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#Who may or may not be banging one or both parents depending on your preference

mysteriawrites · 5 months

Note

hi 🗣️ may i please request a bg3 matchup?? (i'm p sure i've done matchups for you in the past on my sideblog @frostfall-matches - i'd be happy to make this an exchange if you want!! 💪 you may ignore the fact that my requests are listed as closed lol)

raven / 20s / any pronouns / slight preference for male match but gals are fine too.

personality traits (and notes): introverted (distant, disinterested in getting close to many people, does not get lonely), extremely independent (often refuses to rely on others, hates when people step in to help without me asking for help), confident (arrogant, a bit prideful), straightforward (blunt, sometimes tactless), even-tempered (somewhat apathetic, rarely has strong emotional reactions, but is baseline content almost always), good sense of humor, playful, teasing, mischievous, realist that leans optimistic, curious (nosey, loves gossip), a bit of a troublemaker/rulebreaker, does not shy away from conflict (a bit combative with authority and people who don’t know what they’re doing), not sentimental, does not hold onto regrets, good at self-reflection, cold and a little mean when upset with someone.

hobbies: drawing (digital), painting (watercolor, acrylic), baking, cosplay, reading, taking care of plants, thrill-seeking activities, traveling.

likes: cats, sweets, good food, lattes, aromatic candles, cool weather, traveling, piercings, tattoos, puns (!), lazy days, learning foreign languages, cleaning, new experiences, people with a good sense of humor (quite subjective), when people banter back with me, people who develop their own opinions but are still willing to listen to other perspectives.

dislikes: bitter foods, strong scents, pessimism, hot weather, feeling restricted, possessiveness, conformity, having to be responsible for others, when people don’t stand up for themselves, overly anxious people, people-pleasers, when people act condescending towards me, people who try to force conversation with me.

types: intj-a ; 7w8 ; love languages: physical touch, quality time.

misc.: clumsy ; accidentally misuses slang or phrases bc i can never remember how they go ; able to pick up new skills relatively quickly ; studied french, korean, and latin in uni (also studied abroad) ; majors in international cultures/languages + minors in psychology and medieval history ; prone to being a bit directionless in life ; prone to bad luck but tries to find the humor in most situations ; life approach: to live a life of varied experiences, to not take life too seriously, to not dwell too much on the past.

physical description: 155cm, green eyes, round youthful face, curvy, dimple on one cheek, pale skin (sunburns so easily...), 5 piercings in one ear, 4+an industrial in the other, navel piercing. changes hair color/style/length frequently but it's currently mid back length and toned silver, almost always has straight bangs, hair is wavy.

in bg3 persona: wood elf ; main class ranger (gloomstalker) w/ rogue-like tendencies ; the child of merchant parents and did a lot of traveling with them when she was young but has decided to explore and adventure by herself in adulthood ; not really the academic type but is pretty book smart and willing to learn new things ; equal parts strategic and careless, depending on the situation.

Omg hi and thx for the request! Sure I’d love to turn this into a trade and thank you for all the matchups you’ve done for me in the past!

Astarion!!!

Lowkey this was an easy decision. I feel like you couldn’t be a better match for anyone else, but him. You guys have similar personalities with just enough differences to bring the necessary variety to the relationship.

I feel like you guys would definitely bump heads when first meeting due to similar traits (prideful, apathetic, loner), but once you both begin to care more for your party members including each other than sparks start to fly!

You get close very quickly because it’s so easy to banter and bounce off each other.

At first he finds you optimistic and care free nature a bit annoying at first, but then begins to find is refreshing when times are bleak.

I feel like when Astarion’s trying to seduce you for your own goals and you aren’t falling for it, it’ll be the classic troupe of where person A gets every person to swoon over them except person B which makes them want person B even more.

However when he actually starts falling for you he does get nervous and start to back off a bit, but oh no you’re not letting him get away from you that easily.

Due to your knowledge in psychology you’re able to notice his self destructive behaviors and talk him out of it, but ultimately let him take the lead in figuring out what he wants in life.

Also because of your blunt nature you’re able to deliver the hard truths that he needs to hear without sugur coating things.

Even after your mindflayer worm adventures, you two continue to adventure for awhile. Sharing lots if experiences and fun on the road.

If you get yourself into a tough altercation with some people on the road, Astarion’s charisma helps defuse the situation.

Astarion is still working on his trauma so you’ll have to work up to physical touch with him, but once you do he really likes being held and playing with your hair. He also likes to trace your tattoos.

Astarion is also an introvert so he understands how you need to have alone time as much as he himself does. Although sometimes you guys will be in the same room doing your own things and count it as quality time. (Yknow like comfortable silence)

When you’re having a chill day on the road or once your adventuring days are over, you guys have lazy days together. You’ll cuddle and he’ll read to you. You guys may get a bit intimate but don’t necessarily have sex (not saying it never happens though).

You guys exchange elvish traditions (or what astarion can remember of them) and talk about the history of faerun together.

He gets you a lot of souvenirs on the road usually different snacks and foods for you to try with the occasional scented candle or new set of paints. He even gets you seeds of the local plant life for you to grow.

You guys would get a cat. So many people say astarion is a cat person and I whole heartedly agree.

He (loves) hates your puns. He cringes so hard every time you make one (but he finds your smug face very adorable).

Yknow that popular headcanon about how Astarion’s lover would paint a picture of him so he can finally see what he looks like. Well if you would do that as like a birthday or anniversary present and man would full on cry from happiness at the gesture.

He just loves you so much and is so grateful to finally have someone in his life to bring him joy again.

Sorry id this kind of sucks im writing this early in the morning cause I was inspired.

Runners Up: Lae’zel, Karlach

#multi fandom blog #multifandom account #multifandom #multifandom writer #multi fandoms posts #multifandom fanfiction #multifandom x reader #multifandom imagines #matchups #bg3 x reader #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader

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the-moon-prince · 3 years

Text

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter V

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

This chapter contains a mention of sexual abuse. I understand how hurtful this topic may be to a lot of people (me included). Likewise, I'll mark it at the start and the end, so you don't have to read it if you prefer. I made sure for people to be able to read the chapter without reading forcefully that part. I added this as a form of venting. I feel like it's an avoided topic, and it's my form to show support to other trauma survivors. This was made with the only intention to comfort. If something is bad written or harmful, please tell me. I also ask for your understanding if you plan on commenting, thank you very much!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story. (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter VI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 888

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse / Mentions of abuse ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) appeared more comfortable around Kurapika. Occasionally letting their ears escape while staying in the privacy of their houses.

But there was still something mysterious about (Y/n). Some of what they didn't say. Kurapika was filled with doubts and fears because of that. He pondered scenarios, each one worse than the other. Are they lying to me? Maybe they're in some kind of danger or distress. Creating a vicious and unhealthy cycle in Kurapika's spirit.

The two were patient in the relationship, neither comprehending fully how to give or receive affection. But despite the time they had been together, (Y/n) seemed resistant to accept fondness. Particularly physical. They had never tried to hold hands. When Kurapika attempted it, they recoiled in alarm more than once. In the few hugs they had given each other, (Y/n) shivered. Loud noises made them shake and jump, and they hand a list of tics as sudden shaking chills or protectively shrugging shoulders. Kurapika could understand that, he had tics as well. But his partner seemed triggered by his touch. They continued to be protective of their eyes. It was normal they didn't meet his eyes often, however, they tried to hide her eyes whenever they looked more cat-like.

Suspicions of his beloved being at risk grew bigger. He didn't want to, he couldn't permit himself to lose someone else. What kind of cruel mockery of life would be that, when finally there was someone like him-Someone who understood and supported him-was erased from this plane. The idea that these funny tail and ears weren't going to survive grieved Kurapika. The plausibility of not seeing those (curly/wavy/messy/straight) (hair/color) strands nevermore haunted him. Undoubtedly, it didn't end there. Fury consumed him when he conceived the idea of someone injuring more further a being so humane, kind hearted, and compassionate as (Y/n). Hadn't both of them grieved enough? But what they were suffering, adding would be disastrous.

Yet, (Y/n) didn't utter a single word regarding the matter.

Kurapika entered a state of fright. At that limit, he needed at the very least to know what was going on. He showed up that night at (Y/n)'s residence, knowing that they had no guard at the hospital and that they would be there. He had a spare key and wasn't abnormal to simply arrive at the other's place. Either of them had the habit of picking phone calls or answering messages.

Except for the scene he arrived at was abnormal.

He saw (Y/n) from behind sitting on the floor, a thing they never did, and if anything was remarkable about them, it was how strict they were with their customs. They had their elbows leaning on the coffee table, looking down at something. They did not react upon his arrival. (Y/n) never missed a noise, even less the one of a door opening. Yet, they remain immobile as if the lives of the universe depended on them staying frozen in place. Kurapika approached them. To see that there was a call in progress on their phone resting upon the table. (Y/n) did not dare to see the phone directly. Their hands held their head by the forehead, their gaze hidden behind their (curls/waves/strands). Just as Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, a female voice came from the phone's speaker-"So you won't answer me?"-silence again-" My baby... I know you think I broke you..."-the voice was sweet and honeyed, full of compassion"-Who could that woman possibly be? Why did she address (Y/n) like that, what did she mean by "break". Kurapika craved to question (Y/N) what, for love for his clan, was happening. He was relucted from doing so, he could perhaps extract information from the person on the other end of the line, taking advantage of the fact that she believed that (Y/n) was alone.-"But that's not true! I didn't do anything, my love. You were born broken, your demoniac eyes are the proo-" (Y/n) abruptly cut the call before the sentence finished. They didn't turn to see Kurapika, despite knowing he was beside them.

Kurapika had his breakpoint. "What's happening (Y/n)?! Who was that?! You can't keep things as such from me?! Do you understand that?!"-he started to scold, raising his voice. His eyes would look scarlet if it weren't for the contacts he was wearing at the moment. Someone else knew about (Y/n) identity. Who can say such atrocities? On top, with such a sound and sweet voice, it was twisted. She was talking about their eyes. Did she want them? Was she behind (Y/n)'s eyes? All these questions flooded incessantly in Kurapika's mind. (Y/n) hid upthrusting their shoulders and covering their face with their hands, their whole figure was shaking. They drew their ears back and adhered the tail to their body, probably changed on instinctual reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"-(Y/n) started to lament, voice quivering. Their breaths were heavy as if it were inhumanly tough to keep breathing. Whoever the other person was, were bad enough to provoke a position of panic on (Y/n). Kurapika knew that and seeing that getting angry only seemed to affect the feeble trembling figure in front of him, he decided to calm down. He was greatly concerned that someone he esteemed as highly as (Y/n) was in that position. It was not wise to let his humor aggravate things.

He lowered himself to their level and sat down next to them. He raised his hand to stroke their hair. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the (curls/waves/bangs/strands) he heard a heavy "Don't!" and backed up his hand.-"It's alright. I'm not touching you. Still, I require you to explain to me what happens. Who was that woman?" Besides offering physical contact, Kurapika had no distinct idea how he could comfort (Y/n). He felt frustrated and powerless.

"My mum."-they whimpered, (Y/n) was distressed although not crying. Not a single tear came out during all that night. Kurapika no longer understood.

"Weren't your parents deceased?"- He felt that they had lied to him, and it sure bothered him that he kept that from him. But this was not the time to discuss that part.

"No, my family is dead..."-(Y/n) began to breathe more calmly. They readjusted, moving their hands away from their faces to hold their arms. "They did not raise me. My grandparents did. When my grandad got ill and died I left to study. They always lived far away." -(Y/n) didn't look at Kurapika at any time. They kept their gaze at a standstill. Nevertheless, he could notice that their pupils were very dilated, reminding him of the stare of a scared soaked cat.

"What did she mean by break you?"-he continued trying to maintain a moderate voice. He was somehow scared to hear the answer. It would hurt to know that someone hurt (Y/n).

"I wasn't the legal age. Someone had to take my guard when my grandfather died."-Their face stayed still in a sober expression.

"Did they hurt you?"- He felt progressively more scared and worse.

"It's not important. I don't believe it's something you desire to know." -Even with everything happening, (Y/n) refused to speak. How could they be so obstinate?

"(Y/n), this cannot continue. I require to know. You are not delusional, you know you have to tell me."-Kurapika got a heavy sigh.

"They never loved me, you know? I was never certain why. I tried my best. Maybe they were expecting a human... Maybe they blamed me for their separation...Perhaps they were disappointed to learn that I have a disability."- Kurapika didn't know that (Y/n) could have a difficulty, they never mentioned any medical condition. He would ask about that a little further. They were finally discussing if he interrupted now, possibly the opportunity will not present again.-"I spent most of my time in the university's boarding. Only I wasn't allowed to stay on vacation, so I would go home. Sometimes they put a muzzle on me so I wouldn't bite - although I never bit anyone. They put an electric collar on me once. I guess they were scared of me. "It's for your good because we love you, and you have to behave. Good kitties don't scratch and don't bite." my mother told me. They believed it to be true. They did many things to me under that pretext..."-They stopped there. Still having something to say, but not wanting to.

(WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AHEAD)

"Did they... something else to you?"-Kurapika asked again. At that point, he was not surprised (Y/n) never mentioned their parents and did not consider them family. His anger was replaced by compassion. Expecting the worst.

"Yes."- there was the resistance again.

"What did they do?"-(Y/n) made a little movement with their head still hesitant.

"My mother did. She told me she had to check I was okay. Because I was not like other children..."-They lowered their gaze. Kurapika felt a chill. Neither of them was foolish, they knew what was to come. (Y/n) shrugged even more and started to play with their (color) hair -"It happened more than once, I don't remember precisely how many, but more than once for sure. She ordered me to... take off my clothes and... to lay down. It was unpleasant. For a long... for a very long time, I... I denied it. I told myself that she was an adult... that she knew better. If I doubted a bit more... If I weren't so naive... I would have done things differently, you know?"

(END OF THE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE)

Kurapika felt horrible. It felt awful seeing someone he loved so much like this, someone innocent who didn't deserve anything of what happened. For the first time, he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to act. It was something he did not understand.-"And the rest of your family? You couldn't ask other Uniliums for help?" he probed, wanting to understand their circumstances.

"I tried. I ran away twice. They discovered me at the first try. Two adults facing a 9-year-old child. They clearly gave me the beating of my life.

The following was 4 years after, more prepared. When I returned to our community, I found out that they got butchered not long ago."-(Y/n) lamented. It was probably what ached most of all. That they got that tiny hope and comfort taken away. -"I'm convinced if they had known, they would have helped and appealed to my favor. I concentrated on my studies in the faith to forget. It was also my opening to escape. I like my career, you know? Although my father told me during the 10 years it lasted that it was disappointing and worthless."-they added with a trembling smile. Those were the two details that provided them any comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"- Kurapika asked once more.

(Y/n) raised their shoulders.-"I don't know. I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid that you would hate me. Perhaps I imagined you would be disappointed in me."-They were conscious that it was not a rational fear. But it was stronger than them.

"How could I hate you? It wasn't your fault."-He comforted. Full of regret for what happened-"It was not your responsibility at any time."

"I know... Though, still, sometimes I wonder if it was. Even acknowledging that it is a lie." (Y/n) sniffled without shedding any tears.

"They won't do a single thing to you, ever again. I'm present now, and I'll make sure they don't put a finger on you. You are safe. Okay?"-The blonde man secured.

"Thank you."-They smiled again. Many would have said it was the same smile. But for Kurapika it was different. This time it was a touch more melancholic than usual, but there was a side of profuse relief. They relaxed and their ears were forward, symbolizing more relaxed humor.

"It's impressive you succeed the Hunter exam possessing a physical disability." It was Kurapika's crafty way of questioning the subject.

"It was quite difficult. I was born with a respiratory condition, so I cannot develop many physical abilities. I am not physically powerful and I have restricted time to run. I depend greatly on my ability Nen and my wits. However, I won't allow that to stop me. Nobody tells me what I am capable of or not."-(Y/n) bragged. They could be proud. Even with that disadvantage, they had come a long way. That night Kurapika was aware of how strong his companion was. It didn't seem like it, at no time did any of the people who saw (Y/n) imagine all this side of them. After so much, they stayed strong-minded and sweet. They were truly brave. They were both survivors after all. They had both succeeded to get so far despite all the grief. And they both held pride in that. For Kurapika, the fact that (Y/n) had a more sensitive and altruistic side did not make them weak. Of course, they were qualities disapproved among several Hunters.

However, no other hunter held him during his afflicted moments. He could be vulnerable with (Y/n), and he was safe with them.

"Can you remain with me tonight, please?"

Kurapika didn't expect that request.

It was the first time one of them stayed overnight in the other's place. They had stayed really late together, but they didn't stay until the next morning. Plus, knowing how reserved (Y/n) could sometimes be, he assumed they would favor time alone following such an intense experience. Nevertheless, there was something so personal and vulnerable about that request. Kurapika felt the immense desire to stay and protect them.

"Of course."-He couldn't help but use a soft tone.

During all that conversation (Y/n), although exhibited fear, did not manifest weakness at any time. They stayed dignified without losing control.

"Can we lay down, please? I feel a bit tired."-they called after a moment of silence. Their voice resonated dull and tired.

"We can do whatever you desire."- Kurapika smiled at them, his only preoccupation at that instant was to ensure the well-being of the person he treasured, and their head started to bob. (Y/n) slowly nodded and got up. They silently asked him to follow them and padded to their chamber.

It was the first time that Kurapika entered their bedroom as well. It was fairly more adorned. It had a relatively big bed, with light cloths and a fluffy (color) colored bedspread. Without neglecting its childish side, it was full of stuffed animals of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Several shelves were overflowing with books. Shelving with toys and cute figures, alongside a record player and a cloth case with music records was also in the room. Next to the bed was a stool with a lamp and a framed photo. The apartments had their private bathroom, on which (Y/n) entered. Kurapika sat on the bed- or in the space left without stuffed animals- and waited. No longer than 15 minutes should have passed before (Y/n) came out with slightly wet hair, and a matching (color) pajama shorts and shirt. Kurapika didn't identify the exact scent at the time, but they smelled good, familiar. (Y/n) took the stuffed animals and arranged them as best they could on an individual loveseat.

"I apologize for this disorder."-they pointed to the bathroom door.-"There is the other toilet, so you can use it whenever you desire. I have each item, please serve yourself."-They laid on the left side of the bed and rested their head on the puffy pillow.

Kurapika merely laid down next to them, not too close. He was uncertain if it was correct to hug them or stay near. (Y/n) arranged the beddings covering the two. They smelled identical at them.

"Kurapika..."-an reluctant voice called his name.

"Yes?"-It felt strange, being in that place that, until then, seemed confidential. But it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"May I hug you?"-The request was bashful and quiet.

He thought of just opening his arms but preferred to give a vocal response as well.-"Of course you may."

(Y/n) approached him steadily. They proceed to timidly embrace him, after their arms were wrapped around him, they snuggled their face on him.-"You're warm... I feel ... comfortable ... with you. Which is bizarre. I don't feel secure with anyone since I was 6 years old."

Kurapika held them protectively. He felt profoundly touched by that strangely honest statement. He attempted to affectionately stroke their (curls/waves/locks). They allowed it.-"I love you (Y/n)."-He couldn't think about anything else he wanted them to know.

"I adore you, Kurapika."

(Y/n) ultimately permitted themselves to be vulnerable with Kurapika too. It felt good. It was good for them to have someone so strong to have their backs and accompany them.

They could hold each other.

#hxh scenarios #kurapika x reader #kurapika kurta x reader #hxh x reader #hxh #kurapika hxh #kurapika kurta #hunter x hunter #kurapika #kurapika imagine

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thunderdilf · 3 years

Text

What your MK OTP says about you

(based on ships I enjoy and/or have seen in passing)

[feel free to rebagel and add—ship hate will mean insta-blockage, for whatever that’s worth! I’m using the ship names I’ve krafted, and ballparking with others. I hope they give ye a giggle. If your ship isn’t here, PLEASE add it! I just went from memory. I love y’all.]

Caged Heat (Liu/Johnny): you’re here for a good time, not a long time—you like good tiddies and the word “angorny” means something to you. There is passion in both kombat and throwing someone’s luggage off a dock. Sparks, I tells ya.

Sonya/Johnny: you appreciate pegging and Cassie Cage (who doesn’t?). You like the story of a jerk with a heart of gold showing his true colors to a woman who is NOT easily impressed—and who also tops.

Shaolin Rowdy Boys (Liu/Lao): you’re here for a good time, not a long time… literally—you crave childhood friends to unexpected lovers and secret banging in temple broom closets! You see the value of a best friend who’ll go to bat for you, even against a 10,000 year old turboprincess, or maybe you ARE that friend.

Jadetana (Jade/Kitana): Kitana bottoms for NO man, but for Jade, she’d do anything. You love that dynamic of unswerving loyalty which secretly hides deep, abiding admiration and maybe a little lust—or a lot! Who knows what freaky shit Edenian gals can get up to in their private time? You. YOU know and may The Elder Gods™ bless you for producing kontent.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium (subscorp): old guy love is just the ticket—you crave the maturity of years, but you don’t want it boring; someone is getting speared because the love is more intense with age. Kombat to lovemaking is your kryptonite.

Warring Exes (Shang Tsung/Raiden): old guy love, but make it fashion—opulence meets chastity in a clash for the ages; you want an emotional roller coaster of “what if” and “why not”, where a mortal may teach a god to love himself, and love being loved… or perhaps not. Tragedy abounds. There’s enemies to lovers and then there’s this roller coaster. Do you really want good things for Raiden? Debatable.

Faraday Cage (Johnny/Raiden): old guy love, again, but this time it’s two dads finding comfort in a time when they need it most—you REALLY just want good things for Raiden and honestly, who doesn’t? Johnny is, decidedly, a good thing and you’ve decided that nicknames like “1.21 gigawatts” and “electric slide” are acceptable forms of foreplay.

Cassie/Raiden: Faraday Cage 2: Electric Boogaloo—you might be a spite shipper (rock on) or you just dig visible age gap (because you know that every ship including Raiden or Fujin is EXTREME age gap) and you just want Cassie and Raiden to have nice things.

Jacqueda (Jacqui/Takeda): you watched them grow over the course of X and you were smitten. You’re convinced love really can bloom on the battlefield and kombat spouses appeal to you. The idea of Jacqui throwing down with Scorpion for Takeda’s hand appeals to you as well. Same.

Liutana (Liu Kang/Kitana): all those voice lines and character endings mean something to you—in fact, you may have cried; they’ve been fiddling about since 1995, goddammit, you just want good things for them! Is that so much to ask? I say make it happen.

Royal Pain (Shao Kahn/Sindel): the term “power couple” means something OTHERWORLDLY to you—you took one look at this terrible twosome and went “get me a freak like that” but no one was sure which one you meant and that was okay with you. You’re enamored with their grisly Gomez/Morticia aesthetic. They are awful and you LOVE it. Good on you!

Windwolf (Nightwolf/Fujin): you played Aftermath. ‘Nuff said. JK I’m never done. You love the dynamic of middle-aged person and deity falling in love, which is bizarrely specific, but you’ve found your niche goddammit and you’re going to fill it. You appreciate the koncept of the “god” not always being on top of things, or put-together and the idea of a mortal comforting such a being titillates you. The way Nightwolf stands, holding his belt buckle is, you’re convinced, what sold Fujin; it’s also what sold YOU.

Windserpent (Shang Tsung/Fujin): you played Aftermath and while you didn’t think of it at the time, you’ve seen some REALLY nice art and batted the idea around a while and then settled on “yes this is for me”. The appeal is in the danger, from both sides—a nigh-immortal soul sorcerer and a god. Perhaps you crave a redemption arc, or a corruption arc; either way, this ship has serious potential and you intend to exploit it. How Shang Tsung of you.

Honor among thieves (Erron Black/Kung Jin): you dig age gap, unironic cowboys, and the idea of a couple of people who haven’t always been on the right side of the law finding themselves and their points of strength in the Kourt of an Outworld emperor.

Kotal/Jade: you only needed a few cutscenes to tell you that these two are MADLY in love; what we lacked in pure kontent (after all, the game didn’t CENTER on them), they made up for in passionate exchanges. You appreciate the dynamic of respect between them and pegging is NEVER off the table.

Kano/Raiden: the aesthetic of filth-meets-purity appeals to you something fierce. The dynamic is unique and you love the potential for a redemption/corruption arc(s?).

Shang Tsung/Kano: you saw the club scene in MK95 and you went “yes they’re boning”. Whether there is actual affection or not varies with your mood. You love the idea of disaster gay and refined gay coming together to make something dastardly.

Bi-Hanzo (Bi-Han/Scorpion): you crave old wounds and aches and angst, drowning in memories of what never could have been, and regrets of what might have been prevented. This is an angst fest and it is YOUR cup of tea; drink that shit down, my friend, no sugar, no cream. Have at it.

Sonya/Jax: team mom and dad aesthetic appeals to you on a spiritual level. Someone’s gotta be in charge of this chicken shit outfit. AMERICA.

The Storm (Fujin/Raiden): your aesthetic includes the difficulty of a mortal’s inability to truly connect with and understand immortals and immortals finding themselves and each other in that realization. These entities who have existed since the beginning of all things understand each other better than anyone else could. Shine on.

Sindel/Raiden: this is team parents aesthetic on ‘roids. You’re probably a fan of the brainwashed Sindel theory and you’re of the opinion that only the love of a god is remotely worthy of the ultimate scream queen. Honestly, you’re probably right. Body worship is on your list of goals, right alongside worthy equals in a relationship—kinky. That being said, pegging is always a possibility.

