

“I’m not lying! I didn’t want to stay there and I ran away! I’m saying all of this for you! That’s not sane!”

“Why do you care?!” Isa asked, turning toward him. “I’m nothing for you!”

“Why I wouldn’t care?! You’re sad and if I can make you smile?”

“But WHY?! No one wants to make others smile for nothing in return?! What are you expecting from me?! You want me to say ‘no’? I’ll say it to you. No. Don’t touch me. Don’t hope you’ll be a Knight on a white horse!”

“You’re mistaken on me. The only thing I want is to have friends and make them happy, got it memorized?” He scratched his skull. “But I guess that’s selfish, yes. I want them to be happy so that would make me happy? I want to make you happy because… that would make me happy?”

Isa stared him, keeping distance between them.

“There is… nothing? Nothing else that the desire to make people happy?”

“Yay…”

“It’s perhaps selfish but it’s nice from you, I think. There are worst egoist acts in the World…” He looked down one second then up with a feral cold look. “If you have lied to me, you will regret it, I hope you know this.”

“I won’t lie to you! I swear!” Lea said, rising his hands.

“Very well. You can stay my friend if you want to. But I keep an eye on you.”

Lea nodded and felt a pinch in his Heart. While it was normal to have doubt toward him because he was just a stranger, he was sad the man was able to protect himself from him who just wanted to be his friend and to protect him but would continue to give his entire life to a man using him…

“But… if there is something wrong, one night… You can come see me,” he whispered, not even sure Isa would have heard it…

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Changing (10)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food. 

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

Chapter Ten - Adventuredome 

“Stark Party.” Darcy announced to the receptionist as soon as you were dragged into the hotel.  

“I’m getting married in two days!” You had been saying that sentence on repeat for the past hour, always accompanied by a giddy smile.

“Congratulations Miss Stark and thank you for choosing The Hard Rock Hotel for your hen party celebrations. We have you booked in The Presidential Suite.”The receptionist told you with a friendly smile.

A collection of staff descended on you, leading you and your hen party up to the lavish suite. As soon as they were gone and it was just you and your friends you sat down on a chair with a huge grin.

“I’m getting married...”

“In two days, we know!” They all said in unison.

“Leave her alone, she’s happy.” Pepper said in your defence.

“Meh, she’s sappy.” Darcy said, hitting the minbar.

“Oh Champagne!”She exclaimed.

“No, we have an itinerary!” Sam said, snatching it off of her.

“Hand over the bubbles and nobody gets hurt bird boy!”Darcy snapped.

You drowned out the sounds of their argument by escaping to the balcony to call Bucky but as soon as you pulled your phone out it was snatched out of your hands by Natasha.

“This is a no boys weekend.” She told you.

“But Sam and Scott are here?”

“This is a no mens weekend.” She said and you snorted.

There was a shuffling sound from under the balcony and you and Natasha looked at each other before leaning over the side of the balcony to check it, her with a handgun and you with your hand raised.

“Well hello ladies, little help here?” Deadpool said, peering up at the two of you from where he was hanging by his fingertips.

“You’re late.” You admonished, reaching down and hauling him onto the balcony.

“And you’re so strong, it makes me all tingly in my lady parts.” He said, squeezing your bicep and swooning.

“Kotoynok, a word?” Natasha asked and you unceremoniously shoved Wade into the hotel room.

You watched him throw himself at Sam and wrap his legs around the falcons waist.

“Wade Wilson and Darcy Lewis? You know this weekend isn’t going to go smoothly?” She asked.

“There’s a bowling alley in the room!” Darcy shrieked through the glass.

“Well isn’t that the plan?” You said, smirking at her Natasha.

“It’s your funeral.”

“Wedding.”

“Not by the time Deadpool, Darcy and the Asgardian liquor are done with you.” She warned.

Ten minutes later you were in the massive shower, seeing as you had been kidnapped from your bed and been flown to Vegas in your pyjama’s. The door opened and Darcy walked in and plopped herself down on the seat next to the shower, completely disregarding your need for privacy.

“So Pepper says you still don’t know where you’re honeymooning. Want me to find out for you?” She offered, digging through your luggage.

“Bucky wants it to be a surprise. It’s kind of romantic.” You told her, ignoring her nosiness.

“What’s romantic?” Wade asked, walking in.

“She’s naked, get out.” Darcy said, trying to shoo him out of the bathroom.

“Oh I’ve already seen it all. All. Every bit.” Wade said salaciously, throwing himself on the bench and putting his head on Darcy’s lap and somehow wiggling his eyebrows under the mask.

“Oh just leave him, he’s harmless. The glass is frosted anyway.” You said, giving up on the notion of privacy.

“I brought your dress for tonight with me, you need to figure out what you’re wearing today.” Natasha informed you, strutting into the bathroom and leaning against the sink.

“Uh huh, can someone pass me some conditioner? The bottles in here are tiny.” You grumbled.

Several bottles were tossed into the shower and you rolled your eyes and picked one up off the floor and started massaging it into your hair.

“Do we want to get room service before we go out or find a restaurant when we leave?” Wanda asked, coming in with a room service menu.

You sighed heavily at your shower someone becoming a group activity.

“Let’s get lunch on the strip.” Darcy decided for everybody.

“Uh guys, I convinced Sam to let us go to Adventuredome if you want?” Scott said, wandering in with his hands over his eyes.

“Well at least someone is polite. Ish.” You muttered.

“Jean wanted me to tell you to try out Canyon Ranch Spa, I’m booking us all in for tomorrow. Can I name drop you Sweet Pea to get us is?” Rouge asked, wandering in to join the apparently group activity.

“Hey, why are we all in here? WHY ARE YOU NAKED?” Sam screeched.

“Because I am in THE SHOWER!” You yelled back, rinsing your hair out and getting out of the shower, stepping into the fluffy towel Wanda was holding out for you.

