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revsforgottenwar · 1 year

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Hello! It’s me again! Do you have anymore context or lore behind that comic you made of Link in Majora’s Mask and the aftermath of it? I believe you called it Repetition. I love that comic sm ♥️

Hi again! 🥰 Thanks so much, it’s one of my favourites too 💕 I frequently abandon comics because I get lost in the dialogue so it worked in my favour for having none haha.

I certainly do! I find MM is a very important part of Link’s Journey especially in the context of this AU.

To understand the emotional turmoil behind this you need to take into consideration how Link viewed his status as hero. Despite the time skips, Link in OoT is a child the entire time. When he is an “adult” he certainly sees a lot of death and destruction which would be harrowing especially considering how sheltered he was in the Forest. But at the end of it all, time is reset and all of those deaths and bloodshed that he sees the aftermath of are erased.

OoT could be perceived in his eyes as a complete win. As a child, to be a hero would be a mantle he would have fully enjoyed, and at the end of it he certainly had saved the day, no one was hurt. (barring of course characters like the Deku Tree ect but even he is reborn).

Then Termina happens. Link enters this world and despite his starting predicament it immediately becomes clear this place needs a hero. It’s his duty and his nature to help.

One of the key mechanics of the game is that you CANNOT get all the masks and complete all the quests in a three day cycle. One of my favourite examples that i reflect on is that you cannot continue the Anju/Kafei quest if you save the old woman on the first night. You have to decide which one to complete and let the other essentially fail.

Link is the kind of person who believes he needs to save everyone, that is his purpose and sacred duty. So every time he helps someone, he soon discovers that someone else suffers because of his actions. As a result he constantly resets the timeline. Over the course of the resets he takes details notes of everyones movements (Bomber’s Club notebook). His goal is to find a way to save everyone. He HAS to.

With each reset he becomes more frantic. He keeps failing people, he sees the moon fall again and again and feels the fear and anguish of all the people of Termina.

He is not the hero he is supposed to be and something inside breaks. He cannot move on until he accepts the harsh reality of being a hero. That you cannot save everyone. You must make hard decisions and make sacrifices.

He saves as many as he can and the Skull Kids give him the Fierce Deity Mask for their final “game”.

I see this particular Mask as an equal to Majora. It’s got the word Deity in it’s name so I don’t believe it is something that should be wielded by a mortal without consequences. It turns Link into a cold weapon and he succeeds in stopping the moon. When it is all over he is left empty. Despite the fact he has saved the town he cannot erase from his mind the people he was forced to sacrifice for the greater good. Every being in the world has a life, has feelings, has worth.

Anju is the one who breaks through to him and convinces him to remove the Mask. It takes an incredible amount of strength for him to remove the it and causes him great pain. The magic of the mask leaves a painful burn scar around his jaw and face where the edges of the mask met his skin and the markings leave bloody scars. He has a permanent reminder of this power he wielded and the price that was paid.

In the aftermath of Termina when he returns to his world, he no longer sees himself as a hero. He cannot escape the failures of his role. He values the life and happiness of everything. Time passes and he rebrands himself purely as a wandering warrior as opposed to a hero (a word he now despises).

Apart from the physical scarring there are still mental ticks that stay with him which do get better as he recovers with Zelda. The overuse of the Ocarina of course breaks his ability to perceive time properly. No force of magic should ever be treated lightly or without respect (there will always be consequences). He frequently has flashbacks from across the ages and sometimes struggles to discern ‘when’ he is. He is also hyper vigilant. He can’t always help but take note of the movements of the town, trying to memorise every step and action. Of course because he isn’t resetting time it’s fruitless and exhausting. He is trying to make predictions out of chaos. And of course he can’t sleep on the full moon, he cannot help but stand in silent vigil incase the moon shall fall again.

At the end of it all the main thing i like to do with Majora is challenge the meaning of ‘hero’. Everyone has a different definition of it. Link enters the conflict with a purely fairytale view of it which isn’t realistic. He is seen as one by those around him who can see who he truely is and what he achieved.

I personally believe that a true hero never sees themselves as one. They are people who simply try to do the right thing and ask nothing in return. No matter the size of the conflict.

#loz mm #forgottenwar au #FWAUlore #god i love MM #rev's mailbox #thanks for the ask lovely 💕#i could write a thesis on this haha

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isaut · 9 months

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ophie this outfit made me insane i had to show it to you omg THE DRESSSSS 😩

gray i am salivating over this dress. the outfit. the sex in the city of it all. crossing a city street at night, hand in hand with your baby’s blazer draped over your shoulders. it rained through your dinner date but the skies cleared as soon as the bill was paid. you’re on the way to a speakeasy for the live music and gourmet cocktails. it’s not quite summer anymore, but it’s not quite fall yet. salivating.

#mailbox💌#this SPOKE to me omfgggggggg #made me think of my baby kuroro with the purse and the mystique of it all #idk much about tokyo rev but this def has those vibes #and the way the dress is a lil pulled down on one side…… SOMEONE needed a tiddy in their mouf

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captainreverie · 2 years

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Hey just passing by to reassure you that I'm not stalking you, I just love your art so much that I wanted to find more and more. The pirate AU is awesome and your OCs makes me crack up. I love them. Hope I didn't scare you too much, have a good day~

Hi there!! 💖💖💖 Thank you so much for your kind message!!

It always makes me so happy to hear that people are having fun with my crazy guys 💖 And I'm always so flattered when I see so much love in my activity feed and i can see people are exploring the series and having fun. I was not uncomfortable or scared at all!

I've been in a bit of an uncreative mood over the past two months but before i saw your message i had just been thinking about how it's almost Inktober and that I should do more Pirate! AU, cause it's always so fun and stupid and i miss my guys.

Thanks again lovely one, hope you have a wonderful day or a peaceful night's sleep 💕💕💕

#rev's mailbox #this put a really big smile on my face #thank you sweet one!

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satorisoup · 2 months

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thank u sm for tagging me in that one post my sweet moot 🫶🫶🫶 let’s share a macaroon

REV MY DARLING !! eeep of course of course :3 ID LOVE TO SHARE A MACARON WITH YOU !! >.<

literally us teehee <333

#i love macarons soso much YUM #and i love YOU !! teehee ur too sweet </333 #「✉︎」 — a trip to the mailbox .ᐟ #° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . — special delivery from rev .ᐟ

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saffronique · 11 months

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Was just struck by the overwhelming urge to rate Stormlight characters on their driving ability. I have no evidence I'm going off of vibes alone. Here they are in no particular order:

Dalinar- I think he's generally a fine driver now, though still prone to bouts of road rage when someone won't let him merge. Very bad driver in his youth. 5/10

Jasnah- I think she would be a shockingly bad driver. She seems like the kind of person that believes the rules of the road apply to everyone other than her. The type to run a red light because the meeting she's going to is important. Never uses her turn signals because if shes in the left lane it should be obvious shes making a left turn. Despite her lack of care she always arrives safely and without a ticket, somehow. Would fit right in in Northern Virginia. Also the worst backseat driver ever. 3/10

Sadeas- Good driver but employs bad practices. When traffic is heavy he uses the shoulder of the road as his own personal lane. Only person capable of surviving New York traffic. 6/10

Kaladin- Fantastic driver but kind of slow. Won't make a left turn unless there is literally no other car on the road. Always follows the speed limit and uses his turn indicators. Also the type to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up and let him drive when he's in heavy traffic. 8/10

Syl- Cannot be allowed to drive under any circumstances. Bridge 4 let her drive once and she backed the car into a mailbox. 0/10