Mileena/Scorpion: your aesthetic is danger—but alongside that is “lost souls finding love” and “shared burdens of infinite AGONY”. You dig angst and the potential for star-crossed lovers, meeting each other’s eyes across the arena of kombat. The idea of Scorpion as a consort (Kahnsort?) for Mileena might also appeal to you.

Rain/Mileena: the song “hatefuck” by the Bravery is probably your jam. You know there’s little love lost between these two, but perhaps kombat will bare their souls in such a way that they find some redeeming quality in the other—and the sex is VICIOUS. That’s what you’re looking for and by The Elder Gods™ you’ve found it.

Fanblade (Kitana/Sonya): you saw MK95 and went “I can fix this”. Kombat futch meets ancient warrior princess futch—this feels like hardcore xenabrielle vibes with a side of GORE because it’s mortal kombat, let’s be real. You feel as if Kitana would be foolish not to claim Sonya as her lover after watching her snap Kano’s neck with her thighs. You would be right.

Taleena (Tanya/Mileena): rebel, rebel—we love a good usurpation, don’t we? Power struggles are hot, both politically and in bed. Your kinks include overthrowing the bourgeoisie (even though you ARE the bourgeoisie) and seizing the means of production (meaning the flesh pits, probably).

Shaiden (Shinnok/Raiden): your motto is fight and fuck—or enemies to lovers, for the more refined shipper. Maybe you prefer enemies AND lovers. Go hard or go home, I say.

Nightwolf/Erron Black: old guy love, but make it reformed criminal. The appeal here is that, very likely, someone has to convince someone else that he really IS out of the woods, to show him his true worth, and maybe give him some time off from the violent grind of kombat life.

Kablam (Kabal/Erron Black): black dragon buddies! In the depths of mercenary work, there isn’t time for love, not really, so you want to see these two assholes find some semblance of peace and pleasure amidst illicit activities. Whether or not Kano knows depends on what kind of quickie sex appeals most to you.

Jacquass (Cassie/Jacqui): military lesbians, friends to lovers, BFFs, this ship has it all. You’re in love with the idea of a couple of people who grew up together, suffered and fought and bled together, stumbling away from a battlefield, carrying each other and finding that perhaps they can keep carrying the other, maybe forever.

Kotal/Erron: The idea of watching someone go from bad to the bone, to actually CARING about something other than himself thrills and excites you. That kind of loyalty can’t be bought, even though you keep pretending that’s all it is. Very tsundere.

Kano/Kabal: “he’s a lowlife, piece of shit scumbag; you’re gunna love ‘im.” Nuff said.

#mk shipposting #I ain't taggin all these ships #just like my mains idk #warring exes #thermodynamic equilibrium #faraday cage #caged heat #shaolin rowdy boys #I'm so lazy that's all you get #for the record there ARE ships on this list that make me gag a wee bit but I've included them because someone out there likes them #if it brings someone joy I'm about it because no matter your moral argument #it's not hurting anyone because it is in fact fictional and you have the choice to block me and anyone else to whom you've taken exception #and move the fuck on #fuden #tagging this for you few out yonder #love you <3 #incest mention #???

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atiny-piratequeen · 4 years

Text

Character Analysis, Choi San- the 'Usurper'

Languages: English, Arabic (Post Transformation), Japanese (Modern Day), Korean (Modern Day), French (Modern Day)

Crew Position: Sailing Master + Navigator +Map Maker

Powers: Blood Manipulation (Inherited by Egyptian God, Set)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: Northwest, located on his left pectoral (mirrors Wooyoung’s), Pigeon Blood Ruby

Eye Color: Brown(Natural)/ Heterochromatic Pink Right Eye, Lime Green Left Eye (Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Dark Brunette (Both Forms)

Likes: His space, Sitting in the Crow’s Nest, Drawing Maps, Weapons, Talking Shit

Dislikes: His family, Letting Too Many People Close to Him or Wooyoung, Mirrors, His Own Reflection

*The above artist rendition of Set is used courtesy of the game, Smite

Oldest Son, Choi San.

Born the one and only son of a family of four, somehow didn’t gain him enough of his family’s respect-or love-growing up. San is actually the child of two aristocratic parents, something that clashed with his personal desire to be his own person. Rebelling for as long as he could walk, San grew to resent the tightening noose around his neck from his family and began running away more frequently from his family.

They couldn’t even remember his own birthday, and he couldn’t be bothered to remember theirs. When the opportunity arose and he was forced aboard a pirate ship, the small voice on his shoulder told him as the shackles were placed onto his wrists and ankles, that he’d never see them again.

San couldn’t help the quirk of his lips at the thought.

Sailing Master Choi San

Suppressing his aristocratic side has never been so easy. Though standoffish at first, San has had the opportunity to prove himself as a new, useful man. For once, he finally understands what a ‘family’ is and how it feels to be ‘loved’. Wooyoung was the first to make him feel like more than a burden on the people around him, and to this day, while he loves all of the members and his lovers in his own way, Wooyoung will always be his first love and one of the first ones he’ll ever turn to when he’s in trouble.

With a pencil in hand and the sea breeze blowing his bangs, San can finally draw his own future and feel peace knowing he is loved by those around him.

-Mythology-

Set, also known as Seth, is the Egyptian God of the desert, storms, chaos, and violence. Depictions and understandings of them vary depending on who’s drawing, writing, or viewing him, but he has been represented as a male figure with a humanoid body and an animal head like many other Egyptian gods and goddesses were. Such animals he has been depicted as include several canines, including jackals, fennecs, and greyhounds. He has also been depicted as having a donkey, okapi, aardvark, antelope, or oryx’s face, instead. The inconsistency of his figure in Egyptian depictions is also believed to stem from Set himself being more like a chimeric being who changes his forms.

Set, like many other Egyptian gods, can change his forms into several animals, and also has a form to mimic the appearance of the god Anubis.

A destructive force of nature and often regarded as a trickster, Set was credited for creating natural disasters such as sudden, flash flooding, sandstorms, and thunderstorms. He is considered to be one of the mightiest of the Egyptian gods.

Egyptian familial trees are often complex and overlap, but some depictions of him and his family, Geb and Nut are his parents, with Osiris, Horus, Isis, and Nephthys being his siblings and Ra being his grandfather. In other depictions, Horus and Anubis are his nephews and in some, Anubis is his illegitimate child after disguising himself as Osiris and courting Isis.

One of the driving factors of many of Set’s tales is his burning jealousy and rage, especially towards his brother Osiris.

Set was apparently the only of his siblings that didn’t have a traditional birth. Some say he tore himself from his mother’s womb, others say she spat him into existence and this was believed to foretell his existence of a being of chaos and disorder.

At one point, his brother Osiris, known to be a benevolent king that brought positive changes to the lands he ruled and graced, left out of his kingdom’s reach to help in other areas of the world, and as such, appointed his wife Isis to rule the lands in his stead.

While he was away, Set would set into motion the of the largest scaled affair in all of Egyptian mythology, an event that included many of the Pantheon’s major players in some way shape or form.

After conspiring against him with several others, Set would end up trapping and murdering Osiris. Not content with simply killing him, Set eventually tears Osiris to pieces, tossing his remains all across Egypt in another attempt to keep him from ever being whole again. Isis managed to find all of the pieces of her husband despite Set’s efforts. Well, most of the pieces.

She never located his dick, so that’s fun. She replaced it with a golden one, though! Yay innovation!

Through the use of magic, Isis managed to revive Osiris, though he would never rule in his original kingdom ever again, and would instead be in the Underworld.

Set tried several times to steal Osiris’ body from the underworld, and each time was punished severely for his intrusion by the jackal-headed god of the dead, Anubis. Eventually, after repeated attempts, Anubis grew tired of the chaotic desert god and killed Set once and for all.

Despite his chaotic and volatile actions, Set did have moments of redemption. In the afterlife, Set protected the great Sun God, Ra, from the serpent Apophis as Ra embarked on his daily journey through the Underworld. Set placed himself in front of Ra’s barque and would attack and kill Apophis every time he would rise to attack Ra. The serpent could be killed, but would rise again the very next day.

Set would be there to slay it night after night, thus granting Ra safe passage and being one of the reasons the sun rises each day.

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

As Set is one of the more violent of the gods that the boys have inherited their powers from, San’s fighting style has remained just as violent and wild. When he is fully imbued with the effects of his powers, his eyes go bright pink and lime green. His lips turn into an onyx color and runes appear across his face, from his forehead, all the way to his chin.

San’s blood manipulation allows him to turn any blood around him into a weapon, be it a series of daggers to propel through the air, or his go-to favorites, a large spear or scythe for attacking. Despite his aristocratic upbringing, San is incredibly good at hand to hand combat and isn’t afraid to fight ’dirty’. He’s only gotten more proficient at fighting without his powers thanks to Yunho taking the time to teach him capoeira.

San’s runes only appear when he begins using his blood manipulation, and he prefers to use other people's blood, as too much blood loss from himself may still make him pass out and leave him prone in battle. He also has a few light blades weapons from Wooyoung he uses when there hasn't been any bloodshed on the battlefield yet, but if push comes to shove, he's not opposed to asking the slightly younger immortal to cut into him.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. San's song, which he shares with Wooyoung, is Mist by Ateez. I will go over some spoiler things, but if you made it this far, you may know this already.

Mist is used as an in-story device that goes over Wooyoung and San’s budding relationship and them coping with the uncertainty of life while being prisoners aboard a slave ship.

-If I can’t see anything

If I can feel you, I’m fine

I want you to make me sure

I need you to help me out of my misery

I can see the light in the dark,

It quickly blurs

Step back in place.-

San spends the majority of his life feeling isolated and alone. He had no friends, as his mother’s aristocratic status left him with limited options for people he could make friends with. His sisters resented him as much as he did the entirety of his family, and he usually kept to himself. His general dislike and distrust for those around him persist until he meets Wooyoung, and it’s through the other boy’s positive outlook on life that San slowly begins to understand that not everyone in the world is out to get him.

- Lost and wandering hands again

Hold me and hug me

Your whisper is my compass

Even if we’re going back for a long time

Stay with me, always

I’m not sure. I don’t know the way

I’m just Like Alley Cat without you....-

San doesn’t know what it means to love, be it platonic or otherwise until he meets Wooyoung. He has a disposition much like that of a feral and volatile alley cat due to what he went through all through life, but it’s through Wooyoung-and eventually Hongjoong and the crew-that he’s guided towards the more positive aspects of life.

They soon become his new moral compass.

-Character Blurb-

“You’re just like the other pirates. I won’t let you take away the only person that’s ever loved me.”

San’s eyes grew as he watched his body move against his own will. The runes on his face gleamed and pulsed with chaotic energy as he attacked Seonghwa and Hongjoong, laughing maniacally and screaming about them giving Wooyoung back. Across from him, two eyes gleamed in the darkness.

He stepped away, his foot sinking into the sand that was below his feet.

A snort came from the figure, as he approached, his blade dragging through the sand.

“Long lives those who are strong. How strong are you, cowering under something as fruitless as ‘love’? I choose you because you are full of rage, you have all I need to take back this world and get my revenge. Give in, it’ll all be over soon.”

“San!”

San looked behind him, eyes wide as he saw Wooyoung. No, he had to get out of there, he couldn’t-

“It’ll all be over soon.” The figure repeated, and in a gush of sand and wind, he saw his body fly forward and a blade of blood sliced into Yunho. San screamed inside his head as the dark figure controlled his body, eyes gleaming in malice as he raised a blood sword.

“Rid yourself of such fruitless emotions and useless people. Let it all wash away in the sand and blood. I’ll do you this one favor. Then, this body will be mine.”

“So please,

If this is my way

Hold my hand

So we won’t wander for much longer…”

The sound of Wooyoung’s voice finally spurred San to action and he sprinted forward before the large being could kill Yunho. He snatched a small blade from his hip and buried it into his back with a scream. Blood splattered onto his cheek and the large man tossed him aside, pink and green eyes turning on him as he broke into a run towards San, a scream of rage and pain rattling in the sandy area inside San’s mind.

San threw his hands up, and the blood from the being’s wounds sharpened, impaling him from all sides before his claws could slice into San’s face.

His hand trembled as he let out a growl.

“No! Not...Not again…!”

San stood, feeling himself regaining control as the dark dessert began to fade away from his vision. Before he completely regained his senses, he looked back at the dying entity, his lips pressed into a firm frown and his fists clenched.

“I’m my own person. I have no strings on me. Not anymore.”

-M.List-

#fie writes #against the tide #att character analysis #choi san #san #tw blood #tw violence #tw death

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merakiaes · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I get Marvel, Harry Potter, Twilight, Stranger Things, The Witcher, Peaky Blinders, The Walking Dead, Suicide Squad, Game Of Thrones ship? 💖 179 cm tall; dark brown, past shoulder-length hair with bangs; blue eyes (the left eye is mixed with hazel, aka, heterochromia iridium); heptagon face shape with dimples; rectangle body shape. Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-curious. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. ”Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” At first, I may come off as reserved, shy, yet polite. I, as many of us, have a resting bitch face, that’s why people may think that I’m in a bad mood. It takes me a lot of time to warm up to somebody, cause I have social anxiety. Hate small talk, or speaking in front of the public. When I’m nervous, I tend to mess up my words or forget what I was supposed to say. I’m usually playful, dirty-minded and goofy around close friends. I’m the so-called, ”fashionista and mom” from my circle of friends. A perfectionist, punctual, over-thinker, slight control/clean freak. Stubborn in some situations. If I’m annoyed or getting impatient, I can say something witty or sarcastic. I’m constantly fighting an inner battle with myself, trying to accept myself. I don’t like to smile or laugh in public, cause of the small gap between my front teeth. I really hate taking selfies or somebody else taking pictures of me. The clothes I wear depends on my mood (and the weather outside), but it’s always a mix of smart casual or comfortable. Don’t like doing things out of my comfort zone, prefer to stay indoors. Dislike asking people for help (it makes me feel uncomfortable). I don’t like arguments, but I will square up if they come for my family or I snapped. I’m a kind-hearted person, always ready to help someone in need, quite modest as well. My hobbies include listening to any type of music, reading, watching movies or tv shows, traveling (if given the chance), and cleaning. Have a thing for writing. Very protective of my family. Divorced parents. Motherly towards kids and friends. An old soul, and the ”black sheep” of my family. A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. Sometimes I like to try and cook easy recipes. Dislike black coffee, prefer tea or orange juice. That’s it, - thanks!

MARVEL

I ship you with Bruce Banner!

He would be kind of wary and scared to talk to you to a start. The other guy may be big and strong, but he’s not. He doesn’t have much confidence in himself when in his human form and he would be intimidated by you at first glance, but once he actually works up the courage to come and talk to you, you’d get on great.

He knows what it's like to struggle with social anxiety so he would be patient and need some time to become comfortable with you, as well, scared of messing things up by saying the wrong thing and/or sharing too much.

Like you, he rambles when he’s nervous so that’s just another thing you have in common, but once he’s comfortable with someone, he’s more than happy to participate in some sarcastic, dirty-minded banter.

He’s very reserved and, like earlier mentioned, doesn’t have much confidence. He would never understand how someone like you would want someone like him but he would be so in awe of the fact that you did want him.

He knows all too well what it’s like to be at odds with yourself and accepting who you are so he would be very understanding and supportive of that, and he’d comfort you about your insecurities and let you know that you’re more than good enough.

You’re also very similar in that you prefer to stay indoors, away from all kinds of social activity, and not go out of your comfort zones while, as well as the way you’re both more than willing to help other people in need while disliking asking for help for yourselves.

HARRY POTTER

I ship you with George Weasley!

George is the literal definition of a cinnamon roll. He’s so kind, caring and thoughtful, and I feel like we don’t talk about that nearly enough.

You’re shy and reserved, and he’s forward and energetic. You struggle to warm up to people, and he has no problem whatsoever getting to know new people. So I feel like it would be a good match. He would kinda just force all his energy onto you so that you, as a result, wouldn’t feel as anxious about meeting someone new, you know?

He could help you let loose a bit more, and I mean that in the most respectful way possible; not because you’re uptight, but more so to help relieve some of that stress and pressure that everything always has to be perfect.

He’s so loud as a person that neither you nor anyone else would even notice your mistakes, like messing up your words, because George and his twin just take the stage wherever they go.

George loves pushing his limits and discovering new things so I feel like he’d definitely try to get you out of your comfort zones on some occasions, but at the same time, he’s a lot less pushy than his twin and would give up if he noticed that you really didn’t want to do something, whereas Fred probably would’ve just dragged you along by your arm and bugged you until you gave in.

He’d find your shy personality adorable to a start but once you got comfortable enough to show your playful, dirty-minded and goofy side, he would just be amazed and get even more excited around you.

And knowing him, he’d love both your heterochromia and the gap between your teeth. He would find your eyes the most fascinating thing in the world, and he’s just generally a person who loves “different” and finds it beautiful.

Being protective over family and loved ones is a plus for any of the Weasleys, seeing as the most precious thing they have is just that; family. So the fact that this is a quality you have would make George even more attracted to you, as would your motherly instincts.

TWILIGHT

I ship you with Embry Call!

Like Bruce, Embry probably would’ve been a bit intimidated by you on first sight. Not only because of your resting bitch face, but also because he just has no experience with girls, whatsoever.

After much encouragement from the other boys, however, he probably would’ve been able to work up the courage needed to approach you and most likely, knowing him, he would’ve stumbled over his words and completely messed up, so you’d never have to worry about messing up like that, yourself, because he would just be such a mess that it would be hard to beat.

Embry is, like you, playful, dirty-minded and goofy when he’s in the right company, but he’s much quieter and shyer than the other boys on the reservation, as well as reserved in general - like you. He’s also a lot more caring and loving than his pack members but, like the rest of them, he’s very protective of family, which is just another thing the two of you share.

Embry is a wolf so, obviously, he enjoys being outside and participating in fast-paced activities, but I don’t think he’d mind staying inside with you, watching movies, or just listening to music and hanging out. His mom definitely wouldn’t mind, as he’s technically grounded for life for sneaking out every night, which he keeps ignoring much to her dismay.

He’s just so kind and humble. He’d be so sweet and supportive about your insecurities and never force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, and he’d be all over your cooking, no matter how good or bad you are at it!

STRANGER THINGS

I ship you with Jonathan Byers!

Jonathan knows everything about being the black sheep. He had to find himself and learn his value completely on his own, so he knows what it’s like to be at war with your own mind in accepting who you are.

He believes that people should be judged by their ability to work rather than by what gender they are and that women should be respected just as much as men, as seen when he disapproved of how Nancy was being treated by her co-workers, and therefore also shares your feminist ideals.

He would be the sweetest to you about your insecurities and tell you that it’s okay to be different no matter what and that you’re beautiful and enough just the way you are.

He’s introverted, asocial and kind just like you, cares very deeply for family and knows what it’s like to have divorced parents.

He’s very much into music just like you are and is not very fond of small talk nor fighting either, so I feel like you would have a really calm and stable relationship.

THE WITCHER

I ship you with Jaskier!

Jaskier is a little like George Weasley in the way that he always steals all the attention whenever he walks into a room. He’s got a very loud personality and for the same reasons I think you’d be good with George, I think you would be good with Jaskier!

Unlike you who prefer staying within your comfort one, Jaskier might care about that a bit too little. Let’s just say that he would never bother you about not being more adventurous, because he’d be far too busy stepping out of his comfort zone and getting into trouble, himself, to notice.

Jaskier is also a big fan of writing, reading and, of course, music, so I think you’d be able to have some really good times together.

PEAKY BLINDERS

I ship you with Ada Shelby!

Being the only woman as well as the only really sensible member of a family full of gangsters for sure puts a person under the “black sheep”-category, so Ada knows all about feeling out of place.

She’s the only member of the Shelby family who absolutely hates violence which is one of the main reasons I think you’d suit each other, seeing as you don’t like arguments. Just like you, she will square up if she absolutely has to in order to defend herself, but she’d much prefer not to.

She’s very level-headed and tries her best to stay well clear of all the illegal activities that her family get up to, instead, putting her focus into activism and trying to improve equality for everyone, as well as trying to embrace the beautiful and sensuous things life has to offer.

She has a natural instinct to take care of those who can’t look after themselves, she’s kind-hearted and humane, accepting and understanding, so she would be very patient with getting to know you and let you take the time you needed.

Out of all the Peaky Blinders characters, I can almost guarantee you that Ada is your best shot at getting a peaceful and unproblematic life.

THE WALKING DEAD

I ship you with Daryl Dixon!

Daryl may be brave and good at surviving, but he is, at the same time, constantly facing challenges from his past as an abuse victim. Because of his trauma, he’s very socially awkward and doesn’t really know how to connect with other people, even though he does seem to have the desire to do so. For example, at the beginning of the apocalypse, he often spoke to people without making eye contact and cringed away from physical touch, with little to no social skills, and even though he has definitely gotten better at it, the struggle is still there to some extent.

His childhood trauma is also the reason for his insecurities, of which the biggest one is his scars. He’s ashamed of them and every day he’s reminded of the fact that he, through all his life, has been nothing and no one. He often shows signs that he considers himself to be worthless as well as depressed, and shows clear discomfort and distrust for people he’s not all that familiar with.

Because of the discomfort of being around people, he prefers to keep his distance from groups, because he functions best when he’s either alone or in the company of just one or two people; preferably the former. So naturally, he’s very quiet, not at all fond of small talk. Even with people he’s comfortable being around, he’d rather sit in a comfortable, mutual silence than speak.

You have all these things in common; finding it hard trusting and opening up to people, being over-thinkers, disliking small talk, constantly fighting inner battles with yourselves and struggling to accept yourselves, disliking asking people for help, as well as having big social anxieties in general.

But what you also have in common is that you’re very protective of family. Daryl may prefer to keep to himself, but he doesn’t hesitate to risk his life in order to save the members of his group. He’s incredibly selfless and loyal to a fault and would stop at nothing to protect his people as well as help people who can’t protect themselves.

As a result of his abuse, he also an extreme attentiveness to others. He’s so hypervigilant that not only is he always prepared for zombies, but he can also attentive to the emotions of people. So even though he might struggle with communicating sympathy verbally and through touch, he will go to great lengths to use his special skills to help those in pain, this meaning - you wouldn’t have to communicate your feelings through words every time since he’d most likely pick up on your body language, which can be a really big relief when you’re self-conscious about stumbling over words when nervous and struggle with social anxiety.

He would just be very understanding of your social issues in general and as he absolutely hates when people try to pry into his life before the apocalypse, he would never put any pressure, whatsoever, on you to open up to him in anything other than your own time. If anyone knows what it’s like to feel out of place, it’s him.

SUICIDE SQUAD

I ship you with Rick Flag!

It’s no secret that Rick is very serious and short-tempered when in combat and on the job. His personality is usually described as sturdy, stoic and serious and he’s been trained to serve and follow orders without questions. He takes his responsibilities very seriously and gets frustrated when others don’t pay him the same respect.

But away from his job, Rick also has a softer, more vulnerable side and is capable of warming up even to enemies through his ability to see things from different perspectives, as seen when he happily hugs Floyd after defeating Enchantress. He’s deeply protective of those he loves and would go to unthinkable lengths to protect them.

He isn’t a person who willingly goes out of his comfort zone either; on the contrary, it’s usually something he’s pressured to do by other people who, often, have some kind of leverage on him.

So had he only been presented with the choice, I think he’d really be into the idea of a simple life with no drama, no danger. Just him, his significant other, living together and going about their ways either separately or together, before having dinner and falling asleep together in front of a good movie or tv show. He’d be more than happy living a life as simple as that.

Underneath that whole military attitude, he also has a sense of humor hidden away; the goofy and playful one, just like yours. And I think that you would be really good together in that sense.

GAME OF THRONES

I ship you with Jon Snow!

Jon is known to be humble, calm and withdrawn and would, at least after the events of the last season, much rather live a calm, simple life than one full of adventure and challenged limits since he’s so clearly shown to be burdened by the constant danger and responsibility.

All his life, Jon has lived as an outcast; a bastard, and the black sheep in a family of wolves. Because of Catelyn’s consistent hatred and torment, he never felt anything other than hatred, self-doubt and shame toward himself and has never felt like he belongs anywhere, with anyone.

He was forced to quietly wrestle with dejection and loneliness his entire life; always among them, but never really one of them, and because he never quite fit in, he was naturally more susceptible to anti-social behavior, as shown in the way that he always tends to mind his own business, prefers to stay within his comfort zone and also in the way that he isn’t big on small talk.

He was so ashamed of himself and who he was that he pledged himself to the Night’s Watch in order to escape the label of a bastard, so he knows better than anyone what it’s like to try and accept oneself.

To finish it off, he’s the ultimate feminist, who takes powerful women for what they are and understands the importance of lifting them up. He encouraged Arya and her proclivity for archery and combat and he admitted to his misjudgments and faults without being derisive or sexist when Sansa outsmarted him and saved his ass in the Battle of the Bastards so he doesn’t consider it to be emasculating to be equal, or even inferior, to a woman, and doesn’t pick and choose what kind of woman to support. He supports all of them and their individual strengths, whether it be physical power in combat, or mental power in politics.

FAST AND FURIOUS

I ship you with Leon!

Little is known about Leon since he was only in the first movie with minimal screentime, but I have, over the years, built my own opinion of him through his way of behaving in the moments we actually got to see him.