“So Adventuredome?” Scott asked hopefully, still covering his eyes.

“Lunch first, then we’ll split into groups depending on what people want to do. Everybody out of the bathroom.” Pepper called authoritatively from the suite.

Everybody scattered, Scott walking into the wall and being lead away by Wade and you were left alone. You couldn’t do anything except laugh.

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

“I’m hitting the casino.” Sam threw in.

“Alright. Kit Kat, what do you want to do?” Pepper asked, looking around dissaprovingly at the group as you finished off your lunches.

“Adventuredome.” You announced excitedly and Scott beamed at you.

“Alright, we’ll split into groups and meet back at the room at 6pm.” Pepper decided.

“Who’s going to the casino?”You checked.

Sam and Wade raised their hands.

“The Wilson brothers take Vegas!” Wade crowed and high fived Sam.

“Ok, me and Scott vs Wilson squared... Pick your teams everybody.” You announced.

“Casino!” Darcy crowed.

“I want to come with you.” Wanda told you.

“Sorry Kotoynok, I’m with the boys.” Natasha said, looking excited about the prospective casino trip. By excited you mean her face betrayed nothing at all and you had a feeling she was going to bankrupt the casino at the Poker Table.

“I’m not too fond of cards, I’ll take the roller-coasters.” Rouge decided.

“Alright, we’ll all meet back at the room at 6pm to get ready.” Pepper announced.

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

 Adventuredome was a jam packed room filled with excited crowds and screeching children. As soon as you walked in you were assaulted by a symphony of noises and smells that had you recoiling while your senses readjusted.

You, Scott and Pepper had a three way argument about who would pay for the wristbands, Scott wanted to get them because it was his idea, Pepper wanted to get them on Tony’s card and you kind of just wanted to win the argument. The three of you were quickly shut up when Wanda came back with the wristbands.

“Sneaky witch.” You grumbled as she slipped yours onto your wrist.

“Who wants to do the Bank Heist Laser Challenge with me?” Scott asked gleefully and dragging you towards it before you could answer.

You managed to snatch Wanda’s hand and three of you headed towards the attraction.

“I’m going to get drinks and snacks.” Pepper announced.

“Ok, meet us outside the Heist mom!” You called back to her.

The attraction turned out to be far too easy for three superhero’s, though you did have fun deliberately sabotaging Scott and Wanda.

“Cheater!” Scott accused when you tripped him into a laser.

“It’s not cheating, it’s clever battle tactics.” You sniggered and jumped over him and the beam easily.

“She’s right.” Wanda backed you up, sending a red tendril to knock you into a beam.

Someone tugged at your sleeve and you looked down to see a group of children staring up at you in awe.

“Can we be on your team?” A little boy asked the three of you.

Five minutes later you had your little group of teammates ready.

“AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!” You yelled.

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

“Buck. Have you seen this? It’s just gone viral.” Steve asked him.

He switched on tablet and showed Bucky the video.

You had two kids tucked under your arms as you ran through a laser filled room and Bucky almost panicked for a second before he saw you were laughing and the children were having the time of their lives. Scott Lang ran past the camera with a child on his shoulders. Wanda had two little girls holding either hand as she hurried them through the course and called out to you.

“We need backup at the front.”

“No Avenger left behind!” You announced pompously, striking a superhero pose before ran back out of frame, appearing again a few moments later with two more kids under your arms and a third on your back.

Bucky chuckled as the video ended.

“That’s my wife, goes to Vegas for her Hen Party and ends up playing in an amusement park.” He told Steve proudly.

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

After the laser Heist the three of you handed the hyper children back to their parent and posed for a few selfies when a young girl crept over to you.

“Excuse me? I’m a really big fan, you’re my hero.” She told you and you knelt down so you were on her level.

“What’s your name?” You asked her.

She looked up and grinned at you. You noticed the scars on her face but she didn’t seem at all fazed by them.

“I’m Gabby!” She said, pulling a folded up piece of paper from her pocket and holding it to you hopefully.

“Would you sign it for me?” She asked.

“Pepper, got a pen?” You called and your mom passed you one.

You unfolded the paper and saw it was a torn out page from a magazine. It was the interview you’d given a few weeks ago. It didn’t take you to long to put the pieces together about why Gabby had kept that particular page and you took a few minutes to write out something for her and folded it up and passed it back to her.

“Thnakyou!” She whispered happily, cradling it in her hands like it was something precious.

“Thank you Gabby. You don’t know what it means to me that I can inspire someone else or be their hero. It means everything, it’s a far cry from the cage. I might be your hero but you’re my hope.” You said earnestly.

She launched herself into you arms and you managed to catch her before you toppled over, she was stronger than she looked. Her hair tickled you nose and you immediatley sneezed.

“You’re so brave, don’t ever forget that ok?” She asked you, her voice muffled from where her face was smooshed into your shoulder.

She abruptly released you and looked like she wanted to say something but seemed to think better of it and ran off.

Gabby wait, are you here with someone?” You asked, looking around to see who she was running to.

She looked back over her shoulder and smiled at you.

“I’ll be ok, I’m with my big sister.”

“Hey, Wanda and Pepper are playing Mini Golf. Do you wanna try Canyon Blaster, El Loco or maybe the bungee jumping?” Scott asked as you frowned after the little girl.

“Um, I fell out of a commercial aeroplane without a parachute two weeks ago so maybe no to the roller-coasters and bungee jumping.” You decided.

Scott’s eyes bugged out of his head and you smacked your forehead when you realised that nobody knew about your fall.

“Are you ok?” He asked worriedly.

“What, yeah. I heal from everything.” You stammered.

“Ok...” He left it open for you to say more or change the subject.

“They have stalls, lets go win something for Cassie.” You suggested, linking your arm with his.

“We have to find the ugliest bear they have.”

“Or a normal one and I’ll Deathwave it in the parking lot.” You suggested.