Shallan- Shes a bad driver but better than Jasnah. Her following distance is atrocious and she frequently rear ends people, but she does at least try to follow the rules of the road. 4/10

Veil- Worse than Shallan but says she's better. Will take a turn at 60 to try and make the car drift. 2/10

Radiant- Fantastic driver who follows the ruled perfectly. Not great at responding to unexpected situations though. 8/10

Venli- Drives like a psychopath. Weaves in and out of lanes to get there 30 seconds faster. If traffic is bad she will dead ass make a U turn in the middle of the road over a double yellow to leave. 1/10

Rock- Great driver, but hates driving. Not much more to say. 8/10

Sigzil- Best driver in bridge 4, only slightly held back by the fact that he knows every obscure rule and expects everyone else driving does also. 9/10

Moash- Believes the rules of the road are stupid and there to hold him back. The kind of guy who will not let you merge in front of him like his life depends on it. Would go 100 in a school zone for fun. 2/10

The Lopen- The guy that tells you he's a great driver but starts playing pokemon go while behind the wheel because he can absolutely do both. 4/10

Szeth- Mediocre driver prone to shocking episodes of road rage. The kind of guy who would slam the brakes to make the car behind him rear end him out of spite if they were following too close. 5/10

Navani- Fantastic driver. Always has the newest lane correcting tech and such installed on her vehicle. 10/10

Adolin- Cannot stay focused on the road. Type of guy who will look over his shoulder for like 15 seconds to carry on a conversation until Shallan yells at him to look at the road. Horrible speeder. Usually manages to avoid crashing though. 3/10

Wit- Shockingly competent driver. I mean he had all that experience with Wax, so... 10/10

Gavilar- The kind of douche who lifts his truck and has his mufflers removed so he can rev his obnoxious engine whole going through neighborhoods. 1/10

Renarin- He's a good driver in small towns and on winding, narrow country roads, but cannot handle big city traffic. Luckily he knows and readily admits this. 7/10

BONUS:

Rlain- I feel like he's just a typical good driver. Follows the rules as best he can, goes a few miles over the speed limit on the freeway, but nothing crazy. 8/10

Kelsier- It's a miracle he's survived this long with the way he drives. He would make a left on red without hesitation. Vin screamed the first time she rode with him. 1/10

#stormlight archive #kaladin stormblessed #cosmere #the stormlight archive #stormlight #adolin kholin #dalinar kholin #torol sadeas #navani kholin #renarin kholin #shallan davar #kelsier

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enviedear · 6 months

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nervous neighbor ⟶ ben solo

description ⌙ you're back at home from university, living with your parents for the summer because it's cheaper than trying to pay for an apartment while on a student's salary. but after you meet the new neighbor's son, ben solo, you're not so sure it's worth it.

pairing ⌙ neighbor!ben solo x f!reader

warnings ⌙ inebriated reader & ben, they're smoking weed and being petty together, mean!ben because when do i not make him a bit mean, ben jokingly attempts to solicit reader, reader has a blatant sort of fascination with ben, ben has severe blatant yearning for reader, reader is described to need a belt to wear ben's pants (don't question me it comes up), some high kisses (they're so fun oops), somewhat getting caught, tiny little bitty cliffhanger, ben's personality is totally based off this brent faiyaz song lmao

word count ⌙ 3.5k

— request (frl especially for ben/kylo) | masterlist

i love the idea of neighbor!ben so ofc i had to put my thoughts into a little fic! if anyone is interested... i wouldn't be mad at making this a series. i love neighbor!ben!

the sun is low in the sky, casting a warm and appreciated golden glow on the world around you. you revel in the sanctity of the suburban environment as you step outside your front door. the rays burn into your exposed shoulders, spaghetti straps lightly digging into the skin.

the fragrant scent of freshly cut grass hangs heavy in the air, leaving an earthy flavor in your mouth. you pull at the hem of your shorts, feeling the soft fabric brush against your exposed thighs as you make your way to the black mailbox straight ahead.

you flip through bills and junk mail, all in your parent's name for a minute before you hear the unmistakable rev of a car engine approaching. the engine seems to purr the closer it gets, and you're all too familiar with the sound. you feel glued to your spot as it approaches.

soon enough, ben solo's sleek aston martin swerves into his driveway, coming to a stop just a few feet away from his closed garage door. you watch as he gets out of the car, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, and meets your gaze with his severe brown eyes.

there’s something about the way he looks at you that causes your heart to race. the sensation is unwanted or, at least, you tell yourself it is.

he looks like he always does; clad in dress pants and a pristine button-up, face etched with subtle haughtiness, and pink lips curved into a deliciously heretical grin. the previous sanctity you felt dissipates as his stare beats down on you, hotter and more all-consuming than the sun above.

"neighbor." he anoints, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "how much allowance are mommy and daddy giving you for checking their mail?"

"very funny," you retort, eyes rolling, "maybe they're drawing from the same funds your parents did when they bought you that ridiculous car."

you liked playing this game with ben. where he attempts to seem as if he's got something over you, some unspoken win. as if you're not both twenty-somethings still living with your parents.

he does have an actual retirement plan type job though, so, perhaps, he has you beat in some areas.

he works full-time, a fact you learned after dinner with your parents and his. brought up by your parents so they could dote on him— effectively buttering up han and leia further. the ass-kissing earned the family privileges to their in-ground pool though.

he's pretty prestigious, unfortunately. ben organa-solo, the youngest associate at his legal firm. he apparently had over forty offers of employment before he ever even looked at the bar exam.

he's doing well, sure— but the sheer fact that he still lives with his parents is enough to quell your nuanced jealousy. somewhat.

"my db-nine can never be called ridiculous. do you know the specs on this car?" he taunts, opting to lean against his aforementioned car.

you begin to turn away from him, not willing to go into a conversation regarding his stupidly expensive automobile. you can feel your ears warming as you try to ignore him, but ben is relentless, as usual, "you know, you really should relax a little, i'm only joking, kid.."

"excuse me?" you snap, fronting him again and crossing your arms defensively, "i am plenty relaxed, solo. thank you very much."

in truth, you haven't been relaxed or even casual since the organa-solo's moved in eight months ago. wealthy and recently retired, leia and han are amusing, charming, and almost constantly travelling.

the pair managed to befriend your parents the second they moved in. bringing over a plate of brownies, the duo easily meshed with your parents, making for countless dinners, conversations, and visits between the two homes.

the opposite can be said for ben and you. when you finally met him, a few weeks after his parents moved in, it was because he was yelling at your dog for 'purposely' pissing on one of his tires. since then, you haven't exactly seen eye to eye.

"mhm, of course," he drawls sarcastically, "that's why you're always so wound up,” he’s smirking now, "you ever thought about smoking a joint or something? might help you chill out."

"really?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow, "that's your solution? drugs?" you choose to ignore his quip about you being tightly wound. as if he's not— you've seen him after work, he always looks tense, shoulders tight. at the recollection of his job title makes you almost comment on his choice of illegal activity, but you stop yourself.

maybe this was his vice after hours of listening to legal jargon?

"i'm just offering a suggestion. i've got pot and an empty house." his voice is biting, holding his hands up defensively, "take it or leave it, kid."

your mind is wrought with confusion over his words. in the few months you’ve known him, you would have never thought he’d be suggesting what he is.

ben solo, who drives an aston martin, only wears button-ups or suits, and is always willing to make you look or feel idiotic, is trying to convince you to smoke pot with him.

you worry for a brief second if you’re deluded.

you would have never suspected the famed judiciary to unwind in such a way.

no, your first guess would have been whiskey, or maybe something a bit more scandalized and indecent. you try to shake that idea out of your head.