My first thought on him was that he’s a bit of the lost loner type and that he’s much more rational and level-headed than the others.

He voices his disapproval to Dom on several occasions and got shut down every time, which showed that he didn’t really trust him to keep them safe and out of handcuffs, and that he wasn’t comfortable with how far they were taking things.

This, to me, equals that he’s not a person who is very fond of stepping out of his comfort zone and would much rather play it safe and stick to the things he knows.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a coward, but he’s definitely more cautious than the rest of the squad. Rather than getting high off the thrill, he just seems like he’s along for the ride, without actually needing the excitement like the others do. Plain and simple: he’s a tag-along:er, not an adrenaline junkie.

In the scenes he’s in, he was always the one to, in one way or another, look out for the well-being of the others, and I can imagine, since he and Jesse met before the two joined the squad, that he looked after Jesse for a long while, as well.

Jesse had pretty severe ADD as well as slightly faulty instincts and understandings in some social settings both because of his ADD and because he was raised by his criminal dad to know no better, so looking out for him would probably take a little bit of work since I’d guess that he got himself into trouble a lot.

Because of this, I’ve kind of put him in the “caretaker”-category, since he seems to be so much more genuine and caring than the rest, and that, in turn, is why I think he’d be a good match for you.

I also think that you’d be good together because of the fact Jesse shares a lot of qualities with you; a bit reserved, stuttering when nervous, and being generally anxious around strangers. Since Leon has experience with this, he wouldn’t judge you but rather know how to handle it, support you and make you feel more comfortable.

His mother left him when he was still young and he has clearly been struggling to find a place where he belongs. He thought that he found it with Dom’s crew, but when Jesse died and Vince and Letty got seriously hurt, he obviously had enough, decided that the heat had become too risky and that he didn’t want anything more to do with the illegal activities.

Once again, after Jesse’s passing, he was left alone, and I’m one hundred percent sure that he left the crew to go live a safer, calmer life because, like Rick Flag, he just seems like the type to want a quiet life with a like-minded significant other, maybe some animals and/or a kid or two. Basically just a “perfect, happy family”-situation with no risk-taking, just staying safe within your comfort zones.

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malkalaila · 4 years

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Love love love your account! Just wanted to ask if you don't mind explaining the different ceremonies of a Pakistani wedding? Do they each have a religious purpose?

I love that your enjoying my little space of the inter webs! And I don’t mind at all, but its a doozy of an answer. Keep in mind, I’m going through a Pakistani Sunni Muslim wedding traditions (I’m punjabi as well so idk if these are punjabi traditions either)

Short answer on religious purpose--only two events are religiously required. A Nikkah--the actual wedding ceremony-- and than an event following it that announces the wedding and celebrates it with loved ones, called the Valima.

Everything else is really just culture. But we can go through them all. Something to keep in mine, we do this thing called “mouh meeta” which literally translates to “sweeten the mouth” for celebrations. So when joyous occasions are announced, desserts are given to family and close friends to sweeten their mouths--weddings, birth announcements, graduations, etc. At a lot of these events the bride or groom’s mouths will be sweetened. We basically stuff them full of sweets and call it tradition. They’ll often sit separated on some fancy chair or dais and family and friends will approach and feed them sweets. Idk the reason behind this tbh, but this has happened my whole life.

Dholki’s/dholaks--these are pre-wedding events where the women of the family get together, often casually but can be done on a big scale, to sing and dance and sweeten the mouth of the bride. The women of the groom’s family can have their own event for the groom but often he stops by for the sweets and then leaves and the women just have their fun.

Mayoon--another pre-wedding event, often held separately for the bride and groom, where their mouth’s are sweetened but we also will place oil in their hair and something called ubtan on their face and arms. Ubtan is a paste of turmeric, gram flour, rose water, milk/yogurt, and sandalwood, its meant to cleanse and beautify the face and can be used as a regular facial mask. The oil is meant to beautify the hair. So basically its family and friends gathering to help prepare the bride and groom for their wedding. Though we usually just use this as an excuse to slather oil and ubtan on the bride and groom’s faces 😂

Mehndi/Henna--traditionally the mehndi was when the women on either side would gather within their family to apply henna on each other or get it done professionally. Nowadays that has become its own event or gets smooshed into the end of the mayoon. So what a mehndi usually consists of is more dancing and its a larger scale event. Personally, I’ve seen this event combined so the groom and the bride’s side are all together at a venue, there’s dinner, some mouth sweetening from close family and friends, and then the dancing begins. This is often where the friends of the bride and groom will perform choreographed dancing. Depending on the families the events could be mixed men and women, or the men are kicked out at the end to wait in the venue’s lobby. A lot of times I’ve seen only close men in the family attend on both sides but all the women attend on both sides. And then we just dance into the night.

So here’s where things get kinda go a few different ways. The Nikkah is the primary wedding ceremony. A lot of times the Nikkah is held at the literal main event, the Shaadi. A lot of times people will do the Nikkah in the morning at a mosque, and then have the Shaadi at night. I have seen people do the Nikkah weeks/months in advance and then do the Shaadi on another day. Its just personal preference but the Nikkah is required and the Shaadi is the bride’s family celebrating and formally giving her away.

Nikkah--the nikkah itself is the wedding. The bride and groom are not in the same room. The imam (religious leader) will meet the bride with her family and her two male witnesses privately, read his prayers, ask if she accepts this marriage. She says “I accept” three times. The Imam then goes to the groom and his family and reads his prayers and asks if he accepts this marriage. He says “I accept” three times. There is a lot more that goes on, a lot of conditions that should be met and agreed upon prior to this so I’m going to drop a wikipedia link here because this goes over it pretty well.

Shaadi/Rukhsati--like i mentioned above, the nikkah can happen on the same day as the Shaadi. But the purpose of the shaadi is for the bride’s family to celebrate the marriage and formally “give” her away. So the groom’s side arrives together and they all wait outside and a lot of times they enter with a bang with dancing and drums. There may or may not be the nikkah that day. Dinner, and then the Rukhsati. The rukhsati can be quite sad. Basically at the end of the night the bride and groom are escorted out by their families. A male member of the bride’s family will hold a Qur’an over her head for her to take to her new home. There’s crying, and then they’re off. It’s that formal moment of the bride leaving her family to start her own. I’ve always though this should be a happy moment, but a lot of people in our culture live with their parents well into adulthood until marriage and suddenly leaving like that with all the exhaustion from the wedding, it can get really emotional. I have no plans on getting married soon but I already know who in my family will be the first to cry, so its a bittersweet end that is just a fact for us.

Valima--this is a mandatory event if the Nikkah happened at the Shaadi. A lot people have been doing small Nikkah’s and combining their Shaadi and Valima to cut costs. But the Valima is thrown by the groom’s side to announce and celebrate the wedding but also to welcome the bride into the family.

There’s something called a Maklava, i guess this is punjabi tradition, but at some point the bride and groom, after the wedding, spend a night at the bride’s parents house and then the next morning there’s a large family brunch. Not sure on the purpose of this one but its fun and there’s food.

I wrote you a novel anon! Tbh I’m sure I missed something but I love that you’re interested in other cultures and are willing to read this and listen. Come at me with follow up questions because I really don’t know if this makes a lick of sense

@krill9 and @meherunissa did i miss anything major??

❤❤

#pakistani wedding #wedding traditions #muslim wedding #Anonymous

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we-live-in-a--society · 3 years

Text

Actiones secundum fidei

Love.

Once described as an act of deceiving, both the subject and its milieu, meant to be perceived as mysterious and romantic, and yet failing in that matter as for an offensively prosaic mechanism – concealing

Veracity,

Evident in the lacking ingenuity.

Much less than one is forced to consider after years of listening to chivalrous tales, sappy stories that shapes the social consciousness, leading one down the path of spiritual famine, down the path of everlasting disappointments that comes with defining oneself through the prism of romance.

Years required to wonder why the essence of life is brewed from failures, soaking up the vitality akin to some grotesque sponge, casted aside in face of pilling suppositions, acquiring a form of some make-believe creation, not to mention downright

Worthless.

All for the delight of crowd – inclination of inanity, complete downfall of logical approach, nourishment for idealistic beliefs.

Yearning that defines their existence.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a person who divided year into a quartette of seasons, subsequent in a continuous cycle – birth, bloom, ataraxia, and anesthesia – over and over, frequently associated with life, where each is bound to resemble another stage. Parallel? No, considering the former is ceaseless, eternal, while the latter – dainty, delicate, threatened to be crushed by the maladroit fingers, and so sent away with a one-way ticket clutched in its helpless hand.

There is something beautiful about fleetingness, the fact that each existence is approaching the inevitable end, day by day, hours upon hours of constant exploration – potentials that beg to be discovered, along with the range of possibilities and ephemeral images. In other words – the definition of summer, vacation before the freshman year of college, still idealized and so coexisting in twain of realms, drowning in the transitional serenity granted by the Mediterranean villa along with its elderly owner – both guarantees of two-months peace, preparation for the long, and approximately bumpy, way ahead. As for an ultimate stress reliever, designed to mitigate all discomfort – a matter of deception, phantom delusions that define her existence, built upon idealistic visions of both parents – a plan crafter for years ahead.

Named after the Lady with the Lamp, she was expected to evolve as the most sublime creature, world’s caretaker acquiring a form of a doctor or some other lawyer, evoking the need of youthful rebellion, first and presumably last attempt, although she would like to believe elsewise. It has been a fairly simple act, an act of poor ambitions and ever poorer potentiality, a meek gone mutinous – such an obsolete behavior, a reason to be derided.

Simply because her rebellion is a history of art course. Not medicine, not law but a subject from the bygone era, at least according to her father’s words, a subject of little importance in shaping up today’s world, a subject she could study on her own at any given time, in any given place. An assumption that even if logical, omits one distinctive aspect – stasis that bestows one with an opportunity to ponder upon which life path to choose, and furthermore explore the newfound possibility in hopes it might lead to a positive denouement after all – an action downright irrational if valued by the stern man, which is considered less than unimportant in the alternative dimension that is her aunt’s villa.

Downright wonderful.

Nevertheless, there is some eternal truth to it – ‘nothing lasts forever’, as some may put it, a maxim to indicate the ever-present fear – a factor that defines our existence.

The stasis.

Always trapped in between the stages where the former is well-accustomed-with, while the latter is simply a matter of personal perception, deceivable mind-prompting, uncertain of what lays ahead, left out for assumptions to feats upon. Ergo, in order to interrupt the favorable pass, a pair of scissors must step in, then cut through the continuous stagnation – a period beyond unaltered – with no more no less than an unfortunate turnabout.

A car engine slicing through the evening lull, cut short with a twist in the ignition, alerting her elderly relative, and so prompting to greet the visitor by the door who, even if scheduled, evokes some odd kind of agitation within the timid woman, enhanced by the fact that he will be living here for an unspecified amount of time. Vaguely aware why, she has spent a fair share of hours to ponder upon that aspect, confronted by a mere information that he is a genealogist of some sort, hired to reconstruct the ancestral correlations within the family, since aunt is claiming that her life is coming to an end, which indicates the indispensable clarification of all heritage matters.

And so, obliged to meet the basic social standards, she rises from more than convenient position on the mattress, and follows a path leading to the main entrance, less than keen on facing the visitor. Having overheard the various conversations about him, certain image is already branded underneath her skull, afraid of both the alteration and the approval that comes as an inherent part of visual validation, now that she is just mere steps from the final clarification.

(Time to face the music.)

First she catches a glimpse of hair – chestnut and flowing as he nods – a silhouette clad in flax shirt, shaking her aunt’s hand who, much to the woman’s misfortune, notices her as soon as she reaches the doorway, quick to formulate a request.

“Come here, darling, don’t be shy,” she motions the dainty girl with flick of her wrist, to which she complies, joining the pair on the ground floor. “So this young lady is my niece, Florence.”

“Harrison,” he holds up his hand for a shake – a nonverbal request to return the gesture, and so she follows, grasping it with the inborne gentleness – a brisk greeting, soon to depart as he backs away, albeit to leave a reverberating tingle on the way – a physical brand, capacity considered as more than plain unsettling.

“I’m sure you must be tired, Mr.-”

“It’s Harrison,” he interrupts almost at the spot, never the one to feel comfortable with being called by the full name – too professional, restricted, and so feigned.

“I don’t think it’ll be appropriate to-”

“Oh no, it’ll be more convenient this way, trust me,” he reassures with a polite smile lacing his lips, brisk to top it up with an inviting gesture – a nonverbal affirmation.

“If you insist…” she chuckles, shaking her head in amused disbelief, always the one to admire the younger generation for its carefree approach towards life, the quality she is someway keen on acquiring herself. “Oh, and before I forget, I’ve allowed myself to prepare you a bed in the west part of mansion, if that’s acceptable for you.”

“Yeah, totally acceptable, thank you,” he nods for a change, glancing at the navy blue car parked on the cobblestone driveway. “But I think I’d prefer to go for a drive tonight before I’ll be good to work.”

“Um, if that’s what you’d like…” she shrugs, visibly caught off guard by the alternative solution. “You know where to go?”

“Any recommendations for me?”

“Florence?” A query thrown towards the niece, a name reverberating in the air, enough to advert her attention to the conversation – a spectacle, as if designed especially for the dreamy woman.

“Um, I’m sorry what?” She frowns, glancing at her aunt as if in search for any support after the abrupt collision with reality.

“Any recommendations for our guest?” The elderly woman reiterates, patient as always, and much to the teen’s relief. “Since obviously, you spend more time outside than I do.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Oh, come on,” she hurries the pondering girl – an attempt of ignition, activation, and so further encouragement. “You could’ve accompany our guest, huh? Show him where to go?”

“Um, okay… I think I could’ve do that,” Florence agrees, glancing at the taller genealogist on her left, who responds with a brisk smile as if to demonstrate the acceptance of such turn of events.

“Bon voyage then,” she reciprocates with a twin gesture, crossing her arms on the chest. “But be back soon, since I doubt your parents would be pleased if they found out you’re tarrying around God knows where after dusk.”

“Sure, aunt,” having kissed her on the cheek, she is good to walk away, and so quick to join Harrison by the car, where she settles inside, right on the passenger seat.

The ignition itself requires nothing but a deft flick of his wrist – an indication of a long-term driver, soon to wrap both hands around the steering wheel, then drive through the ornamental gate and down the gravely road. Due to the open window, the wind is bound to mess with the chestnut hair as it glides through the side bangs obscuring his forehead just to further ruin the uneven parting in the middle, not that such contrast will be any drastic if juxtaposed with the prior appearance. Furthermore, it allows her to distinguish a twain of tiny hoops adorning his ear, encrusted with gold, shining on the tanned canvas of his skin, such a beautiful detail, a detail that has the girl pinching her own lobe, even if unconsciously.

“Where to?” A sudden slice through the evening silence, an exclamation that causes her to flinch in surprise, rapidly enough for the man to notice, which has him snorting for a change, much to her embarrassment.

“I don’t know,” she counters with a mere headshake, intent to brush the excess hair falling onto her face – stew-betrayer maybe? “Depends on what you wanna see.”

“Which depends on what you wanna show me,” he throws Florence a fleeting smile as one of his hands abandons the steering wheel on behalf of being stuck out of the window – a manner that unnerves her more than it is presumably healthy to.

“Um, let me think…” she draws on the syllable, fiddling with the sound as she ponders upon the most suitable proposition. “Is the town okay?”

“I think there’s only one way to tell for sure,” he chuckles – a heartwarming note that somehow settles her jerky attitude, even if partially. “Left or right?”

“Left,” she clarifies, leaning back on the car seat – a subconscious response to the affirmative manner he has displayed – eyelids fluttering as her nostrils flare to accommodate the leather scent.

“And the right?” A query punctuated by the upward tilt of his chin, indicating the established direction. “Where does it lead to?”

“Lake,” she bothers with yet another moderate reply, linking her fingers on the lap, as if to relieve the tension.

“Ever swum in there?” He nags further, silently hoping she will be able to determine what the water has to offer.

“No,” she contradicts, gaze glued to the field sprawling past the window, anything but to look him directly in the eye, “didn’t have the right person to swim with… I suppose.”

“Oh?” He cocks a teasing eyebrow at her, voice laced with a hint of inquiry.

“Huh?” She reciprocates with a correlating frown, visibly confused before the realization is casted upon her – shameful in its foolish nature, almost mortifying… Jesus. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- it’s not like that, really, it’s not-”

“Hey,” he interrupts, gaze now focused solely on the young woman – calm façade that somehow smooths her jerky reaction, “it’s okay, I get it. No need to belabor the topic.”

“Okay,” she nods, hesitant at first as in an attempt to conceal the wave of discomfiture, afterwards intent to progress with an alternative subject, thus finds herself asking. “Did they hurt?”

“Did what hurt?” He frowns, once again adverting his eyes from the road – a manner she begins to consider more and more distressing as a parallel to its piling occurrences.

“The earrings,” she clarifies almost at the spot, despite the perturbation caused by his driving habits.

“You think about getting one, or what?”

“No,” she counters, nails scratching at her earlobe. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Honestly, I was too stoned to remember,” he chuckles – a nostalgic laughter, each and every time perceived as charming by the young woman, oddly challenging to describe.

“Oh, okay…” she responds with a suchlike manner, carefree and endearing when less restrained. “So you were a hippie?”

“A hippie? No…” he denies, lacing it all up with a self-indicating headshake. “I think I was just a little bit of everything, which I believe is basically what college is all about.”

What college is all about…

Now that is interesting.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a person who divided twenty four hours into a twain of opposites – day and night – smoothing out the sharp edges with transitionary phases – dusk and dawn – together a quartette as a short-term response to the yearly cycle of seasons. Being a person of homely preferences (at least in accordance to her individual perspective), more specifically dictated by the inborne tendency to search for balance, for dreamy aesthetics and gentle experiences, leads each and every aspect to a single conclusion – her fondness towards the sunsets. Night, in turn, has always filled the young woman with some odd kind of perturbation, evoked by the gloominess that swallows acres of land, and so deprives her from the comfort of perceiving world with less disquietude.

At times such as now, when she is forced to go downstairs in search for a merest glass of water, feet aching from the cold floor – such a ridiculous contrast to the warm Italian air surrounding the thirsty visitor – which, paired with the restlessness acquired while wandering in the darkness, has the woman nearly jumping out of her skin when she catches a glimpse of an unspecified silhouette from the corner of her eye. The revelation that prompts her to advert the gaze in said direction, where she is greeted with a sight of their guest chugging down what must be a glass of milk – a personification of all her childhood traumas.

“Christ,” she inhales, having omitted the fact that she was holding her breath the whole time, “you freaked me out.”

“Oh, did I?” He retorts, still sipping on his drink, as he leans backwards on the kitchen counter, skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, hair tousled from sleep – details that begin to flood her perception.

“Is that milk?” She ascertains, eyes adverting to the object held in his right hand.

“More or less,” he shrugs, focusing on the whitish liquor in his glass as a parallel to her interest.

“Huh?”

“Wanna try it?” He suggests, tilting the container in her direction, smirking at the disguised grimace manifesting itself on the feminine face, all to his amusement.

“Definitely not,” she refuses, accompanied by a surprisingly feisty headshake. “Plain milk is weird enough to drink, not to mention your unspecified creations… ‘cause that’s some kind of a mix, isn’t it?”

“Maybe it is,” he mimics the prior manner with some inborne carelessness that she finds oddly appealing, soon to step out of the kitchen, having decided that the topic is belabored.

Left alone now, she grabs a glass from the cupboard, quick to fill it with the tap water that she is obliged to down either in the gloomy area here, perchance upstairs, or in the living space occupied by the genealogist – both unnerving in their own nature. Aware of her limited tolerance when it comes to such circumstances, she is bound to opt for the latter, viewing the former as quite a jumpy denouement – not what she is striving for by any means – and so intent to join him there in a few hurried steps.

Already comfortable on the old-fashioned sofa, he throws her a fleeting glance as she settles down on the opposite armchair, crossing her legs on the expensive padding. While his mind is swimming, drifting beyond parallel realities, he is simply sitting on the plush cushions, yet to acknowledge the fact that his alias is transferring into a liquor depraver held in his hand, acquiring a mentality of a White Russian, whatever that mentality is. Well, certainly not what has him clutching at the more realistic dimension, where he is beginning to think that the whole glass might have been a mistake, not one of the disastrous consequences but still, enough to set it aside on the coffee table with a soft clink – an indication of a bygone phase.

“I’m off, so if you wanna finish, go ahead,” he proposes, inviting her with a subtle gesture, once again to lay back on the furniture as he awaits her response.

“What is it?”

“White Russian,” he clarifies, albeit bound to continue when faced with her confused expression. “Milk, vodka, and coffee liquor.”

“I don’t think I’m into that then,” she chuckles, shaking her head to emphasize the refusal.

“Then what are you into?” He teases, to which she responds with a bashful blush, not that it surprises him much, now that he is beginning to learn all her instinctive reactions.

“I don’t know, many things, I guess… it’s tough to specify…” she hesitates, as if intent to pick a suitable expression, “art for instance… I do like art, but I guess so do others so…”

“Well, your aunt told me you’re planning to study history of art,” he states, having dragged it out of the depths of his memory – a fleeting intercalation in between the working periods, spent in the company of the elderly woman. “Something beyond interests has led you there?”

“Well,” she shrugs, nails scratching at her cheek, gaze once again focused on the almost empty glass settled on the coffee table. “I guess I’m intent to find my own way, not the established lawyer path… a lawyer who is some other doctor, I don’t know… I hope you know where I’m coming from.”

“I think so, since well, I’ve been ‘round the block a couple of times,” he smiles, raking his fingers through the blowzy hair, as if only to tousle it even further, “which allows me to see how important it is to lead your life according to your own standards, for the benefit of your own vision.”

“Well, I know…” she sighs, weak and resigned, “but sometimes it’s quite difficult to synchronize all aspects and satisfy the meaningful people.”

“Meaningful?” He frowns, as if displeased with her answer, and yet able to gain a nod of confirmation from the blonde. “You think your ‘meaningful people’ should force you to succumb to their will?”

“You put it as if it was the simplest action to take,” she mimics his manner – an indication of disbelief – caught off guard by the stern comment. “But it’s not, and maybe it’s a mistake to see world in such colors, but I believe other people’s opinion matter. Tell me, what would I become if it wasn’t for them?”

“I can’t tell for sure,” he shrugs, having opted for an evasive answer, not intent to fall into any one of her dependent traps, “but I’ve always thought going my own way is far more satisfying… satisfying but harder, yes, although it’s not that important, quite simple actually, ‘cause all it takes is courage, courage to break the unspoken rule.”

“What kind of rule?”

“To be unhappy,” he clarifies – one of his lifelong maxims, “which I believe is connected with the fact that sometimes in order to please others, you decide to lead your life in accordance to their expectations. And it’s the beginning of the end.”

“Why?” She nags further, intent to share a seat on his personal train of thoughts. “Because you feel trapped?”

“That as well,” he agrees, albeit yet to complete her conclusion that appears to have omitted the very essence of his ponderations, “but what’s more important, you lose the sense of who you are, of what you want and aim for, which is not worth it, at least in my opinion.”

“Maybe it’s just… maybe I don’t have that courage,” she ponders, gaze fixated on a tiny spot marking the hardwood floor. “Maybe I’m afraid that if I pull another stunt like that, everyone will leave me.”

“Then fucking let them,” he shrugs, in the end opting for chugging down the remains of his drink, abandoned on the coffee table up to now. “Like why would they leave you anyway? For picking a different college, or what?”

“Okay fine,” she agrees after a few longer moments, glancing at his profile, as if in a passing. “It might be as illogical for you as it is for me sometimes, but when faced with the choice, I’ll fall into that trap once again.”

“And you’ll allow it?” He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at her, a hint of what must be a smile playing upon his lips. “Tell me, were the consequences even that disastrous?”

“Um, I mean- I don’t know,” she replies, having projected her father’s disapproved expression on the blank canvas – a mirror image branded within her mind – along with the frown marring the smooth forehead of the mother. “My parents were just displeased, I guess.”

“What else?”

“Um, nothing,” she shrugs – a careless gesture, designed to conceal the lifelong hesitancy to agree with his insights – no more no less than a mere bunch of words uttered by an almost stranger, a pseudo form of attitude-alteration.

“Well, if that’s all they had, then there’s no logical reason to be afraid of their reaction,” he concludes, leaning back on sofa – an evidence of his contentment.

“Maybe you’re right…” she sighs, brisk to wrap up their agreement with a smile, genuine even if fleeting, “and um, sorry for forcing you to listen to all of that.”

“Forcing?” He laughs at the odd apology, doubting she will ever cease to surprise him, with all the bashful encounters in mind. “I could’ve left any time. I don’t think you could actually force me to do anything.”

“Yeah,” she mimics his manner – a pearly chuckle reverberating in the nighttime lull, “I don’t think I can actually force anyone to do anything, since that requires some kind of a... I don’t know… charisma?”

“A charisma you don’t possess, is that it?” He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at her, voice laced with a hint of teasing amusement.

“Not at all,” she counters, accompanied by an oddly expressive headshake, “it’s just…I don’t consider my charisma as outstanding in any way.”

“Why?”

“Simply because I’ve met people more gifted in that field,” she explains, tucking one of her feet beneath the opposite thigh, quick to pull the oversized tee down as it has ridden up a little in process.