“This is why she’s always asking for you to babysit her.”

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

“Man, she’s gonna kill us.” Sam moaned.

“She’ll rescue us first.” Wade comforted him.

“It’s a casino jail, do we even get a phonecall? This is all your fault, why the hell did you bring Katanas to a casino?” Sam demanded.

“Who comes to a casino without a Katana???”

“They might not have arrested us if you just agreed to take the mask off!”

“You’re the one who backed me up. You have nobody to blame but yourself for this Wilson number 2.” Deadpool pointed out.

“You. I have you to blame!! And I’m Wilson number 1!” Sam insisted indignantly.

“Let's rock everybody, let's rock

Everybody in the whole cell block

Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock”

“Oh no, now he’s singing.” Sam bemoaned, hoping you got there soon. Even if it was just to kill him.

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

“Where the hell are they?” You demanded angrily, though the 3ft tall pink bunny rabbit you were holding kind of undercut your fury.

“Through there but they won’t let me in to see them.” Darcy told you.

You shoved the rabbit into her arms and stormed into the Casino security.

“Where’s Natasha?” You heard Wanda ask as you barged through the door, slamming it shut behind you.

“Miss Stark?” The dark suited employee said, standing up in a rush.

“You have something that belongs to me, two something's actually and I want them back.”You snarled.

“They caused a scene in the casino and we discovered that one had weapons on his person which is against casino policy.”

“Of course he had weapons, he’s our bodyguard for the weekend.” You lied, thinking fast on your feet.

“Your... Bodyguard?”

“You are aware that this is my hen party? A party that has several members of earths mightiest hero’s in it, all of whom are here to celebrate and relax. Of course we have a bodyguard.” You scoffed.

“Well it’s still against our policy...”

“Listen to me very carefully.” You growled lowly, leaning in to the nervous man.

“I’m a Stark so there’s about a thousand ways I could make your life a living hell but I’m also Vernichtung so I’m going to bypass all of them and just rip your intestines out with my bare hands and watch you bleed to death. The best part is nobody will ever suspect me of having done it because I’m a hero. I’ll rip you to pieces and never have to suffer a consequence for it unless you let my boys go, right now.”

The truth of your words was written across your face and it was terrifying.

“Excuse me? I’d like to speak to your boss, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Pepper said as she strode into the room.

“No need, I understand that there was a mistake. We’ll be letting the two gentleman go right away.”The employee stuttered, nearly falling over as he rushed away.

“What did you do?” Pepper asked suspiciously.

“That Deadpool is a bodyguard and the Starks wouldn’t be happy if the hotel endangered members of The Avengers by locking him up.” You said with a blasé shrug.

Pepper looked proud and nodded in approval.

“PEACHES!”

“Oh thank God you’re here.” Sam said, running to hide behind you.

“Alright Wilson’s, let’s get out of here. Thank you ever so much for your help.” You said sweetly to the still sweating employee.

Sam and Wade had a slight scuffle as they both tried to sling an arm around you.

“I think it’s time to break out the Asgardian Mead.” You told the group.

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

Up Next - Drunken shenanigans 

Comic Book fans may have spotted something in this chapter!!!

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first @thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala @the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears  @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes @fairislesheets @angieptt  @meganjonezzzz @dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty @memanda17  @krystallynx @theonelittleone  @piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard @dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews @likes-to-smell-books @drdorkus @life-wanderer @metalarmlover  @animegirlgeeky @jsmith509 @chipilerendi @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @ericasabe  @gravedollie666 @madlykpopfan @l0kisbitch @mywinterwolf @sassysweetstories @life-wanderer @jessieray98 @littledeadrottinghood @myfandomlife-blog @spnrvt @dahkness  @sexyvixen7 @dilaila95  @liveonce-sodoitright  @uuuuuuuuggggghhh @mywinterwolf @myfandomlife-blog  @pinkisokay @thosesexytexasboys

[maggotmouth]

        hi i’m nora ( 23. gmt. she/her ) and it turns out i really miss playing bridget ! i wasn’t feeling frida bt i wanted to explore som of her backstory more so ive kind of fused bits of her into bridget..... sue me.... for those of u who didn’t know her before i dropped her, bridget grew up in a trailer park in texas, she’s an angsty socialist leftie who gets fucked at the pub and goes off on one about capitalism.  film nerd. got in on a partially subsidised scholarship and works in a bar and a fast food place to pay for her accomodation. here’s a pinboard !! everythin else is below this cut, like this post n i’ll (probably forget to) smash that im button for plots x

application template.

( cis-female ) haven’t seen BRIDGET MATUSIAK around in a while. the MARGARET QUALLEY lookalike has been known to be GARRULOUS & CANDID, but SHE can also be FICKLE & ERRATIC. The 21 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in FILM. I believe they’re living in AUDAX but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door.

aesthetics.

thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, roller blades, grazed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you.

connection to tatiana & did they choose her name during the watershed?

knew each other from the cheer team in bridgets freshman year and tatiana’s sophomore year. had a competitive friendship to start with but then they got into a discussion about politics at a party one night, and maybe hooked up a few times after tatiana had jst broken up w someone. they were sort of seeing each other very casually for a bit, but…. they came from vastly different circles n it didn’t really work. they were in a bad partch at the time of the reaping so to speak, and bridget picked her name For A Giggle but now regrets it big time obviously

tw drugs, teen pregnancy

BACKSTORY TIME.. her mother was from the wrong side of the tracks, was chucked out of home pretty young after a teenage pregnancy, wanted 2 go to art school and started working as an erotic dancer to pay for college but then jst…. ended up staying there. one of those girls u see in the documentaries who had Big Plans but ultimately never got to pursue them n jst got…. sucked in by the money 

her mom n dad met in high school at a parents evening. alice was fourteen, toby was thirty-one. bridget’s mom alice was a roman catholic – uneducated in matters of safe sex, mother mary around her neck, bras hanging over wooden crucifixes – and willing to give it to the first boy who seemed interested enough, gift-wrapped or not. toby was the father to a girl down the road who alice knew nothing of besides her name and the few encounters in the corridors facing a stoney stare that screamed homewrecker. it only happened once, but once was enough. alice was out of the house as soon as her parents knew a child was growing in her womb.

