#I'd rather live a thousand years

[mallowmaenad]

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.

I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.

She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.

She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.

The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.

I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.

A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.

Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?

Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...

#long post #microfiction #cw car accident #cw death #cw dead animal #cw suicide

[atzfilm]

winter blossom (m)

pairing/wc: k.yeosang x reader (10.1k)

genre: alien au, secret relationship

warnings: smut, mentions of murder/injuries, petnames

summary: earth abandoned centuries ago, you travel the cosmos alone. you land on a smaller planet, meeting an exiled dweller that calls himself yeosang.

— part of the ...and it's snowing collab!

Space has always been noisy. Ships riding past you in the low lights, stars sparkling in far away galaxies, the rumbling of your own engines enough to fill what small amount of peace you have alone.

You sit in front of the navigation screen, eyes flicking over the map. You have little fuel left and perhaps you overestimated how much you'll be needing before the next port. It's several hundreds of thousands kilometers away and you barely have enough to make it halfway there. Sure, there's planets in between that you can land at but it's a risk. Most hate humans, hate their existence entirely. Once they see you, you may be taken – either killed or used for parts. You rub your face, looking over your options. You won't make it to the next large port, that's for sure. Waiting out in open space is unreliable – pirates can get to you quicker than a space marshal would.

You groan, a planet close enough for you to land on. One you haven't heard of before.

Elysium.

You glance to the side, typing up the name into your database.

Elysium. Planet primarily consists of thickened forestry and large oceans, similar climate to the planet Earth. Population of three million, ruling under a monarchy. Temperament toward humans is neutral. Climate: Snow.

It ticks off enough boxes for you to decide to land, setting the destination point for Elysium as well as instructions and identification to the port for approval. You grab your telecommunicator and walk off away from the screen, readying yourself to land in the next few days.

“Hey pretty girl,” you walk past the framed photo of your passed cat, pressing your lips on the glass before moving on. Everything is tied down, thankfully, nothing out of place. You jog down the corridor, glancing in each room. All of it is secure since no one has lived in for ages, commotion from prior years of having a crew absolute. It wasn't anything bad for why they left – you all had different ideas on how to make money. Yours was simple, collecting mostly artifacts and lost space junk, getting a heap of coins every now and then. It's a simple life. Alone, yes, but it's fine. Nothing you've haven't grown used to.

After checking all of the rooms you move back into the navigation room, throwing yourself on

the fold up bed you've stored there. You can't remember the last time you slept in your own bed – it's probably been months. Being alone has made you more wary of leaving the room without an attendant. Anything could happen between the distance of your room and here. You'd rather deal with it straight on than wasting precious seconds running toward it. You tuck yourself beneath the sheets, eyes glued to the wide windows showcasing space.

The port is quiet as you land. Ships stationed in several spots, but you only see a few patrollers out and about. You grab your mask and place it over your face, suit already on as you exit the craft. An Elysium, taller than you by almost a foot, comes toward you. You read in the brief biography that they're quite tall in comparison to the average human. That you can clearly see as he stands in front of you. Most of the other traits are the same except for pointer ears, irises a lighter blue. Skin pale and almost translucent, lips a light pink. As if they haven't seen the light of day for ages. His head tilts as he looks down at you, surprised.

“A human on Elysium? I never thought I'd see the day,”

You bow slightly at the guard, holding out your identification and paperwork. “Yes sir. I have all the proper paperwork. I'm here to fuel up before the next stop.”

“Ah, quite far from Candor,” he glances over the paperwork. “It looks in order. Unfortunately for you, we no longer have enough fuel for an aircraft the size of yours.”

“Are you sure? I checked the database to confirm you had the capabilities for fuel and –”

“Oh we do have the capabilities, human,” he nods. “But we've slowed down on our supply since not many land on our port. We can give you fuel, yes, but it will take a few weeks in human time to fuel up that tank enough to get you to the next destination.”

There's nothing else you can do. You take your identification back from him, knowing what you have to ask next.

“Where can I stay while I wait?”

—

You hold the glass in your hand, staring at the seeds swirling in the water. The bartender insisted that it was made for a human's palate, but you almost gagged at the taste. Water this acidic couldn't possibly be water at all. Your helmet and suit rests on the seat next to you. After a quick chat with the guard stationed at the port, and a small device placed beneath your skin, your body is accustomed to the climate of Elysium. You’re all but ungrateful, the heavy material of the suit would only make your stay feel so much longer. Your eyes move to the table, wanted photos seemingly solidified in the glass. Your gaze strays to one in particular.

His presence stood out amongst the fugitives. Hair darker than what you've seen around, eyes staring into yours. His beauty is beyond any of what you've seen so far around here – and that's saying something. Skin covered in … glitter? A birthmark on the left side of his face. Some would say it would lessen his beauty, but it only exemplifies it for you. Your finger traces the outline of his figure, reading the description. It's conveniently in a language you can understand.

Kang Yeosang, Prince of Elysium. Wanted for the murder of the King of Elysium. Bounty set at 4,979,990 Elp.

He is a prince? It makes sense, you can see his commanding aura through the thin paper. But why would he kill the king? You presume it's his relative, father or uncle maybe. You can only snort to yourself, shaking your head. He should have had a maid or butler perform the task if he wanted the throne so desperately. The bounty is high, though. Higher than you've ever seen it. Enough to set you for life and then some.

“He has been forgotten for over a century, human,” A voice pulls you away from the table. You look up, meeting the eyes of another Elysium. His hair is a deep blue, skin covered in bandages. He sits at your table without even a hint of an invitation from yourself, humming. “Neither Elysium high guard or the most elite bounty hunters have been able to find where he resides. This planet has been torn apart for decades. Most have accepted that he is no longer alive. I doubt a human like yourself would be able to find him.”

“Well stranger,” you take another slow sip of your drink, wincing at the taste. “I never said I would be hunting for the forgotten prince and neither do I want to, seeming as he hasn't been found in so long. Trying to read the emotions of a person you don't know doesn't seem to be your strong suit.” You roll your eyes, looking away from him. All you're trying to do is stay under the radar, keep to yourself. Weeks of avoiding unneeded conversation is going to be rough, but you'd rather not start messing up your plan right now with an Elysium that's trying to read your mind.

“You were thinking it, I could tell.” He shrugs.

You narrow your eyes now. Taking the bait surely, you continue, “And how can you read my mind? Is that an ability many of you have? Because it doesn't seem to be working all too well.”

“Ignoring that snide remark of yours, it’s because of your ship,” he glances out the door for a moment. “Before it was just you, there was a whole crew. You were bounty hunters back then, finding lost men and growing. You were quite notorious too, until that crew of yours broke apart. Quite unfortunate now, you could have found the biggest bounty yet if you came here back then.”

“I only deal in antiques now,” you retort. The past is the past. And notorious? You doubt the crew was that popular. Maybe relatively known, but not famous. Just reliable. “And I don't remember seeing you around the port when I was parking.” You would have remembered a face like his. His lips curve at your words, shrugging.

“I'm forgettable. My name is San, by the way,” he holds out his gloved hand. You take it, shaking it. “I'm the owner of this bar, and the man who will be showing you to your room next door.”

“You own both?” Your brow raises.

He nods. “Family business. Whenever you're ready just find me. I’ll be out and about.”

-

You stare at the lack of clothing in your carry-on bag, knowing you’ll have to go back to your ship soon to grab some more supplies. You rub your face, sinking into the bed. This is exactly what you didn’t want. Familiarity, staying longer than necessary. If the government let you rest on your ship you would have. But instead, you’re stuck in a hotel, waiting impatiently for your fuel. You glance at the door. Secured with makeshift objects you kept on your person, a bell twisted around the doorknob. San insisted that this place is safe, but you’d rather not take the chance. Especially as one of the only humans on this entire planet.

“Hell,” you murmur, looking out the window. The planet is known to be dark at night, which only adds more sense to why their skin glows. You look at the streets, shimmering Elysium walking every which way, bright against the streets. It is beautiful, enough for your eyes to continue to wander, lids growing heavy enough to fall unconscious.

The rattling is what woke you up. You leaned forward almost immediately, fingers reaching for the knife beneath your pillow you took off your plate at dinner. Coming up empty handed, you slide off the bed, hands up slightly. Your eyes barely get a chance to adjust to your dark room, but you see them. Their skin brightens up the room, glowing against the walls. They hold up the knife, crushing it between their fingers. You swallow, shooting a fleeting glance at the door. They stand in between you and your escape. You could jump from the window, but it’s several stories above the ground. You doubt you’d survive the landing. They take a step toward you and your body stiffens.

“What do you want? Elp? Artifacts? I have none, they’re all on my ship.”

They hesitate for a brief moment at your words. “Your ship?” Their voice echoes around the room, smooth and deep. Pretty, despite the circumstances. “You have a ship?”

You curse yourself, nodding slowly. “I do. It has no fuel, so you won’t be able to get anywhere with it.”

“But you have a ship,” they confirm. “You can leave this planet.”

“Is that what you want? What are you, a fugitive?” Their skin's luminescence softens at your words. It's almost enough for you to make out their features. In that brief hesitance, they look eerily familiar. You don't get the chance to look any closer though, skin back to where it was. “I can help you.”