“I think it’s natural,” he remarks, forehead marred with a frown of disbelief, obliged to state the obvious. “You lead in one, lack in the other, so comparing yourself to others is neither sensible, nor self-developing.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she shrugs, intent to aim for a more diplomatic overlap – remedy for any bitter aftertaste.

“Maybe,” he hums, mimicking the prior comment, eyes falling shut, as his head leans back, having discerned that the conversation is over.

Or is it?

Either way, a part of her, the one that appears to be more sexually aware, considers it as an unrepeatable chance to satiate the leftover curiosity, lurking in the shadows for the past two weeks, and thus drink in the details that managed to evade her perceptivity on the number of prior occasions. Furthermore, the quaintest factor is the transition in her perception, correlating with the fact that sex has never been neither the main object of focus, nor the aim of her dreamy tendencies to commit all the overdramatic affections to paper. Oddly so, she is far from writing about the genealogist, or rather has been since the day of his arrival, instead decided to focus on the present aspects of his company – a tendency to be extended, now that the circumstances seem more favorable.

Facing up to the fact, she did fell for one or two boys in the past – affections not meant to be interpreted in terms of a further-developing relationship, since in accordance to what she remembers, excluding that single by-definition exception, they remained purely platonic. Thus it is safe to say that the situation she finds herself in, is a far more complicated one, extending beyond her experience in any form of social correlation – a subject of peculiar nature that she is intent to explore one way or another.

Therefore, she allows her gaze to trace a path down the exposed neck, and further to the firm planes of his chest, partly obscured by the crossed forearms. Despite the inborn flexibility with the verbal components of the language, she is caught in a genuine struggle to transfer the unspecified notions into one word – the most sublime message, crafted only to define him as a person in the eyes of all single-minded creatures.

As if it was necessary.

“You know, instead of staring at me like that, you can actually come and sit here,” he states all of sudden – a blunt comment reverberating in the air – causing the woman to choke on her own spit, caught hand in a cookie jar.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologizes, gaze adverting to the side, voice laced with a distinctive hint of embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to stare, really.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m quite flattered actually,” he chuckles – throaty and masculine – as his eyes fall open, allowing the hazel to interfere with green.

A transition to some distant part of his conscience, firmly indicating that he is not supposed to fuel anything that has been blossoming inside the teenager the moment their hands linked in a greeting mannerism. And yet, he opts for ignoring the unspoken rule, and thus has invited her to join him on the sofa – a proposal of pending nature, now that she appears to be tethering on the cusp between a twain of options. While his eyes remained glued to her figure, conspicuously fragile in structure, he cannot help but dwell upon whether she will come out as more earnest than evasive, hooked on progress thus threatened with possible misjudgments, albeit well-aware, even if only in the back of his mind, about the probable consequences of passing such threshold.

Nevertheless, he cannot fight the smug smirk that decorates his face the moment she caves in, and finally takes a sit beside him, eyes glued to her lap, swept away with a wave of insecurity. A part of him finds it endearing – the way she moves, graceful akin to a swan, pensive akin to Juliet – while the corresponding one – an aspect of carnal instinct – perceives the inborne innocence as an ultimate obstacle, bound to assume she will retreat as soon as the situation heats up.

Ergo, he opts against any rapid action, instead shifts to the side, with the very intention to face the female, outstretching an arm in her direction – an offer she gladly accepts, slipping a dainty hand into his, soon to be enveloped with the pleasant amount of warmth. The comforting notion prompts her to satiate the newfound curiosity and thus trace the pattern of his skin, quick to discern a protuberant line marring the flesh on the side part – presumably a scar, an imperfection that evokes the inherent query concerning its origin, a pursuit interrupted by a foreseen alternative.

“What was the furthest you’ve ever gone with someone?”

“A kiss,” she admits, shivering as he teases the inside of her wrist with the other hand, stroking the part of skin that she has never considered erogenous until now – a discovery so peculiar that she almost counters its veracity.

“Mm-hm,” he hums as his grip switches to the one of different pursuit, encircling her wrist and tugging suggestively – a nonverbal indication of an action that he is intent to take, albeit still in capacity of eliciting a choked gasp from the female, immediate to brace her weight on his shoulders. “And what else?”

“Nothing, it’s like- well, that’s all, I think,” she lets out a nervous laugh, stumbling over the words when distracted by a seemingly heavy weight of his hand placed atop the hip, earlier a whisper tickling the exposed flesh of her neck.

“Okay,” he chuckles – smoky and alluring, intent to lighten up the mood, now that she is twitching in his grasp, tensed with the nervous anticipation. “So tell me what you want to do for a change.”

“I don’t know, really,” she cannot help but advert her gaze to the side, unable to bare the intensity of his, and yet, he is brisk to grasp her by the chin, locking them together once again, as a part of him loathes the fact that she appears to be looking everywhere but his eyes.

“You don’t know, huh?” He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at her, smirking at the reddish hint of blush decorating her cheeks, which in turn gets Florence to wonder whether he finds her reactions that amusing, or simply ego-stroking. “Well, that’s a pity, ‘cause I don’t know what I want to do either.”

“Okay, fine,” she gives up, having decided to shove all her insecurities aside, or at least pretend that it lays within her capacity, which leads up to a surprisingly concrete response. “I want to… um… to kiss then.”

As if her wish was his command, he leans in, brushing her lips with some quaint delicacy that she struggles to associate with his manners, since he has never struck her as an exceptionally gentle person. What must have omitted her perceptivity though, is his virtual motivation – an intent to decipher how likely it is that she will shy away, and thus when the action is returned, he allows himself to tilt her head to the side, deepening the caress. Moreover, a change that appears as somehow aggressive in the eyes of an inexperienced woman, still not certain whether she enjoys the ravenous way he seems to be devouring her lips with, and yet willing to kiss him back, curious about the possible progress.

Nevertheless, some sizable section of her consciousness has devoted so deeply into the act that she fails to notice the subtle alteration – the hand that was previously cradling the side of her face, slides underneath the cotton tee, eliciting a surprised gasp from the woman, swallowed by his mouth, paralleled with the time his tongue slips inside her mouth – an action that has her tensing in his arms almost at the spot. Or a response of short-lived nature, where she is shaken out of the caught-off-guard state in almost no time, finally flowed with an idea of what to do with her hands, dismissing the awkward clutching of his shoulders, thus immediate to lay them atop his chest instead.

What is least expected though must to be the fact that he seems intent to mirror said concept, with his fingers stroking her flank, inching closer and closer to the breast area, and yet, before he completes the route, an instinctual thirst for air forces Florence to break the kiss, exposing his disheveled appearance to her eyes, with dilated pupils and shallow pants, palpable on the skin of her cheek. Even though she has been granted with a fair share of opportunities to see him in a less tidy state, the encounter is perceived as a separate one, because of the virtual nature of his perturbation – a dainty female settled on his lap, a female with enough confidence to break the silence.

“That was really nice, thank you,” she smiles, even further at the confused expression blossoming atop his features, albeit quick to fade away, replaced by a signature teasing smirk, now that the disappointment has been replaced with a transitional emotion.

“My pleasure,” he reciprocates, both hands back at her hips now, tilting his chin up towards the entrance as he speaks. “Didn’t your aunt mention she gets up at dawn?”

“Yeah, I think she- oh,” Florence chuckles, following his gaze sideways to the terrace, confronted with the sight of an early morning light seeping through the thin voile curtains, basking the living room in its fresh glow. “I must be going then, sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he pats her thigh, indicating that she is, indeed, supposed to rise from the oh-so-convenient position, to which she succumbs, quick to stand up and flash him one last smile, before she retreats towards the corridor – a rush up the stairs, halted only by the smooth baritone uttering her name once more in the almost expired nighttime lull.

“Florence?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell your aunt about this.”

* * *

Once upon a time there was a person who valued his own comfort over the nature’s one, having decided that his excuses are enough to justify the implementation of a fresh solution – the electric light, considered beyond functional, albeit cycle-disrupting as it violates the ancient ratio. When it comes to her personal opinion, she finds a distinctive solitude in the way it navigates through the darkness, mesmerized by the variety of illuminations, even though a fair share of bulbs appear to be lacking in the value possessed by their candle-like grandparents – a sort of romantic glow, soft and peaceful as it brightens up the garden area, along with the eight-seat table.

Unfortunately, she is not alone this time, granted with the opportunity to soak up the sustained quietude, but in a company of a few people, not by any means an unusual occurrence, since her aunt tends to invite the neighbors for dinner. What seems to bothering her though is the fact that Harrison has joined them as well, accompanied by one of the younger women – a daughter of an academic professor who is currently chatting with her relative.

Circumstances that drive her back in time to that idiotic incident, along with its consequences extending up until now, or more specifically the fact that he has been acting as if nothing happened, as if they remained solely on the chatting terms. After a while she has begun to think that it was a mistake in the first place not to tell her aunt about the aforementioned situation, especially now, when the genealogist appears to be flirting with the female seated on his right.

(Or maybe you’re just paranoid.)

(Yeah, if I’m ‘just’ paranoid, then they’re ‘just’ talking.)

Crossing her arms over the chest, she keeps on glancing over at the pair – a display of temporary obsession, with the strings of jealousy laced in its being – now that she is getting triggered by the smoothness of their conversation. A part of her feels betrayed by the act, abandoned by the table, hung in between a twain of dimensions: retired professors and their descendants, lacking in the profitable capacity to navigate her way through the topics and simply join the conversation. Instead, she opts for poking the cooling pasta with a silver fork, excluding a few occasional bites here and there, as her eyes remain glued to the villa’s entrance for a change, anticipating the time it will be appropriate to retreat into the room and sleep off the bitter aftertaste that comes with rejection.

Linear

Subsequent

Damnation.

“Rosaline?” A name uttered in the nighttime lull, piquing her aunt’s interest enough to advert the attention from the current conversation, and thus lift her eyes to the genealogist’s face. “I’ve promised Linda to drive her to town, so we must be going now, you know... but thank you for the dinner anyway.”

(Oh, so her name is Linda. How delightful.)

“Oh, it’s fine,” she smiles, kind as always. “Have a safe trip then.”

“Thank you again,” he addresses her one last time, before his attention switches to Florence, with his arm following the alteration, outstretched in an inviting gesture. “Wanna go with us?”

(No, piss off.)

“I’m not sure,” she hesitates, ever the diplomat of refusal, glancing at him from the seating position by the table. “It’s just- I don’t wanna disturb you or something.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Rosaline smiles, this time to encourage her, motioning towards the pair with a flick of her wrist. “I think you’ll have much more fun with Linda and Harrison than with a bunch of retirees.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighs, as if utterly resigned because of the concept, attempting to convince herself that it is not so unpleasant after all. “I’ll go.”

“Cool, c’mon then,” he motions her to get up, to which she succumbs, rising from the elegant chair, and following their steps towards the car with a quick, “goodnight,” thrown over her shoulder.

Nonetheless, the moment Florence reaches his navy car parked by the curb, she is surprised by the fact that Linda has settled on the back, as if to indicate her desired place, and thus she agrees on the established terms, soon to rest on the front, and with a flick of ignition, they drive down the gravely road, further through the gate, and the adjoining street. A part of infrastructure that Florence has always considered as picturesque, possessing some sort of a romantic glow, and the unparalleled vibe of a nighttime drive, with the endless route of possibilities sprawling in front of their eyes, now glued to the anthropocentric wonder.

Which is beautiful.

Which is fleeting.

Which is eternal.

Or which has her wishing the scale would tilt towards the latter.

At least until Linda’s interruption.

“Thanks again for driving me to Matteo.”

“Sure, no problem,” he shrugs, glancing at the woman in the rear-view mirror, before his eyes advert to the road once again.

“Who’s Matteo?” She finds herself asking, faced twisted in a frown of confusion, when confronted with the possible explanation.

“My boyfriend.”

(Oh.)

(So it turns out you were just paranoid.)

(Or were you?)

Almost deep enough in her thoughts to miss the following query. “And you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Um, I…” she hesitates, glancing over at Harrison in search for at least some partial support, although he appears to be ignoring her, with eyes glued to the road.

“Sorry if it was too personal,” she flashes her an apologetic smile through the rear-view mirror, barely acknowledged as an existent component.

“It’s okay,” she shrugs in response, gaze adverting to the passing trees outside the glass pane. “I don’t even have one, so…”

“Well, that was awkward,” Linda giggles, which in turn paints her as derisive in the blonde’s eyes, and thus retreats any will to continue the conversation.

“Pointing it out doesn’t make it less awkward,” the driver joins in, a voice that slices through the sweetened stasis, attracting the attention of both females in the car.

“Yeah, sure,” this time she huffs, offended and thus done with the whole concept of talking down to both of them, even the man who gave her such a congenial impression in the first place – calm and easy-going, with an interesting smile, and perceptive hazel irises.

Ergo, the rest of the drive is spent in partial silence, excluding the monotonous hum of engine and the whistling wind that envelopes the metallic frame – a set of circumstances considered rather unimportant, since they are relatively quick to reach the town. A place that imposes Linda to speak again, albeit solely to guide Harrison to the desired tenement, where she gets off the car, and with a quick, “goodbye,” thrown over her shoulder – an expression of concealed bitterness – she leaves them alone once again, and thus clears out the atmosphere as she appears to have taken some immerse emotional luggage with her, or tension that seemed to be enveloping the vehicle on the course of their trip.

“Wanna stay here and maybe go for a walk, or I don’t know… do whatever we find suitable?” He proposes, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow at the female, with a ghost of an ephemeral smile playing upon his lips.

“Okay, why not,” she agrees, flashing him a mirroring expression, before she steps off the car, in accordance to the nonverbal gesture of the man who is soon to join her on the cobbled street. “Where are we going by the way?”

“The square maybe, ‘cause I want a drink,” he gestures towards the illuminated area, garnished with a bunch of outdoor tables, or a source of the resonating variety of conversation, “but then, we can just… I don’t know… wander around to see if something else piques our interest.”

“Okay,” she agrees, soon to follow him on the way to the bar, where he only purchases a bottle of wine – ‘specialità regionali’ – at least in accordance to the salesman’s words, although she suspects it might be a subject of little matter for Harrison, as he only throws him a polite smile, along with some cash placed on the counter, soon to retreat afterwards.

Back on the square again, they navigate their way through the maze of narrow streets, up to the point where they come across a relatively empty one, with a bunch of chairs pushed up to the brick wall. A resting spot that he considers suitable enough to flop down and uncork the bottle with some kind of a multi-tool, fished out from his pocket, soon to take an initial gulp of the reddish liquid.

“Isn’t it some kind of a heresy?” She frowns, gesturing towards the glass, currently held in a single hand and cradled upon his lap. “To drink it straight from the bottle?”

“Is there anyone stopping me?” He retorts, smiling as she shakes her head ‘no’. “Then I don’t care.”

“Seems like you don’t care about a lot of things,” she remarks, glancing at the man who is currently taking a few relatively huge gulps of wine, his Adam’s apple bobbing in time with each sip.

“’Cause I think it’s a fucking waste of time…” he replies after a short interval, required to finish the portion of drink, eyes now focused on the bottle’s label, “of time, and I don’t know… spirit maybe.”

“I’ve always wanted that capacity to just… you know… don’t care,” she admits, cracking her knuckles on the lap, as she stares at the opposite building, wondering about the current activities of its dwellers, even if only for a split second. “I mean it’s kind of complicated, ‘cause sometimes I really don’t care about things that others might consider important, decent grades for instance. And then when something pops out, something quite… um… significant, at least for me, all they say is: ‘take it easy, it’s not a big deal’, while for me it is a big deal.”

“I think it’s quite natural people tend to misunderstand others, since they rely on their own perspective,” he interrupts the explanation with yet another sip of alcohol, soon to cradle the bottle upon his lap once again. “And also, if you combine it with the reluctance to introspect the motivations of others, they’ll never come closer to the actual state of affairs, so it’s just… well, futile.”

“Okay, thanks,” she throws him a fleeting smile – a sympathetic gesture that prompts him to return it in a resembling manner.

“But these are just words, you know,” he continues – a matter of prevention. “In order to actually make it work you gotta experience it yourself.”

“Maybe you’re right…”

An agreement ensued by a relatively comfortable kind of silence, or an opportunity for the genealogist to retreat into his personal land of thoughts, where he is granted with an opportunity to ponder upon one distinctive subject that has been bothering him for these few days ensuing their short-lived moment of intimacy. What initiated as a rather innocent whim was never expected to blossom into a craving of entirely different nature – a carnal one – calling back to the manner his eyes were lingering on her figure merely two weeks ago.

Another important aspect – a conclusion from what he suspects might be a high school period – is that such form of interest cannot be a conscious decision, and thus he has never felt shameful due to developing any kind of affection towards a person, maybe because of the atheistic beliefs or the general reluctance towards the concept of strict morality. He has always considered it inhumane – a characteristic of incorporeal beings who must have forgotten what it is like to inhabit a body – or unrealistic – a form of spiritual disguise, meant to conceal all flaws from the eyes of others, fool them up to the point where they perceive one as an idealistic entity – incomprehensible mentor, he who leads them towards the land of redeemed.

Utopia.

A place that does not exist.

At least for any corporeal human, and he who is one, will gladly choose an alternative path.

“I was wondering...”

(Sure you were.)

“Maybe you want some?” He gestures towards the bottle held in his right hand. “I don’t think it’ll be sane to finish the whole one by myself.”

“And why is that?” She cocks an eyebrow at him, lips laced in an anticipatory smile.

“’Cause I’m driving.”

“Um, okay,” she chuckles, someway bound to accept the offer, “so I think I do want some then,” and thus takes a few sips of liquor, then hands the bottle back to its owner. For a little while they just switch in such manner, until half of its contents are emptied, albeit any alternation in the sobriety omits her recognition, considering the consumption has been rather meager, with him drinking a substantial amount.

As her mind switches from the nonsensible metaphor applying to the wine that is supposed to run through her bloodstream, overheard months ago during a spring break party, she cannot help but wonder about his prior conversation with Linda, once again invaded by a preposterous amount of jealousy. A feeling someway associated with the color green, venomous neon hue, as if due to variety of virulent substances required to manufacture one, seeping through the pores, thus bound to infect an organism, or rather its intellectual capacities.

Or a stimulus that prompts her to voice the following query.

“What were you talking about back home?” She blurts out – an exclamation ensued by a mental scold, yet way past the point of retreating in such circumstances. “With Linda, I mean.”

“About marihuana and college… in that order, I think,” he hesitates, drawing the sentences a little, as he attempts to recall the prior conversation. “Then some of her issues that weren’t very important to be honest… Something about that Matteo-guy, I think… Why are you asking?”

“I’m just… curious, you know.”

(Curious? Or jealous?)

A thought that laces his lips in a barely noticeable smirk – a gateway to the newfound opportunity, focused on the selfish aspects of his whims that correlate with the concept of perfectionism in any form, not only its pathological version. Even though he is well aware of his lifelong pursuit towards the aspects considered as natural, thus far from nonpareil, he would never suspect it to extend in the direction of an active attitude – a desire to mar, to drag the compass’ sharp end down the freshly bought blackboard just to watch people grimace at the sound.

Aversion or the commonplace odium – an aftermath of idealistically strict morality, or a paradox in its most sublime form – what is expected to define one as a human leads to an entirely different outcome – bringing up a society that loathes the scum. Furthermore, less and less people appear to aim for more organic behavior, only conventions, forced etiquettes, acquired to sketch the most sublime form of a humane being – an exemplary man with an exemplary wife and a group of children playing at their feet, exemplarily of course.

Fatiguing to the bone.

Perfection.

Merely a phantasy of civilization.

Model disguise of a modern man.

Missing out the nature’s intent.

Perfection or omission?

Futile to eradicate.

“C’mere,” he proposes, completely out of the blue, motioning her with a flick of his wrist, having settled the bottle aside on the cobbled pavement. Confronted with yet another offer that evening, she hesitates, glancing left, then right, despite the sensory awareness that their dead end is surely deprived of any company, excluding the possible voyeurs hiding behind the curtains. Come to think of it, the idea itself might be, indeed, a bit childish, since in such case the sensibility is rather dubious, and thus she chooses to terminate the state of shameful indecision, evident in the immediate rise from her chair in order to take a seat on his lap, sideways, supported by a pair of pleasantly warm hands: one gripping her thigh, while the other winds around the back.

(Fuck…)

“But we ain’t gonna…?” She asks – a query outlined by the distinctive hint of embarrassment.

“What? Fuck?” He chuckles, cocking a taunting eyebrow at Florence, taking special pleasure in the way her cheeks flash red. “Depends if you want to.”

“I’m not… I, um, I don’t,” she chuckles, stumbling over the words, although not repulsed, only caught off guard by the concept itself, accompanied by a jerking movement, as he nuzzles the blonde hair, mouth merely an inch away from her ear.

“That’s a shame then,” he purrs, smirking as another tremor runs down her spine. “Has anyone ever told you to try and seize the opportunity?”

“Um, actually… you might be the first one,” she flashes him a knowing smile, more and more relaxed as his fingers begin to draw calming circles over her rounded hip. “How do you feel about that?”

(Balance out facts and falsities.)

“Depends on what you’re referring to,” he retorts – a comment left hanging in the recurrent silence, having painted her cheeks with the reddish blush once again, albeit this time she is the one who gets their eyes to meet, even if only for a split second. Despite such fleeting expanse, she notices something distinctive, something that causes her thighs to clench on instinct – lascivious glint, inseparable from the pitch pools of black – the pupils, now dilated in an almost animalistic manner. A ravenous look that has the female squirming on his lap, unintentionally attempting to relieve the tension, until he taps her hip – a nonverbal signification to halt – which in turn captures her attention.

Clueless about what is bound to happen, she almost squeals when he leans in to brush her lips, intent to maneuver the dainty figure with a self-indicating tug, to which she complies, straddling his thighs as the kiss deepens. An initiation almost parallel to the one from a few days ago, if not for the fact that his actions seem to have gained an alternative pace, evident in a pair of hands slipping underneath her blouse: one settling on the waist, while the other snakes up her stomach, soon to rest upon the plump globe.

For a brief moment, a part of him expects her to jerk away from his grip in some nervous reflex, but nothing like this happens, and instead she only shivers, stomach tensing as his fingers skate over the fabric cup. Even though he suspects it might be more convenient to simply ask in order to clarify the issue, he opts for the nonverbal option, intent to focus on the bodily responses, thus relies on her assertiveness to halt him if required.

What surprises him though is the fact that the touch itself, no matter how subdued, appears to have evoked something within the woman – carnal instincts that prompt her to wrap the arms around his neck and rock a little into his body. Pleased with the progressing inflorescence, he responds with a more prominent gesture, hand slipping underneath the bra cup, which elicits a surprised gasp from Florence, and thus causes him to smirk against her now swollen lips. Not intent to overwhelm the woman, he opts for a milder pace, exploring the breast why tentative touches that get him to question the self-control aspect, now that she is pressing closer to his frame, weight braced on his chest as her free hand cradles the side of his face, stubbly in texture.

Nevertheless, it is safe to assume that the situation is bound to act to the detriment of all the reasonable prompts, signalizing him to postpone the event, at least until he drives them somewhere more… private? Or simply convenient, since the former is not an issue for him, although he has never identified as a person with exhibitionistic tendencies, considering his little concern for any possible audience, as the object of main focus is undoubtedly his partner – a woman of little tolerance of the voyeuristic factor.

Therefore, he departs from her lips, almost groaning at the whine of protest she utters, even if relatively quiet, as he leans towards her ear, obliged to adjourn the encounter with a common, yet disappointing, phrase – a performance in two acts.

“Wanna go further?”

“Maybe… but, um… not here,” she replies, voice laced with a hint of hesitation, guiding him to the final conclusion that the former assumptions were correct, furthermore prompting to voice yet another proposition.

“Well,” he chuckles, intentionally distracting himself with fixing the collar of her blouse, fingers smoothing out the material, “that I’ve had already figured out, but… how about we return to the car and drive away somewhere more… um… more…”

“Private?” She prompts, glancing at his hand on her cleavage, now covered with goosebumps.

“If that’s what you want,” he shrugs, dropping it to the side – a nonverbal indication for the woman to rise from her prior seat, furthermore accompany him on their way back to the vehicle.

Even though the pair remains silent throughout the walk, it is neither to be classified as sullen, nor awkward, rather pensive, as they dive deep within their thoughts, and while he is wondering about how to handle her inexperience, she dwells upon a concept of partially different nature.

When it comes to Harrison, or rather his genuine motives, she is bound to label them as someway enigmatic, of dubious intents, as a distinctive part of her displays an attitude that might be parallel to fear, or stress maybe, a sort of ambivalently nervous excitement, or a matter of insatiate curiosity. To explore but to evade – an ever present paradox, accompanying the process of exiting one’s comfort zone, bound to resolve into each and every shade dividing spectacular success from a dreadful disaster.

Nevertheless, she is willing to pursue with the former, resolute as never before in her life, maybe excluding the college situation, encouraged by the unignorable titillation oscillating around the factor of grey morality. A term she has encountered somewhere throughout her bookish escapades, and ever since considered as partially dangerous due to the lack of behavioral prediction, rules that determine one’s judgment. Despite the relative whiteness of her principles, she feels some odd kind of attraction towards him as a man of fluent, organic acts, neither identified with the villain, nor hero archetype, intent to explore the poorly investigated concept.