bridget n her mum alice were more like sisters growing up, probably because of the closeness in age. alice should’ve known that you couldn’t have a thirteen-year-old-daughter at 27 without everyone knowing you’d been one of those girls who gave it away fast as a hot potato, and maybe bridget should have known that she’d inherit more than her mother’s wide eyes, that things have a way of circling back to us --- that at fourteen she too would lose it on the floor of a swimming pool changing room, soggy back, polka-dot nylon of a swimsuit pulled down to her ankles.

she grew up in a trailer park just outside of orlando resort, but she was raised in dressing rooms surrounded by sparkly costumes and nipple pasties and leotards and the like. as a kid she’d try to trot about in her moms heels n yearned for the day she’d be able to be on stage. 

if you’ve seen the florida project its a bit like tht.... just kids left to do their own shit.... mother’s a bit all over the place... made money by stealing wristbands off orlando theme park visitors, and bridget was p much raised by the community, to be honest. most of her youth was spent scurrying about half naked in cowboy boots and glasses too big for her face. a smol feral child

gilly (referred to as junior) was born four years after bridget, the son of a carpenter and sculpture artist named gilbert “gilly” senior, her moms latest squeeze. whenever she wasn’t at school bridget would be in gilly’s workshop doin her homework surrounded by parts of furniture or hanging out with the kids who were visiting disneyland but couldn’t afford the hotels on the resort

like her mother, bridget fell pregnant barely out of her gingham print dresses, hair in two plaits down her back, teddies still lining her bed. unlike her mum, she was not box-shipped out to a home for fallen women but rather booked into a clinic, given a pill, just like taking your vitamins.

her mother flaked out when bridget was around fifteen and junior was eleven. they were in the system for a while, before gilly was finally granted custody as legal guardian. the three of them moved to marfa, texas so that gilly could run classes in sculpture and woodworking at the art institute. they’re not sure where their mother went. some say she rededicated herself as a virgin and joined the convent in penance for her sins. some say she works in a las vegas strip club and sells pills to minors. bridget likes to believe that she’s an actress, her name in newspapers and her face in a star-spangled dressing mirror.

bridget used to do sponsored silences and hunger strikes for kids in developing countries. was that kid in school who was always raising money something. i mean its kinda cute but also she just wanted the acclaim and attention so…. and most of the time it didn’t even make it to the disadvantaged kids she was raising it for cos her mom needed rent money or to buy the kids new shoes n they could barely afford much themselves

she’s a strident feminist, an activist for human rights and animal rights, a vocal vegetarian and an all-round soapbox sadie. catch her in the quad shouting about human rights through a megaphone. will most definitely have quizzed your character on institutionalised racism whilst inhaling nos at a party and snacking on a big bowl of cheesy wotsits

aesthetic: big military or leather jackets over tiny little sundresses. always in docs or creepers and a beret with an anarchist symbol painted on it. wears a long green trench coat covered in badges for alt punk rock bands or a red denim jacket that she hacked into a crop jacket with a pair of kitchen scissors. cuffed jeans, thrifted or stolen. white converse, more grey tbh through years of wear. crop tops and plaid shirts tied round her waist. smudged mascara. glitter smeared over cheekbones from the previous night. cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson.

an aspiring screenwriter. she has a very image-based view of memory and experience. always doing a screenplay or shooting film. her style has a lot of catholic iconography (think virgin suicides style or baz luhrmann’s romeo + juliet if it was done on a super 8 camera) bcos catholicism is one of the few things she remembers about her mother. she’s never actually tried to find her mum / find out about her, jst…. occasionally channels that energy into her work.

struggles with self-image and the need to be Loved By All a lot. uses sex as an affirmation of her worth and also kinda manic-depressive (though not officially diagnosed) bcos her upbringing was a bit unstable, she was a looked after child for a while when the adoption papers were still going through… struggles a lot with feeling unwanted, especially since her grandparents refuse to acknowledge her existence cos she was born outside of marriage….. so she craves feeling wanted,, like despite being a real women’s rights activist and hating objectification, at the same time to bridge there’s nothing better than someone sizing you up with hunger in their eyes

she’s queer, but i guess she favours women, and is incredibly vocal in her support of the lgbt+ movement. often at rallies. has done a face-sitting protest. really is that bitch

there’s a degree of anger for anger’s sake in bridget. she likes passionate, angry music – particularly garage rock, punk and riot grrrl. she loves the slits and skinny girl diet. viv albertine inspired her to take up bass guitar.

back at lockwood she was working two jobs to pay for uni !! at the bowling alley polishing the shoes and fixing the bowling lanes, and also as a burger flipper at mcdonalds. in amsterdam she’s managed to secure a part-time bar job at one of the hendrix university bars

massive film buff. is majoring in film at uni also spends a lot of time at the movie theatre n probably has like a season ticket. is one of those pretentious film nerds who’re like “what do u think of goddard’s work?” but also just really into shitty horror movies

she spends her evenings in downtown bars willing away her boredom, trying to find something that’ll jerk her out of apathetic lethargy. she toys with the idea of becoming a stripper — it certainly pays better than flipping burgers — but she lacks the energy to dance for several hours a night.

she loves b movies and slasher flicks. at parties, she’ll occasionally try to make a horror of her own, on a super 8 camera in someone’s basement, very paranormal activity, but she’ll inevitably get bored, or too drunk and give up, like she does with most things in her life. she lacks drive and motivation. she’s bright but there’s no hunger in her.

she’s fickle and enigmatic. one moment she could be your best friend, the next, she’ll behave like a total stranger. bridget’s unpredictable because she’s still unsure of her own identity, frequently flitting between different characters, like snake skins, before she grows bored of being bubbly and eager and becomes spiteful again. her core personality traits are probably forthright, impulsive, restless, thrill-seeking, selfish, gregarious, easily bored, childish.