“I need to leave. When will you be free to go?”

Good question. “Maybe a few weeks? They said it'll take a while.” Why the hell are you negotiating with a bright spot? Just as you open your mouth again, they interrupt.

“I will be back.”

They dissipate in front of you in a blink, gone from your sight. You drop your arms, chest throbbing, breaths quick. You stand still for a few more minutes. After realizing that they're truly gone, you drop your hands. The smart thing to do is tell San what happened. But your gut is telling you otherwise. It was strange to say the least. But you can't think of leaving to complain to San about someone who might just be a figment of your imagination in your tired state. You convince yourself as such, moving closer to the door. The bell and other contraptions are still in the same place you left them. You walk back to your bed, a cold metal touching your foot. Glancing down, you see the pile of dust.

The knife they crushed.

—

You soon convinced yourself it was a dream despite the circumstances. The knife could have been fragile. You could have somehow imagined the pile of dust. All of these explanations ignore the feeling in your gut. It dwells. No one has bothered you much for the past few days. A little talk here and there, but most left you alone. San, you've grown to notice, speaks to everyone and anyone around his tavern and hotel. And it seems that everyone knows him well, his loud laugh echoing around every room he's in. It brings you comfort. Enough to hide that sinking feeling.

You sit outside, staring out into the thickened leaves and trees. They're nothing like what you've seen, vines tight, barely any signs of movement. As if it knows you're watching. So still that your gaze moves to the rustling of leaves. You tense, glancing around. No one is out and about. Only you in this area. Just as you begin to stand, you see him.

His hair is long, pulled back from his face with braided strings. His eyes are iridescent, still on yours as he makes his way to you. His movements are elegant, hands tucked into his jacket, hidden from view. There's only one person he could be – the Elysium from your bedroom. As he moves closer, you see it. The birthmark near his eye, extending to his temple. Pretty, but deadly, in these circumstances. He pauses in his movement, noticing your shift of focus.

“You know me,” his voice is softer, hesitance wrapped around each word. “You told me you were a human.”

You can't begin to speak, slowly standing up from your spot. Having the exiled crown prince standing in front of you, especially after all San said about his disappearance. What kind of luck do you have?

“I am.”

His eyes narrow, “Then how do you know me?”

“You are the forgotten one. How could anyone not know you? I –” You glance back. “I don't want to be involved in whatever you're planning.”

“I want to leave the planet.”

“Leave? You've been gone for a century, you could have left anytime you wanted. They forgot about you. Why are you trying to hitch a ride with me? What's your plan?”

He stares at you, silent. Your irritation makes your fear lessen, waiting for his response. He merely sighs, staring at the grass beneath his feet. “Humans have rarely landed on our planet. Each time, they refused to help me. Which is why I am asking you.”

“And why would I help you? If someone caught me, I could be killed. You murdered the king. That's not a petty crime.”

His jaw tightens at the mention of the past. Knowing you very much made a mistake, you backtrack. “I don't know you well enough to listen to what you have to say.”

“So why do you listen to what the others say? Do you know Elysium well at all? Why listen to the words of beings you have never come across? Why not listen to my words?”

You pause, unsure of how to answer. Sure, you can listen to the masses, take their word for it and report that you certainly have seen the lost prince. Or you can keep this quiet, decide on whether you want to save him. The longer he stares and waits for a response, the more you're sure of your decision.

“Did you kill him?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have no other choice?”

“...Yes,” he takes a breath. “If I didn't, more Elysium would have been killed. I had no other choice.”

There is no wavering in his tone. He says it strongly, a furrow of his brow. Lost, maybe hurt. But he is sure.

“Okay,” you glance around. “I will get you out of here. But once we land at the next port, you're gone. And we will pretend none of this happened.”

“I'll follow your words, human.”

“y/n,” you correct. “My name is y/n.”

—

“You’ve been out and about a lot these past few days.”

San glances up from cleaning the glass, leg resting on the edge of the chair. You have avoided him since your encounter with the lost prince. You doubt he can read your mind, mostly, but being around Elysium when you’re hiding the most sought out of them all is not exactly something you’d like to do. Especially since you’re growing a soft spot for San. Another thing you didn’t want to do. Unfortunately for you - he’s too kind not to.

“Am I not allowed to explore the planet I'm inhabiting temporarily?”

He purses his lips, leaning against the arm of the broom between his clothed fingers. “You are, of course. Just strange, the way you’ve been acting. Anytime someone asks where you’ve been, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Just what are you hiding, y/n?” His brown lifts, glancing between your eyes. “Or is it best that I not know about it?”

Do you trust him enough to spill what you’ve been hiding? Yeosang has warned you, especially tonight, not to say a word. Out of fear or otherwise. So though San is trustworthy enough, you can’t quite tell him. Not yet, or ever, really. You merely shake your head, and he nods in understanding.

“Fair enough. I hope you keep your radio line open, y/n. I’d hate to lose contact with you.”

You leave the hotel tonight after weeks of staying, petrol finally filled to the brim in your ship. You’ve spent all day filling up your storage with preservatives enough for your long journey and then some. The guard was curious that you had so much, enough for several people. He even inquired as to if you’ve found a life partner on Elysium. You denied it and he only waved you off.

San passes you a small bag of snacks you ordered earlier and you thank him, your hands brushing against each other. The leather encompassing his holds yours for a moment, a small smile on his lips. “There’s a small map in there to an entrance to the docks that no one takes anymore, out of commission. It so happens to be behind your ship, exactly where you parked it. No one would see it since it’s out of view from prying eyes. Someone would advise someone else to take it, using that little pill in that bag. It’ll show whoever it is as someone else temporarily. Not long enough to hang around for hours, but enough. In case, of course.”

He lets go of your hand, smile wavering. “Be safe, y/n. I trust you, even though I haven’t earned your trust yet.”

“San–”

He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Don’t want to know my friend. Safe travels, keep that radio on. Don’t forget me and call if your journey is too boring, or if you’re tired of him.”

He doesn’t say anything more, grabbing his towel and broom, disappearing into the back of the bar. You grip the bag tightly, grateful that you’ve met him.

–

“It is safe?” Yeosang holds the pill in his hand. You’ve thrown a large coat around his body, the scraps of clothing that he has now not merely enough to make him look like a normal Elysium. The snow does not seem to bother him the way it bothers you, he himself ignoring how the flakes stick to his cheeks. “You’re sure of this?”

“I am,” There’s no need to expand on how or who gave you those pills, exactly. But you think you can trust him. You hope you can. Since he knows what you’re doing, he could have spilled it long ago. But he didn’t, and that’s enough for you.

His soft eyes watch yours. There’s fear of the unknown hidden between the irises, the slow blinks. He has trusted you up to this point. You’re not sure why he decided to grab a random human to help him, but he did, and it’s you. You’ve gotten this far, you wouldn’t betray him. Giving up your life for him is definitely a stretch, but you’d help him in any way you can. And those worried eyes do nothing but make your chest swell. You will help the forgotten prince off this cursed planet. Taking your silence as an answer, he swallows the pill, grabbing the bottle from your hand and drinks the water. You watch him as he stands very still. As if he’s waiting for his death to come. Instead what you see – you can only describe it as magical.

The dark, black hair of his disappears into a lighter blond, softer features hardening, delicate nose changing. Kang Yeosang is nothing like himself. He seems to have shortened in height as well, leveled with you. His eyes stay on yours though, now brown eyes hesitate. Without thinking, you reach out, brushing his wavy hair away from his face. It is not Yeosang in appearance, no, but you can still see him through the disguise. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your small pocket knife, showing him his expression through the reflective metal.

He laughs, shaking his head, “How horrid,” his voice is obscenely deep. Almost obnoxiously so. “What a relief you didn’t want to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t have, you know that,” you roll your eyes.

“I do,” he agrees simply. “Let us go?”

You nod, slipping your fingers into his. He stills for a moment, letting you pull him out from the forest. There’s plenty of people around but none pay attention to either of you. Yeosang’s grip tightens in yours, stiffer as he stands close to you. He hasn’t been around his people in so long, it must be jarring to see them not give him a second glance. Not shame him for what he’s done. You’d like to pick his brain on what he’s feeling right now but you have a task to complete.

You look around, entering the port through the back. It is as San said, no one around, no one to bother the two of you. You quickly open the back door of your ship, ushering him inside. He is a bit hesitant as he stands there, almost forcing you to push him into the ship. He turns to you, eyes widening. “You are not entering?”

“Not back here, I have to go around the front and grab my papers before leaving. I’ll be back.”

You take a step back and he moves a bit forward again, as if to follow you. “Hey, stay in there–”

“You wouldn’t leave me, right?” His words are soft now, the tone of Yeosang’s voice you’ve grown accustomed to. “You would come back?”

You look around, before stepping forward. You hold his face between your hands, “I will not leave you, alright? I am coming back, just give me a few minutes. I’m not lying to you. I promise you this.”