Or maybe the virtual issue is linked with the fact that he cares so little about the conventions, dedicated to lead his life the way he pleases – a characteristic admired by the woman, an alteration from her usual approach. Furthermore, he appears to be a little more… experienced, assuming it is a suitable expression, although she is unable to determine his real age, since he has a relatively youthful face – especially after shaving – a feature emphasized by the longish hair and light hazel eyes, warm in tone, or the subtle jewelry and the flax shirts that he seems to be so fond of – a compound of multiple factors. While a part of her wants to clarify the aforementioned doubt, she assumes it is better not to, leaving the case unresolved for the benefit of ravenous assumptions – a feast of uncertainty – hopefully meant for future discoveries, even though she does not find that knowledge essential, only a matter of curiosity.

A new road.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a person who valued the nature’s comfort over his own one – as for the yin of enlightened yang – having agreed to lead his life in accordance to the conditions dictated by pristine substance. Ergo, the electric system has been abandoned on the moon’s benefit – a guide to navigate one’s route through the darkness – or the stars that shine with inborn light, seeping through the leafy copula above the vehicle, as it illuminates their future way.

A transition to one peculiar notion that she is invaded by in such occasions, which might be considered as a form of paradox itself – a contrast for her prior statement concerning the so-called romantic glow of garden lightbulbs. Nevertheless, she perceives such organicism as an embodiment of any lacking artificialness, as well as an opportunity for the pristine forces to regain the desolate terrain.

The most picturesque spectacle.

Imperfection-defining.

Thus unflawed – an obsolete paradox.

Insatiate curiosity of their final destination – a relatively mysterious outcome for the young woman – that bestows her with an internal obligation to break the silence, directed by the instinctual intents, by the desire for denouement, as she is practically itching with the need to utter the final query. Therefore, she is finds herself complying to the subconscious request, voice oddly unfitting when compared to its usual tune, as if unable to be distinguished even by her very own ears.

“Harrison?”

“Huh?”

“I think this one is private enough,” she states, twitching on the seat once his eyes settle on her body, and his gaze follows its path further down, leaving a wave of tremors on the way, which evokes an oddly potent desire to reach out and touch him. A craving that extends beyond her comprehension, that prompts Florence to extend an arm, merely a breath away from leaning across the gear shift in order to fulfil the whim – a pursuit that he is quick to halt by pushing the car door open, intent to switch places in search for a more beneficial position.

“What are you-”

“Backseat,” he replies, leaning forward on the frame, as he carries on with the explanation. “It’ll be more convenient this way, trust me.”

“Okay...” she agrees, voice once again laced with a hint of hesitation – a signature manner that she appears to have grown accustomed with throughout the years, beyond the privilege of being omitted, especially when caught in a situation of such kind.

A situation when she is obliged to follow him there, not in accordance to an external pressure but personal eagerness, shivering once he steadies her with a single hand wrapped around the arm, tugging the woman closer, until her legs graze his, and with a soft gasp uttered in the confined space, he modifies their position, now hovering above the partner. However, instead of kissing her as per usual, he halts, settled between her legs, in order to get rid of his shirt with some distinctive nonchalance that she finds a bit unnerving, considering the contrasting nature of her attitude.

Despite the fact that it is, by any means, not her first time to see him topless, since the summer weather appears to be relatively unforgiving on this latitude, she perceives the given situation as entirely different, viewed through the prism of possible motives and intents. Impure as some would dare to assume – a term she distances from more and more as a parallel to the life length, carrying an alteration in the woman’s perception of her own persona, more specifically the query concerning which factors determine one’s value.

The quantity of sexual encounters?

Absurd.

Although the fact that it indeed does matter to some people, makes her feel a little… restrained by the conventions (akin to the college situation), or judged through the prism of poorly constructed morals. Patriarchal archaisms that have been influencing people’s perception for hundreds of years, generations upon generations adding the fuel to the ever-burning fire, pouring their harmful beliefs into the minds of their children.

Anticipating alteration.

Continuous cycle of conceptual conversion.

Everlasting?

Alas unachievable.

“God, I feel ridiculous,” she chuckles, awkwardly in her mind’s eyes, eliciting a huskier laugh from her partner. “It’s like… I heard so many facts, or myths maybe, about sex, and now…I just… I don’t know…”

“Changed your mind about this?” He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at her – a matter of verification – sitting back to rest beside the curled legs of his lover. “Tell me.”

“No, no, I’m just… stressed, that’s all,” she admits, flashing him a telltale smile, as if to ascertain he gets the message, albeit quick to rectify, “but I want this, really.”

“In here?”

“In here,” she confirms with a single nod, hoisting up to a sitting position as well, intent to scoot closer to the man who is quick to reach out for her, hands clutching the rim of her blouse – a nonverbal exposé of his inclination. Despite the bashful attitude, she allows him to act upon that, raising her arms to facilitate the removal, greeted by the sight of his smirking face within a blink of an eye, gaze fixated on her newly revealed form. Unable to bare the intensity, she wraps her arms around the bra-clad chest, earning a disapproved tut from him, caught off guard when his hands grasp the dainty wrists, and tug them to his chest – an odd gesture, someway associated with intimacy, romantism-indicating, and by any means not corresponding with the chilled persona of the man beside, coexisting in her consciousness.

At least until the following comment is verbalized.

“C’mon, I’m not here to judge you, or anything,” he frowns, stroking the tendons with his thumbs – a gentle caress that turns out as influential enough to elicit a subtle shiver from the female. “It’s just… well, sex.”

(Just sex?)

(Ugh, sure.)

Unable to come up with a more suitable verbalization, she opts for a simple hum in response, attempting to alter the main subject of focus, and thus rests her hands on his shoulders, radiating with pleasant warmth. In order to test the waters, she runs her fingers over the protruding clavicle, tickling the flesh with the gentle, or maybe restrained, touch, tracing a tingling line to his face. Much to her relief, the reaction comes out as rather positive – a mirroring gesture of his own, albeit concentrated around her ribcage – a nonverbal message that he is intent to speed up the process.

Considered as opportunistically patient, he feels someway obliged to ensure the possibility of exploration at any given pace, but at the same time struggles to maintain the composure with her figure pressing closer to his body. Circumstances that call back to the ambivalent nature of their relationship, embodied by the current settlement with Florence perched atop his lap, and while a part of him relishes in such notion, the other one – both carnal – is craving to accelerate the process.

Said factors, combined with her obvious lack of initiator’s qualities, prompt him to reach back to the clasp of her bra and unfasten it with a deft flick of his wrist, which elicits a surprised gasp from the female, the one that is quick to be swallowed by a kiss, messier than usual, as he feels her nipples brush his chest – a subtle stroke that sends a jolt straight to his core. Much to his relief, she appears to be chasing something too – a denouement, a term of bookish nature, albeit descriptive enough to verbalize the attitude, fitting to the sort of romantic vibe she has been giving him since their hands linked for the very first time.

Nonetheless, intent to regain the essential control over the situation, he is bound to flip them over once again, supporting her weight with a single hand sprawled on her back, along with the ardent trace left behind as he chooses to settle it on the car seat, propping his body on both arms to prevent from crashing the dainty female. Now that they are lying down, he feels restricted by the lack of space, obviously mistaken about the size of his vehicle, muttering a curse, as his foot collides with the door.

“Okay, fine, let’s just switch to that fucking grass.”

“Sure,” she agrees, intent to remind him that it was her idea in the first place, although is quick to opt out of it, and instead flashes Harrison an encouraging smile, left to watch him struggling to open the door. It is sort of funny, with all the uttered curses, as he attempts to emerge from the confined space – a sight that carries a positive impact as it wipes away certain image from her consciousness – him as an absolute Sex God, and her as a bashful ingénue, awkward and inexperienced when it comes to the physical matter.

Also, she finds the grass aspect interesting – a link with nature that she has always been searching for in life, a call-back to her uncle anecdotes oscillating around the college days, along with the hippie period that she adores so much – honeyed tale of a bygone phase that corresponds with yet another ponderation.

If she was to associate herself with a decade, she would definitely opt for the sixties – a period she has gotten to taste but not relish – marked by the civil movement towards more humane qualities and the ensuing reunification with nature, or an idealized image that has been branded in her consciousness as a direct result of all those lucrative stories. Even though she is yet to be purified by such form of awareness, drowning deep in the idealistic realm, there are times when her hand someway grazes the surface – a fleeting touch, more like a suggestion than a stroke.

Which corresponds with the manner he brushes her arm with, having spread a dark blanket on the grass – a nonverbal invitation to lay down with him, to which she complies, allowing him to recreate the prior position. Circumstances that force her to look Harrison in the eye, now that he is hovering above her again, glazed with emotion that she cannot quite comprehend, pristine and potent, thus someway hypnotizing as it attracts her attention, infectious and intoxicating.

Drunk.

Appropriate synopsis for the notion consuming his mind, occurring as he stares at the woman below, clad in a simple white bralette – an embodiment of purity, thus a call-back to the prior concepts oscillating around the idealistic aspect, a scrape over the perfectionistic surface. Desire that finally prompts him to pursue with the fascination, and thus bow down to tease the sun-kissed skin of her cleavage with his lips, ensued by the tongue that draws a heated trace up to her mouth, where he nips at the plump flesh, eliciting a breathy gasp from the female.

An interesting sensation to say the least, bound to leave the tender flesh tingling afterwards – parallel to the multitude of needles grazing the surface – resonating through the body and causing Florence to squeeze her thighs together – an alteration that fails to evade his perceptibility. Therefore, his movements come to a halt, gaze drifting back to the flushed blonde, as her own escapes to the side – a self-preservation attempt, crafted on the go as a form of feigned unawareness, but still a hint that he is able to decipher, and thus opts for drifting with the flow by lying a single hand on the inner part of her legs – a silent prompt to pry them apart.

Somehow, the self-indicating manner catches her speechless, and thus for a brief moment she only stares at him, thigh muscles twitching once or twice, before she regains the capacity to formulate any response, and parts her legs a little – a nonverbal consent. Nearly an expert in this field, he takes it as an invitation, granting him with an opportunity to unbutton the high waisted shorts, then pull them down with a bit of help from the female as she lifts her hips and kicks the clothing the rest of the way.

Having propped herself up on the elbows, she flashes him an inquisitive look, goosebumps trailing down the exposed parts of her flesh in anticipation for what is about to follow, curious when it comes to his intents. Nonetheless, with her mind fogged by the carnal cravings, the waiting process seems to be extending towards some incomprehensible time units that paint her skin red with arousal, revealing the very essence of physical urges, as if their presence was not manifested before. Furthermore, the heated blush crawling up her neck elicits a husky chuckle from the male – a mannerism that only enhances the inborne response, much to his amusement – which actually prompts him to break the peaceful silence, despite the fact he prefers to talk less during sex, thus focus on the variety of other stimuluses.

“Want me to touch you?” He asks, fingers brushing the edge of her underwear in a self-indicating manner, dipping underneath the waistband just to tease the sensitive skin there.

“Mm-hm,” she hums in response, attempting to take steadier inhales as her insides are twisting with nervousness, partly intent to press her legs together, as she is dying to mitigate the dull throb between them.

And yet, when prompted by the soothing circles drawn on her hip, she opts for right the opposite, providing him with the essential space – a bone thrown at the dog as well as a bait taken by the man, who is actually yearning to get rid of the triggering remains of her clothing. Therefore, he drags the underwear down the slim legs, with the upper garment soon following – action preluded by a little help from the woman, back arching from the ground in process – a sight that tilts the corners of his lips in a smug smirk, that gets him to twitch in the confinement of his pants, and almost yank the jeans down his legs in search for a certain kind of relief, even if only for a brief moment.

What actually follows though is the slope in the woman’s direction, brushing her lips once again, before his hand skims down the chest, teasing the protruding nipples as he follows, up to the point where it settles on the crease between her legs.

“Mm… fuck,” he groans as a twain of fingers trace the wettish slit, introduced with quite significant, albeit not soaking, amount of slickness – a gesture that elicits a breathy gasp from the female, caught off guard by the newfound pleasure. The sensation interesting to say the least, an alteration from the softer pads of her own fingers gliding through the folds as a parallel to the current setting. A part of her is yearning for that – the discovery that comes with adding yet another person to the mix, a person that she has bestowed with unprecedented affection, in other words an addiction to the sexual aspect, or rather its determinant. Furthermore, he has managed to stir something within her – an itch existing throughout the lifetime, lurking unacknowledged in the depths of her soul, which might as well be an exaggeration, nonetheless for the benefit of visualizing her condition.

What else appears as self-descriptive though is the subtle tingling in between her legs, ensued by a wave of heat spreading through her body – a factor that causes the female to rock into his hand, prompted by the instinctual stimulus, kissing her temple from the inside. As if having sensed that, he leans down to brush her lips, gleaming with a thin layer of saliva from the constant manner of swiping her tongue over it – a subtle caress that is bound to evolve into a full-blown French, as his body is gradually beginning to spin out of control, invaded by the constant reminders of his physical state – a craving beyond mental consciousness. Or a whim that induces Harrison to rearrange the hold, and thus he is quick to slide the middle finger inside – an action that elicits a helpless squeal from the female, caught off guard by the offbeat stretch, stinging ache blossoming in between her legs.

Although her very first reaction, purely instinctual, is to cut the insertion short with an evasive drag of her hips, she is quick to discover that the notion might appear as someway pleasant, especially when the movement is initiated – a single digit brushing repeatedly against a spongy tissue inside, an element of dubious existence up until now. Therefore, she cannot help but gasp softly, wriggling her hips in an attempt to alleviate the newfound tension, rocking a little against the heel of his palm – extra friction added to the mix.

A sensation that gets her to utter a breathy, “Harrison…” as an indirect plead for more, slicing through the warm evening air, a whimper that sends a shiver down his spine, or a delightful contrast from the heated temperature. He hums something in response, an indistinct verbalization, nudging her nose by accident, as he leans in to brush the subtly parted lips, having sensed that the frequent kisses carry some positive influence over Florence – a will to unravel both in physical and mental realm.

As a matter of fact, there is a distinctive aspect to it all, an exploration that he has been aiming towards, intent to discover what else the world has to offer – a challenge to verify adaptational fluency, to enrich his collection of experiences, thus understand the variety of contrasting viewpoints, which is also one of the reasons justifying his pick. As a realistically thinking man, he is almost convinced that whatever connection they have, the relationship is still bound to resolve in a terminative way, considering her college entry and his professional obligations.

A twain of souls linked for a split of eternity, if he was to mimic his ex’s speech manners.

Such a misplaced composition.

Which might as well be perceived as a matter of distraction from the carnal fixation consuming his mind, a will to rock into her body, to engulf in the variety of sensations as he is straining the now compact space within his pants. An indication that his patience is indeed running thin, and thus a reason for the development towards far more onerous depths, effort-consuming when faced with the requirement to drag the activity, someway obliged to ensure she will not opt for granting him with the oh-so-desirable case of blue balls, when confronted with the denouement creeping closer and closer as a parallel to the amount of wetness leaking onto his palm.

(Fuck.)

“Fuck,” he groans into her neck, muscles straining with exertion from holding his body up in the same position for a little longer than usual, and thus he is bound to lean back a little, intent to switch their position.

Halting point.

A transition that elicits an outraged whine from the woman, a statement of discontent as well as a plead to pursue further with whatever conception he has in mind – a reminiscence of his college encounters when he would be guaranteed with an opportunity to explore the newfound dimension. And even though in the following years, the circumstances have someway switched, considering he has reached the place of terminal responsibilities, the place where he is obliged to grant them with essential comfort, where each contract of commission parallels with yet another teenage daughter, or some other niece, falling for him, which might as well make him a philander, but at this point he doubts whether he actually cares.

The circumstances that get him to wonder about the adulthood’s distinctive aspects, one of them being a tendency to belittle the subjects of once significant importance, now reduced to the mere windblow, turning the biographical pages, easy to be rearranged back in their prior order.

So why bother with the complicated vision, relationship conspectus, why opt out of the fleetingness, the pleasure of experiencing one unique moment carved from eternity’s timeline, of discovering that one very specific person, carrying on with the conversation until the viewpoints collide in one spot – the final comprehension.

Or a prompt to pursue with the hinted amount of time in mind.

And thus, he catches her off guard with an sudden tug upright, palms resting on his shoulders in search for balance, as he pulls the woman on his lap, sliding the hand back in between her legs, although this time he doubles the amount of fingers, stretching the constricted muscles a little. An action ensued by yet another breathy whimper from the woman, twitching as if to accommodate the girth, monstrous in comparison to her own digit, albeit someway pleasant as she rocks into his palm, rubbing the clit against the very hill of it.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s it, good girl,” he mutters into her hair, teasing the earlobe with his lips, nearly as greedy for the denouement as the woman in his arms, who is currently clutching at the biceps, flexing due to extra pressure. “C’mon, Florence.”

A voicing that elicits a breathy moan from the female, thighs trembling as she struggles to comprehend the odd sensation blossoming in the pit of her stomach, an emphasis of pleasure, climbing higher and higher with each curling movement. Somehow, a part of her is dying to fall, to discover the joy of floating in the air, even if only for a split second, tingling as he explores the swollen folds, begging him with the rhythmical sways of her hips, with the cat-like arch of her back, and the desperate, “Harrison,” thrown in his direction.

“Mm-hm, that’s it,” he hums, warm breath tickling her forehead, lips brushing the flesh there as he speaks. “Just relax and let it happen.”

Which is exactly what she does, squeezing the pair of fingers, as if intent to pull them even further inside, balancing on the cusp in between the twain of states – desperation and delight – even if only for a brief moment – a transitional phase that ensures the satisfaction. With the last brush against her walls, the now unbearable coil snaps, leaving a wave of continuous tremors racing through her body, bound to spread all the way to the tingling nipples that he decides to pinch with the free hand, seemingly out of context, but pointedly enough to elicit a choked gasp from the woman.

And what a sight she is now, arched in his direction, with head thrown back, exposing the smooth column of her neck, or a place that he would love to mark, blemish with the purple bruise – a whim ensued by a sharp bite into the tender flesh, or an action bound to draw a surprised squeal from the female. Confronted with such notion, she cannot help but tilt her head to the side, granting him with more access, an opportunity chosen to be ignored, as he seems intent to leave a certain aftertaste – quite distinctive hunger variant, personal and thus only to be satiated by an equally specific person.

As if on the contrary, he pulls out the digits that have been nested inside the whole time, which allowed him to experience the rhythmical pulsing of her walls – an instinctual response to the brief moment of pleasure. Left empty once again, she utters a discontented moan, squeezing around physical nothing, parallel to the pair of hands clutching at his shoulders – a nonverbal indication of what she is expecting from him – and when her hips tilt towards his, probably with no peculiar ambition in mind, he almost snaps, ready to pin the woman to the blanket in one swift movement.

A matter of increasing frustrations, inborne fixations that have been defining his existence for all these years, driving him towards the ostensibly final attitude, where he has begun to perceive certain aspects as an organic part of human existence. Take for instance the sexuality, associated with a whole scale ranging from pridefulness to abashment, considered through the liberal and conservative prisms. And since his mindset is undoubtedly associated with the former, he often struggles to comprehend the reluctancy of certain people, along with their regard for outside opinions, their concern about self-image portraited in front of the eyes of others.

There are times when it gets him to wonder how stressful lives they are obliged to lead, restricted by the set of personal norms, how pathetic it must be to look at oneself in the mirror, valuating the possible judgments of society, how they abandon the quality of existence in the physical realm. Ergo, if he is to gift Florence with anything, it will most certainly be the respect for her own desires, the volition to explore the sexuality, or the preservation from all the embarrassment-related constructs, instead of any stable relationship.

(Tragic?)

(Well, not really.)

Therefore, he opts for granting her with an actual choice when it comes to the pace, thus ensure it will leave a pleasant memory, since all first times are bound to create an ever present impact on the whole field, determine the future attitude towards certain aspects. Even though she appears as willing to give him the reins, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, warm breaths palpable on the tender flesh there, ready to submit, dance to his tune, fulfill almost every of his whims, he chooses to interfere with said tendency, as mentioned.

Cradling the side of her face with his clean hand, he lifts the chin up to his level, hazel crossing with green once again that night, pupils blown wide with lust, neck painted with a reddish hue, as they gaze into each other’s eyes. Unable to bear the intensity, she attempts to evade the contact, but he holds it steady, skimming the side of her neck with the fingertips, causing the woman to lean further into his touch.

“You can do whatever you want,” he proposes – a simplification of the prior contemplations – to which she responds with a confused expression, thrown off-kilter by the fluent range of perspectives sprawling in front of her – a paradox of variable selection that actually disturbs the decision process. “I’m all yours for now.”

“Wh-what?” She stutters, frowning as for the evident lack of comprehension, determined by the privilege of open interpretation – a realm for blossoming doubts.

“Just do whatever feels good for you, and we’ll be good to go,” he reiterates, hands skimming down her sides only to settle on the waist – a nonverbal indication that she is allowed to touch him as well, an action of rather sparse occurrence, when caught off guard by the skillful caress centered around her persona. The movement itself allows her to feel the wettish trace left by the twain of digits that have been inside her merely moments prior, an indication of blatant primality, weaseling its way through the partial patience, thus manifesting itself through his actions, the trembling of his fingers atop her skin.

A physical evidence of the payment that comes with attraction towards such women – some peculiar form of torture, mainly regarding the carnal aspect, bodily frustrations ensuing the conditional patience – burdensome obligation. Caught in the circumstances where he is forced to succumb, considering the second option appears beyond unacceptable – a slave of their innocence, their inborne bashfulness, their reluctance of further pursuit. Them who lay their initial experience, affection maybe, in the hands of the man who is never to return the emotional aspect with equal commitment, bound to move on after the job is finalized – a lifelong cycle that he has chosen to participate in.

“Wanna touch me or not?” He rasps, voice an octave lower as he tethers on the cusp of impatience, frustrated to the point where he is ready to pin her to the ground, then fuck until she will lose the capacity to formulate any coherent sentence.

“Yes, yes, I… um… I’m sorry,” she stutters, shaking her head a little to wake up from the odd trance that she has been floating in for the past few minutes, required to comprehend the post-orgasmic circumstances, or rather the genealogist’s proposition – a matter of speechless contemplation.

“Christ, don’t apologize, just get on with it,” he huffs – an evidence of calmness deficits, not so intricate to surmise, considering the ragging hard-on inside his jeans. “It’s, well, just sex, no great philosophy behind it.”

“Um, okay,” she chuckles nervously, hands sliding down his shoulders to the chest area, ready to dive in the exploration process, thus verify what is awaiting her just around the corner, to experience the pain-sprinkled pleasure that she has heard so much about.

The postponement anticipating finalization.

Ironically though, there is yet another aspect to it all – an intuitive prompt of relatively disturbing nature, built upon the ‘just-sex’ statements, a doubt oscillating between a twain of scenarios. What if she is only a vent for his carnal phantasies, what if the crucial decision has already been made, what if their ways are bound to part in the aftermath, ensued by a mystical promise of a comeback on some unspecified day – an infantile belief of an equally ingenuous lass. But still, with the rhythmical throbbing between her legs, the sex-related denouement is inevitable – a form of bodily slavery that defines her terminal choice.

Ergo, ensued by the last peck – a fleeting brush against his lips – she gets off the prior spot on his lap, lying back on the blanket once again, quick to cross her legs in an instinctual attempt to cover the vulva, disturbed by the intensity of his gaze. From where Florence is propped on the elbows, she can see his shoulders jerking with each uneven breath, hands reaching down to unbuckle the leather belt, partially betraying his titillation. Lust-driven man, who is now obliged to stand up if intent to remove the last pair of barriers, both the pants and the underwear in one motion, somehow steady in spite of the conspicuous excitement, revealing the throbbing hard-on – a sight that gets her to question the stretching capacities of her own body.

Whilst such doubts are indeed someway illogical, they still invade her mindset, crawling in between the variety of sore stories either told by one of her friends, or overheard in the high school locker-room, unsettling especially when paired with the sight of penis in person, or a man who settles down beside her legs, lying his hands on the knees, intent to spread them apart. A shift to which she responds with a tensed twitch of her muscles, shutting the eyes tightly in time with yet another jerky inhale – a poor calming construct, awaiting its sensible substitute from Harrison.

A comforting speech accompanied by a heavy sigh – a display of impatience – further ensued by an actual verbalization, a compound of words that she has been dying to hear – a matter of illusionary comfort?

(Christ, no.)

“Hey, look at me,” he prompts, hands sliding up her thighs to massage the rigid flesh, eliciting a soft moan from the woman as they creep a little higher, applying the telltale pressure atop their inner parts. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Really?” She frowns, spreading her legs a bit, at least enough to invite him in between them, twitching when his palms rest on the hips, the front of his thighs brushing against the back of hers.

“Well yes… unless you get tensed, obviously,” he chuckles, intent to relieve the hassle in the first place, although in the end the sound comes as more husky than lighthearted, arousal evident in the smoky tone.

“Well, I am tensed,” she mimics his manner, at least attempts to, considering the amount of stress currently consuming her mind.

(God, why couldn’t anyone tell me it’d be this hard?)

“Yeah, I suppose you are,” he agrees, muttering the words under his breath as he leans down to her, hand finding its way back in between her legs, intent to ensure she will be ready for their crucial denouement tonight. Sliding a pair of fingers inside, he elicits a breathy gasp from the partner, drawing them apart in order to scissor her open, as his thumb presses to the clit, stroking the nub in time with each thrust.

