Diplomats from multiple systems were there, as Chandrila hedged its bets looking for new alliances after the destruction of the Republic. Supreme Leader had sent him and Hux to represent the Order and to be sure the Chandrilians realized where it was their best interest to ally. A core world like them could not be overlooked, between their credits, resources, and influence over smaller systems.
He had protested, to no avail, that he had no business being involved with diplomacy. Such things were best left to people such as His. Just as meting out death was best left for those like him.
His mother may had been a princess, but he was no prince.
Yet here he was at the diplomatic ball,decked out in the finery of the First Order dress uniform. Black silk shirt with a high collar and ruffled black stock tie. The long, finely woven black coat, marked with red piping, came down past his knees. The black of the uniform contrasted to the white gloves of soft leather he wore on his hands.
And of course, no mask. He was open, vulnerable, to everyone in the room. And Gods he hated it. He had slunk to a corner of the room, leaning against the wall and glowering and drinking Corellian brandy.
Hux, on the other hand was peacocking around, chatting pleasantly as he preened himself among the affluent and powerful. Once the little pissant had come over and attempted to scold him for being “improper” and “antisocial”, insisting he come “mingle” with the other guests. He didn’t dignify the redhead with a verbal response, just glared at him in a way that said better than words what he would do if the man back the kriff off.
Draining his glass he looked around for the a server circling with trays of drinks. He was still far too sober to get through this ordeal. Scowling as he found no one nearby, he took a breath and ventured out into the crowd to find another drink. He was grabbing another brandy when he caught a few words of someone’s voice among the din, “…General Organa…”
He froze in place, closing his eyes tightly. She was here, of course she would be here. The Resistance would love to keep Chandrila among their allies. They had their own political cards to play. Holding his breath, he turned slowly and his eyes found the small woman talking to the vice-chancellor of Chandrila. So elegant, as she always had been, still royalty, still the Princess of Alderaan. Older, but still holding herself with a proud, commanding authority of a soldier and a General.
How long had it been since he had physically in the presence of his mother? His uncle had visited her once with him during the ten years he shadowed him like a dog, only a few years after she’d sent him away. He had been fifteen? Sixteen?
Did it even matter? He had been a boy still, the last time he’d been in the same room with his mother. The last time he heard her voice, they hadn’t talked over a com either since then. They had written, there was that, though he had written far more than she wrote back. Dutiful son and Jedi padawan that he had been, he wrote faithfully. She wrote back when she found the time, which, as it always had been with finding time for her family, had been rarely.
Hux swept his way towards the group surrounding the vice-chancellor, puffing himself out. He had seen Organa, he was sure. His motives for joining whatever conversations were taking place was certainly to kriff with her. It was what the little prick did best.
Why was he even still standing here? He needed to move, needed to get out of sight. If she looked over at Hux as he approached them, she would surely catch sight of him. Surely, there was nothing good that could come from her knowing he was here. Taking a step back, he began to turn when another figure stepped next to his mother.
Her. The girl. The scavenger.
He turned back, his eyes fixed on her. Her face was a bit fuller and her body had filled out, now that she no longer scrounged for meals, but still undeniably her. She was wearing a black dress, form fitting, showing off her freckled skin that had yet to lose the sun kissed tan of the desert. Her hair was full and tied up in an elaborate braid and a gold necklace hung around her neck. His mother’s– he was fairly sure he recognized it.
The last time he had seen her he had been half-dead by her hand, staring over an abyss at her as she disengaged her saber and ran. His hand reached up and traced down the scar that ran across his face. The mark she had given him.
As if acting on their own, his legs carried him over towards her. Stepping next to Hux who looked at him, a startled expression flickering across his face before he regained control. He heard his mother draw in a breath of shock, but his eyes were on the girl as her startled eyes flicked up to meet his.
He felt as lost in them as he had when he had first looked into them on Takadona.
“Vice-Chancellor, may I introduce to you Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren. So glad you joined us, Ren,” Hux’s voice oozed smoothly next to him.
He flicked his eyes away from the girl’s to shoot the man a warning look before turning and bowing slightly to the Vice-Chancellor, most of the bend in his neck. The etiquette that had been drilled into him during his youth surfacing as if it hadn’t been nearly two decades since he’d had use for such things, “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. We are honored to be your guests.”
The Vice-Chancellor beamed before giving a matching bow, “So few people respect proper formalities these days. We are honored to have you as our guests, and to share with you the splendor that we are able to provide.” The man turned to Organa and the girl, “General Hux, Kylo Ren, may I introduce another two of our guests, General Organa…”
Hux gave no more than a curt nod as he glared at the woman, who glanced at him with a cold glare. The Vice-Chancellor flicked his eyes over the man in disapproval.
He stepped towards his mother, woman looking up at him in surprise as he extended his hand with another short bow, “General Organa and I are acquainted,” he said. She stared at his hand, looking shocked for half a minute before slowly raising her hand to meet his. Once again following the formal etiquette for such introductions, he brought his other hand to clasp gently around the top of hers, bowing as he brought her hand up for his lips to brush a kiss across the knuckles. Feeling her hand shake in his hand at the contact. He straightened from his bow, releasing his hands for her to pull hers back. Their eyes met, hers were filled with conflict and pain. He wondered what she saw in his?