The tension in his shoulders dropped slightly, “Okay. I will hold you to that.” His lips press against the inside of your wrist, stepping back. You quickly move down the ramp, shutting the doors. Ignoring the beating of your heart in your ears, the warming of your face. There’s no time to worry about that now. You have more important things to do, like lie to the guard and smuggle off a fugitive worth more money than you can comprehend.

-

It’s been a few hours since you’ve left Elysium. You know Yeosang is still on, from the rummaging in the room you told him to stay in. You haven’t entered only to give him privacy. In fact, you haven’t seen him since you closed that ramp. The magic has definitely worn off by now. You did want to check but decided against it. Whatever he’s going through right now you’re letting him process it slowly. Hopefully carefully, knowing you have valuables in the room he’s staying in.

You sit at the control table, slowly eating a snack San handed to you. You radioed him just after you left to let him know that you were safe and everything was handled, and he sighed very loudly in relief, explaining that he definitely was not sitting around waiting for your call (he was) or that he thought you might have been taken (he definitely did think so). You reassured him with simple words, not enough to say what you mean, but enough for him to understand. The call was quick, ending with a simple goodbye. You will miss him endlessly, but landing on that planet again wouldn’t be in your favor. That’s your first and last time ever in that sector. Or near it at all. The next port is a couple weeks away, but you have enough fuel to go much farther. You want to discuss with Yeosang and see what he thinks, but he still hasn’t left his room.

Very smart of you to take a banished prince into your ship without knowing anything but what he’s told you.

The hum of the spaceship's engines echoed through the metal walls as you stared at the cameras. You glance at the closed door of the guest quarters, mind swirling with apprehension. The decision to let a stranger on board has always come with its own set of risks, and you just cannot shake the memories of a past experience that had gone terribly wrong.

A few solar cycles ago, you did something similar, made the mistake of extending hospitality to a different traveler stranded on a desolate moon. The person seemed fairly harmless at first, grateful for shelter and food. As the days passed, you noticed a few things off - stolen data from your harddrive corrupt, and before you could even confront them they took the rescue sub and left, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of compromised security, and lack of an escape. It took you months to get something to replace it. The weight of that previous betrayal still hangs heavy on your shoulders; sleepless nights spent trying to repair the damage, the sense of disgust that lingered long after the unwelcome guest had departed, regret that you even trusted a person enough to leave them alone around your things.

Your fingers trace the edge of the data pad, a holographic display of Yeosang’s past. The background check had little, just a brief history of what happened. Nothing to tell you about him, really, just what his people now think of him. Still, you cannot shake the feeling that history might be repeating itself.

"Am I being too paranoid?" you murmur yourself, glancing at the viewscreen that displays the vastness of space outside. "Hell."

Perhaps establishing additional security measures?

You hesitate for a moment. You think you trust him, you do. You trust him enough to leave him around your valuables without thinking twice. So you drop your hand from the screen, shaking your head. If everything messes up, it’ll only be your fault, no one else’s. You move from your spot, approaching the small bed in the corner. Deep sleep will evade you since you’re on board with a fugitive, but your lids are too heavy to ignore. You tuck yourself beneath the blanket, blinking slowly as you stare out the windows. You made a choice. A big choice.

You just hope it’s the right one.

-

“You’re quiet.”

You look up from your food, Yeosang slowly approaching you. He wears the clothing you’ve left in that room for him. Though a bit tight, and silly looking, it’ll fit for now. Nothing like what royalty would wear. You reach back, passing him a bowl that you’ve already made for him. In case he decided to appear in front of you.

He widens his eyes as you sit it across from you, gesturing for him to dig in. You take another bite as he slowly sits down. “You made this for me?”

“You haven’t eaten in days. I know Elysium aren’t the same as me, but you have to eat, Yeosang. You can’t survive on just water.”

“I can for a few months,” he says. Just as you’re about to apologize for your assumption, you see the slight smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, continuing to eat. “I’m grateful for your presence, and your thoughtfulness, y/n. I wouldn’t have been able to choose anyone better to help me leave.”

You shake your head, “It’s nothing-”

“It is something,” he interrupts, “I essentially forced you to take me off that planet. And you obliged without much hesitation. You risked yourself for me. There’s no way I can repay what you have done for me, nothing. I can only remain forever in your debt.”

You think for a moment before speaking. “I trust you Yeosang, I hope you know that. I wouldn't have let you on this ship with me if I didn't. I know that you’ve done it for a reason, and if you’re not able to tell me now, it’s okay. And it’s okay if you cannot say it ever. And do not place yourself into debt with me. Call us even.”

“You place far too much trust in me,” he whispers, looking away from you. “A stranger you barely know.” He takes a deep breath, eyes glued to his bowl. You can see the weight of his unspoken pain. “I wish to tell you what happened.” His eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze with a mixture of gratitude and. He speaks of his father, the king, who had become corrupted by power and had posed a threat to the people of Elysium. And how, in an act of pure desperation to protect his people, he had taken the life of his own father.

"The council, the people—they didn't understand," Yeosang confesses, words laced with pain. "They saw me as a traitor, an assassin. I was banished, branded a murderer when all I wanted was to save them. I didn’t know how to deal with that, when I tried to save them all."

You can feel the depth of Yeosang's isolation and loneliness, the weight of the truth hanging heavy in the air. There is no doubt from you. You believe him.

"I was almost killed in the process," Yeosang continues, his eyes reflecting the memory. " And I almost let them do it, thinking that my sacrifice would be enough to prove my innocence, but then I pulled myself out of that. They would just let the royal line die, they wouldn’t dig into the past and see. I am the sole heir to the throne, it died with my banishment. If I died then, no one would care to see why. They would just celebrate my end."

Your expression softens, nodding slowly, "You've been through so much, Yeosang. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been."

"I miss being able to protect my people," Yeosang says, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "But now, all I can do is hope that they'll forgive me someday, that they'll learn the truth about the danger my father posed and the sacrifices I made to try and save them."

"You’ll find a way to clear your name, to unveil the truth. It might take time, but…” This is much to say, much too soon. “If you need me, we can face it together. I can help you in any way you need me to."

Yeosang meets your gaze, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in his alien eyes. "I've learned to trust only myself, to keep my guard up against those who might see me as a threat. But being around you... it's different. Easier. You've shown me kindness, understanding. And for the first time, I feel like I can breathe."

Pushing the dwelling feelings inside your own chest, you nudge him slightly. "You’re not alone anymore. I'm here for you, and we'll navigate these fucked up stars together."

“Until the next port?”

You pause. “Right. Until the next port.”

His head tilts. “I just would like to know why you’ve let yourself become entangled with me. Why you have yet to throw me off this ship.”

There’s no explanation you can give that would satisfy his curiosity. In all honesty, you haven’t the slightest clue. If it were pure idiocy that you let him on your ship, let his words convince you. There’s just something that you trust in him. Something that makes you believe everything and anything that he says.

Oh, you are just an idiot.

-

The first thing you hear is yelling.

It's low because of the incessant engine humming in the background. Cutting through the sound, echoing around the hull of your ship. Your eyes flick open immediately, feet slipping into your boots without much thought. Just as you stand, the cold metal of a knife presses against your throat. You still, thoughts flashing back to your past.

“A woman alone on a ship this large? Have you no concern for your safety?”

Alone? They haven't found Yeosang?

You keep your gaze to the floor, trying to think of a way out of this. You haven't the slightest inkling on how many there are, but there's bound to be more than three. You're severely outnumbered, and you doubt the prince has ever fought anyone like you have. Isolation for over a hundred years – the two of you will either be forced into slavery or killed within the hour. Well, at least you would be. Once they see the bounty on Yeosang's head, they'll take him back. And all of this would have been for nothing.

“Do you speak, woman?”

“My crew left,” you say. “We went our separate ways. They left me the ship as a gift.”

“And what a pretty one it is,” he sneers, forcing you to stand as he digs the knife into your neck. You follow his movements slowly, heart racing as the cold steel of the pirate's knife pressed against her skin. Your mind races, trying to come up with a fast solution to free yourself. Your security system is too far for you to run to, and he would very likely stab your neck before you can yell a command.

“The others are searching this ship,” he begins to explain, forcing you into a seat. Panic fills your body. His knife lifts from your chin, steel digging into your wrists as he ties you into the seat. The knife drags along your arm as you cry out. All of your plans of overpowering him dissipate into nothing. You're only a human, after all. There isn't enough strength in your body to rip apart metal confinement.

The door to the room swings open, and before you could turn to see, an ax hits the middle of the pirate's face, blood splattering against your cheek. You scream, leaning away from the bloodshed. Hands wrap around your constraints and pull harshly, dropping them to the floor. You have no chance to look back before arms surround your body, pulling you close against him. His sweet, calming smell is familiar enough to calm your heart.

“You're safe,” he whispers softly, lips pressed against your hair. “You're safe.” Taking in his own words, his arms drop from your body. You look at him, shocked at what you see. His lips are bloodied, body covered in cuts and slowly forming bruises. Shirt shredded, barely hanging on his firm build. He blinks slowly, eyes steady on yours.