And fuck, does it send her flying…

Up to the altitude where she is struggling to comprehend the nature of her current situation, where her eyelids are falling shut, and her head is spinning, body arching towards him, hips rocking in a dreamy, moderate manner, craving more of his touch. As if on the contrary, he removes the fingers, in other words deprives the greedy woman from the subtle caress that she has been drinking in for the past few minutes, quick to rearrange the grip in order to pull her a little closer, thus find a convenient position to finally meet both of their needs.

Caught in such feverish state of mind, neither of them bother to take care of any form of protection, dying to cut straight to the point, to end the decadent suffering – a pursuit consuming his perception. Having smeared the remains of her wetness on his member, he is ready to line with her entrance, slip in between the parted folds, warm, luscious, and inviting, pulsing as he draws a one-way path down. With a final glance thrown in her direction, pupils dilated almost to the point where they swallow the hazel irises, he slides in – a gradual movement that still elicits an broken moan from the woman as well as a frustrated groan from him, engulfed by the heated cocoon, fluttering around his shape.

And fuck, does it send him flying…

“Mm… fuck…” he curses under his breath after a particularly tight contraction – an inborne response to the alien intrusion. “Tell me when you’ll want me to move.”

In the first place, she only hums in response, wrapping her arms around his frame, nails scratching the nape of his neck, hips wriggling to test the newfound position, voice a little breathy as she chooses to speak up after a brief interval, required to collect the final thought.

“I’m okay, really,” she ensures, fingers now playing with the shorter hairs at the back of his head, as she meets his gaze, obscured by a thin curtain of lust. “It wasn’t that painful.”

“Told you so,” he remarks with a brief eyeroll, but in the end throws her a fleeting smirk – a gesture that sweeps her with some odd wave of reassurance, a wave that prompts her to wrap the legs around his waist, lifting up a little higher to test the waters, which in the end earns a murmured praise from the genealogist. “Mm-hm, just like that… such a good girl…”

A broken sentence that nearly gets her to moan out loud, insides twitching around his member, which elicits a subdued hiss from the man, ensued by something else, an expression of entirely different nature – a smirk playing upon his lips, evoked by a newfound realization.

“Aren’t you a dirty little girl…”

“I’m not- I… no!” She denies, as if utterly outraged.

“No?” He banters, cocking an eyebrow at the abashed woman, before he sweeps his tongue up her cleavage, feeling the walls flutter around him, as if only to affirm the ever-present surmise. “And what about now?”

“I’m…” she hesitates, someway frustrated by the continuous stillness, perception centered around the pulsing shape inside her, begging to rock into it. “God, just get on with it, please.”

A plead that gets him to chuckle in response – a throaty noise that sends a shiver down her spine, thick with arousal – as if only to vex her even further, to watch her unravel in the emotional way – a spectacle of personal nature.

Therefore, he is determined to pursuit with said conception, withdrawing a little just to push back in once again – an action that elicits a breathy whine from her as well as a relieved sigh from him that is quick to transfer into a hiss, with her nails biting into his flesh, caught in the newfound sensation. Somehow pleasurable, there is no need to deny it, albeit alien at the same time, alternative in comparison with the one delivered by his fingers, now clasped around her thigh and the waist, keeping the woman in place for future reference.

Or maybe more flowing than forthcoming, with the gradual build-up of rhythm, hips rocking in repetitive motions, which forces a high-pitched squeal from her throat, as he nudges a peculiar spot inside, previously grazed by his fingers, no emphasis, or regularity, but now… that is a whole different story. The sensation seems to pierce through the slight discomfort that comes with the stretch, mingle in between the incessant discomfort, thus alleviate the unpleasant notion on the benefit of something that actually resembles the whole fuss about sex. Even though it is by any means queer, there is still a part of her that craves the constant stimulation, consumed by the thirst for whatever he is willing to deliver on the course of their developing act – a passive observer.

And she is dying to change that.

Therefore, with the following inhale, she tugs him down to her level, joining their lips in a caress that might as well be considered a kiss, if not for the fact that they are rather breathing into each other’s mouths, moving without any actual concept, noses bumping as he seeks for dominance, primal in its vicious nature, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip hard enough to draw a pained squeal from the woman. Even though the man is quick to soothe the sharp sting with his tongue, he bites back hers when she tries to seize the opportunity and dive in for the French manner, as if intent to pursue only on his very own conditions – a turnabout that she is less than satisfied with.

“Don’t tease me like that, please,” she complains, thrown off guard by the wicked smirk playing upon his lips, eyes glinting with some lascivious intent – a nourishment for all the ambivalent attitudes, distinctive when it comes to the odd man in front of her.

“Tease you?” He baits, halting the movements once he begins to speak, which elicits a displeased moan from the woman, hips lifting up as an innate reaction to the sudden stillness. “Like what exactly?”

“God, you’re so-”

“So… what?”

“So fru- ah-” he interrupts her answer with a particularly sharp thrust, tearing yet another moan from the woman, as if only to rile her up even further, “so frustrating.”

“Oh, thank you,” he retorts, lips still laced with the same teasing smirk that infuriates her more than anything else at the moment. “But I’ve been told that before.”

“Oh really?” A sarcastic query that only prompts him to elongate the exasperating experience. “I wouldn’t have told.”

“I bet you wouldn’t,” he teases, a response adorned with a brief chuckle.

“Okay, but move now, please,” she reiterates, gradually growing more and more impatient with the lack of friction.

“Now?” He mimics, a taunting manner that enhances the irritation, solely on purpose. “And what about you?”

“I don’t… what- ah-”

Seemingly out of nowhere, he is to interrupt her with yet another movement – an alteration from their usual position – flipping them over so that she is lying on the top instead, calves pressing to his thighs, as if in search for some illusionary balance. Confused with the sudden turn of events, she is only able to stare at him, loosening the hold around his shoulders, swept with the realization that the current settling is indeed quite steady, deprived of any excess swaying.

At least until he decides to disturb the physical stability with one of his random statements.

“I want you to ride me.”

A proposition pulled out of blue.

“You want me to do what?” She asks, forehead marked by an almost signature frown, visibly caught off guard.

“To ride me,” he repeats, hands swiping up and down her back in repetitive strokes – a gesture of calming nature, easy to succeed in that realm – a matter of questionable benefit. “C’mon Florence, I’ll guide you.”

“Okay, but, um… I don’t know if I’ll manage, really,” she hesitates, cheeks tinted with a hint of blush, someway embarrassed about the concept that he will watch her like this – a perspective leaving nothing to imagination. “It’s kind of like… I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Just grind your hips,” he instructs, hands sliding down to rest there as an embodiment of the aforementioned guidance. “The rest comes naturally, trust me.”

“Um… okay,” she nods, having decided to meet his needs in the end, even if they require stepping out of the comfort zone – a lifelong pursuit. “I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he mutters against her lips, catching the bottom one for a brief kiss, adorned with a subtle smirk as a reaction for the breathy gasp slipping past her lips – a manifest of the inborne bashfulness. “Lift up.”

With a movement that someway betrays the subsiding hindrance, she complies, rising up to a seated position with both palms pressed to his chest, surprised when he follows her path, wrapping one arm around the waist, while using the other to support his weight from behind, anticipating the performance. Or an act that she is willing to deliver, and thus shifts her hips for the very first time in such settling, immediate to realize how much she has been longing for that form of friction – a discovery more than perceptible in the way she is squirming atop his lap, squealing once her clit rubs against his pubic bone.

“Oh God,” she moans, swept away with the gradually intensifying sensation, a blinding contrast to the previous lack of stimulation, building up more and more with each grind, now that she has found the most convenient position.

“Feels good, huh?” He rasps after a few longer moments, hand rising up to her chest, since the languid pace that she has chosen requires no support from the back, intent to speed up the process with the repetitive pulsing of her inner muscles – a threat of premature ending – at the same time dying to witness her orgasm once again tonight.

Captivating.

Raw when led by the instinctual prompts.

Ravishing with all the insecurities casted aside.

Candied treat that lures him to take a bite.

A whim manifesting itself in the way he cradles her breast, weighing the flesh in his hand, before he teases the protruding bud, drawing a relieved sigh from the woman, thirsty for more stimulation, a quality evident in the deep-rooted moan, uttered mere seconds later. A noise that he has never heard from Florence, and thus a response that causes him to twitch inside her, all of sudden craving to alter their position, to create the opportunity that will allow him to gain more control over the situation.

(Or to fuck her exactly as I please.)

“C’mon, Florence,” he encourages instead, hissing once she clenched around him, still struggling to control that part of her anatomy, caught in the most peculiar state – delight foreshadowing the denouement.

Having opted out of a verbal answer this time, she covers his lips with hers, suppressing the occasional noises coming from her throat, tongue flicking over his in some frenzied state of bliss, body arching towards him in search for more contact – a factor that she is craving more than anything right now. Which might as well be a lie, considering the greedy grinds of her hips, pushing the woman closer and closer to the second finish tonight, blossoming in the pit of her stomach, spreading akin to a summertime conflagration, consuming acres of land on the course of its existence.

And she would be damned if she was not craving to burn.

To be swept with a wave of tingling delight, squeezing him tighter than ever, which nearly gets him to burst, crying out when her clit bumps with his pubic bone, entirely too sensitive for such form of stimulation, swimming on the wave that has crashed to the shore. Therefore, deprived of the essential ability to comprehend what is happening around her, she utters a whine of protest as soon as he flips them around, intent to pull out before he loses the composure, which he succeeds in seconds later, leaving her pulsing around nothing, eyelids closed to shield herself from the outside world, still lost in some parallel realm. Settled in such position, she misses the sight of him delivering his member the last few strokes – a fast-pace show, with the very intention to follow her path sooner than later – an objective that has been blossoming inside his mind on the course of their developing encounter.

Spasming with the waves of aftershocks, he someway finds his place beside her, laying down on the blanket with a single arm draped over his face, breathing in heavily as he waits for the heartbeat to return back to normal. With his eyes closed, he fails to notice her reaching for his hand, until the first brush of her fingers is tangible atop his flesh, slipping them in between his, pleased with the lack of protest, although somehow disappointed that he does not return the subtle squeeze that she delivers.

Therefore, obliged by the odd need to break the silence, she utters one last statement – a ‘thank you’ adorned in the hopeful plead, eyes glued to his profile as she begins to speak.

“Harrison?”

“Huh?”

“We could do that again some time if you’d want to.”

(Oh Florence, what a silly little girl you are…)

* * *

Once upon a time there was a person who chose to believe, to believe in the aspects of great absurdity, of blind faith, of continuous equivocation – a wayfarer of the traitorous path, surprised by each arising chagrin. In her case the distress is caused by the end of one phase, a transition from the carefree summer to sinister college period, faced with the fretfulness that comes with each change, with each lonely challenge on the walk of life. A defiance that she has forced herself to pursue with, well aware that any sudden alteration will look ridiculous in the eyes of her parents, caught in the ever-present doubt concerning the coping part.

(Liar.)

(…)

(Such a pathetic little liar. Like how can’t you even admit it to yourself?)

(Christ, I’m sorry, okay? Chill out, not everyone is as perfect as you are.)

(There you go, good girl…)

(Ugh, fuck off.)

(Mm… sassy, that’s more I like it.)

(I said-)

“Florence?” A voice that slices through the duel of thoughts, someway attracting her attention, thus pulling the woman out of the contemplational depth, not that she is entirely pleased with such turnabout. “I’d like you to say goodbye to our guest.”

“Sure aunt, I’m coming,” she sighs, reluctant to rise from her seat on the garden bench, surrounded by the cooling summer air – a sign of the approaching evening, presumably the worst of them all.

No more no less than a path to the main entrance, feet padding against the tiles, head bowed low as if it would spare the unpleasant image of him surrounded by the luggage, ready for the departure. Even clad in the same flax shirt from their first encounter (she can tell by the faded stain on his sleeve), he is to greet her with a polite smile, so cold and alien at the same time, as if they barely knew each other.

God, how she hates him right now…

“Give me a hand with the papers?” He asks, gesturing towards the set of tubes supported by his suitcase, a help that she is certain holds no purpose, other than sharing some information with the woman – a communique that is bound to exacerbate her state.

“Fine,” she agrees either way, since it would be ridiculous to refuse him now – a childish behavior that she wishes she will not personify in his memories.

Therefore, intent to get it done as soon as possible, she is quick to reach for the papers, ready to toss them on the backseat – a place that she used to be so fond of in the past, but now… God, she wishes she had the ability to forget that summer, atrocious in its allurement, and thus someway forced to interrupt the track of thoughts, to break the bitter silence.

“We’ve never swum in that lake.”

(Really? That’s the best you can come up with now? Christ.)

“Well,” he chuckles – a teasing tone that unnerves her more than anything, that gets her to regret even initiating that topic in the first place. “I think we had better things to do.”

(God, what was I even thinking?)

“Yeah, maybe we had,” she sighs, almost sobbing out loud when she turns around to face him, already leaning on the driver’s door, mere minutes from the departure.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he flashes her an apologetic smile – a sight that finally manages to break the illusionary composure, forcing a broken sob from her constricted throat. “C’mere.”

Or a prompt that requires no reiteration, calling her to jump straight into his arms, to feel his warmth surround her for that one last time, to engulf in his scent – a calming composition of some woody fragrances that she has adored ever since.

Why does it all have to taste do bitter now?

“Florence?”

“Y-yes?” She sobs, having sensed that any form of hindrance is useless in such state, thus allows the tears to flow freely as she glances at him with these wide, green eyes, chin wobbling in anticipation for what is bound to be his final goodbye.

“Good luck with the college,” he mutters against her hair, lips brushing the top of the head – an action that elicits yet another chocked noise from her throat. “And… give me a call sometimes.”

Having grasped her by the hand, he slips a tiny card in the half-clutched fist – a movement that remains almost unnoticed, with her lost in the process of pondering whether she should kiss him or not. Which in the end turns out as a decision that is apparently not hers to make, as he is quicker to act upon the instinct, and thus lean in to cover her lips with his – their personal farewell, dulcet and dreamy, a brief interval carved from the eternity’s timeline.

Or a prelude to the final disconnection, to the moment when he is obliged to slip from the embrace, leaving her cold and empty on the cobbled path, as he gets in the car, ready to twist the key in ignition, allowing her to witness the terminal drive down to the road – a sight that has Florence covering her mouth, intent to suppress the repetitive sobs that are to consume the woman again once he has chosen to abandon her in front of the mansion – a cycle of continuous nature, deprived of the putative final.

Such a dramatic tendency.

Or a perspective that somehow gets her to wonder what a pity it is that they have never swum in that lake.

“Fat chances we’ll ever be.”

Created: 03/09/21 Completed: 06/13/21 Edited: 06/18/21

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likesomekindofcheese · 3 years

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Hello! Can I get Marvel, Harry Potter, Bohemian Rhapsody cast and characters ship? 💖 179 cm tall; dark brown, past shoulder-length hair with bangs; blue eyes (the left eye is mixed with hazel, aka, heterochromia iridium); heptagon face shape with dimples; rectangle body shape. Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bisexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. ”Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” At first, I may come off as reserved, shy, yet polite. I, as many of us, have a resting bitch face, that’s why people may think that I’m in a bad mood. It takes me a lot of time to warm up to somebody, cause I have social anxiety. Hate small talk, or speaking in front of the public. When I’m nervous, I tend to mess up my words or forget what I was supposed to say. I’m usually playful, dirty-minded and goofy around close friends. I’m the so-called, ”fashionista and mom” from my circle of friends. A perfectionist, punctual, over-thinker, slight control/clean freak. Stubborn in some situations. If I’m annoyed or getting impatient, I can say something witty or sarcastic. I’m constantly fighting an inner battle with myself, trying to accept myself. I don’t like to smile or laugh in public, cause of the small gap between my front teeth. I really hate taking selfies or somebody else taking pictures of me. The clothes I wear depends on my mood (and the weather outside), but it’s always a mix of smart casual/vintage/or comfortable. Don’t like doing things out of my comfort zone, prefer to stay indoors. Hate crying in public, or asking people for help (it makes me feel uncomfortable). I don’t like arguments, but I will square up if they come for my family or I snapped. I’m a kind-hearted person, always ready to help someone in need, quite modest as well. Used to be a people’s pleaser. My hobbies include listening to any type of music, reading, watching movies or tv shows, traveling (if given the chance), and cleaning. Have a thing for writing. Very protective of my family. Divorced parents. Motherly towards kids and friends. An old soul, and the ”black sheep” of my family. A 100% feminist, support LGBT community. Sometimes I like to try and cook easy recipes. Dislike coffee, prefer tea or orange juice. That’s it, - thanks!

Hello there! Thanks so much for your patience! I was not only dealing with my job but the Christmas holidays and my family and spending time with them as much as I can for them.

So anyway, I would say for Marvel, I ship you with..

Bruce Banner!

He’s one-half of the science bros so he always tries to impress you with what he knows. He will be sputtering out facts and then say “isn’t that cool?” with big, puppy eyes and you will say “yes!”

Both of you are shyer so it took him a bit to ask you out. You just seemed so cool and badass to him that he was in awe for a little bit. But Tony helped him get his shit together and he finally took you to a cute coffee shop! But he found out you don’t like coffee so he switched and got ice cream instead, and it was just as cute.

Both of you get to watch tv shows and movies all the time and cuddle. You keep him so happy with your goofiness and humor that it keeps the Hulk at bay when it’s inopportune.

He even likes to trace your face when you hold each other, feeling the dimples and kissing them. In turn, you steal his glasses and put them on.

He would love your kind heart, how you always go out of your way for others. He admires it so much.

He would love the gap between your teeth and encourage you to smile. But to smile naturally. With confidence.

And he makes you genuinely smile a lot.

For Harry Potter (including both generations), I have to say I ship you with...

Remus Lupin!

He was in the library, looking at how the Hufflepuff’s were visiting. In curiosity, he turned a corner and had a look at you reaching for a recipe book.

With your hair past shoulder length and your eyes and height and body, Remus was in love at first sight.

He noticed how kind you were, especially to first years who were overwhelmed, and how you comforted them, so his heartbeat even harder when you passed him in the hallway.

Only when you were reading out in the courtyard did he try to make conversation with you, the other Marauders rooting him on from the sidelines.

You begin dating and kind of become the whole school’s OTP. Since your family life isn’t great you get three extra brothers with the Marauders!

He especially loves listening to music with you. You introduce him to all sorts of “Muggle” music and he eats it up.

Plus you’re so kind to him about his “problem” that to this day he can’t believe someone as beautiful and sweet as you still love him in spite of it.

Now for the BohRap characters, AKA Queen, I ship you with...

Deaky!!!

Deaky is a Leo in spite of his quiet, cute, wholesome persona. So your Aires-Pisces cusp works really well with his inner fire.

Both of you love kids. When you walk in the park you befriend kids at the playground or the kids of family or friends. You both hold hands and talk about having your own little army of children someday.

Both of you are tall, so you joke that maybe with Brian you can start a basketball team.

Both of you are playful. He’ll do his prank of taking photos of you when you aren’t ready and you will say a dirty joke that will make him laugh.

Plus you get to go to all sorts of movies together and spend lazy Sunday afternoons watching tv, even if he does want to fiddle with the knobs.

Both of you dance together with music and it makes you laugh when he spins you around and then catches you!

Lots of cute dates at home are essential, but he’s so understanding of your social anxiety and patient

After all, you’re the person of his dreams!

Now for BohRap actors, I’m leaning more for you with...Gwilym Lee!!

He’s a tall fellow, so he loves that you’re tall too. Both of you talk about photo-taking being awkward or the bath being so short you crunch in there or the shower head hitting you in the head and have a good laugh.

He’s an adventurous Sagittarius, which works with your cusp. So you two travel a lot to all sorts of beautiful places, whether it’s modeling gigs or filming or anything!

With your goofiness, you tease him over his voice work, lovingly. You both will be lounging on your phones when, giggling, you tease him, saying “puff puff!” and he laughs.

Or you both will be making a snowman out in the wintertime to be silly and childish. He looks at the lumps and tilts his head “looks more like a...uh, monster.” So in a shot, you tell him “aren’t you the master of monsterkind!?” and burst into giggles as you throw snowballs at each other. (see this post for reference)

Plus imagine, just, imagine the cute outfits you both could put together! With your vintage looks, it would be *chef’s kiss*

Even if he grumbles about cleaning, you get him to do it with you and you both listen to music and enjoy working on something together.

But he adores your spirit, not just your good looks with that dark hair of yours, and you both attend protests and watch the news and vent about it together, educating yourselves and fighting for what’s right in tandem.

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shirokodomo · 4 years

Text

STUDY : HAKUDOSHI

۝ BASICS

IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE? SHORT. Out of all the children presented in the Inuyasha series, Hakudoshi is probably one of the shortest characters I headcanon he is about 4′3″ / 130 cm which funny enough is also Rin’s non-official height. Even in verses where he grows up, I don’t see him being very tall, as an adult and comparing him to Naraku (who is officially stated to be 5′11″ / 181 cm) I would say Hakudoshi probably would probably barely reach Naraku’s shoulder. Using a height comparison that means as an adult he would be around 4′10″ / 148 cm.

ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT? No he is not, especially because many people often joke around with his height, he might not outright express it but he is very annoyed with those. That’s partially why Hakudoshi is quick to attack, because his height often makes him look quite harmless and while sometimes he may use it to his advantage most of the time he doesn’t as a way to show his position.

WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? His hair is always long, loose and down to the middle of his back, its color is white with a small tint of a rose color; during nighttime or in places with not so much light source his hair appears to gain a greyish purple tone (quite a contrast to his normal hair color). Hakudoshi has scraggly bangs framing his face. In the Modern Days Verse, his hair is much shorter but still scraggly and black in color.

DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING? Not really. He is fine with how his hair looks, barely giving it a quick brush with his hand just to untangle some parts of it after waking up. In the rare times he actually ties it (only in situations were the hair would clearly get in the way), it’s placed in a low, fastened and messy ponytail tied with a white ribbon.

DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK? In general, Hakudoshi just cares the most about his clothes, his demand is that the outfit is made of fine fabric and preferably in white and despite him not minding getting his hands dirty in the jobs he can’t stand seeing blood on his clothes. He also doesn’t really care what others think of his appearance. In the Modern Days Verse, he cares a bit more about his appearance but that is only because of his family’s important status in the city.

۝ PREFERENCES

INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? Outdoors

RAIN OR SUNSHINE? He is fine with either but perhaps prefers the rainy days a bit more because his pale skin easily burns in the extremely hot days

FOREST OR BEACH? Forest

PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? Precious metals

FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? Neither, even though he doesn’t have a keen nose, both cause him to sneeze if he is around them for too long

PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? Personality

BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? Alone

ORDER OR ANARCHY? Both. Depends on the situation and on his mood.

PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? Both. Depends on how the situation may benefit him.

SCIENCE OR MAGIC? Magic

PEACE OR CONFLICT? Most of the time conflict but when it’s not about work, he does enjoy some peaceful and quite moments

NIGHT OR DAY? Both.

DUSK OR DAWN? Dawn

WARMTH OR COLD? Neither. He prefers the in between.

MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? Few close friends (though he doesn’t work much with the term friends).

READING OR PLAYING A GAME? Both. Though by playing a game, that usually involves playing with someone else’s life.

۝ QUESTIONNAIRE

WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS? Oh dear, where to start. Hakudoshi has the bad habit of being quite nasty, insensitive, cruel and manipulative especially to others he considers to be below himself (Kagura is a perfect example of that treatment). Though he changes quite a lot after his rebirth, before all that he is not friendly at all and does whatever he wants, how he wants and when he wants not caring about who he may hurt in process.

HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM? This question is more applicable to his AU verses.

In the Modern Days Verse, Hakudoshi lost his mother not physically but because of the divorce between his parents, his father used all the dirty methods he had to ensure his ex-wife wouldn’t get the custody of their son and even forbade Hakudoshi from seeing his mother ever again, keeping tabs on him through the several bodyguards he hired. Hakudoshi was already a quiet and reserved child before the divorce but he would smile and laugh especially if his mother was around, thus after the divorce and the custody situation, the smiles and laughs just outright ceased from existence, he became colder towards others, unfriendly, not easy to approach and stopped believing happiness is just a blatant lie people tell to each other and to themselves.

In the Demon Mage Verse (Fairy Tail AU), Hakudoshi was separated from his twin brother (Akago) after he hid him on a safe spot to prevent Akago from being captured by the Zeref following cult. In return, Hakudoshi was the one captured and taken to the Tower of Heaven as a slave to build it and once he escaped he made it his mission to find his brother no matter the cost. The situation itself didn’t affect much Hakudoshi’s personality but I would say he feels more lonely because his brother was the only one who truly understood him.

In the Midnight Fangs Verse, Hakudoshi lost his parents and younger brother at...his own hands. After being turned into a vampire, he wanted to quench his thirst no matter what and ended up slaughtering his whole family before snapping back to his senses. When he realized what he had done, he instantly regretted it but there was nothing he could do to save any of them; this made him become distant towards other people (mostly out of fear so to not hurt them) and seeking revenge by trying to find the one who had turned him into this hideous monster.

WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS? Applies to several Canon Divergent and AU verses.

In the Wayward Divergence Verse, Hakudoshi eventually creates fond memories of his travels with Sesshomaru’s group, mostly with the interactions between himself, Rin and Jaken -especially if it included messing around with Jaken-, this was because while he still had the mission to defeat his creator, he was able to be the child he actually appears to be and not just a bloody warrior in the body of a child.