She bowed her neck to him, her voice rasped as she spoke, “Yes, we are acquainted.” Her voice broke slightly and she paused before continuing, voice smooth and under control, “Your manners are to be admired, as the Vice-Chancellor said, such formalities are ignored by many these days.”
“My mother raised me to respect such things.” He spoke matter-of-factly, no hint of vitriol in his voice, but she winced at his words anyway. Next to him Hux blew out an amused huff of air and he resisted the urge to punch him squarely in his smug, smarmy face. Not that resisting the urge to punch Hux wasn’t a daily occurrence, but it was especially strong this time.
The girl was glaring at him. He knew without even looking, he could feel them. It seemed like he could feel her anger as well. She thought he was speaking with the purpose of hurting Organa and her emotions were rising, anger flickering on the edge of rage. He had seen her rage before, as she harnessed it to rain down blows on him in unbridled fury, and it was something that was more beautiful than he could describe.
He raised his own eyes, hopefully with his own emotions calm and controlled, to meet her hazel ones. If the Vice-Chancellor was aware of the tension of emotions surrounding him, he ignored it, continuing with his introductions. “And this young lady, Miss Rey…” The Vice-Chancellor paused, clearing his throat.
“Just Rey, Vice-Chancellor,” her voice spoke politely, maybe even a little shyly. She shifted and he was suddenly sure that as well as she hid it, she was very uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in these clothes, uncomfortable surrounded by these people. She felt out of place and on display and hated every moment of it.
How exactly he knew it, he wasn’t sure. But there was no doubt in his mind, any more than there had been about her anger.
“Just Rey, yes, well,” the Vice-Chancellor nodded. “General Hux, Kylo Ren, this is Miss Rey, apprentice to Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, who was unable to join us on Chandrila.”
“Skywalker?!” Hux hissed next to him.
Apprentice… to… Skywalker. Apprentice to SKYWALKER. Apprentice to Luke Skywalker. The words echoed in his head as his mind refused to acknowledge him. The girl, this girl, the scavenger who had defeated him, who had denied his own offer to teach her, was now training under his uncle.
How he did not simply explode with the fury that surged through him, he would never know. The girl flinched and shrank back, as if she could sense the intensity rage that was now directed at her, though no one else around him seemed to know. He took a deep breath, forcing his emotions back under control, stepping forward to extend his hand and bowing as he had for his mother, “Forgive me for correcting you, Vice-Chancellor, but the correct term is Padawan, not Apprentice. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Rey.” The girl just stared at him a moment before glancing at Organa who nodded briefly towards his extended hand, encouraging the girl to take it.
Slowly she extended her hand to his, and he brought his other hand over to cover it. There were callouses built across her palm and fingertips. Callouses built up from years of harsh labor. Somehow even with them her hand seemed amazingly soft to him as he bowed deeper, bringing the hand to his lips. Where he had merely brushed his lips against his mother’s hand, here he planted a true kiss across her knuckles, allowing himself to taste her skin. He could feel a vibration jolt through her as he did so, and he resisted the urge to smirk as he straightened himself and released her hand. His eyes lingering on hers, taking in the confused emotional storm within the green and brown.
Slowly she bowed her neck, mimicking his mother’s response to him. When she spoke her voice was soft and fast, unable to control the fact she would rather not be speaking the words at all, “It is nice to meet you, sir.”
He gave a small smile and nod, before leaving his eyes resting on the girl as the Vice-Chancellor led them in idle conversation. She shifted uncomfortably in his gaze, her eyes flicking over to him before darting away. After five minutes or so she excused herself, casting one last uncomfortable glance in his direction.
Draining his glass, he politely excused himself, bowing to both the Vice-Chancellor and to Organa, before slipping away. He set his empty glass on a cocktail table and tracked down another before he wandered among the crowd until he finally found her again. Hanging back and keeping his distance, he kept her in view, following her as she wandered among the wealthy and politically connected attendees, keeping to herself. Isolated while surrounded by people.
Oh, she did hate such an ordeal, hated it as much as he did.
Another thing they had in common. How was it that they could have so much in common? Was she still lonely? Did she still lay in bed at night, praying for sleep to finally take her? Had she found comfort now under the tutelage of his uncle? Unlikely.
Did she know how much he understood her?
Asking questions like this was so unlike him, he didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the simple effect of her presence. Maybe a combination of both? She did have such an effect on him… one that he really didn’t entirely understand.
She moved about the room and he followed. It didn’t take her long to notice him, always there, always not far away. Her eyes would find him, and he could see a growing alarm at his constant presence. There eyes would meet and he would smirk, unable to help himself.