"fine," you blurt it out before you can stop yourself, surprising both you and the arrogant figure in front of you.

"seriously?" ben questions, his eyes widening in apprehension. "you're actually going to do it?"

"yeah, solo," you shrug, drawing out the first word, trying to sound more resolved than you feel, "nothing i haven’t done before."

"okay, cheech," he mutters, grinning wickedly, "let me smoke you out."

you follow him into his house, heart pounding in your chest. you're familiar with the layout— almost identical to your own home, only nicer. everything is nicer.

the air inside is cool and smells faintly of lavender, mixed with something decadent you can’t quite place. glancing around the space, you take it all in. it feels different now that you're alone with ben. less homey and more belly of the beast.

there are windows everywhere, letting in an abundance of natural light despite the evident tint. the furniture is modern and obviously hand-picked though comfortable and no doubt, expensive.

you try to make yourself cozy on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. ben disappears for a moment and returns with a tray, a red grinder, a lighter, and a baggie of green herbs.

your hands go clammy as you watch him grind it down. you try to wipe them on your pants, hoping he doesn’t notice.

he doesn’t seem to, instead beginning to roll a joint, packing the herb down with his thumb. his movements, precise and hypnotic. he's defiling all previous conclusions you had of him. he’s sure, magnetic, and undeniably confusing.

“ready?” he asks, holding the rolled paper out to you. you nod, and he lights up the twisted end, inhaling deeply before passing it over to you.

you place the joint to your lips, feeling the warmth of the light spark grazing your fingers. the earthy plant kindles with a soft crackle, and you inhale deeply. smoke fills your lungs, coiling inside you.

the cloudy smoke immediately hits your entire sinus system, choking you on its descent down.

you cough and ben laughs, “shit, take it slow, kid.” he huffs, before handing you a tepid water bottle, no question he figured you'd wind up coughing a lung.

you drink gratefully, feeling the water cleanse your burning throat. you look at ben, who’s watching you intently.

your eyes are watery and slightly hazy, but ben has never look better. eyes red and low, posture easy with one arm behind his head, and faint pink flush.

“what?” you ask, self-conscious. the room seems to swirl around as ben sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body.

"nothing, neighbor," his stare is mocking, "do you feel relaxed yet?" he asks with a smirk.

you give him a meager thumbs-up, suddenly lightheaded and giggly. your thoughts are wondering to ben's pretty lips, but your mouth remains whetted and silent. adorning thoughts remaining within your capricious mind.

the tension in your body melts away, and you lean back against the couch cushions, letting out a deep sigh. ben's hand brushes against yours to steal the joint away, and you feel the heat of his touch all the way to your toes. it's as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, and nothing else exists.

“are you cold?” he asks, taking a drag, dress shirt sleeves rolled up, leaving his arms on full display.

you look at him, bewildered for a second, and he continues with an eye roll, “you’re shivering.”

looking down at your body, you note that you indeed are. either from the weed or the proximity you have to your novel neighbor.

with a gentle breath, you reply, “i guess.”

he holds the joint with his lips as he stands to look down at you, “c’mon i’ve got blankets in my room.”

you look up at him, unsure of what to say, but find yourself bobbing in agreement. you follow him upstairs, the both of you languid in reaching the destination. when you do finally get to his room, you note the array of muted jewel tones and dim light, different than the rest of the house.

ben keeps his blinds partially closed and curtains that mostly fall in front of them. his bed is huge, pristine white sheets and an inviting navy bedspread.

you watch as he pulls out a thick woolen blanket from his closet and spreads it over your shoulders. you feel the weight of it settle over you, cocooning you in warmth.

"better?" he asks, voice low.

you nod again, feeling the hazy ardor of the drug swimming through your body. everything feels fuzzy, and for the first time you don't feel so out of place with ben.

he takes a seat beside you on his all too comfortable bed, the aroma of his pomelo-scented cologne filling your senses. you discern it's probably dangerous in some way to be alone with ben like this, but you can't seem to bring yourself to care or reason why.

you let yourself peer into his large and expansive open closet. clothes, mostly suits and dress shirts, hang neatly on identical black hangars. he's tidy. the fact feels unmistakable, and you think you should already know just by the way he carries himself.

ben's voice interrupts your absent mind, "anything you like?"

you look back at him, leaning up against the headboard of his bed, joint billowing smoke from its rested position in his fingers. he looks less severe like this, less perfect, more mortal.

you're certain the drug has taken effect now because when you move to get closer to him, it feels as if you're floating.

you take the joint from him, stealing another hit before replying, "you just have a lot of suits. i wonder if you own anything besides them. i've never seen you in anything but."

"is this one of your long-winded jokes?" he briefly closes his eyes, but you can see them roll through his lids, "because if so, i'll kick you out. i won't hesitate to send you back to your house, neighbor."

snorting, you take yet another hit of the joint, "i did see something i liked, actually." you confess, your drugged mind deciding to be just a bit genuine.

he hums, "really? i've never seen you in a suit, or anything formal."

the sentence sounds stupid coming out of ben's mouth, but you chalk it up to his tipsy state, "maybe you will. one day."

your reply sounds equally as dumb, but you feel good, and you're actually having a conversation with ben. one that doesn't involve him undermining you or snickering at what you're saying.

"really? wanna try mine on? for practice." ben is smirking, eyes narrow, searing, and bloodshot.

you give him a ditzy look, joint still dangling from your fingers, "whatever, solo."

ben lets out a genuine giggle at that, and in your inebriated state, you smile at the sound. his dimples are on full display as he leans further into his cushioned headboard, eyes glazed and focused purely at you, "i'll pay, if you do."

his face is gentle, almost winsome, but the words that tumble out of his mouth sound murky— riddled with a slight hint of hunger. for what exactly? you're not sure.

your lips contort into a frown before you reply, "you'll pay me to put on your clothes? god, ben how much did you smoke?"

you mean for your words to come off as a joke, easy and light. instead, it comes out as timid and shy. you'd normally feel a tinge of embarrassment but either the drug or ben's starved stare makes the would-be feeling detach from your mind.

"enough." he shrugs, answering your rhetorical question, "i've got five hundred in my wallet right now," he pauses, leaning over to you and grabbing the joint, fingers brushing against yours, "and i want a show."

your mind seems to blank for a second, leaving you to blink your dry, red eyes in front of him. when the small wave of shock subdues, you reply, "i don't know how to give you a show."

ben shakes his head slightly, his eyes still set on yours, “yeah you do. swear it's not hard, kid.”

“says you,” you giggle, “but i’ll try on your clothes. for the money.”

he breathes in, contented, “for the money.”

without much more thought, you rise from his plush bed and make way for the closet. it's big enough to be another room, a stark contrast from your own closet, and it smells of his citrusy cologne merged with the lavender scent throughout the home. you find it comforting.

you look back over your shoulder, ben's watching you intently from his seated position, "what should i start with, solo?"

he hums before replying, "your pick, neighbor. what's mine is yours."

you can't help the dorky smile that graces your lips at his sentiment, even though you know he's being flippant. you hastily turn away from him, hiding your weak-willed reaction.

taking a deep breath, you begin to rummage through his wardrobe. your fingers brush against the luxurious fabric of his suits before settling on a satin black button-up that looks silky smooth to the touch.

you grab it and turn around to face ben, who's now standing and walking towards you, his eyes fixed on the shirt in your hand.