In the White Bell Verse, it’s almost the same as above but with Kikyo instead, for the first time in his whole -albeit short- life, Hakudoshi experiences how it is to be cared for, to be loved and to love in return, he feels all this towards the mother figure Kikyo becomes to him and doesn’t want to let go of that sensation. Hence why he is so promptly ready to do anything to keep her alive and out of Naraku’s reach.

In the Son of the Phoenix Verse, it’s almost a mixture between the two above, in this verse he has a big and loving family who love him for who he is not caring where he came from. He has a special adoration towards his mother, Mulan, who protects and soothes every fear out of him -especially when Naraku haunts his dreams- but is also fierce and trains him personally. Hakudoshi is trained to be the fierce warrior he was created to be but is also extremely loved.

In the Post Rebirth Verse, though he has now recovered all of his memories regarding who he used to be and what he used to do, Hakudoshi creates little by little fond memories whenever he has the chance to interact with Kohaku or any of the new generation (Moroha, Setsuna, Hisui), though he is awfully fierce with them whenever he is requested to come and help with the training and though he doesn’t show it on the outside, he actually has grown to care about them.

Last but not least, in the Modern Days Verse, most of Hakudoshi’s fond memories are with his mother as she was always a big influence on how he was shaped, had him been solely raised by his father he would have become quite difference but the care and love of his mother has made him into a more caring child even if that is often hidden after she was forced out of his life. Hakudoshi eventually uses this to slowly open up to other people, with whom he eventually becomes friends with.

IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? Extremely easy, especially on his Main Verse, where he was basically created to be a ruthless killing machine. He has no qualms about slicing someone else’s throat open, the head or the throat is where he mostly aims for.

WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN? He rarely breaks down, in the canon world that would only be possible in verses where he drifts away from Naraku or after his rebirth. When that does happen, he prefers to be completely alone, he kicks stuff around, rarely punches and doesn’t scream. Then he just curls in a corner, hides his face from others and doesn’t speak for a long time. All in all he tries to keep the appearance of a tough demon despite his childish look but even the toughest demons break down eventually.

IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE? In the canon world, no, that won’t ever happen. Perhaps bend a little the rule after his rebirth and making an exception for Kohaku, whom he owns his life after those events, but as of something general no.

In Canon Divergent verses, I would say that only applies to his parent figures (Sesshomaru, Kikyo, Mulan).

WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE? Hakudoshi doesn’t know how to express love, it’s just hard for him given his origins. I would say he would only falls in love with someone he is extremely close to and even then he won’t outright admit he is in love, he admits he cares about them but won’t say out loud that he loves them unless in private.

In public, it would be small and quiet shows of affection and not for everyone to see: a small brush on the significant other’s cheek, a soft smile, a quiet and quick hold of hands and deep look in the eyes. In short, when he loves someone he actually loves them but isn’t very open or obvious about it, if someone on the outside were to notice they would probably only know if they saw him and the significant other together all the time and if they saw him smile at the person in question.

Tagged by: @adversitybloomed (ty!!)

Tagging: @slaheir | @slayerled | @senpujin | @withagentleheart & whoever else wants to do this!!

#dash games #About Muse #About Hakudoshi #[headcanon]

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boku-no-loveletters · 4 years

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(1/3?)Hi! Idk if you're still doing match ups but I was wondering if i could get a prohero match up pls! If not, please feel free to ignore my ask, I completely understand and hope you're resting 💕 if soooo-I’m a straight cis Hispanic female that’s 5ft tall, I have wide hips, big butt/thighs, my top half ain’t special tho and I have black hair/bangs and dark brown eyes+glasses! I’m a cancer with an INFP personality, I’m shy and closed off at first but as I get used to you I open up.

Also, my favorite season is fall, I have been told that I have a motherly, clownery, therapist type of vibe. I’m stubborn, not big on commitment (when I commit tho, I COMMIT) My ideal date is napping, eating our junk foods and watching anime and movies! I’m a cancer sun, Leo moon and Libra rising. I’m an introvert and Hufflepuff.

I’m shy and closed off at first but as I get used to you, I open up. I like sleep, anime and boys (But I like anime bois more than real ones :( )…I also have daddy issues…the following info has nsfw/sfw, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it! My hobbies include dancing and singing! My turn on: Love and understanding (Nfsw-degradation and praise/daddy kink)-(I base my love life off of Disney movies and Wattpad)

LAST ONE! Turn offs: not willing to understand that I need space to cope with my moodiness. (NFSW-someone that doesn’t care about my consent!) I’m the type of person that tends to want to listen more than I want to talk. I’m always on TikTok cuz crackheads things. My names Larissa, but my friends prefer “Dummy”, “idiot, ”, or clown cus even though I may be book smart, I am very stupid. THANK YOU IN ADVANCE IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO DO THIS, MAKE SURE YOU DRINK WATER, REST AND PLS EAT!

Heyo, I did your match-up!

-I had a lot of fun with this one! I enjoyed reading your description and being really specific helped me determine which Hero was better for you. At first, I was torn between All might and Hawks since they both seemed to be really laid back in certain activities they do, but hawks and you seemed to have similar interests and similar attitudes.

-I felt that Hawks would like someone with an attitude like his, laid back and idealistic, yet healing and therapeutic. Hawks needs someone that he can confide in since he goes through a ton of pressure daily despite not looking like it. Having someone that is gentle to a level where he can let his guard down is important, trust is important for him. Plus, what kind of relationship is it if you don’t trust your partner?

-I think he would absolutely adore planning out little dates that specifically involved only you and him since he just wants some time with his girl alone, but if you asked him that you wanted to go out he wouldn’t mind at all. I think that he’d like Movie marathons with take out KFC more since that just kinda sounds like his thing. I think there’s also a really high probability that he’d like anime too, but I think he’d be a fan of sports animes like Haikyuu!

-Hawks is a thinker and I think he’d be more than happy to give you your space since he understands how much some people, like him, need their alone time or a break depending on your mood.

-If you dance and you sing, then you already have your number one supporter on your hands. This man will cheer you on and/or secretly videotape you doing one of your most beloved activities without you noticing and when you’re done, he will come to you and show you how beautiful you look or sound and compare it with the other videos he took of you.

-He has a hard time deciding which one is going to be his new ringtone, he thinks it’s nice waking up and hearing you singing before he gets ready for the day.

-Daddy issues? No worries! The number 3 pro hero, to the rescue! He will try as many humorous antics as he can to get your mind off of family problems, sometimes he'll go in for a scare to completely snap you out of the subject if it takes your attention away from more important things.

I think that the way you guys meet would be by pure coincidence, You are another citizen of the city while he was the number three hero, it ‘s bound to happen by some point unless of course, you both were known to come to a common place that you loved.

Ah, yes. Today was a Friday, AKA the perfect today to start on another one of your most favored series along with various amounts of snacks that you are sure will mess up your stomach afterward. But hey, who cares about that? It’s the weekend! That means no work, no worries, and certainly no more bothersome people!

You took in a deep breath and smiled happily, content that your day of work was already over which left you the remaining of the last day of your workweek and the rest of Saturday and Sunday! Your right hand gently steering the wheel of your vehicle while your left hand held the small wad of cash for the food that you were using for something special.

You pulled up to the parking lot of the convenience store, picking up your purse and stepping out of the car with your money already in your hand. The door opened ahead of you with a small ding, revealing the rows of food and the clerks' desk upfront.

You scanned over the store’s range and noticed how weirdly empty it was, not a lot of customers were present at the moment though the woman already at the front desk looked oddly excited. Maybe it was someone important? Well, it was probably none of your business anyways, you’re just a customer after all so you just paid attention to what you came here for.

Fried chicken. Hell yeah.

Fried chicken along with potato chips and drinks was the main ingredient for a great marathon to where you could binge-watch all the episodes you wanted. ALL the episodes, although your parents would probably scold you for your unhealthy habits, as you said before, you could care less.

So you began walking down the aisles, dragging your finger over the tags to look for your favorite brand of chips under their company name all the while obliviously ignoring the floating crimson object that drifted across the air.

You then felt a little tickle at your neck at which you swiped to the back of your head and grabbed what appeared to be..a feather? Which was strangely familiar as it was red too.

The only red feather you had ever seen was that of a certain famous hero's wings and it's not like he'd pick such a low profile store to get some food, right? But then you really couldn't think of him any less based on the current decisions you're making right now.

Just as you were about to inspect the small little feather, it zoomed from out of your grasp and flew ahead over the aisles. By then, you had finally paid attention to the conversations that carried over the wave of food and products.

You craned your neck over to look at the superintendent and... a man?

Much to your surprise, it was the number three pro hero, Hawks! His cheerful demeanor was just as laid-back as ever. His blonde hair was slicked back with a few stray locks framing his face while he donned a leather jacket and matching black pants for an outfit.

Your mouth was wide open in surprise, what a coincidence! You were right! So you leaned in quietly and began listening in on their conversations, being sure not to make yourself get exposed and labeled as another one of Hawk's stir crazy fangirls.

Your ears then picked up on Hawk's smooth yet rough voice, the volume of his speech echoing across the store as he asked a certain thing about the manager's day or what he'd thought about doing all the while digging through his pocket, both front and back.

He must've been looking for something...like money.

You clasped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself from laughing before you were caught. The number three pro hero, Hawks, had forgotten money to buy some things at the store...which was fried chicken.

Respectable choice, a faith that you had to save a fellow chicken eater from.

So you quietly walked over to their positions, being mindful not to interrupt their conversation and gently tugged on Hawk's jacket. He gradually turned around and met your gaze directly with just a hint of surprise and turbulence.

"Oh, hey! Another fan? You need me to sign something of yours?" he spoke in a cheerful manner to which you simply shook your head and brought his hand to yours and put in a couple wads of cash before walking out of the store and waving him and the superintendent goodbye.

Perhaps another time would be better, you could always wait for your paycheck and get a much higher paying. 'Yeah, that'd be much better than that shabby amount.' you thought to yourself while bringing your purse closer to your chest in giddiness and opening the door to your automobile.

He was confused for a moment before he brought his attention to his hand and gently opened it. The slips of cash you left in his care were just the amount he had been missing to get himself a quick snack ere going back to his house.

He felt a small blush creep up his neck when the realization hit him, you must've seen his crappy attempt at finding some random change in his pocket when you were just a few aisles behind him in the store.

So, wasting no time to say his thanks, he quickly paid for his food and said his goodbyes before rushing to the front of the store and catching your vehicle leave just at the last moment.

He used his large vermillion wings to wave to you while you left and hazily watched your car leave to the next street on the highway. How oddly nice of a citizen to give him some spare cash, maybe he'd repay you the next time you came around...that is, if he could find you.

-So after that, Hawks did manage to find you the next time around and he did keep his promise of returning your fair share of money. Although the other times you guys did meet up around the store was when you returned to get more snacks and he was simply buying more chicken, claiming that the store had good quality food.

-He tries to make small talk with you either by using the fact that he doesn’t have enough money as an excuse or that he’s just simply another pro hero passing by and checking in on his favorite citizen.

-The time when you guy’s actually agreed to dating was by him confessing and using chicken drumsticks as a gift for your first date. It worked.

-Both You and Hawks have energy that matches each other, you practically fit like puzzle pieces based on how I view it. You both share similar views on how the world could work if it would differ on a creative basis or when you know how to take a break from certain things and just be in each other’s presence.

-He tries to get as many breaks as he can from doing hero work, so if he consults his agencies about how much time he’s missing being away from you, he’ll try and send little trinkets from his workplace to you and let you know he’ll be home sooner or later.

NSFW!

-Now, this guy has the DNA of a hawk, you can definitely expect him to randomly go into phrases involving sexual matters such as mating season and i’d imagined that would happen mostly around the spring with the summer sometimes being an exception.

-Hawks is that one bitch that prays before eating you out, I will not hold a discussion for this. HE IS THAT BITCH and NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

-Oh, a daddy kink you say? Hawks is going to enjoy this. No doubt this man here is going to get rough in the bedroom and he will waste absolutely no energy on you. Just one slip up of calling him that name and he will ravage into the bed mattress.

-If you’re really into making him wait a bit before actually getting into bed, this man will praise your body throughout the whole session as if he had never had a drip of pleasure in his life.

Hope you liked your match-up!

@animeboihoe

#Hawks mha #Keigo Takami #Takami Keigo #Hawks #bnha #mha match-ups

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shadowsong26fic · 4 years

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Some Stuff

Not a proper Coming Attractions post, that’ll come out on the first Monday of the month as always, but...a more general update on some projects (and also possibly looking for input?)

Basically, I’ve accepted the inevitable, that I’ve fallen back into ATLA in a big way. I haven’t actually rewatched the series yet, because my roommate was doing so and I kept popping in and out and I didn’t want to confuse myself by trying to do a straight rewatch while she was doing hers, but I have reread a bunch of old fanfic/RP logs, and have some plots I kind of want to work with again? Either as fulltext or as an AU Outline. Behind the cut are some more details, as well as seeking Opinions on which, if any, I should actually work on.

I am also Determined to not fall out of SW as this is going on, lol. More details about that behind the cut, as well.

(Also, I’ve talked about some of the stuff listed here on my writing discord, which feel free to come stop by and hang out! It’s basically an extension of this tumblr, only a little more interactive. Find us here!)

Star Wars Stuff:

I plan to take next weekend to bang out at minimum the next Precipice chapter, and possibly the next two (though I’ll stagger posting if I do manage to get both done). And then try and give myself a more active schedule to get the next parts of the series out.

I’m also working on a dragonshifters AU, which I’m enjoying a lot. I think OFLAM may be relegated to the back burner for a while, though I’ll probably kick it up again if I end up doing it for SWBB next year (unless I tease out enough of a Plot for dragonshifters to do that instead, lol). I’ve talked about some of the worldbuilding on my writing discord, too.

I also still owe some meme responses from way back, which I do intend to get to at some point I promise <.<

And I haven’t forgotten some other extant projects--Devoted!verse, the Ventress outline, Bail Unfucks the Timeline, Distaff, etc.--but they’re pretty back-burnered for the time being. If something Sparks in any of those, I’ll probably dive into it, but for now I’m not actively working on them in the way I am on dragonshifters and Precipice.

AtLA Stuff:

So, there’s sort of...four or five projects spinning around in my head right now, lol. One of which, if I do it, would not work as an outline so it would be fulltext. It’s canon-compliant, for the most part.

...well, I should interrupt myself here to say the following: I haven’t read a lot of the comics or tie-in novels, and my familiarity with more recent Word of God is limited. I’m basically operating out of canon defined as “it’s in the original show or WoG I’m specifically aware of, drawing in stuff from other sources as it appeals to me but otherwise ignoring it.” Where WoG contradicts itself (i.e., the timeline for Lu Ten’s death),I go with whatever answer I prefer.

In terms of worldbuilding details added in Korra--ehhhhh, it’s sort of held a little higher than the comics, etc. (in that, if I remember it, unless it Josses something I really, really liked/was foundational to something I’m doing, I’ll probably include it); but most likely whatever I’m doing will go AU enough during the first series for a lot of the other detail work/character-specific stuff to not matter.

Anyway! Back to the fun stuff.

There’s one story I’m playing with that’s not going to work as an AU outline. Depending on exactly what I focus on, there’s a couple different fulltext fics buried in it, and I’m not sure which I’d work on (or if I’d braid the two of them together). Basically, it deals with the siege of Ba Sing Se and Lu Ten’s death, and some of the fallout from that, focusing on an OC of mine and her daughter. I found a short fic I wrote for a challenge back in the day that ties into this concept, which is at the very end of this post. If I work on this, I’d probably change the names of the two relevant OCs and possibly how she gets her memory back (it was written specifically for a “what happened in the rest of the world when Zhao captured Tui” challenge; guess how many of them were Hama-related), but. Anyway, building on either the Siege portion of the story (which has a lot of West Side Story on its soundtrack in my head lol), or focusing on what she does after she remembers him. Or both! Both is also good.

The rest of the options are mostly Zuko-centric canon-divergence fics.

First option, Airbender!Zuko. This occurs because The Spirits Said So; he’s gotten very good at fake firebending using airbending. Probably to the point where he’s so deep in denial that he can’t even see the pyramids anymore, to stretch that analogy to the breaking point, lol. Basically, not much changes until the north pole, but there’s some ways for it to go from there...

Second option, Avatar Zuko. This one has been floating around in my head more lately. Reading old RP logs, my partner and I played through a bunch of different variants on how this all worked, but the one in my head right now is basically--a few months before he’s banished, they’re at Ember Island or something and he’s out on the ocean/fishing or something. Sudden storm, he stops the boat from capsizing through panicked waterbending. No other witnesses, for whatever reason. He initially decides he imagined it, something else must have happened. Except then, when he’s in the palace infirmary after getting his face melted, he does it again. At that point, he basically decides that his options here are “get turned into a weapon and kill A Lot of people, or get disappeared into some dark hole somewhere where I can’t cause any problems.” Neither of those is particularly attractive, so he decides to run away. He doesn’t know what his long-term plan is at this moment--if he’ll use the comet to regain favor/save his nation based on the context he’s operating under right now, or do something else. But he has about three and a half years before then. He figures he’ll spend a year at the Western Air Temple, looking for texts/mosaics/something to get him at least vaguely airbending; then go to the North Pole to learn waterbending for a year, then spend a year in the Earth Kingdom to learn earthbending. Planning, for the last two, to present himself as mixed and while he has a lot of his Fire Nation father’s features, he inherited bending from his other parent (or grandparent, when he goes to the North Pole). For those of you familiar with my original fic, this will also include the first iteration of a prominent secondary character from Feredar/The Farglass Cycle. Mostly so Zuko has someone to talk to at the WAT XD.

Third and fourth options are a bit more nebulous, and both break off during the Ba Sing Se arc. First option, Zuko gets injured during the stampede when Aang moves the zoo (this will probably draw in at least one of my BSS OCs because I am pathologically incapable of not creating OCs, lol). Second option, Zuko leaves his mask behind in Lake Laogai, which means Aang will know he’s in the city. Not sure where either of those would go from that point but there’s some Significant Differences there, lol.

...anyway, that’s where things stand now. Which, if any, are y’all interested in seeing?

As promised, the clip from the Lu Ten story, originally written for a challenge back in...yeesh 2010 XD. Again, this is canon-compliant at least up until Iroh and Zuko arrive in BSS, and I’d possibly change the names and/or how she gets her memories back.

An Wei sat by the window, holding her little girl and watching the sky. Today had been one of Huai's bad days, so An Wei had her hand resting lightly on her daughter's neck, counting her heartbeats. The doctors had told her, back when Huai was a baby and they'd figured out what was wrong with her, to hope for seven years--but only to hope, not to count on them. So An Wei took special care to always, always watch. She never regretted her child, no. Occasionally, she wished she had never met Huai's father, but...well, she couldn't remember much about him, other than the kind golden eyes (false kindness?) that had taken her in so completely during the Siege. She didn't think about him very much. It was too painful--and dangerous. Above and beyond the dangers in thinking about the War That Was No War, her own father had... Well, he hadn't been pleased. She didn't remember the argument, but her uncle wouldn't have brought her to the Lower Ring midwife who had cared for her during her pregnancy if she hadn't needed to hide. Despite all of her vigilance, it was her own heart that skipped a beat when the moonlight filtering in through her window turned an eerie, dull red. She gasped and clutched her daughter a little tighter, praying that Huai would sleep until this went away, so it wouldn't frighten her. That is, assuming it would go away. She shivered and shifted Huai so the little girl was facing away from the window and watched in horror as the bloody moon failed to return to normal. "Please..." she whispered. "Please be normal when she wakes..." As if in response to her desperate pleading, the moon flared silver again after a half hour. But she barely had a moment to relax before it winked out completely. An Wei jumped and stifled a scream. "Don't be afraid of the dark, this'll light your way home." She jumped again. There was no one here in the room with her and Huai, but she could have sworn... The moon blinked back into existence and a pretty girl with long white hair rode in on one of its beams. An Wei stared up at her, still frightened, pulling her daughter away from the girl as best she could. The moon-girl bent down and kissed An Wei's forehead. "Remember now," she murmured, then faded out of sight. ** "Don't be afraid of the dark." He smiles and makes a little light in his palm, carefully transferring it to a bundle of sticks. "This will light your way home." ** She studies the hairpiece he wears in his topknot, turning it over and over in her hands. "There's something you should know about me, too. About my family." ** "We can make this work, Itsu." He's determined, hopeful, his golden eyes shining. "We'll talk to my father. He'll understand. We'll make it work. Meet me here, at the usual time." "I trust you." ** She waits and waits and waits, until long past dark, but he doesn't come. ** She hates speaking with her guardian, but she's scared and has nowhere else to go. "Please, help me," she finishes quietly. He nods. "I'll keep you safe, Highness. You and your child. I promise." ** The light spins around and around and around, and she forgets her name, forgets her lover, and in her place is An Wei, a young woman trained as a scribe, seduced by a nameless Fire soldier, rather than... ** Itsu let out a little sobbing breath. Huai shifted in her arms. "Mommy?" she whispered, still half-asleep. "It's okay, baby, everything's okay. Go back to sleep." "'Kay." Huai closed her golden eyes again and her breathing evened out as much as it ever did. Itsu held her daughter close. Twice over a princess, at the worst possible time, born with a broken heart. No wonder Long Feng hid us so deep.

[to clarify--Itsu is Kuei’s sister. I forget how I set the relative ages, but assuming, as seems to be the case in flashbacks, that Lu Ten is about 10 years older than Zuko, he’d be somewhere between twenty and twenty-two when he died, depending on which date you believe; Kuei is around the same age (possibly a year or two younger?) and Itsu within two years of them.]

#shadowsong26fic #shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes atla #feedback greatly appreciated #miscellania

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lost-eternity · 4 years

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Match up requests: CLOSED

Match up for @ lunar-calliope

Okie dokie. I match you with...

Since you never specified your gender preference, I am just going to match you with anyone I think would click the best. Because I was kind of at a loss for anyone else. First I was thinking about matching you with the 11th Doctor as his personality type ENTP would mesh perfectly with your own. However, I feel like you two would work better as friends than lovers only because the Doctors are kind of... damaged. They all really need someone who is more of a hopeless romantic and boundlessly compassionate. The doctors would continuously push you away the moment they realize their feelings are slightly more than friendship out of fear. They would need someone to tirelessly pursue them and let's be real. Ain't nobody got time for that. And I feel like you are smart enough to recognize dependency and stay the hell away from it. Because if I am being brutally honest, all of the doctors would make a horrible relationship. They are far too traumatized and caught up in this game of endlessly trying to prove themselves to the universe, trying to justify that all of the lives they have saved somehow makes up for the lives they've lost. Right. Let's get started.

Here is the thing about Clara. She talks. A lot.

She talks faster than Matt Smith, which is an achievement in of itself and is the primary reason she was cast for the role.

So she is no stranger to the fast-talking rambling that you do when you get nervous.

As a matter of fact, she might even contribute to it

So now there are two people talking their lungs out and giving the Doctor a massive headache

She is also the type to make crude or inappropriate jokes in the heat of the moment. So you really don't have to worry about being offensive around her. She is reflective enough to recognize the hypocrisy of taking offence.

However, your introverted nature and her extroverted nature would mesh very well

She does all of the talking, allowing you some time to hang back and think or reflect

Which works out perfectly for you.

Clara also has a sharp tongue and steely wit. If you pulled a prank on her, she would definitely do something in retribution. And if it is allowed to escalate it most definitely would until the Doctor or someone puts a stop to the childishness.

She would be perfectly adept as exchanging quips and playful banter with you

Although she does have a reckless streak. She is up for any challenge, no matter how daunting. And this carelessness can cause you to sprout some grey hairs worrying over her. You and Doctor would be in agreement over constantly trying to keep Clara in line.

However, with something to ground herself and hold her back, I feel like Clara would be a lot more careful than she was in the show. She was free then with no one to care for or worry about. With you, she would rein herself in because she knows that you are worrying over her

She also feels some level of protection towards you.

Now let's address the elephant in the room. Clara is short. She is only 157 centimetres (that's 5"2 in American)

I am a huuuge sucker for height differences. Like the more timid tall one and the short little spitfire, trope makes me swoon.

And that is kinda what you two would be

And it is so cute

Clara would want to climb on you. Or sit on your shoulders or something but because she knows how you feel about your height, she will restrain herself. Because she cares ❤

Which is also why I believe she will be the one to help you get over this insecurity. She would remind you that you are beautiful every day, especially when you are feeling self-confidence

Bitch, your height makes you look like a badass!

Embrace it

She says that one day you are going to be confident enough to wear heels. And she means it

Clara is a huge advocate for nature. She appreciates its beauty. After all, it was nature that caused her parents to meet. How could she notice have at least a begrudging respect for it? She wouldn't have been born if it were not for the trees

So she loves forests

And being the energetic little fireball that she is, would demand to go hiking. And maybe a home-made picnic when you've reached your destination

But Clara is also boundlessly compassionate. As a companion of the Doctor, she harbours a deeply empathetic nature behind those quips and bluster.

Which I think perfectly dampens your more judgemental mindset. You would be the more cynical one, wary of those who you encounter. And Clara would be the one to have faith in their inherent goodness.

While I can see this giving rise to some conflicts, I think that it is a necessity for you. You need someone to act as your counterweight and achieve that balance.