He turned to get another drink and looked up to find her gone. The little minx must had been waiting for an opportunity to bolt. Oh no, he wasn’t about to let her slip away that easily. Moving about the large ballroom, he scanned for her but she had vanished. Finishing his drink in frustration he slammed the glass down and turned to a slightly startled server to snatch another. As he did, he noticed a set of doors on the outside wall, not quite closed. His eyes fixed on them and he moved closer… a balcony perhaps?
Yes, he was certain she was out there. It was a strange thing to be certain of, there was nothing to indicate that she would be, but he was sure she was nonetheless. Walking across the room paused and grabbed a glass of Chandrilan wine with his free hand before making his way to the door, opening it quietly and slipping out silently onto the balcony and grinning as he saw her.
She was leaning against the railing, looking out on the ocean, a breeze lightly ruffling her dress. His eyes tracing down the bare skin of her arms and back, then pausing to appreciate the way her dress defined the quite lovely shape of her ass. Did she have any idea how beautiful she really was? He didn’t think so. He’d been in her mind, and beauty was not something she associated with herself.
Every muscle in her body tensed suddenly and she spun to face him, her right hand slipping into her dress to her hip. Even slightly inebriated, his eyes caught that odd motion and narrowed a moment before he grinned in realization. She saw him and snarled, “Why are you watching me?”
“You’re pleasant to watch,” he said, lightly, moving slightly closer, keeping a careful watch on where her right hand had slipped under her dress. “Are you going to pull that saber on me? That would be such a scandal, they’d talk about it in the upper echelons of Chandrilian elite for years.”
Scowling, she shook her head, slowly withdrawing her hand back into the open, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not. You don’t have lightsaber in a concealed holster on your hip,” his eyes traced down her hip to her upper thigh, “or your thigh… where the skirt starts to flair? Yes… that’s where it would be if you had one, which I’m sure you absolutely do not.” He chuckled and winked at her, holding out the glass of wine to her.
She looked at the glass, and then at him, eyes narrowing.
“Do you have to assume everything has an ulterior motive?”
Slowly she reached out and took the glass from his hand before backing up and setting it down on the wide railing next to her. Her eyes following him as he walked to a bench along the wall and sat down, taking a sip of his brandy.
“You clean up well, little scavenger. Not to say you weren’t lovely in your desert rags, but you’re especially lovely tonight.”
Her eyes narrowed at him, when she spoke her voice was flat, “You’re drunk.”
He hummed thoughtfully a moment before he decided he was indeed past just being buzzed, “A little.” Raising his glass he bowed his head slightly to her, “I recommend it. It makes being at something like this more tolerable to people like us.” He nodded to the glass of wine, “Are you just afraid to drink anything I gave you or did uncle Luke force you to follow some ridiculous code of Jedi purity?”
“No. And my master forces nothing on me,” she snapped, picking the glass up and taking a small sip before setting it down again.
“Hmmm… who was it who forced you to come to this?”
She stared at him a moment, breaking eye contact before speaking, “No one forced me. They asked.”
He grinned, cocking his head, “Ah, so not forced but strongly encouraged. And it was my uncle and my mother.”
“Don’t call her that!” she snapped, her hands clenching into fists. Such beauty in that anger. “You have no right to refer to any of them as if they’re still family.”
“Just because you’ve endeared yourself to my family, scavenger, doesn’t make them less mine.” He waved his hand, draining his brandy, “You’ll find them disappointing you in time, if they hadn’t started already. Skywalker is too stubborn to change, and his ways will be as wrong for you as they were for me.”
There was no response, she rested her hands on the balcony railing and leaned back, refusing to look at him, “You know nothing about me.”
“I know you hate this. Hate being surrounded by these people, you feel like you don’t belong among them. And you’re right of course…” He smirked, “You hate that dress, which is a pity because you wear it so well. Hate those shoes, your feet are killing you in those heels and you feel like they hinder your mobility if you needed to protect yourself.” Her eyes turned to rest on him, expression falling flat, “You hate feeling like you have to behave yourself and watch what you say. That there are all these hidden rules of formality that you don’t know and you’re afraid you’re going to break.”
He got to his feet and walked towards her. She stood her ground, glaring at him, “You hate that you let them pressure you to come here. That you’re here just to be paraded around as a token bit of proof that Skywalker is alive and working with the Resistance.” She bit her bottom lip, he leaned forward, slipping his hands over hers on the railing, hunching to bring his face in front of hers, “You hate that you’re enjoying my company.”
She took a shaky breath, “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” he asked, amused,
“Oh, that one I’ll admit.”
Pulling her hands out from under his, she gave him a sharp push, forcing him a few steps back away from her, “You’re a monster who betrayed your fellow padawans and your master. Who was complicit in the murders of billions. Who slaughtered your own father in cold blood.”
Rage flickered through him and he pulled himself up tall, looking down at the girl, “You know nothing about these things.”
“Don’t I? I watched the last one with my own eyes,” her own rage began to fill her face at the memory. “He was my friend.”
He shook his head with a snort, “You knew him for a kriffing day. I had my entire lifetime to know what a pathetic failure he was as a father, husband, and even as a person. He would have disappointed you in the end. You should thank me for sparing you from that by killing him.”