SOME ?MILDLY AMUSING? FACTS

writes shitty poems on the back of napkins and quotes dead philosophers she’s never read. romanticises herself a lot. like will be standing there in a ripped t-shirt and her undies smoking a cig like “hmmm… i bet someone is falling in love with me right now”

is vegetarian for environmental reasons but snorts coke at parties like that isn’t shit for the environment ?? sis, it don’t add up

loves dirt. ate a worm once because someone dared her too. shamelessly disgusting.

she’s slightly obsessed with true crime, up late watching documentaries on the manson family murders.

favourite drink is cherry coke

a lot of her time is spent in the record store, plugged into a set of headphones, head-banging in the corner to a scratched record. music, for birdie, is a form of escapism. that and dropping acid in parking lots lmao.

sells nudes on twitter. whenever she gets low on cash she contacts one of the seedy old men who used to visit her mom’s club to venmo her $500 in return for pictures

that girl who’s always harping on about body positivity on instagram while wearing cute underwear and looking absolutely bomb

really good at rodeo bull riding. the club in marfa had one so as a youth she got really good at it bcos she was constantly tryin to outdo her friends on who could stay on for the longest. a video of her staying on one for like 4 minutes after downing several jager bombs went viral once.

micro-doses acid for mild depression bcos she didn’t believe in “that CBT bullshit”, thought that therapists, like her, were jst con artists so always a bit spaced out

volunteers at one of the local galleries but mostly just rants to old white dutch men about how cis white men have dominated art for years :/ is one of those SJW-types , like.... have a day off, jameela jamil......

has a pet rat called popeye

takes photographs of dead animals to use in her art and often posts them side-by-side with stills of women in porn to show the shelf-life of female sex workers in a patriarchal-dominated industry or some bullshit idk

big into spoken word poetry, even if its shit. likes savage depictions of femininity

wrote a thesis on art as an act of masturbation that got published

this bitch HATES capitalism and LOVES karl marx

time isn’t real. nothing exists. the self is a social construct. finger guns.

an awful person, really

plots i want that i mostly stole from the tags

muse a tries to stand up for muse b in a bar but unfortunately cannot fight for shit.

muse a (prob bridget cos works in a bar) works somewhere that’s open late and muse b comes in to take shelter from the storm.

‘I got in my car and you were sleeping in the backseat who the hell are you and how did you get into my car’ 

 umm a wlw plot isnpired by san junipero ! esp this post. could have been a former fling that ended sourly !! cos i dont like ship forcing but still?? give me wlw stuff

 “i just decked you in the face because i’m drunk and you were pissing me off but ow my hand really fucking hurts i think i might have broke it and oh look your nose is bleeding and now we’re both sitting awkwardly in the hospital while i glare at you from across the room. but wait are you giving me sex eyes?? stop that i’m supposed to mad at you??”

“platonically sharing a bed until i wake up and you’re curled round me and my nose is buried in your hair so i’ll pretend to stay asleep to keep this for a little while longer” plots

 “highkey want a ‘someone wrote your phone number on the wall of a bathroom in my dorm with ‘call for a good time’ and i just texted you to let you know that i scribbled it out and oh wait you’re actually funny and easy to talk to and now we’re talking every day and i might have a tiny little crush on you even tho  i don’t even know your name’ plot”

 goddamn its another shippy wlw plot apparently that’s all my tag is but this post

“known for being rebels without cause, MUSE A and MUSE B are synonymous to their fast cars, nights out beneath the stars, empty bottles of alcohol, and loud music. they meet by chance one night and immediately click, and embark on a careless adventure after it despite not knowing each other. it’s them against the world: after all, what could go wrong ?”

any of these sad sour unrequited love plots

‘we take the same elevator every day and due to a misunderstanding I assumed you didn’t speak english and I’ve been talking to my friend about how hot you are for three weeks and apparently my friend has known from the start but you agreed not to tell me bc you both think its hilarious what the fuck’ au

‘I accidentally dropped you while you were crowd surfing and you broke your ankle and now I feel responsible so I’m carrying you out of the moshpit’ au

walked in on my roommate and you screwing except i know you from class and i freaked out a little

i was hustling you in pool for money but you were hustling me for free drinks so who’s the real winner here?

bridgot goes to strip clubs n peep shows like every day, cos she’s writing about the history of pornographic film n its basically research for her, so if ur characters would be into strip clubs they might see her there

i feel like she’d be on student council if they had one of those. shes that kind of bitch, turning up like elle woods with a big feather pen or a light-up heart marker, slamming down some truths before upping and leaving to go for her 11am chai latte break

som1 who attended the art institute in marfa for a summer n maybe knew her when she was a bit younger ??? idk

drama. angst. horror. also nice bike rides in amsterdam please

feel free to im me if u wanna plot, or, like this post and i’ll hit u with a message!

[the-wardens-torch]

LFRP - Falerin Arcita

(Following @painted-foothills​ ‘s lead here and using this more as an updated character profile for my “About” link than an RP solicitation - I’m not sure I have the guts to RP with anyone who isn’t already a mutual and even that’s super hard for me and almost never happens hahafffff.)