"that's a good choice," he says, his voice low and husky, "you'll look better in it than i do."

you roll your eyes at his comment but can't help the warmth that shoots through your body at his words. you quickly slip it over your cropped tank, eager to see it on.

as you're buttoning it up, you feel his swarthy eyes on you, watching your every move. you can't help but feel giddy with his ardent gaze and your own euphoric state of mind.

as you finish up the last button, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the ornate mirror hung upon one of the closet walls. you look decadent in his pompous shirt.

the feeling of contentment that washes over you is startling.

it's a beautiful cut of fabric, but it's the way it represents the achieved man behind you that has you stalling. you notice ben's breath hitch as he takes in the sight of you.

"i was right. it looks much better on you." he says, his voice rough.

you grin at him, feeling a newfound confidence wash over you, "is that right, solo?" you question, your demeanor one of leisure.

without warning, ben steps forward, right hand coming to rest on your shoulder as he leans down to you, "here," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "you missed the first button."

his fingers dance at your chest, fastening the skipped button. you fight a smile at the act, keening at his rash action. high ben is certainly less sardonic than sober ben, finding a nice middle ground at graceful teasing.

"you pick the pants, and grab a belt so that they'll fit." you smile.

he hums, pulling away and trifling through his clothes. his nimble fingers card through various pairs of slacks, settling on a matching black pair.

he turns on his heels, facing you. he raises his brows, a silent request for you to take the pants. when you do, his hands begin to fumble with his belt.

your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, "what are you doing?"

"i want you to wear this one. just let me play dress up with you, doll." his black locks are falling into his eyes.

you huff out a weak chuckle, focused on his action and new endearment. when the belts slides away from him, you notice the way his slacks droop slightly.

with a curt and nervous smile, you slide up the dark pants, fitting his belt around your hips afterward.

you study yourself in the mirror, opting to tuck the shirt into the pants messily— an attempt to somewhat display your waist.

ben comes up behind you, hands resting on your shoulders, humming into the top of your head, "i quite like you this way. ever thought about getting an office job for me?"

you give him a sarcastic pout, "for you?"

he smiles, canines showing, "yeah, doll, just for me."

you're dizzy at his words, "yeah, then who'd watch my parent's house all day? it's a full-time job being a stay-at-home daughter, you know."

ben groans a bit at your words, "that makes you sound like a little brat, you know." he drawls out the last two words, mocking.

you smirk, facing him now, lips becoming level with his when he leans down to stare into your eyes, "my mom calls me a brat sometimes. she says i'm never going to find someone acting like one," you pause for a beat, "d'you agree, ben?"

at the emphasis of his first name he sighs and lets his hands fall to your waist, "i agree that you're a fuckin' brat," he cranes his head closer, breath brushing against your lips, "but i don't think i mind very much."

your eyes flutter against your better judgment, and ben takes an evident note of the fact. his hands tighten at your waist, fingers digging in possessively. you feel a beat of caution before it flies away from your resolution. you press forward just as he does the same, lips meeting in a slow, heady, absolutely exalting kiss.

ben's fingers dig into you, timidly pulling you further into him. you crumble at his touch, hands fisting into his hair as he deepens the kiss further. he tastes of sweet honey and sunlight that fills you with warmth and affection.

you're both weakly fighting for more— an incessant craving for each other that quickly overtakes your common sense. the looming man continues to cast an unbreakable spell with each aching kiss as his gentle hands caress every inch of exposed skin on your body.

you let his hands fumble with the buttons of the borrowed shirt, slowly slipping it away from you. it brushes past your shoulders, and ben breaks the hungry kisses to trail sloppy ones on your exposed neck.

you're lost in the feeling of him— all-consuming. neither one of you willing to be pulled back to reality— but eventually you both have to break away from one another with heavy breaths and flushed cheeks. ben looks down at you with an amused grin on his face before planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

you hum and he mutters against you, "you like that? hm?"

"duh," you steal a glance up, "feels s'nice." there's a stupid grin stuck to your face.

"you taste so good, doll," he places a teasing kiss at the dip at the bottom of your neck, "and your lips are so fucking soft."

you give him a questioning look, lips upturned, "really? sounds wild coming from the same man that just called me a brat."

he hums darkly, "you being a brat," he places another kiss to your exposed neck, "just makes this little game of ours more interesting," one of his hands lifts your chin, pulling you closer, "c'mere, kid."

his lips are back on yours, less languid and with much more fervor. you feel so full in his arms. divinely entangled in the coveted luxury of ben organa-solo.

suddenly, you hear commotion from downstairs, drugged mind abruptly anxious.

"what's that?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

ben growls, "fuck— i'm sorry doll, i think my parents are home." you catch the faint flush on his cheeks.

you bite your lip, concerned, "but... i'm high. and wearing your clothes."

ben is about to say something else when the deep baritone of han solo's voice booms from behind his closed bedroom door, "come on out, son. the neighbor's are over for dinner. their daughter should be here soon," han's voice drops a bit, "and try to ease up on the flirting this time, okay?"

you stifle an uninhibited giggle, earning a glare from ben.

"yeah, sure. just let me get out of my work clothes," he peers down at you, eyes wicked, "don't want them to think it's all i own."

your eyes widen at his subtle dig, and he seems to revel in your amusement.

han grumbles something back before leaving. your breathing is erratic for a good few seconds. ben's hands remain on you, gentle grin on his lips.

"you heard the man. dinner." his voice is low, and you fight the urge to pull him into another kiss. the thought of more than kissing weighing heavily on your stoned mind.

your reply knocks the smile off of his face, "how are you going to explain the fact i'm already with you and high off my ass?"

he groans, head falling into the crook of your neck, "shit."

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reverie-starlight · 4 months

Note

REVVV BOKUTO AND IWA U GET ME 😭😭🩷🩷 like they're so different but also the same in that i need to squish their face and be hugged and squeezed and?@,×?2&@^ ohh and the thing abt iwa knowing exactly how u like it... urgh... imagining him in attempts of subtlety awkwardly asking ur friends for dishes u like instead of u (he's embarrassed when u tell him they told u)... being soo nervous the first few times he cooks for u bc what if it's awful and relying on recipes online vs months later when he could write the recipe himself specially adjusted for ur tastes. somebody needs to knock me out rn i cantrbeahrhe

nia this is beautiful 😭😭

AND NOW I RAISE YOU: Bokuto getting super enthusiastic about trying all your favourite dishes and they all turn out horrible AND HE’S SO SAD!!!!

but you eat them all anyway bc you know he just tried so hard and you just want to see him happy again 🥲

but he’s so determined to get it right so you teach him how you do it and now he can make all your favourite meals perfectly to your taste???? his sisters are shocked bc I feel like he has a history of not being great in the kitchen before meeting you. like sufficient and decent but not amazing yk??

anyway that’s my silly little addition 😋

boys who luv u and want to make things perfect for u <3

#rev’s mailbox #character talks #this was perfection in every possible form #rev’s mutuals #if you LUV it then you shoulda put a RING on it <3

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kisakis-boyfriend · 4 months

Note

imagine threesome w bonten!sanzu and bonten!manjiro (not in a ship way ion fw that ship but if you do then go for it).

gun kink would go crazy 😧😧

PLEASE this has my mind running wild with thoughts 🥴

Oh, to have your boss/superiors on their knees completely at your mercy. Both of them get off to being ordered around so forcibly, a slave to your every command. Mikey nearly cums when you yank him around by his hair and shove the gun in his face. Sanzu can't stop the moan that escapes when you hold him by the back of his neck and force him to look you in the eye while you rub the gun on his dick