Clara is your foil. You keep her grounded and logistical and in return, she will open your mind. She will help you work on dispelling preconceived notions and embrace the individuality of everyone

This is the main reason I chose Clara for you. Rory was also a possible match but I don't have the heart to take him from Amy lol.

You two probably knew each other before. Although not well

Maybe she was in one of your college classes. Or even an old student who attended the same High School

Regardless of what it was, you kinda thought that she was obnoxious

Near constantly blabbering about once thing or another

Kind of annoying really

Anyways. You were sitting at your favourite cafe reading a rather engaging book when you heard a loud bang originating from outside.

Curiously, you peered out the window and noticed a throng of people running away...

So naturally, you went to investigate.

Apparently, a phone booth had fallen from the sky and struck a car. Outside of it rolled an aged looking man and a rather familiar woman.

Smoke billowing from their poofed hair as it frizzed out around them in an untamed mane.

The woman whooped loudly, pumping her arms in the air, seemingly overjoyed

The man seemed completely distraught over the condition of the phone booth. The way he was acting, you would have thought that he had lost a baby

The woman turned to you, her eyes lighting up in recognition as she called your name

You were a little confused before you also recognized her. That maniacal glint in her eye, the Cheshire Grin. This was Clara. From school.

Great

Clara approached you, asking how you have been while the man stalked around his phone booth, buzzing some sort of glowing stick at it

You were kind of at a loss for words.

Like. This girl you haven't seen in literal years just fell out of the sky in a box and has the audacity to ask YOU how things are going

You couldn't get a word out before the man approached, saying that it may take a few days for him to fix the TARDIS before interrupting himself to ask "oh. Who's your friend?"

Clara introduces you before you have a chance to introduce yourself. The man introduced himself as "the Doctor"

The egotism is not lost on you. It's kinda self-righteous to add a "the" before your own name. And then not even use a real name. As though this man were the only good doctor in the world

You never do get his real name

First, Clara asks you what year it is. When you respond, both she and the Doctor appear confused than relieved. Then Clara casually asks if they can crash at your place for a few days

And you are dumbfounded like. "Uh... no?" Clara, who you haven't seen in years, fell out of the sky with some rando-stranger, for heaven's sake.

You basically tell them no unless they want to tell you to want is going on

The Doctor, seeing no other alternative, explains what the TARDIS is and who he is

And now you are CONVINCED that these two knuckleheads are high off their asses

Apparently not because before you know it, Clara is dragging you into the TARDIS before you can even fight back

You were gonna start screaming for help but what you found took your breath away

"It's bigger on the inside!"

The doctor laughs. "I love it when they say that."

So your brain is understandable fried

Like. What?

You have to go out and pace around the TARDIS a few times before passively accepting whatever lunacy you had just gotten yourself into

Meanwhile, both Clara and the Doctor watch you in amusement

Long story short, you agree to let them spend the night while the Doctor fixes his little machine

What else were you supposed to do?

Two TIME TRAVELLERS appeared at your doorstep needing your help. You can't just refuse that... right?

So as the Doctor tirelessly worked on his time machine, you and Clara spent the whole night talking

She had so many incredible and quite frankly unbelievable stories to tell

Your earlier notions about her were slowing beginning to assuage the more she spoke

You couldn't believe that she would be foolish enough to take off and go travelling the universe with a guy whose name she didn't even know.

You two actually hit it off quite nicely and exchanged numbers to keep on contact

The three days it took to finish the TARDIS came all too quickly for you

Although not quickly enough for the Doctor who apparently was damn near close to losing his mind due to staying stationary for so long

Like. It's been three days. Dude. Chill.

Not only was he rash and egotistical, he was also impatient and had the attention span of a gnat. You were kinda wondering how Clara put up with him

Despite your qualms about the Doctor, you really did not want them to leave

These two people... well, one person and one alien, were the most exciting thing that has ever happened to you in your dull life. Everything you ever were excited for paled in comparison to the tales that Clara had revealed to you. It really put a damper on well... everything

How could you be excited to go on a trip to Italy when you knew that there was an AMUSEMENT PARK on the dark side of the moon!!!!

How could you be content living, working, and dying knowing that there are entire solar systems of intelligent peoples with cultures, festivities, and ideologies completely different to your own that you would never get to see

You couldn't

It was simple as that

So you asked them if you could go on a trip with them

The Doctor adamantly refused, saying that it was best for you to forget you ever met them

You were persistent. Saying that you fed and housed them for three days. That is a massive favour. One trip would be the least he could do

Clara agreed with you and the two of you turned these adorable pleading puppy eyes on the Doctor

He finally acquiesced.

You were absolutely ecstatic

You three went to a faraway solar system and participated in some kind of elaborate festival which quickly turned awry

Clara had to give up her most prized possessions to please some kind of God

And the Doctor? The doctor would have died if it weren't for you and your quick wit

You are actually quite handy to have around

So the doctor, upon dropping you off, promised that he and Clara would occasionally swing by to take you with them

But warned you not to get too involved. Those that do often end up dead or worse. Usually worse.

Well. For a time traveller, the Doctor has piss poor time management skills and it is years before you ever see him and Clara again

Clara apologized profusely as she blamed the Doctor for screwing up the time dial thingy again

To make up for the lost time, you three embark on a lot of adventures in quick succession of one another

This is when you find yourself beginning to fall for Clara

You become a staple companion of the Doctor and Clara but unfortunately, fate can be quite cruel

As it turns out, Clara is set to die

She has to. It’s a fixed point in time

Of all the moments you thought you were going to lose her, this one scared you the most

The Doctor and you did everything possible to change the timeline, nearly breaking it in the process

But it did not matter. Clara was supposed to die.

And as her heartbeat its last beat, you found yourself deeply regretting all of the hours spent with the Doctor. Because if it were not for him, Clara would be allowed to live

Well. If it were not for him, you would have never met...

The Time Lords themselves had to step in and fix the situation. Because the Doctor had managed to extract Clara the moment she died. She technically was dead. Her heart no longer beat. But her mind still functioned. Rendering her practically immortal..

As a last-ditch effort to save her, the Doctor vowed to erase her memories.

Panicked, Clara reversed the polarities of the sonic glasses and ended up erasing the Doctor's memories of her.

She turned, ready to do the same to you but just couldn't manage

Instead, she broke down sobbing.

The two of your abandoned the Doctor, taking his TARDIS and going back in time to steal a previous edition of the TARDIS. Before the chameleon circuit broke down.

You dropped the Doctor off somewhere safe and then with your own personal TARDIS, travelled to Nevada

Clara admitted that she still had to die. And it would be wise to return to the Time Lords and allow herself to be returned into the time stream, meeting her final death

You were absolutely devastated

But Clara assured you that she had some wiggle room. The two of you could "take the long way around". She did not have to go immediately

At this realization, you smiled.

She was right. You were in no rush to return to Gallifrey. Why not enjoy some sights along the way?

And that was how you scored your own TARDIS and began to travel the universe, Clara by your side. You two had the craziest adventures and remained by each other's side until you withered from old age and died.

Clara, being technically immortal, hadn't aged a day. But she had a lifetime to come to terms with your future death and solemnly returned to Gallifrey.

She did not speak a word as the Time Lords showed her to her final resting spot. The last thing she uttered was "goodbye, y/n" before returning herself to the void

And finally meeting death

Wow. Why are my Doctor Who matchups always so depressing?

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lovely-teeztaetae · 4 years

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Hello! Can I get ATEEZ and GOT7 written ship? 💖 5’10 tall; dark brown, shoulder-length hair with bangs; blue eyes (the left eye is mixed with hazel, aka, heterochromia iridium); heptagon face shape with dimples; inverted triangle body shape. INFP-T. Bisexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. ”Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” At first, I may come off as reserved, shy, yet polite. I, as many of us, have a resting bitch face, that’s why people may think that I’m in a bad mood. It takes me a lot of time to warm up to somebody, cause I’m socially awkward. Hate small talk, or speaking in front of the public. When I’m nervous, I tend to mess up my words or forget what I was supposed to say. I’m usually playful, dirty-minded and goofy around close friends. I’m the so-called, ”fashionista and mom” from my circle of friends. A perfectionist, punctual, over-thinker, slight control/clean freak. Stubborn in some situations. If I’m annoyed or getting impatient, I can say something witty or sarcastic. I’m constantly fighting an inner battle with myself, trying to accept myself. I don’t like to smile or laugh in public, cause of the small gap between my front teeth. I really hate taking selfies or somebody else taking pictures of me. The clothes I wear depends on my mood (and the weather outside), but it’s always a mix of smart casual/vintage/or comfortable. Don’t like doing things out of my comfort zone, prefer to stay indoors. Hate crying in public, or asking people for help (it makes me feel uncomfortable). I don’t like arguments, but I will square up if they come for my family or I snapped. I’m a kind-hearted person, always ready to help someone in need, quite modest as well. Used to be a people’s pleaser. My hobbies include listening to any type of music, reading, watching movies or tv shows, traveling (if given the chance), and cleaning. Have a thing for art, especially fashion. Very protective of my family. Divorced parents. Motherly towards kids and friends. An old soul, and the ”black sheep” of my family. A 100% feminist, support LGBT community. Sometimes I like to try and cook easy recipes. Dislike coffee, prefer tea or orange juice. That’s it, - thanks!

Pt 2; GOT7

Hihi my lovely @pataim !

This is my part two to your ship. Your GOT7 version!

I looked more into your INFP mbti, and have decided to pair you with our BELOVED ESTJ

And that is,,,,,,,,,,

♡ BamBam ♡

Our beautiful and funny energizer!

Now, I have looked over both of your guys personalities, and the contrast between you being an introvert and him being a total extrovert, I feel it would make a great relationship. :)

BamBam seems to be into trying many new things, and I feel that your somewhat intimidating persona would interest him, and while everyone else may be a bit scared, he would be an open book with a lot of things ,and would want to get to know about your mysterious personality right away!

You are the goofy and playful one amongst your friends, and BamBam is also our goof and energizer of the seven boys. Your guys chaotic and bold personalities would match. AND although you are an introvert, Bam would make sure that you were comfortable with showing your beauty and personality to the whole world without fear of what others say!

He would try his very best to help you completely accept yourself, and although these insecurities may never go away, he will make sure to let you know that he’ll love you no matter what!

overall, I feel like your guys relationship would be the best friend kind, partners in crime, and you two at the end of the day have an adorable relationship to the public, but BamBam may spice it up by stealing a kiss here and there!

♡ Partners in Crime ♡

- song ; ‘Collide’ Rachel Platten -

- ( Reason behind song ) -

This song was picked as a representation if you becoming comfortable with BamBam, and letting him know that you trust him. In the end, he will know everything about you, the good and the bad, and he will still love you the same

~ FLUFFYYYYY ~

“Okay, Jinyoung, when BamBam walks through the door, just throw it on him.” I said, looking at him with a childish glint in my eyes.

He looked at me, raising a brow.

“Isn’t this a waste of flour?” He asked holding the flour with one hand, the other hand securely in his pocket.

I rolled my eyes before walking over to him and holding his shoulders.

“Jinyoung, Jinyoung, Jinyoung. How adorable, thinking of this as a waste. If it works, it will definitely be worth it.” I said with a small smile.

“Plus he spilled pancake batter in it last time he tried to cook so..” I trailed off, looking back at Jinyoung who was mentally face palming at the younger ones clumsiness.

All of a sudden I heard the familiar sound of BamBam’s car pulling up and immediately hid behind the corner.

“Jinyoung, get ready okay? Throw the flower right after I throw the water!” I said with an excited smile.

“What is he has his pho-”

“Jinyoung.” I said looking over to my bestfriend again.

Jinyoung only shook his head from side to side, but I instantly smiled as he positioned the flour.

The front door opened and I gave Jinyoung a thumbs up, to which he replied with a small glare.

“Hey eve-”

I suddenly threw the water and soon after Jinyoung threw the flour, but I was in shock after realising it wasn’t BamBam that just walked through the door.

“Yugyeom.” I said coming from around the corner and seeing him with his mouth wide open.

“I just did what I was told to do.” Jinyoung said with somewhat wide eyes, setting the now empty flour bag on the island.

“Everyone! Oh what’s this?” BamBam said walking through the door in his overly fancy attire, pushing his tinted glasses up to his forehead, looking at the younger boy with a small smile.

“I see, you think you’ll be successful at pulling something like this off without my help?” He asked, pinching my cheek playfully and quickly placing a kiss to it afterwards.

“Next time I’ll for sure get you, you little twit.” I joked, getting aggrivated at my failed prank.

BamBam laughed in return, taking some of the wet flour from Yugyeom and wiping it on my sweater.

I looked at him with wide eyes, before running over to Yugyeom.

“Come on Yugyeom, get him!” I said, grabbing another slop from his shirt and running in BamBam’s direction, Yugyeom following behind.

I hope you enjoyed this ship! My other requests are getting worked on right now! 🥰

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newsnerd-ooc · 4 years

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Miss Rommel

The Basics ––– –

Name: Latilda Anne Rommel

Nickname(s): Miss Rommel, Lat, Tilly, BITCH!

Age: 29

Birthday: Late February

Race: Human, Gilnean

Gender: female

Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Bright Blonde, typically pulled into a ponytail with bangs hanging out

Eyes: Light blue

Height: 5′10″

Build: Athletic, Beaten up

Distinguishing Marks: Bandages wrapped around forearms, slight scarring around the torso

Tattoos: Non-existent

Piercings: occasional rings in ears

Common Accessories: Hidden weapons, a knapsack, notebook, pen

Personal Information––– –

Profession: Former Intelligence Operative, Adventurer, Ex-journalist

Hobbies: Writing, reading, sparring, Parkour, Hearthstone, Titanic Engineering, exploration, philanthropy

Languages: Common, Orcish, Select Thalassian, shitty Darnassian, Titanic/Arcanic dialects

Residence: Stormwind, w/ friends

Birthplace: Gilneas City

Religion: Titans/Fates

Patron Deity: Fates

Fears: Being the cause of another person’s death, Imprisonment, Losing control

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: NA

Children: also NA

Parents: Both Deceased

Siblings: Laken, Deceased

Other Relatives: Casyril, Cousin (Deceased) Morwenna, great-aunt (Voidic being)

Pets: Gartona, magical cat being who occasionally pops into existence

Sex & Romance ––– -

Sexual Orientation: asexual demiromantic

Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch

Preferred Sexual Role: submissive | dominant | switch

Libido: Low to moderate

Turn ons: Intelligence, Wit, Athleticism

Turn offs: Dark magic users, causing unnecessary pain, having no sense of humor, just wanting sex

Love Language: Humor, time spent on important tasks. No random picnics for her!

Relationship Tendencies: Random, unaware, often occurs out of the blue

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

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: Non-existent

Drugs: Only painkillers after getting shot in the leg for the seventh time this month.

Alcohol: A social drinker most of the time

RP Hooks ––– –

Rogue-on-hand: Latilda is at her core a rogue. She’s a sneaky fighter who uses tricks, fakeouts and combat maneuvers to help in combat. Whether it is sneaking about on a roof or causing a scene, she’s ready to help. She’s also an individual who desires to be helpful in some fashion to those she respects, or just those who are in need. Sometimes that means beating up a bully brigand. Sometimes that means disabling world-ending superweapons. It depends on the week.

Former lives: Latilda is known to most by her old life. Some knew her during her short period working under SI:7 as an agent (she went by Oracle for a time.) More likely, she is known for her work as a journalist/Editor-In-Chief for @the-royal-courier. Some may hate her for revealing secrets, others may appreciate the good she caused. Up to you. But she has YEARS of history to go off of, as well as an odd period where the world thought she was dead. Was she really? Well. ;3 That’s spoilers.

Oddity: Latilda often exudes an aura that is simply odd. In what way? Well, she isn’t a typical magic user, yet she often performs feats and tricks that are not typical. She also knows or sees things that might not be obviously clear, or speaks in garbled words when she wants to. She also has appeared recently in garb covered in machines beyond the typical constructive capabilities of most men. Who or what is she involved in?

Titanic Machinations: Latilda has recently taken up the practice of studying Titanic machines and replicating them. Not that she’s an expert. But if there’s titan tech involved, she has quite a bit of interest.

HOW TO CONTACT:

Typically, you can find me on Moon Guard or WRA as Latilda, if I’m on. However, schedule issues with school often mean that I am not always on. I’m always happy to talk here on Tumblr, although I am also good to do RP on Discord if you prefer that.

(Profile format stolen from @unabashedrebel. It needed an update)

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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868

Favorite beverage: Just your good ol’ cold water. If I wanna treat myself I’ll get milk tea. When was the last time you had ketchup? Ooh I don’t remember...it would probably be 3-4 weeks ago. Or whenever the last time we had lumpia was, because I like drowning that shit in ketchup. Have you ever had a red hotdog? Yeah frozen hotdogs is a favorite snack here and they’re usually red. We usually have them for breakfast, it’s served in parties, it’s in every school caf, etc. What is the most recent gift you've been given? So my uncle has his budding cooking business and sells different dishes everyday. His most recent bestseller is burnt basque cheesecake and while I’ve always wanted my own because it looks SO good, I just haven’t had the money to allot for it. I was really surprised when my grandma called me up today and told me she had ordered an entire cake for me as a graduation gift :) I asked my dad to pick it up from her place this afternoon and it’s crazy delicious.

Is what you're wearing comfortable? Yeup, now that it’s cooler. I sweated through my top when it was hot earlier though, and that wasn’t a comfortable situation at. all.

Did you leave the house today? Nah. I did step out to help my dad with the groceries, but that was it for today’s adventure. Are there bumper stickers on your car? No. If I wanna put stickers on my car I would rather have them on my rear window, and not directly on my car. Are you watching tv right now? What? The dining room TV is turned on but I’m not watching; my dad likes to have it on to listen to the evening news while he cooks dinner. Are you wearing anything blue? Nope, it’s all black for me today. Do you have a job? Not yet. Is your car messy? No. There’s really no reason for it to be, I’ve only driven out once since March. When did you last have whipped cream? I...can’t recall, actually. We don’t have whipped cream at home and I don’t think I ever ordered anything with whipped cream on it shortly before lockdown. How far away is the closest house? 10-20 steps away, depending on how big your stride is. What street do you live on? I’m not dropping that on here. The most I’ll tell you is that our streets are named after tropical cities, haha.

What is your favorite flavor of smoothie? Used to not like smoothies 100% because of the presence of fruits in them, but thanks to my friends Apple and Ed introducing me to Go Salads I’ve come to really like their Breakfast Smoothie – which, after looking up their menu just now, has apple, banana, cinnamon, oats, coco sugar, chia seeds, greens, and soy milk. Are you dating anyone? Yes ma’am. What color is you computer? Silver. Do you own an iPod? What color is it? Technically I still do but only because I haven’t thrown it out. It’s a blue iPod Nano. What is the most recent picture on your phone/camera of: A photo of the aforementioned burnt basque cheesecake. I was planning to post a Facebook status to promote my tito’s business and show my support, so I asked my sister to take a few aesthetic shots of the cake for my post to look presentable. Have you ever shot a gun? No. I’ve shot a fake one that belonged to Athenna’s dad, which he used for like target practice or something. What temperature is it? 31C.

Do you know anyone with a third nipple? No but Harry Styles has four, HAHAHA. There’s your random fact for the day. What do your parents do for a living? My dad’s an executive sous chef and my mom’s a secretary in her specific department in the hotel she works in. Both have always been in the hotel and restaurant industry. Have you ever had a pet that had babies? No. We’ve avoided female dogs because we know we’re not capable of caring for newborn puppies, so instead of potentially being reckless owners we’ve just not had female pets altogether. Which grocery store is closest to you? A local mall chain that has their own grocery, SM. Do you have a hamper in your room? Nah, my parents prefer a general hamper in the bathroom. Do you know anyone that's a nurse? Yes, I have several aunts and as far as I know, one cousin :) I feel really bad for them especially in these times, but they’re such strong people and they just keep powering through and powering through. Do you know someone with the name Alaina? Not that I can recall. What color is the blanket on your bed? Off-white. What are your parent's middle names? No thank you. Have you ever broken a bone? Never. Do you wear braces or glasses? I wore braces in high school, and I’ve had glasses since Grade 5. What color are they? I picked a different color for my braces for every monthly visit cause it made me feel quirkly; my glasses’ frame is dark brown. Are you currently reading a book? Not currently, no. When did you last get your blood drawn? Ughhhhh, cringed reading this haha. Last May when I needed to get a blood test done. Have you ever done hard drugs? Nopes. How many contacts are in your phone? I just know I have a lot, but Apple doesn’t tell you exactly how many and I don’t feel like counting all of them right now. Does your toilet have a seat cover? It has a lid cover, but not a seat cover. What's currently on your grocery list? My dad did the groceries today so we’re pretty stocked rn. What things do you take with you everywhere? My glasses, car and house keys, phone, wallet. Do you know someone that is/was over 100 years old? Gab’s great-grandma was like 106 or 107 by the time she passed. Was your HS principal a girl or a boy? Girl. I went to an all-girls school so it would honestly be a little peculiar if we had a male principal. Have you ever eaten a raw egg? Nah. I wanna try it out though, just for funsies. Do you own any rings? Gab got me this cheap ring for the shits and giggles, but I stopped wearing it when it started turning pink and smelling weird. So no.

If you were to get a new puppy what would you name her? We did get a new puppy! ;) But should we get another, the name will depend on the puppy’s attitude and overall vibe. That’s what we did with Cooper, who was named after Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory because he had been a smartass from the very first minute we played with him. Have you eaten fruit today? No. What about milk? Even more nope haha. I can’t have it all the time. What letter does your state start with? We don’t have states. My province starts with the letter R. Could you list all 50 states? I’ve listed them down on countlesssssss occasions but I always only come up with 35-45 states. I’ve observed that the ones I always forget about are the states in the middle of the map/country-ish states hahaha. What about their capitals? I know a good number of the states’ capitals, but I’ll still undoubtedly do worse. What internet browser do you use? I’ve been on Chrome for the longest time. Do you know anyone that lives in Wyoming? I don’t think so. Do you smoke cigarettes? Yes, starting this year lol. Which person you know has the most unique name? I’m sure I know more unique ones out there but the first names that came to mind are friends of mine named Bernadean, Jeuel (pronounced Jay-well), and Jabes. Oh and I also have an aunt named Marheedoll. Do you know someone that's missing a limb? I don’t think so, no. Do you have facial hair? I do not. Are you a bad person? Not when it comes down to it. I have my petty moments though. What was the last swear you said? I almost yelled the word puta in front of my dad earlier, but I slurred the word and made random noises to avoid saying the full thing haha so it kinda went like puuuuutehshahjskhf. Have you ever called the police on someone? No. What is the most amount of pets you've had at one time? Three – one dog and two birds. When did you last check your email? Last night. I wanted to check if I received any email from the college. Have you ever had a 3rd degree burn? Nope and that sounds so painful, I never want to sustain one. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? I haven’t. How long is your hair? Right now it reaches only my collarbones. I had it cut fairly recently, so it’s still on the shorter side. Do you lock your doors at night? The doors on the first floor. Does your bedroom have a lock? It does but my mom is such a big sissy about locks and says that “there’s nothing to hide/be private about” since we’re all relatives. She really shouldn’t have gotten a lock for my room if I wasn’t allowed to use it anyway... What do you have at your bedside? I have a rattan trunk that stores all my childhood knickknacks like board games and encyclopedias; then on the other side is a drawer with my home clothes and other knickknacks on the lower drawers. I got some hoarding tendencies from my grandma, so a lot of the stuff I keep in the drawer really has no reason behind my keeping them until today. How big is your bed? Not big at all, it’s just twin-sized. I am so investing on a big-ass bed when I have my own place. Do you know someone that was murdered? I didn’t know her personally but an alumna from my old school got stabbed to death. I don’t know the details but I think she got stabbed because she had gadgets on her, which makes you an easy target for criminals here. The only reason I know her is because my school would do tributes for her from time to time, so I really can’t tell you anything more other than she was stabbed. Do you know someone who's pregnant? I don’t think so. Do you wear a watch? Used to, but I kept losing them. What was your first pet? A pair of goldfish. How much jewelry do you own? Not a lot. The ones I do wear are technically my mom’s too; she just likes sharing them with me. What is the closest purple thing? Probably the ube halaya in the fridge. Green? A piece of Cooper’s toy. What time is it? It isssss 8:43 PM. What is your ideal profession? Lawyer. How tall are you? A little over 5 feet. Have you ever gotten x-rays? Probably once when I was a kid, then around two or three times before I started college. Do you wear gloves in the winter? I imagine I would but we don’t get winter. Do you consider yourself smart? Academic-wise, yep. I’m good at tests and memorizing and I generally enjoy reading educational content. Are you good at algebra? Yeah but I wanna keep it at algebra and geometry lol, I don’t have the patience for calculus and trig. What color eyes are the prettiest? I’ve always loved green/olive green eyes. Are your teeth straight? One of my front teeth protrudes a bit, but that’s all my fault because I lost my retainers back when I still had to use them. My teeth are otherwise fine. Do you like chocolate milk? LOVE IT Do you own a bike? We own a family bike and I’m free to use it, I just don’t because I don’t know how lmao Are you taller than your mom? No. I thought I’d grow taller than her because I had an intense growth spurt at one point, but it never happened. Have you ever been engaged? No. What, in your opinion, is the ugliest name? I’m not a fan of names that end in -leigh, but I don’t think they’re ugly names.

#survey #surveys

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