The speed at which she moved startled him. One moment she was still against the railing, the next her hand was cracking across his cheek forcefully, rocking his head back. He looked down at her face, contorted in rage as she pointed a finger at him, “Don’t you dare speak to me again. Don’t you dare follow me anymore. I don’t care about making a scene, if you don’t leave me the kriff alone I’ll carve the other side of your face to give you a matching scar.”
Despite the sting of her blow, he grinned, “You’re so beautiful when you cloak yourself in anger. So un-Jedi-like. Your master would be disappointed in you, little padawan.”
She hissed and whirled to leave, but he snatched her arm above the elbow and spun her back towards him forcefully. His grip holding firm as she tried to pull herself free. With a sharp jerk he pulled her against him, slamming her into his chest. Her eyes flashed dangerously and she bared her teeth in a fierce snarl. Leaning forward, grazing his mouth against her ear as he spoke softly, “Your fool of a master would disapprove, but not I. I recognize power for what it is; I do not pretend it is some sort of weakness.”
He release her and she jerked away from him. Backing cautiously as her eyes flashed at him dangerously. “Stay away from me,” she said, the breathy tone of her voice giving away the raging storm of emotion within.
With a sharp turn she stormed away, going back inside. His eyes drifting down to watch her ass as she went.
Sighing, he sat back down on the bench, letting her go for now. She needed some time to cool off. He would give her a little… just a little.
He glanced down at his lap, where the bulge of his half-erect cock was effectively hidden by the long coat of his dress uniform. Snorting in amusement, he shook his head,it seemed he needed a little time to cool off too.
Chuckling, he leaned back, resting his head against the wall. He wondered if that silly girl really thought they were done yet?
(this is how I imagined the photos would be tacked on the walls)
Plot: Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky. Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU
Warnings: Cursing, mentions of torture and gore
A/N: Just a note that the story takes place in 2016 because that’s when I first started writing. Hope you like this part. Feedback is always welcome!
You fell down the rabbit hole.
Information swirled around you in a haze, overwhelming your senses,
invading your mind. Your face was frozen
in time in black and white photographs tacked on boards around the room. Eerily, they seemed to take on a life of
their own, as if the photos began to move and change, playing out the captured
instances of torture on an endless loop.
The memories of these moments resurfaced, filling in the blanks and
missing the edges of each scene. Here
was the moment they’d shocked you just before your flesh sizzled and burned
like bacon in a frying pan. There,
captured in perfect clarity, was the instant your organs slid off the table
and, frozen in mid-air, hurdled to the lab floor. Black pools of blood peppered the background
in the majority of photos, spattering the walls, staining the floors.
Bowenite is an adventurous gem and a great exoerience. As a confident fusion, Bowenite knows exactly who to trust, and when the fight starts, she is there to use her X-Ray vision and help the gems battle! Althought Moonstone is not longer on earth i think Topaz and her would et along very well! Hope you like it @artifiziell!
Curious fact: While Topaz is voiced by ‘’Melanie Martinez’’ and Moonstone by ‘’Cara delevingne’’ i think Bowenite would be viced by voiced by ‘’Halsey’’ A famous singer and actress.
A/N: This sounds like something my brother would do. Likewise, it also sounds like something Damian Wayne would do. Also, this post has been screen capped because the original post no longer exists.
Tim had long ago learned to trust his instincts. Yes, there was plenty of other training that went into him becoming a nighttime vigilante, but when it came down to it, if you planned on living to see the light of another day, you let your instincts be your guide.
After being holed up in his room for nearly forty-two hours, trying to catch up on the aspect of life known as college dissertations, Tim’s instincts were telling him to follow his nose and eat the source of that tantalizing smell. Never mind that the scent told him it was popcorn and the salt content would be counterproductive to his overall work schedule. More salt meant more water. More water meant more bathroom breaks. More bathroom breaks meant more chances for him to lose his train of thought. But right now, his stomach didn’t care.
The light coming in through the windows was slated, indicating it was either early morning or early evening. Tim wasn’t worried, though. He had set his alarm to warn him when he had four hours before the paper was due.
Creeping quietly into the kitchen, his eyes zeroed in on the black microwave snuggled up next to the fridge, the words ‘YOUR FOOD IS READY’ scrolling across the display screen.
All higher brain functions switched off as Tim practically stumbled forward, yanked open the microwave door, and tore into the bag with a dignity that was more an instinct for self-perseverance when in Alfred’s kitchen.
The popcorn tasted of a brand of pure heaven that had Tim moaning and licking his fingers after each bite. He even went as far as to suck on each unpopped kernel to get the most of the salted, buttery taste. When he thought back over his years in college, he would remember this as the most defining of moments. Nothing would ever top this. Nothing could bring his happiness down right now.
“Don’t start the movie yet, I need to get the popcorn.”
“The popcorn beeped five minutes ago. It’ll be cold and stale. You need to make a fresh batch”
“It was the last bag, Damian. You’re just going to have to deal if you want any popcorn at all.”