Maybe, while you're railing Sanzu, you make him suck Mikey off. Press the gun against the back of his head to keep Mikey's dick deep in Sanzu's throat. Perhaps you'll make them fight over who earns the privilege of deepthroating your gun? Sanzu is so torn, because he wants to be your little dollie with a gun fucking his pretty mouth, but he also wants Mikey to get that same pleasure too 😓

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emp-blast · 1 year

Note

Consimder,, Revenant and Zenyatta 🫣

oh??? OH!!?!?!

i am CONSIDERING,,,,

zen has SO much patience and would no doubt try to fix rev 😭

on the other hand tho zen can be silly and a bit sarcastic at times and that would throw rev in a lopp jdjdjsj

overall i think they would have a fun dynamic

#mailbox #tbh i think it would be better if they were friends #like zen just holding rev's hand and pulling him along everywhere #zen: 'everyone this is rev. rev this everyone'#rev: *immediately threatens to kill them*#zen: 'remember what i taught you'#rev: 'UGH fine... hello'#zen: *happy noises ^^*

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revsforgottenwar · 1 year

Note

Hello again! Just wanted to let you know that I came back to your blog to hype myself up for the new Zelda game and it’s working! I’m very excited for the new game and for more of your Zelda art ♥️

omg i'm so flattered 😍 💕

I managed to squeeze in 2 hrs before work and then spent my shift just consumed by musing about lore and where this game is going to go. Especially cause the most recent writing i've been working on is to do with the AU mythology so I don't know how much of the new stuff I'm going to add in. Especially since with BoTW I only really updated the AU with the geography. I don't really want to go the direction of the fantasy technology that's a big part of these games.

A heads up that any art related strictly to TotK with be posted on main not here so as not to confuse the archive lore.

Anyway we shall see what happens! It's not like I haven't been updating this AU for each new (olderLink timeline) game for over a decade 😂

Have a lovely night or day lovely 💕

#forgottenwar au #fwaulore #rev's mailbox

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isabellavolere · 1 year

Text

Transformers Prime—Part 5: Victories Short-Lived

Masterlist

<-Previous Part

Next Part->

Vroom, vrooom! You groggily wake up, lifting an eye as you hear a car revving its engine. You roll onto your side and try to go back to sleep when you hear the car rev again, this time a little bit louder than before.

What idiot’s revving his car engine on a Saturday morning? What a jerk.

All of a sudden you bolt upright as you realize the car engine belongs to Cliffjumper. Getting out of bed, you jog to the front of your house and open the front door, leaning out of the door frame. To your astonishment, Cliffjumper is parked in the driveway, headlights flashing in greeting.

“Are you crazy?” You ask in a hushed tone. “What are you doing parked in the driveway? If my parents catch you they will go crazy!”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Cliffjumper sarcastically. “Don’t worry, your parents left about an hour ago.”

You frown and step outside, closing the door behind you. Walking over to Cliffjumper you say

“Well I’m glad your loud engine didn’t wake them up like it did for me. Do you know where they went?”

“No idea. Besides, I was getting bored sitting in your driveway so I decided to wake you up. We can head to the base and watch cartoons,” says Cliffjumper excitedly. “Wait, do you even like cartoons?” He asks.

You shrug one of your shoulders and reply, “I don’t mind them.”

“Great, let's get going. But maybe change out of your pajamas first.”

You look down at your black tank top and knee length plaid shorts and grin sheepishly.

“Yeah maybe. Be back in a flash!” You say and race back inside.

You put on a vintage Star Wars shirt and denim jean shorts, brush through your hair, put it in a ponytail, and then tie your f/c bandana around your forehead.

After a quick once over in the mirror you slip on some shoes and walk back outside. As you walk back to Cliffjumper you can hear the hum of a motor and are surprised to see Arcee pull into your driveway with Jack straddled on top. He’s wearing a white motorcycle helmet with a tinted visor that he quickly takes off as he dismounts, tucking it away before walking over to you.

“Good morning Jack. What brings you two here?” You ask, curious as to how he and Arcee found your house.

“Morning y/n. Me and Arcee were just out for a little drive and uh, thought we’d see if you guys were still here,” he said, glancing back to Arcee.

“Out for a little drive huh?” Asks Cliffjumper.

“We were just heading back to base,” says Arcee.

“Wanna race?” You turn to Jack and say mischievously.

“Oh, bring it!” Says Jack, turning to grab his helmet.

You walk over to Cliffjumper and hop in the passenger seat.

“A race, huh?” Cliffjumper asks as he backs out of the driveway.

“Oh come on, a 1969 Dodge Challenger like you can go from 0-60 in 5.2 seconds, you can totally smoke them!” You say enthusiastically.

“Well I know that,” Cliffjumper laughs as he lines up with your house’s rusty mailbox.

Arcee and Jack pull up to the right of you and you roll down the window.

“Ready to lose, Jack?” You ask in a teasing voice.

“You wish,” comes Jack's reply, muffled slightly by the helmet.

You smirk and roll up the window, getting ready for the race.

“On your marks, get set, GO!” Yells Arcee, and both her and Cliffjumper shoot off, wheels screeching.

The force of the acceleration pushes you backward and you whoop loudly as cacti and other landscape rushes past you. Arcee was fast, you had to give her that, but as you watch, Cliffjumper slowly begins creeping up on her. You lean over and watch the line on the speedometer go up and up, marking 60 mph, 70, 80. You were going faster and faster and soon enough, you were in the lead. The speedometer now marks 92 mph and the desert is only a blur as you hurtle down the road. Looking in the rear view mirror, you grin as you see Arcee and Jack a few inches behind Cliffjumpers’ bumper.

“You know, for a two wheeler Arcees’ not doing too bad, huh?” Says Cliffjumper, and you can practically see the smirk on his face.

“Yeah, but if she really wasn’t doing too bad she wouldn’t be behind us,” you tease.

Cliffjumper lets out a boisterous laugh and says “That’s true. How fast are we going anyway?”

You look down at the speedometer and reply “Cruising at 107. Not bad for a muscle car!”

Cliffjumper laughs again and says “No, not bad at all.”

A large mesa towers over the car and you recognize it as the one the Autobot base is hidden in. Cliffjumper slows down and drives through the tunnel. The thrill of the race catches up to you and you can’t help but beam as Cliffjumper parks and lets you out, transforming after you’re out. You walk over to Jack and was about to tease him about losing when Optimus walks over and says “Autobots, prepare to…” but doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Roll out?” Guesses Arcee.

“Remain here. Ratchet, Cliffjumper, you’ll come with me. Arcee, we’ll be outside of communication range for some time so I’m putting you in charge,” says Optimus.

“Aww,” you whine quietly, frowning up at Cliffjumper. “Our victory is cut short and Optimus snatches you for a mission. Not fair.”

“I know, right? Now we can’t rub our success in their faces.”

You snicker as he grins and winks at you.

“Tell you what kid, when I get back we can do a victory lap around the base, sound good?”

“Deal. Make it a quick mission, ok Cliff?” You smile.

Cliffjumper smiles slightly but drops when Optimus calls for him.

“I’ll see what I can do, y/n.”

He walks over to Optimus and looks back at you once more before transforming and driving through the groundbridge behind Optimus. A moment of silence fills the base as the last lights of the portal dim.

“Ok, so, what’s on the activities list?” Asks Jack, turning to Arcee.

“I’m going on patrol,” she says in a bored voice.

“But Optimus told us to stay,” Bulkhead says.