He could have died. He could have died so horribly, and you were stuck in a room with one man. Your trembling arms wrap around Yeosang, holding him as if you could shield him from the wounds that adorn his skin. The smell of blood lingers in the air. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the sight of the injuries that coat his body. He could have died. And you're not sure how you could have lived with that.

Sobs escape your lips as you press your face into the crook of Yeosang's neck, "I'm so glad you're alive," you whispered, carefully choosing your words.

Yeosang winces at your hold. You almost pull away, until his grip tightens, wrapping your arms around him again. His concern is etched in the lines of his furrowed brow, betraying his actions. "y/n, you're hurt. Your body," he rasps, fingers delicately resting against your arm. "I should have protected you better."

Your grip tightened, as if by sheer force of will, somehow you could mend both the wounds. “Protect me? You're the banished prince, idiot. I'm the one who should be protecting you,” you reprimand ever so gently. "You're the one who faced the brunt of it. I'm just glad you're alive. I only have small cuts here and there compared to you."

Yeosang's eyes, a mix of gratitude and worry, meet yours. "But you've risked everything for me already. I cannot bear to see you hurt."

A soft smile plays on your lips, "Yeosang, I know the risks as much as you do. I can protect myself."

You can see that he wants to argue more, but his expression relaxes, a silent acknowledgment of your words. You let your fingers trace the outskirt of his wounds. He watches you for a brief moment, before speaking. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he murmurs, voice wary.

You shake your head. "Worry about yourself for once.”

Your tears mingle with the stains of blood on Yeosang's torn attire, clinging to him fiercely.

-

The vibration of the spaceship's engines reverberated through the metal hull, creating a steady rhythm that accompanied your growing sense of unease. Something you’re not able to grasp fully. As a banished prince, Yeosang exchanged his endless roaming in Elysium’s forest for you. And as each day passes, you find yourself stuck, grappling with a strange and undeniable attachment to him. It’s not like you wanted this to happen. In fact, you actively avoided him every chance you got after what happened on the ship. But the silent nights sitting next to one another in the navigation room, the soft smiles shown between the both of you, somewhere in between, things just changed. It was subtle. Soon small smiles were nervous ones on your end.

You cannot avoid the inevitable, that you know.

In the vastness of space, surrounded by the glow of distant stars and the gentle hum of technology, you find yourself sitting in the main room, eyes glued to the television screen. It’s a bit older than newer ships, you never bothered to change it since you rarely watched it. The artificial gravity comfortably keeps you glued to the couch, legs tucked into your chest, blanket over your resting body. Yeosang sits on the opposite end of the couch, not daring to touch you. That’s another story in itself.

Yeosang never really touched you since the brief hijack, nor comfortably since that first time, his lips on your wrist. He actually avoided touching you, slowly taking things from your hand, shrinking himself against a hallway wall. You know it’s for your comfort, but it only makes you yearn for him even more. You never considered yourself a touchy person, not really. Not until now. You wouldn’t be able to tell how many nights you’ve stayed up, thinking about his eyes on yours as his lips covered the skin above your quickened pulse. How he stayed there, longer than needed, before disappearing in the ship. How you wish you can tell him to do it again.

How infuriating.

So as you stare at the screen, you cannot shake the unsettling realization that you are becoming tethered to the person that you sternly told needs to leave when you arrive at the next port. Vulnerability, unfamiliar and raw, creeps over your body, your stomach twisting. How silly that the unknown, uncertainty of the space outside these walls seems vastly incomparable to the fear of losing him.

“You haven’t said a word about the main character.”

You glance at him from your spot, confusion crossing your features. “Hm?”

“Whenever we watch this show, you comment on how annoying the leading man is. How he doesn’t deserve the leading woman. Then, you grumble and groan everytime he says another cheesy line, and sigh when she falls for it. But you haven’t done that at all this whole time. Are you alright?” His pretty eyes rest on yours, brows furrowing.

No, you aren’t okay. You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be okay.

“I’m alright, Yeosang. Thanks for asking.”

“You’ve become easily readable, y/n. I can tell when you’re lying to me. You can say it, you know. Who am I to judge?”

“Just… old times. Things. Stuff, you know.”

He frowns, “That is bigger than the last lie you’ve told me.”

“Yeosang, it’s fine.”

He sighs simply, head turned back to the screen. “Fine, I am not one to push. I just, I don’t know, perhaps I believed that we’ve moved past this hidden information phase. That you somehow trusted me enough to let me know when you’re upset.”

He’s picking at you, it’s clear. You know if you told him straight that you didn’t want to speak of it he’d drop the topic immediately, but you haven’t. It’s very clear to both of you that you want to tell him. But on your side, you’re just afraid to. Yeosang, though not looking at you, waits patiently for your response, unaware of the angst within your heart.

Your fingers nervously play with loose strings of the blanket across your body, trying to find the right words, fear pressing down on your shoulders. He will reject you. Yeosang, despite his status now, is still royalty. He may very much only see you as nothing more than a commoner. Though deep down you know for it to be a lie, your mind wants to convince you that it is true. That he will never stoop down to someone your level.

“I’m fucking terrifed, Yeosang,” you whisper softly.

His mild irritation disappears at your words, body turning fully to look at you. You avoid his gaze as best as you can.

"You’ve… you’ve lived so much of your life as royalty. And here I am, a reject from my former crew, confined in a ship with a prince," your voice is softer now, hesitant. “I’m scared of my feelings for you. And I’m scared that you’ll find me disgusting, gross, and try to leave as quickly as you can."

Yeosang's eyes soften, “y/n–”

“Wait, let me just… let me say this, please.”

He closes his lips, a silent invitation for her to continue.

"And I wondered, what if this feeling is just because you’re nice to me, you know? What if I’m so deprived of kindness that the slightest glimpse of someone remotely caring makes me want you? I never wanted you to pity me, and I don’t want you to say yes when it’s not true for you as it is for me. I like you, I like you so much that I can’t even look at you without feeling it. It aches me,” your eyes burn, tears threatening to fall. “But if you find me as insignificant as I think, please just let me know. Let me know so I can move on.”

Yeosang's expression is unreadable. It scares you even more. He uncrosses his arms, hand resting on the edge of your blanket. "You are not insignificant to me, y/n. You never will be," he smiles. "I just hate that you’ve said all of this before I could confess my feelings myself."

That stuns you for a moment. The way he looks at you is enough to make you look away. He has never made you this nervous before.

“Look at me, please.”

You turn to him.

"y/n," Yeosang begins, his gaze unwavering. "When I first saw you in that hotel, there was something different about you. I couldn't put it into words, but I felt a connection, a sense of trust that I hadn't felt with anyone in a long time."

Your eyes met his in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. You allow him to speak as he allows you.

"Back then, despite it being only weeks ago, I didn't know how to express my gratitude," Yeosang confesses, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the old couch. "You saved me, helped me escape. And in these past few weeks, spending time with you, I've come to see humans for who they truly are. Not just as a means of survival, but as individuals capable of kindness, understanding, and compassion."

A faint smile plays on your lips as you take in his words.

"I didn't realize it at first," Yeosang continues, "These feelings I've been grappling with—whether they were genuine or just a manifestation of attachment because you saved me. But right now, as you sit in front of me, gripping your blanket with such an enormous amount of strength, I just knew."

"Knew what?"

"That this would be it for me," Yeosang admits, "That I'm completely and utterly terrified of saying my next words, but I care for you deeply, and I want you to be mine. I have no reason to worry since you think the same, but I don't want you to have regrets. I don't care if you're not royalty as I was before. I cannot quite understand why you would think I ever cared about such a thing. I never even mention my former status to you unless you bring it up.”

He is right, of course.

“So what do we do now?” You ask after a moment of silence.

He shrugs, leaning further into the couch. “The same as we’ve done before, except now we know we both like each other,” his head tilts, eyes glued back to the television. “Ah, you’re right. He is quite a nuisance.”

-

And that is how it was.

Days melted into nights aboard the spaceship, neither of you mentioning what happened. The air shifted, no longer burdened by the weight of unspoken words. But still, there is a bit of awkwardness between you. Yeosang, no longer avoiding you or pressing himself against walls to avoid you, entered rooms you occupied and initiated conversations, his presence comforting enough. But other than that, he still avoided your skin. There was only one time he didn’t notice you around, your arm brushing against his to grab something from a cabinet. His skin flushed, body rigged as you lightly nudged him out of the way. After that, he rarely gives you his back, always sending you a smile, or keeping himself aware of where you are in the room.

The physical distance persisted, enough so that you could no longer handle being around him without bringing it up.

One night, as you tend to the plants in your nursery you finally sigh, looking back at him. He wears an old crewmate’s attire, tight against his fit limbs, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s almost enough for you to forget what you were going to say, until his brow lifts, waiting for you to speak.

"Yeosang," you say, voice breaking the silence. "Is everything okay?"

“Hm?” he tilts his head endearingly, only making this much harder to bring up. You push past the unsettling feelings within you, glancing away from him.

“Do you not like touch?”

“What?” his voice is dripping with shock, almost appallingly so, brows furrowed so harshly they may as well rip his skin. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s hard not to when you avoid touching me every chance you get, Yeosang. I mean, I barely brush your arm and it’s like I’m some sort of disease? I don’t understand.”