Tim’s eyes widened. He lied. His happiness disappeared pretty fast at the sound of his little brother’s voice. Damian’s vice for popcorn during movies was an anal one that none of the boys dared to try and break him of.
Trying not to panic, Tim looked around, trying to think of the best way to dispose of the evidence. He decided on the path of pure denial and quickly reclosed the bag and stuck it back in the microwave, dashing out of the kitchen via the back hallway entrance.
He was already up the stairs and nearly to his room when he heard Damian’s angry voice demanding an explanation from Dick.
He was softly shutting and relocking his bedroom door when the bangs and crashes began.
Eleven hours later, Tim’s warning alarm went off and he printed out three copies of his paper, then emailed one to Bruce, one to Dick, and one to his professor. Two hours later, Tim was gathering up his belongings feeling well-rested and ready to face his class.
Until he opened the bedroom door.
There, pinned to the varnished wood with a modified Batarang, was the popcorn bag from the other night, with the words ‘I KNOW’ scribbled in dark, angry pencil lines. Eyes widening and good mood vanishing once more, Tim’s gaze darted up and down the hall where he swore he saw a sliver of light disappearing from Damian’s bedroom door as if it were being shut.
Not taking any chances at this point, Tim pulled out his phone as he headed down the stairs and sent a text to Jason, asking if he could come visit for the next few days.
DISCLAIMER: This fic contains high levels of crack. Reading this fic may cause you to spontaneously burst out laughing in front of strangers, friends, or worse, family members who already think you need to be committed (Pun intended). This work also was made with nuts, because the creators are absolutely bound to send you into anaphylactic shock with their incessant punning, flights of fancy, and shameless need to cause absolute mayhem within the fandom. Shipper discretion is advised.
“Please, dear, tell me… what’s on your mind?”
Marinette tried to resist, she did. Yet the voice seemed so understanding, and she felt so horrible, and she needed someone to talk to…
When Vice-Versa had appeared, she had already been having a bad day. First she had snapped at her parents after a late night of trying to study for the physics exam she had this morning, then she had been late to class because she had tripped on the steps and her bag had fallen open, dropping her books and papers everywhere. If that wasn’t enough, when she did make it to class, after being lectured by the teacher in front of everyone, she forgot everything she had studied for last night, and just stared at the test in a blind panic.
By the time the test was over, she had barely managed to fill in even half of sheet, and was feeling more incompetent than usual. Needing to cheer herself up, she had been using their short break between classes to work a bit more on the Chat Noir and Ladybug themed outfits she was designing when Adrien had walked in, having missed the the first half of the morning due to a modeling job.
He looked as tired as she felt, sipping on a coffee and dragging his feet until he noticed Marinette’s designs. Coming to hover over her, trying to get a closer look, he didn’t notice Chloe headed to intercept him. One crash later, and her entire sketchbook was drenched in the hot, dark liquid, the sketch she was working on of a Chat Noir hoodie smearing and stained.
And that’s when her morning got really bad.
Adrien had been trying to apologize, but Marinette, frustrated, tired and feeling completely attacked by life at that point, had merely glared at him, angry tears spilling down her cheeks as she spat at him.
“How could you… it’s ruined!”
Standing, she had run from the room, unable to handle the looks everyone was giving her, not ready to deal with any of it.
Which is how she had found herself sitting in the courtyard, angry at the world, but mostly at herself, when it had arrived. She’d been so busy crying her heart out, it had taken Tikki pinching her side to alert her to the presence of the Akuma on the school grounds. Tall and thin, it was dressed in what appeared to be an oversized, unfastened straight jacket, the sleeves trailing on the ground beside her, white dress pants and a rather practical pair of flats. A severe bun, fancy monocle and accompanying clipboard and pen told Marinette this akuma was probably a therapist or psychologist of some kind.
Before Marinette even had a chance to appreciate the sweet irony of Hawkmoth choosing this victim to play mind games with, it had begun walking towards her, eerily calm and non-threatening for an Akuma.
“You’ve been crying,” it cooed sweetly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Marinette had begun backing away, ready to make a break for the bathroom so she could transform, but the soft voice was oddly hypnotic, rooting her in place. Still the akuma paced forward, looking sympathetic and welcoming.
“Being a teenager is hard, so many conflicting feelings,” it continued patiently. “No one understands you, no one listens… but Vice-Versa will.”
The voice drew her forward towards the Akuma’s inviting arms. Mind clouded, heart aching, her hand stretched out, reaching for the help being so freely offered.
The young girl had hesitated, blinking in confusion at the muffled sound of her name being shouted. It had sounded desperate and familiar, dragging some of the fog away from her mind. But who–
One thought that struck me on my way from work is that a good voice actor is basically someone you can’t always recognize in every character they dub. Take Troy Baker, for example. I tried to compare Joel and Sam and no matter what, I can’t hear Sam in Joel’s voice or vice versa. And it’s just the exact same voice, coming from the same man. He’s just so damn good getting into his character that you wouldn’t say it’s the same person dubbing the both of them
You readjusted on the couch, too sleepy to pull yourself up and accomplish any of the tasks you had assigned yourself to do upon arriving home. It had been a rough day, full of classes and working at your part time job at a local cafe. You tripped through the door around ten p.m., smelling like wet dumpster coffee and stale muffins.