Falerin Arcita The Basics ––– –    Age: 22    Birthday: 16th sun of the fifth astral moon (9/15)    Race: Mostly Midlander Hyur with a smidge of Duskwight Elezen    Gender: Cisgender male    Sexuality: Pansexual    Marital Status: Single, never married Physical Appearance ––– –    Hair: Black - Straight and waist-length, usually worn in a ponytail or braid.    Eyes: Royal Blue    Height: 5’11    Build: Angular and long-limbed    Distinguishing Marks: Scars; one slanted over his left eye running from hairline to mid-cheek, another along his jaw line (usually covered by his sideburns) and a third horizontally crossing his right shoulder. Freckles on his face, shoulders and back.    Common Accessories: Leather jewelry, pointy wizard/witch hats, strappy boots/sandals, feathered hairpins, long fancy skirts, crop/tank tops. He tends to be an ostentatious dresser. Personal ––– –    Profession: He considers himself a musician first and foremost - he has a wonderfully deep, smoky voice and sings very soulful, heartfelt songs - some of which he writes himself. He’s also Eorzea’s best accordion player *pause for laughter* and can also play piano and a few other instruments. Aside from that, he makes leather jewelry and accessories that he sells to a handful of independent shops. His “adventurer” job is Summoner, but you wouldn’t know it from talking to/looking at him.    Hobbies: Collecting and writing songs, poems and stories (in print or spoken form,) occasional archery (more as an exercise/meditative practice than for combat reasons.)    Languages: Common, Seeker Miqo’te huntspeak (though he’s pretty out of practice,) a handful of songs, poems and phrases in several other languages.    Residence: Has a room in the Lavender Beds, but is more commonly found crashing at any of a number of friends’ houses around the main city-states.    Birthplace: Arcita - a small port town in the Cieldalaes Islands    Patron Deity: Azeyma    Fears: Abandonment, loss, walking on shaky scaffolding/suspension bridges. Relationships ––– -    Spouse: None    Children: None    Parents: Adoptive Mother - N‘elyrha Kikitu; Bard living in Wellwick Wood (estranged)    Biological Mother - Roxane Seaborne - Inn manager living in the Cieldalaes (has never met her.)    Biological Father - Uther Alcyone; Arcanist living in Idyllshire (estranged until very recently.)    Siblings:  2 maternal half-brothers and 1 maternal half-sister (has never met them, is unaware of their existence.)    Other Relatives: BFF-practically-soul mate Reonora Aestethe - who belongs to @aspected-benefic​    Pets: Ruby (aka Ru-Bee) - A “familiar” of sorts that resembles a sparrow-sized, translucent, red honeybee made of some sort of condensed aether. He is never without her, although she’s not always visible due to a knack for hiding in his clothes, accordion case or travel supplies.   Friend - A feral, fish-loving Tight-Beaked parrot who’s not really a pet so much as an occasional tag-along. She(?)’s loud, obnoxious and not very friendly, but sometimes preens Fal’s hair or tries to eat his jewelry. Lamrei -  A retired Twin Adder cavalry chocobo. She’s got a calm temperament and a penchant for eating any insect or rodent unfortunate enough to cross her path. Traits ––– -    Extroverted / In Between / Introverted    Disorganized / In Between / Organized    Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded    Calm / In Between / Anxious    Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable    Cautious / In Between / Reckless    Patient / In Between /  Impatient    Outspoken / In Between / Reserved    Leader / In Between / Follower    Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic    Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic    Traditional / In Between / Modern    Hard-working / In Between / Lazy    Cultured / In Between / Uncultured    Loyal / In Between / Disloyal    Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful Additional information ––– – Smoking Habit: Nah. Drugs: Indulges in something to soothe the nerves and/or trip balls once in awhile. Alcohol: Not much. He has a glass of wine a few times a sennight, otherwise he only really drinks at gigs and social events, and then just enough to loosen up (although he‘s pretty loose already hahaffff.)

RP Hooks ––– –    Reluctant Mage: Fal doesn’t volunteer that he’s an arcanist/summoner, and really can only be caught using (or even talking about using) magic in dire situations. However, on the rare occasion an experienced mage might see him break out the spells, they would notice that his technique is unrefined and atypical to say the least. He casts via gestures and verbal/auditory components rather than diagrams and symbols, and does not summon -egis, though Ruby can mimic their abilities. He does carry a “grimoire” but closer inspection will reveal that just a book of dirty limericks rebound to look appropriately mystical. As a mage, he’s a unique curiosity at best and a butcher of ancient arts at worst, depending on your perspective.    That’s What They Said: Fal’s into casual sex and will happily go home with/take home people of most any gender/race as long as they have a compatible personality and provide enthusiastic consent. A one night stand could easily turn into a lasting friendship. He also has a great respect for sex workers and adult entertainers of all kinds, and even spent a few years performing in the orchestra at a burlesque house.    Bohemians: Fal performs solo most of the time, but its mostly for the sake of convenience.  He actually loves the company of other creative folks and artists of all types, and is naturally drawn to them. Need to hire a guest musician in your band?  Want some creative leatherworking ideas? Just want to talk poetry? Need people to come to your gallery showing? He’d love to. Even if you’re not a creative type, you can still hire him to play at your nameday party or make you a nice set of wristbands!     Lowlives: Fal isn’t a member of the criminal underworld and doesn‘t actively commit crimes himself, but Eat the Rich and Fuck the Police are two of his favorite phrases.  He’s happy to look the other way or even aid/abet people that fall on the wrong side of the law (within reason.) Please note that this DOES NOT mean he can’t make friends with individual nobility or authority figures, he‘s just inclined to be distrustful of them at first. On the flipside, it also DOES NOT mean he condones violent criminals.

RP Preferences ––– – I actually don’t do in-game, real-time Rping, due to my schedule and pathological shyness/social anxiety (sometimes it takes me a few minutes/hours/days to work up the courage to respond to friendly overtures dasdasdsdfff).  Long-form, paragraph based RPs are my favorite - Discord chats work great for those!   A little darkness is fine - horror, mature themes, angst, combat, injury, but please miss me with that super dark edge lord shit. I’ve seen some Bad Shit IRL and I don’t take kindly to gratuitous cruelty, torture, abuse or violence for its own sake. I’m also not interested in ERP at all, and I‘m not big on shipping or fluff as a goal or focal point. HOWEVER, I’m not against the idea of it if it develops organically.