“When you’re in charge you can call the shots,” replies Arcee. “Bee, with me! Bulkhead, you’re in charge.”

With that, Arcee and Bumblebee transform and race down the tunnel, leaving you, Jack, Miko, Raf, and Bulkhead.

“And then there were five,” you mutter under your breath.

“So, um, what’s on the activity list?” Bulkhead asks.

“How about band practice?” Miko offers and you turn to her, watching as she begins hooking up a black electric guitar to a Fender amplifier.

“But we’re not a band,” points out Raf.

“Why so antisocial? Come on Raf, do you play anything?” She asks enthusiastically.

“Um, keyboard?” He says, lifting up his computer.

“Laptops and samples, good! Jack?” She turns a hopeful face to Jack.

Rubbing a hand on his neck, Jack says “I, uh, sometimes mess around on the harmonica.”

“Do I look like I do country?” Asks Miko in a condescending tone. Almost desperately, Miko looks to you. “Please tell me you play something. Guitar, drums, anything?!”

“Weelll, I-I play the flute. And the violin…aand the piano. A bit.” You give her a small smile, somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

Miko signs dramatically and raises her arms. “Well maybe you and Jack can start a bluegrass band. For now, just cover yourselves in fake blood and jump around screaming.”

You share a look with Jack and shrug. Just then Miko starts strumming her guitar and a loud song blares out of her amplifier. You cover your ears, mirroring the other kids, but it does no good. Over the music you notice green flashing lights coming from the computer monitors, signaling an alarm going off. Bulkhead seems to notice the alarm too because he waves at Miko to stop.

“Oh come on!” She whines. “You can’t handle raw power?”

“Proximity sensor. Quick, hide!” Exclaims Bulkhead.

You rush to the same binding spot under the railing as the day before, and just in time, because Agent Fowler wastes no time in walking briskly into the base. Just as he walks in, you notice Mikos’ amplifier is still hooked up to her guitar, which she is still holding.

Crap! I sure hope Agent Fowler doesn’t notice the wire coming from behind Bulkhead. What’s he yelling at Bulkhead about? Something in Nebraska? Maybe he’s too busy with Bulkhead to notice…yeah probably not.

“So,” Agent Fowler concludes. “You tell Prime that-since when are you bots electric?”

Dang it.

“Uhh…” Bulkhead looks from you and back to Agent Fowler.

“What do we do?” You whisper shout to Jack, who grimaces and slides past you.

“Hey. How are you doing?” He asks.

You roll your eyes, but since you have no other idea, follow the other kids. To say Agent Fowler looked bothered by the fact that four teenagers just stepped in front of him was an understatement.

“Contact with civilians! Team Prime has really gone off the rules with this one. No, don't tell me, you're running a daycare!”

Bulkhead looks flustered and if bots could blush, you were sure he would be bright red. But with quick thinking, Jack makes up an excuse.

“We’re interns,” he begins.

“Student interns!” Raf adds.

“Earning extra credit in auto…” Jack trails off, unsure of what to say.

“Mechanics.”

“Robotics.”

You look to Miko and then quickly back to the agent, trying to recover the mistake.

“It’s both, cause you know, they’re cars and robots so we came here to study them for extra credit…so um…”

The look Agent Fowler sends you tints your cheeks pink, but you firmly meet his stare.

“Ok, let’s move. I’m taking you all into federal custody for your own protection,” he says, walking down the stairs towards you.

Bulkhead steps in front of you and the other kids, firmly saying “We are protecting them.”

“Is that so? Well, maybe you can explain that to my superiors at the Pentagon,” says Agent Fowler, angrily punching numbers on a telephone hanging by the stairs.

“Don’t use that phone! It’s…out of order,” says Bulkhead quickly, crushing the phone with one of his large fingers.

Agent Fowler looks up at Bulkhead, and you can feel the anger practically radiating off of him.

“This isn’t over, Bigfoot! Not by a long shot!”

Agent Fowler turns around and stomps up the stairs. He stalks into the elevator, turns around, and jabs the button. The elevator door closes with a dull thud, and after a moment of silence you let out a breath, blowing stray hairs out of your face.

“Well, I don’t think that could have gone any worse,” you say.

Jack lets out a nervous laugh and Miko turns to you saying, “Did you see the look on his face when Bulkhead crushed that phone? That was awesome!”

“I have a feeling that’s not the last we’re hearing of Agent Fowler,” Raf says.

“Maybe not, but for now we don’t have to worry about him,” you say, climbing up the rusty yellow ladder that leads to the large computers.

You sit down in one of the chairs, replaying the last few moments in your head.

Agent Fowler backed off pretty quickly to Bulkhead. For a guy who puts on this ‘tough guy’ act, he doesn’t seem to want to pick a fight with the Autobots. Interesting.

You log on to one of the human sized computers, hoping to see where Cliffjumper, Optimus, and Ratchet are. You turn around when you hear the other kids climb the stairs and head to the tv, Miko tuning it on and lazily flipping through stations until she finds an interesting one. You sign and shake your head as Miko and Jack begin to argue about the station, turning back to the computer.

All is quiet for a few moments before an alarm blares through the base and the computer screen flashes brightly in your face. You cover your ears with your hand, but it does little to muffle the sound.

“My ears!” Whines Raf, or at least that’s what you think he said.

“It’s an S.O.S. From Fowler,” comments Bulkhead, pulling up the alarm on one of the computer monitors.

“Did you trace it?” Asks Raf.

“Hm, location scan incomplete. Oh well,” says Bulkhead, shrugging.

“Oh well?” Asks Jack incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Fowler’s a jerk!” Retorts Bulkhead.

“Whether you like the guy or not, the Decepticons may have him!”

“Jack’s right,” you say, frowning. “And Agent Fowler knows the location of the Autobot base. If the Decepticons interrogate him, I bet they’ll make him talk.”

“Yeah, y/n has a point. I mean, didn’t we all see how fast Fowler backs down from a bot? The Decepticons will totally make him squeal!” Adds Miko.

“But we lost the transmission. Fowler could be anywhere,” says Bulkhead.

“Maybe I can narrow it down.” Says Raf as he sits in a chair next to you.

He grabs a laptop from his backpack and types furiously while explaining, “About five years ago, the government started microchipping their agents. You know, like owners do with pets.”

“Raf’s right. That’s what they had to do to my dad when he joined the army,” you say, watching Raf’s laptop screen. Jack and Miko look from you to Raf with confused and slightly concerned expressions on their faces.

“What? I saw it on tv,” defends Raf. “Anyway, if I can hack into the Fed’s mainframe, maybe I can pinpoint Fowler's coordinates.”

“You know how to hack? But you’re like, two years old!” Exclaims Miko.

“Twelve,” corrects Raf. “And a quarter!”

“Hmm, if you work on that, I can try logging into the mainframe,” you say, sitting at one of the computers. “If I can find the transmission from Agent Fowler, I can access the last coordinates transmitted from his helicopter.”

“You too?” Asks Miko, throwing up her hands.

Raf looks up at you and you meet his gaze, intrigue flicking through his eyes before you turn back to your work.

A few minutes later you pump your fist in the air triumphantly as you call out “I got it! Latitude 39.5 degrees north, 116.9 degrees west.”

“Ok, wait here,” says Bulkhead, already typing the coordinates into the groundbridge.

“Aww, don’t break up the band!” Wines Miko.

“Uh, Jack, you’re in charge,” says Bulkhead, ignoring Miko.

He rushes through the groundbridge, leaving us alone.