You groaned, reaching up to tug off the nearby lamp and plunge yourself into darkness. You let out a satisfied hiss as you shimmied into the throw blanket you were covered with. A shower could wait until the morning.
Closing your eyes, it wasn’t long before sleep slowly and steadily began to pull you under. Just when you had reached the weird in between of not quite being asleep, but not being completely conscious, a heavy knock hit your door. You grumbled to yourself, shifting again as you put forth a small amount of effort towards ignoring the sound.
You opened an eye as your cell phone screen lit up beside you. A text. Followed by another. Then a phone call.
Jackson’s smiling face filled your screen, casting light on anything in the surrounding area. You groaned as you hit ignore, only for him to call again.
“Look, I know you guys keep weird hours, but-” you began, lifting the phone to your face.
“I’m on your doorstep, and not to sound dramatic, but it’s really dark. When are you going to replace your porch light? What if I get kidnapped?” Jackson gasped.
“Why?” you muttered, sitting up and rubbing a tired hand through your hair.
“Because I’m charming and adorable. Why do you think people get kidnapped?” Jackson whined.
“No Jackson,” you sighed, stumbling across your living room and pulling open the door. You hung up the phone and looked at the man before you. “Why are you on my doorstep?”
“Because we need to talk,” he said firmly, shouldering past you. “It’s even darker in here! Are you a vampire? Jees, Y/N.”
Jackson’s hands quickly found a light switch and immersed you both in the too bright overhead lighting. You winced as your eyes began to adjust and focus on him. He was in a simple hoodie and pair of sweatpants. His hair stuck out in odd directions and he had abandoned his sandals at the door. He paced back and forth before your couches, anxious to speak, but not knowing where to begin.
You and Jackson had become friends shortly after you had arrived in Korea. He and his other members had frequented the cafe you had managed to get a job at only two weeks into your residency. You were still a bumbling mess, spilling coffee on yourself and others while tripping over your own feet. Jackson was the first patron to take pity on you, from one foreigner to another. He felt it his duty to take you under his wing and teach you all things Korea. Which, admittedly, was a bit skewed.
“What do we need to talk about Jackson?” you sighed, plopping onto the couch and pulling your knees to sit under your chin.
“Us, me, us…but mostly me,” he nodded.
“And how is this any different from what you normally talk about?” you chuckled.
Jackson shot you a dirty look before continuing his pacing.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for awhile, but haven’t known how to approach it,” he sighed, halting his back and forth to sit on the couch beside you.
You suddenly became worried as he spoke. Jackson? Having a problem with saying something to someone? The thought had never crossed your mind.
“Jackson…” you hummed, unsure of how to continue.
“Just hear me out,” Jackson sighed. “I know you don’t believe me. I know everyone sees me as outgoing, like I have no worries in the world…but I’ve been hiding something.”
You nodded your head, nearly certain of what Jackson was talking about. Your heart began to warm with his words.
“I like you…
I more than like you. I’m over the sun, moon, and stars thinking about you. Since the day we met and you spilled hot coffee on my crotch, the scarring memory isn’t the only thing I can’t get out of my head.”
You winced as he spoke, remembering your first embarrassing meeting as if it were yesterday. Jackson had ordered a latte while JInyoung had ordered an iced americano. You successfully managed to get Jinyoung’s drink on the table, when the lack of the liquid on your tray sent it off balance, ejecting Jackson’s latte toward his jeans. While Jackson immediately sprung up and shouted, you had fallen to your knees, taking a towel and dabbing at the affected area. Jinyoung had shouted, tugging you up by your forearms and out of the even more embarrassing situation of you being face to face with Jackson’s pelvis. Both men immediately erupted into a fit of giggles and your friendship was sealed.
“I know you may not reciprocate my feelings, but if I didn’t tell you, I would have gone insane. More insane than you probably think I am already…I just really like you. Please like me? I mean…if you want.”
“Jackson,” you whispered, mildly amused. “This isn’t news to me.”
“What…what do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head.
“I mean, this isn’t a surprise. I had an idea,” you grinned. You immediately stopped as you watched the anxious grin on his face fall into a frown.
“How long have you known?” Jackson asked, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “I thought I hid it so well…”
“It really became obvious the past few weeks,” you sighed, becoming serious as Jackson’s face continued to fall. “You’re not very good at masking your feelings…”
“Am too!” he pouted, crossing his arms. “Maybe I really just wanted you to know. Secretly. So I sabotaged myself.”
“Right,” you nodded, pursing your lips. You supposed the least you could do was humor him.
“So…um…” Jackson trailed slowly, looking away from you. “I’m guessing you don’t feel the same? I mean…that’s cool. I’m okay. I don’t get heartbroken easily.”