OOCly I am ––– – -Full disclosure; In my 30s and would rather not RP with minors. -Employed full-time as a veterinary (laboratory) technician at a decent-sized small animal practice. -A longtime RPer - I started with D&D in high school and never looked back. -Very happily married (my partner is an Rper as well, just not into MMOs.) -Ace and honestly dgaf what pronouns you use for me because I’m Tired. -In the PST time zone. Contact Information  ––– –

Discord is my preferred RP method - My handle is Falkyrie #6034

Also, I LOVE getting tagged with character/writing prompt memes - I want them all and will return the favor.

[amillionsmiles]

want your bad romance (Keith/Shiro)

Summary: Lance takes Keith to the spin class he’s teaching.  Keith falls mildly in love with one of the regulars.  There are casualties. A/N: I took my first spin class yesterday and it basically went exactly like this except I didn’t wipe out quite so dramatically and I didn’t find love

[Read and review over on Ao3] or continue under the cut.

“No, no, no,” Lance says, grabbing Keith’s water bottle out of his hands before he can set it down to claim his space.  “Newbies sit up front.”

“Lance.” Keith swipes at it, then decides it isn’t worth his energy and crosses his arms instead.  “Don’t make this more unbearable than it already is.”

After weeks—weeks of incessant begging and cajoling��he’s finally agreed to attend one of the spin classes Lance teaches at the local fitness studio.  Already, Keith has his doubts.  There’s a cultish air to the whole thing; Lance had to type in a code and lead him down a flight of stairs to get to the training room, for one, and in the dim lighting the rows of stationary bikes look like sentries.  Maybe they’re guarding the secret to a healthier, happier life, per Euphoria’s tagline.  Who knows.

“Look, that way I can help you in case something goes wrong, okay?” Lance defends.

Keith raises an eyebrow.  “We’re going to be sitting. On stationary bikes. For 45 minutes.”

“It’s harder than you’re making it sound!  And keep your newbie wristband on!”

“I don’t understand why I have to wear this!  You already know I’m a newbie.”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you,” says Lance.  “So you can identify the other newbies and bond with them.  Also, it glows in the dark.”

Keith pulls at the rubber wristband, which, sure enough, glows a faint blue.  “It’s stupid,” he mutters.

Lance brings his palms together and down in a slight chopping motion.  “Okay, first rule of spin class? Positive attitude. Now, I’m going to go change into my costume, and you’re going to find a seat.”

“Costume?”  Keith asks, but Lance has already zipped away.

Resigned, Keith trudges his way toward the front, where he picks one of the bikes on the left.  Other people have begun to trickle in.  The difference between the newcomers and the regulars is clear, not just from their wristbands; the newcomers loiter by the cubbies while the regulars make a beeline for the bikes, adjusting seat heights with practiced precision.

A short girl with a blonde ponytail and gray athletic t-shirt materializes by Keith’s side.

“Do you need help being clipped in?”

“What?”

“Do you need help being clipped in,” she repeats.

Keith conducts a rapid scan of the room.  There aren’t harnesses of any sort.

“I…don’t know what that is.”

“Your shoes,” the girl explains patiently, to her credit.  “Here, go ahead and sit on your bike.”

There’s not much to argue here.  He’s out of his element enough as it is; the only thing to do is oblige.  So Keith gets into place, following her directions—twist all the way right, that’ll adjust your resistance; okay, now put your left foot here and stand up—

A clicking noise, and Keith’s left foot locks firmly in place, held by the spikes on the soles of the special shoes he had to change into.  His right foot follows suit.

He has a brief moment of foreboding, like the sense of finality you get when the rollercoaster lapbar settles across your hips.  There’s no getting off this ride anymore, not until the bitter end.

And it’s then—right when both of Keith’s feet are stuck fast to the pedals—that The Man enters.

A cosmic chime sounds.  Keith forgets how to breathe.

The Man is six-foot-something of muscle, with a shoulder-to-waist ratio that should have its own annals in history, right next to the Golden Ratio or pi.  A white lock of hair dangles artfully over his forehead, stark against the rest of his black undercut.  He surveys the room, running a thumb along his jaw in thought, and maybe Keith would have done better in high school geometry if they’d studied things that actually made sense, like the planes of The Man’s face.

The Man stretches his arms above his head and the fabric across his chest stretches, too.

The Man starts walking.

The Man picks a bike.

The bike.

The bike right next to Keith.

“First time?” he asks, smiling as he bends to adjust the bike seat.

Keith blinks, then glances at the bracelet glowing around his wrist.  Words, Keith.  Use your words.

“Yeah.”

The Man nods.  Finished with his adjustments, he grips the black metal handlebars and swings up onto his seat.  It’s a power move, made with powerful thighs.  Strong enough to—

Keith swallows.  “I’m Keith.”

“Shiro,” The Man says, extending a hand.  It’s a bit awkward to twist his torso and lean over to take it, especially with both his feet rooted in place, but Keith manages.  Shiro’s palm slides against his.  He has calluses near the top—maybe from lifting?  Immediately after their hands break contact, Keith tries to wipe his against his shorts as subtly as possible.  Damnit, he really should have worn his gloves today.

He’s already breaking a sweat and they haven’t even started exercising.

This is pathetic.

“You picked a good class for your first time,” Shiro says, bike wheels whirring as he gets started on some sort of pre-workout workout.  “Lance is one of my favorite trainers; he really knows how to keep the energy going.”

Fucking Lance.  How the hell had he neglected to mention someone like Shiro existed?  Not to mention attended his classes weekly?

“Uh, yeah.  Lance is—Lance is a really close friend of mine, actually.  He’s great.”