“No, y/n, that’s not at all what I am thinking. I…” He rubs his face, moving off the wall, “I am filled with a never ending desire to touch you. It’s my fault that you don’t think so. I presumed that you knew of the mating practices of Elysium without even asking,” he rubs his arms, gaze sliding to the floor. “I don’t know if you noticed while on your brief time there, but on Elysium, all of us wear gloves to avoid touching each other. We only have skin to skin contact with prospective mates.”

You remember how his lips brushes against your wrist, his hand clearly wrapped around yours. How you pushed his hair away from his face, how you held it between yours. You’ve rarely touched him, but you’ve still done it, not knowing what it meant. No wonder he looks perturbed each time you’ve done so.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“And I should have presumed that you did not,” he murmurs. “Each time, every time you touch me, it’s an indescribable feeling. No one has touched my skin since my mother when she held me as an infant, y/n. You are the first since then,” his eyes land on your hands. “When I kissed your wrist, it was an act of confession. So when you told me a few days ago that you were scared I did not feel the same, I didn’t quite understand since I’ve already touched you. Again, another assumption that I didn’t explain,” he shakes his head. “Apologizes.”

“All we’ve done is assume,” you agree. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do, and I’m sorry again. I ... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable since touch as an adult Elysium with another is so much more than innocent. After what I said, though, if you’re uncomfortable, I can give you space."

“No.” You say quickly, an amused smile cast on his lips. “I mean, I don’t mind you touching me, Yeosang. You don’t have to ask. I’m comfortable with you.”

Relief washing over Yeosang's features, "Okay. You can touch me too, y/n.”

You snort, turning back to your plants, “Never thought I’d have a conversation like this.”

“Neither did I.”

The conversation fades into silence, your back to him as you dig out the leaves. You’re focused enough that you don’t hear Yeosang inching closer and closer to you, until a slow hand wraps around your waist. He pulls you into him with ease, breathing in heavily. You can hear your own heart beating against your eardrums, hands gripping the tools tightly. Sure, you expected him to touch you sooner or later.

But you just didn’t expect it to be this soon.

Yeosang’s lips brush against your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Can I touch you now?"

You lean into his body, humming, “Are you not already touching me?”

His free hand slips down, resting on the curve of your thigh. “Not in the way you want me to. Not in the way I desire, So,” his hand stills, “May I touch you?”

“Yes…”

His hand slowly drags against your pants. You watch as he does so, lips brushing against your neck. His lips caress your skin, breathing steadily. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says after a moment, causing a laugh to escape your lips. Though he does not move away from your body, you can feel his protruding lips pouting against your neck. You try turning around to look at him but he tightens his hold. “You’re not leaving, are you?” he whispers. “I can learn how to pleasure you.”

“Yeosang,” you try turning again, feeling how he reluctantly lets you go. You lean slightly against the framing of the nursery, stretching out your legs and wrapping them behind him. It pushes his body closer to yours, he himself grabbing the planters on either side of you, steadying his body against the framing. Entrapping you in his embrace. His eyes look nervous as they stare into yours. Without missing a beat, you reach up, cupping his cheek. His lids flutter, eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

“Why would I leave you alone?”

He swallows, gaze heavy as it rests on yours. “It is not an unfamiliar feeling.”

You lean forward, pressing a light kiss against the corner of his lips. He trembles. “I am not leaving you, Yeosang. I won’t leave you. As long as you want me around, I’ll be here. I won’t abandon you.”

His tongue drags against his lips, “You are sure of that? As long as you can be? I… You won’t leave me?”

“No,” your voice is firm. “I’m not leaving you. And I’ll teach you how to please me, pretty boy–”

An echo of metal cracking behind you stops you from continuing. You glance to the side, seeing his fingers digging deeply into the planters. Eyes widened, you turn back to him. His eyes are glazed over, glued on your every movement. Flicking down to your lips, he leans forward. You meet him halfway, hand resting on the back of his neck. Your tongue drags across his plush bottom lips, pulling him closer. A light gasp escapes his lips, and you take that chance to enter his mouth. He tastes sweet, as sweet as that smile of his. It’s something you very much can get used to.

You hear the planters crack again, his hands resting on either side of your hips, desperately clawing at the fabric. How delicate he holds you compared to the damage behind. He learns without you telling him how to kiss, clumsy a bit at first before calming himself down. Your hand slips down, following the curve of his broad shoulders, hesitating slightly as you touch the solid muscle of his arms. If there were any way you could be more enthralled with his very being you would have surpassed it long ago. You pull away to catch a breath, his head leaning against your shoulder, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, a strange set of words to come out of his usually proper speech. “We have done not a thing, but I am already too excited,” he lifts his head, thumb rubbing circles into your side. “How do humans fornicate? Is it like us?”

“Depends, what do you do?” Though he asked first, you cannot help but wonder about his answer. He pauses for a moment.

“From what I’ve learned, it is usually snowing outside. That is our peak fertility time. We strip bare, and fuck in the snow.”

“Yeosang!” You gasp, unable to hold in your laughter at his confused gaze. “You’re a riot.”

He continues on, as if you didn’t say a word, “We enter the mating partner through their anus and ejaculate after so much time. Depending on the Elysium, of course.”

“We are not having anal sex. Not now at least,” you say simply. “Humans, well, it depends on the genitalia of their partner. I’m assuming you have a dick?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Yes.”

“Well, then…” After a brief history on what actually happens (brief as in, a forty minute lecture), Yeosang’s fingers are inside of you, moving quickly curving slightly. You moan against his ministrations, gripping the sheets beneath you, eyes flicking down to how easily he learned. His gaze never leaves yours, lips slightly parted as he watches you come undone.

“You’re so pretty, my pretty queen,” he whispers, a small smile gracing his lips as he feels you clench around his fingers. “So so pretty for me, my queen.”

“Yeosang, wait–” you grip his wrists, and he increases his pace. You’ve set boundaries earlier, your safe word being snow. “I’m going to cum if you continue.”

“Then cum for me, pretty. I want to feel you tight around my fingers,” he curls them slightly again, thumb rubbing against your clit. With warning, you moan, falling over the edge. He continues to move inside you, though much slower than before. Once you’re down from your high, he pulls out.

His free hand grips his pants, ripping them with eagerness. His hand wraps around himself, stroking his –

Two cocks rest between his soiled hands, his strokes slow and calculated. Your brain tries to wrap around where exactly in the conversation you had prior, when he told you exactly how many he has. He looks at your shocked expression, worry decorating his. “Darling?”

“You have two, Yeosang. I asked you if you had a dick and you said yes!”

“I do have one, y/n,” his expression still puzzled. “Humans do not also have two?” He swallows slowly, strokes slowing down. “Is this too much for you?”

“Ah, no,” you disagree immediately. “Just surprising.”

“I can only enter you with one, as to not hurt you,” he says quickly. “It’s what you prefer, of course. We can stop now.”

You think it through. Having one inside you is a job in itself, but two? They’re both pretty average and similar to a human’s, though a bit more prominent – skin softer-looking, and covered with shimmer, just as his skin is. You don’t want to end this, and clearly, neither does he. So with confidence, your eyes meet his nervous ones.

“We can try it.”

“…Both?” There’s a bit of hope in his voice.

Who are you to crush it?

“Both.”

-

note: no part two ;-;

#fic: winter blossom #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x reader #ateez fics #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #and its snowing collab

[maikirumoo]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three

chapter four | suede. stalking. silly.

his pov;

"Your wanted poster."

Those three words settled in my mind as I stared at the distraught girl in front of me, watching as she fumbled with her hands, a nervous exterior brushing over her. She seemed to be so horrified with the fact that I was once a pirate sought after by thousands- wanted dead or alive, though much preferred dead. Many still wanted me dead but due to my brilliant idea of hiding out here, the chance of anyone getting my bounty was thin. I, however, didn't see it being as much of a big deal as she deemed it so. The real issue I found was tucked away in one of the books within the nightstand which I was so fucking thankful she didn't find. I'd rather her not have been looking around but if she were to find one of the two? I was glad she found the poster.

I tossed another slice of apple into my mouth then set the knife down on the cutting board. I approached Y/N but instantly halted when I noticed how nervous and uneasy she was. "What's wrong?"

"H-How many people did you kill?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Does that really matter?" I asked, waving my hands up in the air to hopefully exaggerate my point. "It was almost a year ago."

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened!"

"I know, I know." Despite her discomfort, I took a seat next to her anyway. She tightened her arms around herself, almost to make sure there was as much distance between us without her actually moving. Clenching my jaw, I patted my hands upon my thighs. "I know it's a terrible thing, and there's nothing I can do to change that. It's in the past and if I could go back and alter things, I would. Being a pirate was all I knew. My old friend was one, too. Then we separated onto different things and-"

"Did he kill people?"

"Lots of pirates kill people. It's part of the hype, ya know? It's very unlikely to raid another ship without there being any casualties. But I stopped because I got tired of it. I wanted something more."

"It's a pretty big bounty. I mean- come on, fifteen million berries?"