You listened, your heart feeling as if it were being put in a vice grip as his voice broke on the last few words. You did feel the same. You may have even felt more than just the same. You had for weeks, if not months, but your own uncertainties kept you from addressing it. You didn’t want to be building an idea in your head, only for it to get foolishly denied. You didn’t think anyone as spectacular as Jackson had any business having feelings for you.
“Jax,” you sighed, shaking your head quickly. “Why would that mean I don’t feel the same?”
He looked towards you slowly, his facial expression full of confusion as his eyes searched yours. “Because…because you knew…and you haven’t said anything.”
You sighed, looking away from him. You tried to gather your confidence as you reached toward him, taking his hands into yours. “Just because I didn’t say anything…doesn’t mean I don’t feel the same.”
“Really?” Jackson gasped, the smile appearing on his face again. He quickly caught ahold of himself and settled down, murmuring a quiet sorry before he continued to speak. “I mean…that’s cool. No big deal. I like you…you lIKE ME?!”
Jackson squealed as he bounced up and down on the couch before springing toward you and tackling you. He hovered above you, his face only inches from yours. “You do like me…don’t you? If not, this is going to be really awkward.”
“Of course I like you!” you gasped, not able to hide your smile any longer.
“You like me!” Jackson cried. “You like me…you kind of smell like burnt coffee beans? But that doesn’t matter because you like me!”
(More or less a continuation of this one because I felt that such a cute little scene would fit very well with it~ Enjoy!~)
Word Count: 1489 Warnings: Little bit of angst
Sidon never knew that Mikau Lake could be so beautiful; though, he figured that was most likely because he had you laying beside him.
After the initial shock of the surprise picnic, you told him how you had set up the entire thing with the approval of his father, confirming his suspicions. The picnic of his favorite foods, this special spot away from the Kingdom where they could be alone, clearing his schedule by making sure all his duties were taken care of for him. Everything for his sake.
Sidon was impressed, to say the least, and he made sure to tell you this and let you know how grateful he was that you would go through all of it for him, though in the back of his heart he could feel a pang of guilt when he reflected on all the work that you had to do just to spend the afternoon with him.
When the two of you had settled down on the picnic blanket, him still wearing the crown of flowers that you had placed upon his head and you absolutely glowing with the bright smile on your face, he felt that itching guilt writhing around inside of him watching as you pointed to the platters excitedly stating what each one was. You were so excited to finally spend time with him, a clear reminder to the Zora just how little time he got to spend with you.
So caught up in maintaining the Kingdom and his reputation as an heir worthy of rising to the throne, that he was too busy to focus on the other important thing in his life: you. He loved you, adored you; the very thought of you always brightened up his day and provided him solace whenever he was feeling overwhelmed by his responsibilities. However, more often than not, the pressure of those responsibilities forced you to the back of Sidon’s head and that thought fueled the guilt until the little flame was raging throughout his entire body making it hard for him to fully enjoy your shared afternoon.
Sidon could only hope that you didn’t notice. You did.
When the sun set and bright orange and ruby hues of the sky were replaced with the cool violet of night, you and Sidon remained planted at Mikau Lake now laying down on the ground with the soft blades of green grass providing partial protection from the hard earth. Sidon had an arm around your smaller frame, holding you close to him as your eyes scanned the darkening sky watching as the stars gradually began to flicker to life.
The Zora let out a soft sigh, content to just lay here in this peaceful silence with his lover resting beside him gazing up at the stars who returned their gaze with brief twinkles of their light. Sidon felt your body shift and he glanced down watching as you sat up so he did the same careful of the precious flower crown as he did so. He figured that you just wanted to get a better look at the stars but the way that your body fidgeted and tensed made the Prince rethink his verdict.
Before he could say anything about your behavior, your body moved and he smiled a little feeling you now leaning against him with your hand slipping between your bodies in search of his. Sidon chuckled fondly and then moved his hand to take hold of yours, smiling as he gave it a small squeeze.
“Sidon,” the sound of your voice almost immediately captures the attention of the Zora and he looks down at you, “Did you not like the surprise?”
“Of course I liked it!” His response is so quick that he notices your body jolt slightly, startled. “My love, what would make you think that I did not like it?”
You fidget again, shrugging your shoulders a little half-heartedly, as you say, “I don’t know, you’ve been kind of distracted this whole time. I thought that maybe you weren’t enjoying it; that maybe you would rather be doing your work-! Ow, Sidon.”
The Zora quickly loosened his grip on your hand with a flurry of apologies; he had been so caught off guard by your words that he hadn’t even noticed that he was gripping you tighter. Sidon had tried his hardest to suppress his guilty feelings but apparently that had only made it even more obvious. Now his feelings had ruined their evening and upset you which was exactly what he had been trying to avoid.
With a defeated sigh, Sidon looked down at you, meeting your worried and confused and felt his guilt give his heart a brutal kick that made him pull you into a hug. “I am so sorry, my treasure, I did not mean to spoil your time together but… I will admit that I have been distracted. Distracted by my own guilt, I’m afraid.” He pulled away and was met with a concerned look from you.