“And then there were four,” you say dully.

“I guess we have the run of the place,” shrugs Jack.

“I guess so. Hey Miko, do you-Miko? Miko!”

You scan the base but don’t see her. Looking again, your eyes lock with Jack and you can see worry flash across his face.

“What should we do?” He asks.

“Bulkhead may have not even realized she’d follow him!” Raf exclaims.

“Miko hasn’t seen the cons’ in action like we have. She has no idea,” says Jack.

Your head swims with visions of the cons doing all sorts of horrible things to Miko.

Oh, foolish girl! Why did you follow Bulkhead? He’s supposed to be your guardian but he can’t protect you from everything!

“Are the coordinates still locked into the groundbridge?” Asks Raf.

“Yep, still there,” you nod.

“Y/n, can you turn the ground bridge on from the computer?” Jack asks.

“Uh, yeah I think so,” you say, and start pulling up the ground bridge access.

“Good, fire it up. You’re in charge,” he says as he steps down the ladder.

Making up your mind, you take a breath and say “uh, now you’re in charge,” as you head towards the ladder.

“In charge of who?” You hear Raf say as you slide down to the ground floor.

“Jack, wait,” you say, running to Jack.

Jack stops and turns around, waiting for you to catch up with a silent question in his eyes.

“What, you didn’t think I’d let you try and rescue Miko all alone did you? I’m coming with you,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He looks over at you and nods once, a fierce determination set in his eyes. You close your eyes and take a deep, steadying breath, readying yourself for the battle you felt was sure to come. You open them and look over to Jack, nodding your head once, to tell him you were ready.

“Here goes nothing,” you say, stepping closer to the groundbridge.

“Jack, y/n, wait! I’m coming too,” says Raf, running next to you.

You reach the groundbridge first with Jack and Raf following close behind you. You jump through the groundbridge, which feels like an assault on your senses. Bright purple and green lights swirl around you, which looks like the aurora borealis was turned into a portal. A loud sound somewhere between a whooshing and a buzzing can be heard, and when you jump out of the portal, what meets your eyes is worse than you could have imagined. You are in the middle of a wide rocky canyon, and what else is in the middle of the canyon but the freaking Decepticon warship!

Oh. Not good.

With your gaze transfixed on the warship, flashbacks of the first time you saw the ship cross your mind. You don’t even register that a few Decepticons come out of the ship with their guns loaded and ready to fire until you hear Bulkhead and Miko scream your name, which snaps you out of your stupor. The Decepticons begin firing and you, Jack and Raf dodge the blasts. Raf starts walking backwards, but he loses his footing and falls over, curling into a ball to make himself as small as possible. Without thinking you launch yourself on top of Raf, shielding his body with yours. Hearing a honking noise, you look up to see Bulkhead in his alternate form pulling up next to you, doors opening so you, Raf, and Jack can jump in quickly. You dive through the passenger door and scoot over to the driver side of the car, Jack sitting next to you and Raf sitting in the backseat.

After receiving our thanks, Bulkhead asks “What are you doing here?”

“We were worried about Miko!” Have you seen her?” Asks Jack.

“She’s in the backseat, Jack,” you say, looking through the rear view mirror and making eye contact with the girl.

She gives you a guilty grin and you roll your eyes. After driving behind a big boulder Bulkhead stops and opens the doors.

“Everyone out! And this time, please wait here,” begs the green bot, driving away.

He drives up a sort of ramp and starts climbing up the side of the canyon.

Ha like Miko’s going to do that. I bet she’s not even here.

You look around you and sure enough, Miko is nowhere to be seen. You sigh dramatically, like a tired parent, and scan the canyon for Miko. Not seeing her, you figure she’s probably still inside of Bulkhead. At least she has a better chance with Bulkhead then roaming around the canyon, being an easy target.

“Wait, where’s Miko?” Asks Jack worriedly.

Took you long enough. Luckily I’m way ahead of you Jack.

“Probably up there with Bulkhead,” you say, scanning the canyon walls. “If I can only figure out a way to get up to the warship,” you mutter.

“What if a Decepticon took us up there?” Jack asks in a worried voice.

“Hmm, that might work if we can find one,” you say, still focused on the canyon walls.

“I think we just did,” says Raf.

You turn around and are face to face with two purple Decepticons.

Well, that’s not ideal.

Masterlist

<-Previous Part

Next Part->

#Transformers prime #x reader #female reader #cliffjumper #optimus prime #arcee #bumblebee #ratchet #bulkhead #reader insert #tfp #transformers prime x reader insert

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jazzraft · 1 year

Note

32, nyxnoct >:3 ♡

this and two other prompts have been sitting in my mailbox since march of last year, and I am so sorry about that! I know you won't mind that I deviated a bit here for the sake of general nyx propaganda. there's still hints of nyxnoct because I'm me, but I threw nods towards every other major nyx ship I could remember into this as well.

vote for nyx in this round of the most fuckable ff man! or just enjoy this silly nonsense as I continue to drag my ass out of my worst writer's block ever

---

“This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Nothing done for charity is ever dumb.”

Nyx rolled his eyes in response, trying so hard not to laugh at the prince’s pouting puffed cheeks. Noctis did not find it funny. Building barns for therapy chocobos was not a crusade he undertook lightly, and quite frankly? He knew his people. He knew that, if fluffy yellow chicks and dewy-eyed war veterans weren’t going to attract donations, than sex sure as hell would.

“I thought you were above this kind of exploitation, Your Highness,” Nyx said mildly, allowing himself to be pushed along.

“I’m not above anything for a good cause,” Noctis wheezed, leaning his weight into Nyx’s back as he all but shoved him in front of the cameras. “Those chocobos need houses and the veterans need rehab, so shut up and take off your shirt!”

“But you’ve already got volunteers!”

The whole tenth floor of the Citadel had been invaded by ring lights and photographers and drop sheets and clothes racks. Men and women from all of the Crown’s departments were shuffling about with half their clothes on, posing in front of cameras with a variety of different props. One man was drenched in way too much tanning oil, slipping into frame and trying for a smile that was too white on his orange face.

“Look at what I have to work with,” Noctis mumbled.

“He’s not so bad,” Nyx reasoned, appraising the man’s trim waist and broad chest.

“He’s greasy. And I don’t like his face. His eyes are small.”

“Wow, this calendar sure sounds judgmental.”

“This isn’t about him. This is about you, being a soldier, and therefore relatable, and also hot.” Noctis heaved the deliberately uncooperative glaive in front of an unoccupied drop sheet, punctuating every other word with the effort it took to get him in position. “Just think of your former brothers in arms,” Noctis said, gasping for breath. “Think of how their mental health could be significantly improved with some relaxing therapy riding.”

Nyx smirked, preparing an affected mockery for all of this being “in poor taste,” but Noctis stopped him before he could, planting his hands on either side of Nyx’s face.

“Yes, that. Hold that face while I find Prompto.”

“What face?” Nyx laughed, bemused.

“Don’t play coy… No, wait, do play coy! Do what you’re doing!”

Noctis could never really tell if Nyx was oblivious to his own sex appeal, or he knew damn well. Sometimes, he’d look at him with those innocent blue eyes and Noctis would think, “Oh, how cute, he has no idea.” Then, other times he’d pull that smirk, that devious little quirk of the lips that dimpled his cheek, softening the sturdy, scruffy line of his jaw. His eyes all of a sudden turned sharp, lids hooding and darkening the irises a stormy gray. The sly glint to them skewered Noctis in place, both terrified and attracted to the dangerous potential of that smirk.