"Don't think about turning me in now," I chuckled, wanting to add a bit of lightheartedness to this unfortunate predicament.

"I'm not like that. I know I'm in need of money but-"

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N, come on. Give me some slack."

"Well, why exactly did you stop? Did you lose the thrill of stealing from others? O-Or did you get bored of killing innocent people?"

I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "We've all done some shit we're ashamed of. We're humans. I did a lot of fucked up shit," I said as I pointed at myself. "But I changed that. I moved and let all that go. I left my crew, made someone else the captain, and abandoned ship. I left all of that shit behind and came here."

"But why?"

"If I say this, I'll probably make things worse but I don't want to lie anymore," I said as I laid back, folding my hands over my chest. I stared up at the ceiling. "You've obviously heard of the One Piece, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, I was one of those pirates absolutely obsessed with finding it. Fuck, I even dreamt about it. It was the only thing I truly desired in life. It was the only thing I thought about. Not riches, women, alcohol- just the One Piece. I was making somewhat decent progress but then I heard that a group of Straw Hats-" I grimaced at the thought. "-made off with the map which they stole from one of the Marine bases. I happened to track them down and I managed to steal the map from some kid named Monkey D. Luffy. But all good things must come to an end and I lost it. I was back to square one. And then I discovered his bounty was thirty million berries." I frowned then sat up, turning to face Y/N. "Can you believe that? Some newby pirate-wannabe received a bounty double my own! Seeing that brought me back to reality. So I dropped everything then came here."

"All because of him?"

I nodded my head. Just the thought of that kid irked me. There was no one, other than Shanks, who I despised more than my own self.

"So, yeah, I know what I did was fucked up. But there's a reason I'm here now. There's a reason I've given you so much. It's because I want to be a better person, maybe redeem myself for what I've done. And I can do that by helping you, by making your life a little less miserable."

"Do you pity me?" The girl asked, finally meeting my gaze.

"What?" I laughed, almost obnoxiously. "Of course not. If anything, I envy you."

"Me?" Y/N pointed at herself. "You envy me?"

"You have no bad conscience. You've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to make up for. You have a clean slate."

She shrugged, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "Thank you."

"So, uh, do you hate me now?" I asked, forcing a frown to mimic a pouting child. She giggled at this and shook her head. I sighed in relief, wiping 'sweat' from my forehead. "Thank god. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you hated me."

"I knew you were a pirate but it's still shocking to learn about your past. It'll take me a bit to get used to it but I don't hate you."

"So, we're good?" I extended my hand.

"We're good." She shook it.

I felt as if a huge relief was lifted off my shoulders. And as long as she stayed out of the nightstand, there would be no more issues. But if I hid the book, then I would be even more safe. I pondered the possibilities before I watched as she rose from the confines of the bed and approached the counter. My eyes trailed down. The backs of her thighs were exposed and the shorts clung to her ass so divinely. I bit my lip and crossed my leg over my lap.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me," She mumbled as she started to chew on an apple, then began to cut into an orange. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Go ahead, shoot." As soon as she turned around, my eyes met hers and I smiled.

"Are devil fruits real? Or is that just an old tale? I've never seen one up close and I heard they cost a fortune, even for just one alone."

"They're real," I said with a small laugh. "I would know, I've eaten one."

Y/N nearly jumped before she darted over toward me, her hands grabbing at my shoulders. She still had a slice of half-chewed apple in her mouth which made her struggle to properly speak. "WHAT? You- NO! You didn't?!" She let go of my arms and instead planted her hands on my chest, shoving me back. I collapsed back against the bed, laughing. "You ate one?!"

"Years ago, when I was fifteen."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not. It was a mistake actually."

"What happened?"

I chuckled and pushed myself back up. "Give me an orange and I'll tell you."

If my reflexes weren't so quick, the fruit would've hit me in the face with how quick she threw it. But I caught it and began to pick apart the peel. "Easy, next time," I smirked and took a bite from it. "Well, when I was younger and was a pirate-in-training, the crew I was in raided this ginormous ship and hit the motherload. Not only gold and jewels and anything you could think of, but there was also a devil fruit. I found out how much they were worth and tried to steal it but I was caught in a predicament and I tried to hide it in my mouth."

"And?"

"I swallowed it whole."

She gasped, "And you're alive?"

"It doesn't kill you. It just takes your ability to swim when you're in the ocean, in salt water. It's like the sea turned its back on you."

"Did you get a power from it?"

I shrugged and winked at her, taking another bite. I licked the juices from my hand. "Guess."

"You can fly?"

"Ha! Nope."

"Read minds?"

"It's body-altering."

"Wait," The lovely maiden smirked, taking a seat on the bed. "Did it give you that red nose?" She snickered.

"Guess again," I said flatly, my expression turning cold as I stared at her. She gulped, clenching her jaw. I laughed and looked down at my lap, now using one hand to hold the orange. I continued to chew on it. But while she was distracted with her numerous attempts to guess what kind of body-altering power I had, I detached my left hand at the wrist. It floated behind the both of us and tapped on her right shoulder. Y/N jumped up, her head shooting to look at her side. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed together before she spotted my floating hand waving at her. She gasped and slapped it away. I broke out into a fit of laughter, my hand reconnecting to my wrist. "Impressive, huh?"

"You- what?" She was still flabbergasted.

"I ate the chop-chop fruit. It allows me to pretty much chop any part of my body. Like I can-" To avoid grossing her out, I chopped my left leg from my thigh instead of my head from my neck. She watched in amazement. I smiled at this. "I can disconnect anything from my body from my toes to my ears to my-"

"Even... ya know?"

I winked. "Oh, yeah. That, too."

"That's so cool. How come you haven't done it before around me?"

"I don't know. I just never found a reason to." Shrugging my shoulders, I allowed my leg to snap back. I continued to chew on the orange before finishing it and tossing the peel into a small bin to the left of the bedside table. Y/N finished hers as well. She wiped her hands down on her shirt.

"So, uh," I chewed on my bottom lip. "Do you think you and your mother will be okay?"

"Yeah. We fight all the time. Her drinking doesn't help."

I cringed. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's one of the reasons I hate it so much."

I pursed my lips and nodded my head. I knew I needed to cut back on it but it was something I've done for well over more than half my life. Though, I was destined to do it. Not only for myself, but for her, too. I'd do anything for Y/N. "So," I began, "what do you want to do today?"

"I need to go make up with my mother. That's a big to-do. I can't stand her ever being upset with me." The girl said as she stood up, slipping her shoes back onto her feet. "We can have dinner tonight if you want. Maybe you could meet her."

"Meet your mom?"

"Yeah, why not? She was wondering where all that money came from. She thought I stole it."

"Hell, I don't know. I'm not good with meeting new people."

"Will you, at least, consider it?"

"Sure," I smirked.

"Thank you." Y/N reached for the doorknob, giving it a strong and firm tug before it yanked open. A gush of cold wind washed over her, almost knocking her back. I tossed her my coat to which she whispered another 'thank you' then slipped it on. "I'll see you, Buggy."

"Bye," I murmured with a smile.

As soon as the door shut, I jumped down from the bed and pulled the drawer out from the nightstand, dropping it on the stone floor. I sorted through the numerous books and grabbed the novel I was so fucking thankful she didn't look through. As I opened the cover, the hollowed book had contents that almost spilled out. Papers among papers, among sketches fell out, wafting along the floor. Several notes about Y/N puddled on the floor. One, which was my favorite, was a letter I wrote to her- well, I refused to send it. If I sent it, any last fiber of my confidence would be crushed like a scrambled egg. My fingers lined the rigid edges as I unfolded it.

Messy paragraphs lined both the front and back of the page.

I smiled. How long ago did I write this? I haven't looked at it in so long. I usually added a sentence to it each time I saw Y/N, which is why it was so long. But I stopped pouring my thoughts and desires into it when I actually had the pleasure of speaking to her.

If she saw this, I would kill myself.

I'd purposely jump into the ocean with two anchors attached to my feet.

I looked over the first paragraph,

'I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat.'

I grimaced, cringing at what I was reading. Thank god, she didn't see this. I didn't even want to see this.

I tucked the papers back into the hollowed-out book, closing it. I slipped the other novels into the drawer then slid it into the nightstand. With the book of secrets, I needed to hide it somewhere she could never find it- where even I struggled to find it. I didn't want to throw it out for I would be completely discarding all of those moments we had together, although she couldn't reconcile them with me because at that time, I was nonexistent to her.

Maybe I could follow my own idea and form my own message in a bottle. I never mentioned her name, nor my own. To an outsider's perspective, it was anonymous.

I shook my head and slipped the book back into the bedside table. She wouldn't be back anytime soon so I had enough time to properly execute a fool-proof plan.

But right now?

I needed to go get another coat.

-=-

her pov;

My mother and I resolved things, just like always. And when she caught wind of a pirate suddenly becoming very fond of me, she begged me to invite him over for dinner. I didn’t think that was the best of ideas. Going out to dinner? Sure! But to have him over? At our house? I cringed at the idea.