“Guilt? Sidon, I don’t understand. Why do you feel guilty?” Sidon turns his head but you squeeze his hand and say his name in such a way that he couldn’t ignore you if he wanted to.
What felt like the hundredth sigh that evening passed through the Zora’s lips and he turned to face you again before he responded, “I feel guilty… for not giving you the attention you deserve. I spend countless hours working and working to protect the kingdom that sometimes I rarely get to spend any time with you let alone see you and that’s just… just… unacceptable! You deserve so much more than that. I’m sorry.”
There is a long pause between two of you and the Zora is sure that he has stunned you into silence one that goes on for an almost unbearable amount of time. Sidon is just about to try and take back his words or laugh it off; anything to fill up this dreadful silence but you beat him to the punch in a much more physical manner. You suddenly leap up and tackle him, the force knocking him back down to the ground. On instinct, his arms flung around his lover to protect them, letting out a soft grunt when his back collided with the grassy dirt.
Before Sidon can even open his mouth to question your actions he feels your arms wrap around his neck clinging so tightly to him that he is worried that he might not be able to breathe properly. “Don’t! Do not apologize.” You suddenly state as you press your face into his chest and the Zora flinches holding you just a little tighter feeling a wet droplet hit his chest.
“My dearest… are you crying?”
“Yes!” You exclaim as you sit up and Sidon adjusts his head to look at you better when your hands cup his cheeks guiding his gaze. He can see the tears running down your cheeks and it makes his doubts clench his heart in a vice grip.
“Sidon,” Your voice goes soft as you lean close to him, “I don’t care that you get busy sometimes. I mean, I do care but I’m not upset at you for it. You’re a Prince for Hylia’s sake!” You laugh as you sit up and the Zora carefully reaches up to wipe your tears away finding them disturbingly out of place on your face.
Sidon watches astonished as you grab his hand and push it away shooting a glare in his direction, however there is no anger in your piercing gaze, only determination. “But nothing! Sidon, I love you more than anything. You know this, and I know that you feel the same. That is enough for me.” The Zora is left speechless, not that he could really speak if he wanted to because the moment you stop talking you lean down and capture his lips.
He tenses in surprise, but the longer your lips are connected the more he relaxes until his hands are gently pressing you him deepening the kiss. It’s almost shocking how this one kiss can make Sidon completely forget about his worries as if this kiss was absorbing all the guilt in his body and replacing it with a heavenly bliss.
All too soon for Sidon, however, it ended and a pout formed on his lips when you laughed at what was probably a very longing look on his face. He brightens up when you smile and plant one more sweet kiss upon his lips appeasing him for now. “I love you Sidon. Regardless if you’re always with me,” you said as your hands removed themselves and then suddenly slapped his cheeks, not nearly hard enough to hurt, but it definitely got the Prince’s attention. “Don’t ever forget that, okay?”
“Okay, my love”
“Good, now let me fix your crown, my sweet prince. You’re going to crumple the flowers.”
“Hesitance is a vice.” A cold voice echoed, “Focus.”
The gun shook in your hand as you finger stopped on the trigger. The barrel pointed straight towards your brother’s temple, your hand barely stable under the weight of both Alexander Pierce and your brother’s gazes on you.
Shakily, you met your brother’s gaze. His lips moved, “Do it. Please. For me.” He begged, his voice ragged. You shook your head, a soft sob leaving your lips.
A hand came down on your cheek, causing you to flinch and drop the gun. Pierce’s face came into view, his lips pressed together into a thin line.
“Weak.” He snarled, “Useless. A fool.” His heel made contact with the butt of the gun as he kicked it over to your brother.
“Shoot.” He ordered, not an ounce of remorse in his voice as he gave the order that you had refused to follow mere moments ago.
Without hesitating, your brother picked up the gun, pointing it at you. You offered him a small, reassuring smile despite the pounding of a thousand stallions in your heart.
Can females play male roles if they have a lower voice and vice versa?
Of course, and there’s only a few roles that actually /require/ a gender. Characters like Kurt or Ram being a different gender would alter the script significantly, but characters like JD or Miss Fleming could be any gender. So even if you can’t pass too well for the other gender, you may be able to audition for their roles!
When the information video is up, we’ll have scripts for the dialogue part of the auditions, and it will specify which characters should be male, female, or if it doesn’t matter.
Okay, so I was having a conversion with Glacial-Catastrophe on what we thought the Doji’s voices would sound like in English. So I decided to make it an actual thing. I present to you, the first in a mini project I’ll be doing. Headcanon voices for the Karakuridoji! (and maybe a few of their masters) Vice was rather easy. He’s the literal embodiment of evil, so insane, blood thirsty yet still a attractive since he also contains the sin of lust. (plus hes hot okay?) Hope you guys like! Feel free to message me any ideas for the others!
You are ALSO weak if u use a song for a warriors map for a male character and switch the song to the “male” version just for the sake of having the male character NOT sing a female voice, and vice versa