Of course, this is the exact moment Lance waltzes back into the room, wearing devil horns, angel wings, and a red cape.  And compression shorts.

Keith wants to shove all his earlier words back into his mouth.

“Allllll right everyone, I hope you’re clipped in and ready to rumble!” Lance calls in his announcer-voice, the same one he uses to obnoxiously narrate their Mario Kart games.  “This is our Halloween session, and you all know what that means: things are about to get freaky.”

Lance punctuates this statement by flicking his cape behind him, arranging himself on the bike that’s front and center and straightening his headset.  He fiddles with the iPad on the table beside him.  On cue, the room darkens further, red mood lighting running along the ceiling, Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” starting up.  Overlaying it, Lance’s cheerful count: “Now keep the beat with your feet!  1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4—”

This is worse than the one time Keith took acid.

Beside him, Shiro says something, but it’s lost to the noise as Lance increases the music’s volume.

“What?” Keith strains.

“Enjoy the ride!” Shiro repeats, louder.

And winks.

“Elbows out!  Now in!  Now out!” chants Lance.

Keith gulps and puts his head down, pedaling faster.

*

They’re halfway through Ke$ha’s “Cannibal” and Keith wants to die.

It’s like being in a club—same stench of sweat, same amount of strange bodies all moving to the beat.  The lights fade from red to pink to purple to blue, pulsing along with the music, and Keith is nowhere near drunk enough to be doing this.  The sole redeeming factor is that, since he is sober, he can fully appreciate the sight of Shiro’s Adam’s apple bobbing every time they take a water break.

That, and the glistening sheen of perspiration across Shiro’s forehead, wiped away by the snow-soft towels provided to each of them.  In the darkness, the motion looks almost erotic.

If this were a club, Keith would down a shot and muster the courage to ask Shiro: do you want to get out of here?  But since they’re not in a club, he can only assume that the way to Shiro’s heart is through sheer athletic prowess.  Balls to the wall, pedal to the metal.  So for every count Lance makes, Keith works his legs twice as fast, hunched over the handlebars with single-minded purpose.

His vigor does not go unnoticed.  Shiro glances over appreciatively.  From his vantage point, Lance looks surprised at Keith’s sudden fervor—and then he glances at the man cycling next to Keith.  Understanding dawns over his face, sly and almost feral.

“Great job, everyone!  Keep it up, just like that!”  As Lance speaks, he twists to the side, pulling something from the table.  A plastic Cupid’s bow and a foam arrow, which he nocks at Keith mockingly.

Keith glares.  It says: I’m in the middle of something important and if you fuck it up with your bullshit, our friendship ends here.

Lance’s grin widens.

There are acts of poetic justice.  And then there are punishments that can only be wrought by the divine.

Lance fires his shitty foam arrow and Keith whiplashes out of the way—in order to, what, not catch feelings for the Adonis cycling next to him?  Too late for that.  In the process, his left foot jerks free of its clippings, but the pedals keep going, too much momentum, and Keith topples forward, still attached by his right foot.  All of this as Tove Lo’s voice climbs higher and higher, belting: keep playing my heartstrings faster and faster, you can be just what I want, my true disaster.

His face slams against the handlebars, the immediate gush of blood from his nose warm and messy, and then everything goes black.

Small mercies.

*

“Keith?  Keith?  Oh thank god, he’s alive.”

Keith wakes up flat on his back, wooden slats of the bench pressing against his shoulder blades.  They’re in the seating area where he’d changed shoes earlier; someone has done him the small kindness of sticking one of the orange ornamental pillows under his head.

Standing over him, Lance holds a crinkled piece of paper.

Keith squints.  “Is that—is that my waiver form?”

“I just had to make sure we weren’t going to be held liable!” Lance explains.  He points to Keith’s signature.  “You signed this so you can’t sue.”

“I can think of other ways to settle,” Keith growls.

A hand on his arm stops him.

“Easy there, Keith, drink some water.”

Keith looks at the hand.  Follows it to its wrist, then from wrist to arm, then arm all the way up to shoulder—

Shiro sits beside him on the bench, holding out a bottle.  Gingerly, Keith takes it, suddenly self-conscious of the way he drinks, plus the deliciously wicked bruise probably already forming across his nose.

He puts the bottle down, wiping at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“How long was I out for?” he croaks.

Shiro checks his watch.  “Three minutes, tops.”  He settles his palm against Keith’s forehead, swooping close to stare into Keith’s eyes, and if that spiel about your pupils dilating from desire is true then Keith’s pretty sure he has two black holes in his face right now.    

“Hm,” Shiro says.  The single sound travels the whole length of Keith’s spine.  “You don’t look concussed.  It might have been dehydration.”

“Yeah, Keith never hydrates enough,” says Lance, like it’s Keith’s fault this whole thing happened.  “Listen, I’ve got to get back to the others now and do damage control, but thanks for carrying him up here, Shiro.  I’m serious about owing you a free session.”

“No problem.” Shiro dips his head in acknowledgement.

Meanwhile, Keith’s brain is short-circuiting at the implications of carried.  Over the shoulder?  Bridal style?  How close had his face been to that chest?

He kind of wants to pass out again.

Lance leaves him to nurse these thoughts.  Surprisingly, Shiro doesn’t go with him, opting instead to stay beside Keith.  Running his fingers through his hair, he leans back against the wall and chuckles.

“What is it?” asks Keith.

“Tough break, for your first time,” says Shiro, smiling crookedly and nodding toward Keith’s presumably messed-up face.  “Guess you’d be hard-pressed to come back here again, huh?”

There are special corners of hell reserved for people like Keith.

And right now, that corner looks a lot like an appointment booked for Revolutions: 5:30-6:15, every Friday.

“I—”  Keith clears his throat, but his voice still comes out hoarse.  A parched man dying of thirst.  “I think it’s worth another shot.“