She fell ill months ago. Nothing too major, but ever since she’s gotten better, she despises leaving the house and even made me bring her bed downstairs so she could sleep next to the kitchen just in case she had a hankering for something to eat. It was ridiculous, I knew that. But I couldn’t just tell her no. She was my own mother. While I was old enough, I definitely wasn't going to willingly disobey her.

She persisted that I go and grab Buggy so we could have him over for dinner, while I insisted we all go out to eat. She hated the idea and told me that it was her house, her rules.

I grimaced at the thought.

Now, I was just outside Buggy's home, knocking on the stone door. I hoped he was home, though there was no possibility of me being able to ask him prior to my arrival. I knew he was busy. He was a very busy man. I was surprised he made time for me.

With another knock, another silence fell. I groaned and backed up.

My eyes trailing down, I stared at the doorknob and chewed on my bottom lip. He wouldn't care if I waited inside, right? We trusted each other. He knew where I lived and I knew where he lived. As far as I knew, he never crossed any of my boundaries and I definitely didn't cross any of his- well, except for maybe 'snooping' through his nightstand.

Without thinking too much more about it, I grabbed the rusted doorknob, gave it a firm twist, then shoved it open. I almost fell through the doorway.

I caught my balance and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Without the lantern being lit, it was rather dark, but the bright blue sky helped to illuminate the small room. He must've not been home since I left.

I looked around, admiring everything.

As I took a seat on the edge of the bed, I noticed a piece of paper laying on the floor. It wasn't there before.

I raised an eyebrow and reached to grab it but before I could, the door flung open, a certain blue-haired pirate standing in the entrance. When he noticed me, he smirked. I gulped.

"So, we're breaking and entering, are we?" The man grinned as he took a few paces forward.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, scratching the back of my neck. "I came over to ask you about dinner but you weren't here so I figured I would wait."

"No worries, I'm only teasing."

"So?" I folded my arms, leaning forwards.

"So what?" Buggy questioned as he slipped his coat off. Since when did he get a new coat? And why? I was only borrowing the one he lent me. I didn't plan on keeping it. But I guess now it was okay if I did.

"Dinner? Are you available?"

"Hmm, it depends. What time?"

"I don't know, sometime tonight? Only for two hours or so. My mother wanted to meet you. I told her about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"That you've been a friend of mine for a few weeks now and you've been fortunate enough to treat me and help me out," I said with a smile. "She thought you were my boyfriend." I chuckled.

"Heh, that's rich," Buggy said as he turned around to close the door.

"So? Can you?"

"I guess so. Just don't leave me alone with her. I really don't want to be bombarded with questions." The man said as he folded the jacket over his arm then slung it on the countertop. "Did you tell her about my nose?"

I laughed, confused. "No? Why would I?"

"It's my defining feature. It's hard not to notice it when you see me."

"I didn't tell her. I didn't think it was important. I even forget it's there."

The clown burst out in laughter, his eyes closing as he clutched his stomach and nearly fell back with his fit of giggles. I pursed my lips. "What's so funny?" I asked as I crossed my arms.

"It's cute how you're trying to be nice to me. With a nose like mine, how can you forget it's there?" He replied while wiping a tear from his eye.

I felt flustered with the first part of his monologue but I ignored it and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I just do. It's not all I see whenever I look at you, ya know. It's not my main focus point when we speak. I look at your eyes, not your nose."

"And yet again, you prove to me that you're different than others."

I smiled. "Hope that's a good thing."

Buggy smirked, winking his left eye. "Of course it is."

The pirated approached me before he knelt down and picked up the piece of paper. He examined it for a moment then laughed to himself. "Grocery list," He explained as he shoved the paper into his pocket.

I paid no attention to the paper. It wasn't any of my business. "Speaking of groceries, want to go help me get food for dinner?"

"What's on the menu?"

"No idea, but let's just grab something so she won't be bitching later."

"Guess I'll be needing this again," The blue-haired man said as he reached to grab his jacket. He slipped his arms through and adjusted the collar. "We match now."

"Mine's more vintage than yours." I winked.

"Oh, so it's yours now?"

"No?" I gulped.

Buggy giggled. "It is. I got my own now so no worries about giving it back. Unless you'd like to trade from time to time."

"No, I like this one."

The man looked at me, an eyebrow cocked upward.

I paid his look no attention and instead looked down at the tattered suede coat I wore. I inhaled softly. It smelled like him.

A soft odor mixed with whiskey, coconut, and cinnamon. And while I hated the stench of alcohol, it worked for him.

I couldn't imagine him without it.

#buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #buggy x reader #captain buggy #one piece live action #buggy smut #buggy one piece #op buggy #buggy #x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #one piece buggy #buggy opla

[shywritersblog]

Here are 100 random quotes from Lucifer!

Sourced from the OM! Wiki, chats, devilgram, screenshots I found, etc. I made this list to help with studying to write the characters in character. (Not really proofread, sorry if there are mistakes. Also, there may be spoilers. If so, they’re minor spoilers)

✧༺⚜️༻✧

​​“Do you want my attention? Why don't we talk for a little then? I have enough energy for that. As your presence is so very soothing to me.“

​​“Heh, not afraid to get sassy with me anymore, are you?”

​​“Let's celebrate until you cannot stand anymore.“

​​“No need to rush. I won't be able to help you if you fall down in the middle of the street. Rather, I would probably enjoy the sight.”

​​“...Well? How do you like Demonus-flavored kisses?“

​​“I believe it's long been established that if anyone's going to be eating them, it will be me.“

​​“If you want me to keep you from running that mouth of yours, you need only ask.“

​​“Are you poking fun at me right now? I see you like to play with fire. Well, there's a punishment for getting cheeky with me like that. Come here, MC”

​​“I am exceedingly concerned…”

​​“Now Listen, and listen well. I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me.”

​​“You seem repentant, so I shall forgive you.”

​​“Are you still tired from last night? After all, I didn’t let you get much sleep.”

​​“I will watch over you. Until the day comes where we must part. And I promise... to love you until the end of your days and beyond.”

​​“You... Release me! Don't you dare try to put me to sleep like I'm not ten million years older than you!”

​​“All of you, out of the way...! I'm going to tear that human limb from limb…!”

​​"Are you trying to please me?"

​​"Do you need a goodnight kiss?"

​​"You are a strange human being."

​​"You want me to praise you for that? Very well… Good iob."

​​"Fine, I'll forgive you just this once."

​​"Do you need something?"

​​“It's as if you're saying that you need me in your life, and that's a wonderful feeling. Is it conceited of me to say that? Well, I am the Avatar of Pride, after all."

​​“Stab it with a fork or something. Anything sharp should do the trick.“

​​"I can't say I mind spending my time with you while Mammon's shrieks echo in the background either. Heh! And Diavolo's laughter is even louder than that."

​​“Well, there are worse demons it could have happened to... Probably.”

​​“Asmo, you stay right there. I'll go get my whip.“

​​“Hush now. Daddy's here to give you a hug.“

​​“NONONONONONO! I'm saying I DON'T want them to see that picture. So, if they ask you for it, I'd like you to tell them that no such photo exists. OK?”

​​“That won't be necessary. I went ahead and blew it up. The entire room.“

​​"If you want to get the better of me, that toy of yours isn't going to cut it. Perhaps try lethal poison from some horrific insect, aged a thousand years for maximum potency."

​​“I know, I know... But why don't we save the killing until after you've eaten your breakfast, hm?“

​​“Mmm, nothing's sweeter than listening to their screams of agony. Heheheh...”

​​“Bring him down to the living room. Use whatever means necessary…though I do want him alive.“

​​”I would never have imagined I would be kissed on the cheek by you. I don't dislike it when you take the initiative. But why on the cheek? You don't need to hesitate with me. Next time, do it on the lips. Understand?”

​​“Hell coffee becomes bitter when you prepare it for someone that you're fond of. It's a special property of the coffee beans. Naturally, I drank every last drop of your feelings.”

​​“Only those that haven't been involved in that dolt's childish antics are the truly happy ones.”

​​“When I get my hands on him, I'll have to be thorough with my discipline.”

​​“Tomorrow I will be handing Diavolo a report detailing how all of the exchange students are faring. I'll be sure to stress how excited you are to continue your education here at our prestigious academy.”

​​“How's the Celestial Realm? Unlike the Devildom, you don't have to worry about anyone grabbing you and eating you for lunch there, do you?”

​​“You've got Solomon with you as well, so you should relax and enjoy your time there.“

​​“If only my brothers were as obedient as you are. It is not every day that you get the chance to have me indebted to you. You can expect a one-hundred times return on the investment of your time, that I promise. In return, I expect that you won't let me down.”

​​“How naive. If you don't want me to have wasted my time by informing you, be sat in your seat at the table within the next sixty seconds. It will be just you and me. Let us enjoy the rare breakfast together before my brothers ruin the atmosphere.”

​​“Don't get cocky, MC.”

​​“One spoke at length about the clothing on the Diavolo sticker. It waxed lyrical about how exquisite the design choices were.”

​​“However, I discovered a slew of insults written in invisible ink on the page.“

​​“How could you tell? You really know me well, MC! Hehehe. I was drinking Demonus with Diavolo earlier. And you know, he kept saying all these nice things about you... Let me tell you, I'm also really happy you're down here with us.”