Mercifully, the hallway doors banging open snapped him out of it. Unmercifully, it was Cor.

“Noct!” he thundered, zeroing in on the prince like a targeting missile. “When I said it was a no to the Crownsguard, a no to the Kingsglaive was also implied.”

“They are not the same things,” Noctis insisted. “You get to order one around, not the other. Drautos is cool with it.”

“Titus Drautos said yes to you pimping out the Kingsglaive for charity,” Cor said, dryly, not a question, pointedly not looking at Crowe Altius in a leather catsuit revving a fake motorcycle across the room.

“He encouraged me to use the Glaive’s greatest ass for good.”

“Asset.”

“So you agree!”

Cor sighed, witheringly, palm flat against his face. Why did reasoning with the Crown Prince always fall to him? Why did the word “reason” have absolutely no definition to the Caelum line of kings? He found out about this ridiculous affront to altruism through Regis when pressed on the prince’s schedule for the day.

“Oh, he’s just doing a sexy photoshoot for charity,” the King said over his morning tea, as flippantly as a comment on the weather. “I hear it’s going to be very tasteful.”

“Noct,” Cor said, presently. “It’s one thing to waste the Crownsguard’s resources, it’s another for you to – Ulric, put your clothes back on!”

Nyx blinked over at him, confused by the outrage, shirt halfway up his torso. He smiled, teeth peering from beneath his lips in a wolfish grin.

“What? If the Crownsguard thinks they’re above getting down and dirty to save a few innocent chocobos…”

“That’s not what I think.”

“And yet, I don’t see you stripping, Marshal.”

Nyx pulled off his shirt and Crowe whistled from across the room, “Yeah! Take it off!”

Cor wished this entire level of the Citadel would implode underneath him and take everyone else down with the rubble. Nyx rolled his neck, wheeled out his arm, and the whole room warmed up by ten degrees.

Miles of ochre flesh stretched before them, sun-bronzed and sculpted. A youth spent scaling canyons had honed those rippling abs, flexing casually with every breath. Straight shoulders, levied by decades of standing at attention, framed the wide planes of Nyx’s chest, no less devastating for the spidery scar bursting like bolts of lightning across his sternum. The thin line of ink around his arm strained as he worked his muscles awake – as if he were going into battle. Divots formed in his firm biceps as he moved, the ridges of his collarbone pulling out and in under taut golden skin.

“So, do I just stand here or…?”

Cor thwacked Noctis upside the head to knock him out of staring – as if he wasn’t doing the same. The Crown Prince sputtered something incoherent, then scuttled away to find Prompto. Of course Noct’s little blond cohort was roped into directing this nonsense. At least he had the good sense to look cowed once he was dragged in front of Cor.

“Oh, h-hey, Marshal!” Prompto greeted, sheepishly. “Don’t suppose you’re here to contribute.”

“I expected better from you.”

“Ignore him,” Noctis insisted upon seeing Prompto’s eyes go wide and watery. “Remember the chocobos. Nyx, sit on this!”

Noctis dragged an ornate divan into frame, his tiny body surprisingly strong when he was motivated. Nyx obliged the Crown Prince’s frenetic orders with that same roguish smirk, bouncing onto the plush blue cushions. Noctis scurried out of the way and gestured for Prompto to do his thing.

“Right, so, just relax,” Prompto told Nyx, fiddling with the camera set-up. “Lean your arm against there… okay, put your legs like… yeah, like that… Now, just look off to the side a little… Yeah, perfect!”

Prompto went on like that for a couple minutes, Nyx obediently following his lead. He sprawled across the divan like an ancient war general, casually awaiting news from the front or effortlessly issuing commands before he’d donned his armor for the day. He shuffled through a few expressions towards the invisible compatriot he was meant to be acting against.

Prompto would tell him to narrow his eyes as if he were displeased, his dark brows withering his whole demeanor with the barest crease of pretended annoyance. He’d ask him to run his fingers through his braids and open his mouth to yawn, as if the whole affair bored him - and the state of his undress was of no concern before his imaginary council. Nyx would lean his chin in his palm and wink at the camera sometimes, unprompted, and on reflex, Prompto would hit the shutter to capture the brazen flirtation.

“What else can I do for you?” Nyx eventually asked, after Prompto’s instructions had run as dry as his throat. “Any other way you want me?”

“U-Um… I don’t know,” he spluttered, rifling through the set of pictures so he didn’t have to make eye contact with the subject – instead just starting at the replication of his bare chest on film. “I think that’s enough, right guys?”

“What? Oh, sure,” Noctis said vacantly. (Cor remained mum.)

“It’s missing some spice,” said Ignis, startling all of them.

“How long have you been here?” Prompto squeaked in alarm.

“You asked me to be here. I’ve been catering all morning,” Ignis reminded him, dismissively – evidently it hadn’t been the first time. He glanced up at Nyx. “Try adding something that’s unique to you.”

“It sounds as if my presence bores you, Scientia,” Nyx laughed, wounded.

“Hardly,” Ignis said, and if Noctis didn’t know him better he would have missed the compliment hidden in that single, dry word. “What sets you apart from all the other glaives in attendance?”

Crowe was mussing up her long, brown tresses for the motorcycle shoot; Tredd was in a bath towel, face doused in shaving cream as he ponderously pretended to swipe it off with a razor; and Libertus was lifting a few of the volunteers’ kids off the floor by his biceps.

“I don’t know. I can do magic tricks?” Nyx offered, calling up a burst of flame to his palm.

The fire gave his skin a coppery glow, dancing shadows accentuating the even lines of his abdomen. The light deepened the links of muscle that built his chest and brightened the subtle tattoos marked upon them. It burned his silvery blue eyes into hammered steel, which shifted around the gathered audience expectantly.

“That’ll do,” Ignis said, matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses as he nudged Prompto into action.

From the next setting over, a shirtless Gladio snorted, “Show off,” as his artfully damp abs shined under the overhead lights. (“Eyes here, please,” his photographer advised, to which he quickly jerked back to attention.)

A few months later, all the way across the Cygillian Sea, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret received a parcel with Noctis’ diligent dog-based correspondence. She loved hearing about his passion projects, praying that one day she may contribute to them herself.

“What’s he up to this time, eh, Pryna?” she murmured, idly scratching the messenger behind the ears as she reviewed Noct’s notes.

He had provided a small, desktop copy of a calendar he’d organized for his chocobo charity, which he had only just been planning the last time he’d written. She laughed now, as he warned her of its contents – as if she were so naïve to human anatomy, given her doctoral discipline. Lucians she’d never met posed in scanty costumes across a variety of different scenes, smoldering out of the calendar in the name of veterans across the country.

She was particularly drawn to the August spread, where a mohawked stranger in leather pants and nothing else reclined upon a gothic divan, holding fire in his hand. He stared beyond the page with lowered eyelids, face pressed into his palm, one tattooed finger lining his temple in an affectation of profound thought. Given the dark dive of his smile and the knowing mischief in his eyes, what he could be thinking of left little to the imagination.

She was just about to start in on her response – warring with herself if she should ask after any models in particular – when from over her shoulder, a slithering voice inquired, “My, my, who is this handsome stranger?”

Ardyn Izunia leered unabashedly at the provocative photograph, which Luna smacked him in the face with as she screeched, “Get out of my room!”

The charity campaign was a huge success.

#nyx ulric #kingsglaive #final fantasy xv #ffxv #final fantasy 15 #noctis lucis caelum #cor leonis #prompto argentum #lunafreya nox fleuret #myfic

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