​​“…Who even came up with the idea that whoever empties their bottle first, wins...? Oh, right. I did... My bad. Ah, my head is spinning. Good night MC. Love you.”

​​“Ugh, you thickheaded fool of a demon! What's your skull made of? Granite?”

​​“That's a curse meant to make you stub your toe on the leg of a table… But if you actually do stub your toe, it hurts quite a bit.”

​​“MC. It has come to my attention that Mammon and Asmo took you out for a drive recently. Well, how was it? Enjoyable? …I'm glad to hear it. We all need breaks from the daily grind from time to time. l'd like you to join me for a drive next time. I'll give you a taste of euphoric freedom that those two could never dream of. Prepare for the time of your life.”

​​“If you'd like, we could take a shower together.”

​​“After all, I haven't managed to seduce you yet. I'm going to need more time.”

​​“The three highest-ranked demons in the realm, frolicking about in a frivolous pajama party? How absurd.”

​​“I didn't hear a word you just said. I know nothing about it, and I'm going to keep it that way.”

​​“I see. Then I should be allowed to take a similar photo of you, no? Come stay over in my room again tonight.”

​​“Don't be stupid. I will not allow myself to be clad in demon garb. I'm going to strip off every last piece of it this very instant and fling it as far away from me as I can.”

​​“You're a demon. I'm surprised someone like you is able to feed me lines like that with a straight face. You've got some nerve.”

​​ “Heheheh. Well, he is my brother, after all, so I thought I'd go easy on him. So, should I make this quick, or go slowly, bit by bit? Your choice.”

​​ “So, tell me. what's with the Little D.? The one looking at me with that moronic expression...”

​​“You think you stand a chance against me?! You think you could defeat Lucifer, Avatar of Pride?“

​​ “Well, aren't you persistent. I suppose you won't be happy until you've pummeled the door senseless?”

​​“...Just what were you hoping to accomplish by knocking me down like this, hm? Because doing something like that to me, right now… is making it much harder for me to control myself...!”

​​“Given that you were the one who pounced first, you can't complain when the tables are turned, can you? …I'm so thirsty, I can hardly think straight. I trust you understand what that means.”

​​ “To show my thanks, I suppose I'm not against giving you some special treatment. You'll have to come closer. I'll give you my lap until you're satisfied. ...You'll keep me company until then, won't you?”

​​"You deserve a thank you."

​​ "Sorry, this isn't exactly my cup of tea. I was hoping you'd know me better."

​​"It appears to me you know what pleases me."

​​"Are you really trying to tickle me? Heheheh, you'll have to do much better than that."

​​"Pff...if you think that tickles, you're wrong."

​​"Well, if you insist on touching me, then be my guest.”

​​"Well, hello. How are things?"

​​"You've got some nerve keeping me waiting. Well now, what are you going to do about it?"

​​"I'm back. Hm? ...Did you miss me?"

​​"*sigh* I've had a long day. But seeing you has a way of making me feel better."

​​"Sorry, I had some business to take care of. Well, well, you certainly seem happy to see me."

​​"Done? Let's continue this in my room."

​​"Good night... We'll meet again in our dreams."

​​ "I feel like we both have a nice day ahead of us."

​​ "I enjoyed our time together. Perhaps we should do this again."

​​“You do know what I'm capable of... don't you?"

​​ "Happy Easter. Will you accept it, my little bunny?"

​​"Once you're officially a sorcerer, I'd like you to become powerful enough to shut up Solomon for me."

“Very well. Here I go. Lucifer Kick!”

“Why should I be subjected to the indignation of a pat on the head from you?”

​​“After all, it's a bit like tossing a helpless lamb into the middle of a pack of hungry wolves, isn't it? But it's also important to understand just who it is you're eating, wouldn't you say?“

​​ “It means that I see you as prey, too. Just like the others. It goes without saying that I'm far stronger than you. If I were to pin you down right here and now, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it, now would you? How about we give it a try...?“

​​“You will soon enough.”

​​ “When a vampire feeds, it's not like his human prey feels only pain. Quite the opposite, actually. They're overcome with a feeling of unimaginable ecstasy. The truth is that you want this as well, don't you? You want to feel my arms around you, to give yourself up to me and offer up your blood... You're special. I won't drink you dry...no. I'm going to kiss you again and again, all over your body. Indulging in you just a bit each and every night. And I do mean every night. No other vampire will ever know the taste of your blood…”

​​“Do you have any idea how hard I had to struggle not to do this earlier...? It was all I could do to resist throwing my arms around you right in front of everyone at the party.”

​​ “MC… I missed you. I can tell just from the way you feel against me. I can sense what you're feeling.I'm sorry, MC. ...Sorry it took me so long to get to you. You should really stay with me tonight. We need to make up for all the time lost.“

​​ “You're drunk, you idiot. Oh well, I'll go along with you just for today. Bottoms up.”

​​“Me? Intoxicated? Preposterous. I'm my usual old self.”

​​“You are also fond of me, no?“

​​ “Then come over here. Are you holding back? Come closer. Prepare yourself. If I win, I get to do with you as I please.”

​​“You know there is no turning back after the first pillow is thrown, right?”

“As a demon, I've never cared when humans bred…”

​​“Stop unnecessarily stressing me out. You're shaving years off my life here.”

​​ “I don't mind. If I am not allowed to nag, then I can simply beat these rules into you.”

​​“Is this how you all amuse yourselves? By sending photos of your exposed body parts?”

​​ “Good grief. I need eyes everywhere to keep track of everyone.”

Extras! (It's hard to pick just 100 y'know?)

1. ​​“Leading unhealthy lifestyles, frittering away your time and money… The extent to which you all squander your lives away is quite intolerable to watch.”

2.​​ “Put two or more of you together, and you start getting ideas in your head. Bad ideas.”

3. “The next time one of you puts so much as a toe out of line… I'lI march you all up your beloved Mt. Imminent Death, and ensure that you NEVER return.”

4. “So as an extra bonus, I'll tickle you...”

5. “How nice that you're not letting our large underground gambling problem spoil your fun...”

✧༺⚜️༻✧

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 ༝༚༝༚

#pls share this took me all day #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #fanfic #dividers #gif #obey me lucifer #obey me lore #obey me canon #fic ref #writing prompt #obey me fanfic #om lucifer #omswd lucifer #self ship #writing wip #obey me smut #smut writing

[justcressida]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- DEAR VİLLAİNESS

"I coped with living in that damn house for so long, then got accepted to a prestigious college, and I had gotten my own home. Even if it was cramped and dirty, I could be completely at rest in it. I had finally escaped those bastards. So why?! It's not even Normal Mode. At this rate, this is no better than before…!"

Record Of Ragnarok X Penelope Eckhart!Reader

POSEİDON

Even among all these gods, Poseidon's hatred and arrogance for humans was evident.

Yet the only reason for his interest in this human woman was her incredible will to live.

Never before had he seen a mortal act so frankly, so boldly towards a God.

It caught his attention. The woman was beautiful, more beautiful than a Goddess could ever be. She was daring. It was easy to get lost in his catlike squinting eyes and be caught in the cold but firm aura of the mortal.

"Your daring and indiscretion have limits, mortal. What do you think you are? What do you trust to utter such bold words to a god?"

The woman squinted her eyes, shining with anger. "Why should there be a limit to my audacity? What have you got to set boundaries with me? First you create a lineage and then you send them disasters and hardships. Then when you get bored, 'Let's destroy humanity!' Are you making a joke that isn't funny to yourself? Why should I obey? Why should I be good? Whose wrong is right based on? How can one expect creation to be pure when there is evil in the heart of God?"

A deep silence reigned throughout the arena, while all the immortals who had been mocking her until a few seconds ago, in silence and tension, turned their eyes to the Tyrant of the Seas and then to this noble woman.

He couldn't help but was impressed. Although what he really needed to do was slit her throat with his trident and punish her disrespect, a wild instinct whispered that he shouldn't punish her in this way. Punish in a different way.

The Tyrant of the Seas' lips curved slightly as the tense wait continued. "Will you stand by what you say, mortal? If you kneel right now and apologize and beg, I won't punish you." Although his tone was calm, his gaze made everyone shudder.

"Y/N! Apologize!" As Reynold screamed, Derrick grabbed his arms and pulled him back. As the beautiful woman's eyes turned towards that direction, her eyes narrowed like a cat.

"It's not worth it, Reynold." Derrick's cold words echoed throughout the arena. The woman smiled sarcastically, after all she got used to it. It didn't hurt anymore.

"I'd rather die." Their eyes met. It was like the gaze of the sky and the ocean.

"You asked for it, mortal."

Thus began your life in prison. It was more of a fait accompli than a mistreatment.

Every day you were dressed like a doll and did whatever Poseidon wanted.

You could have dinner with him if he wanted.

If he wanted, you would go to the meeting of the Gods with him.

Everything was his order, if he didn't want it, you couldn't even breathe.

You'd still rather get beaten.

Yet all you gave in regards to your feelings was your hatred of the open ocean.

"Don't make me angry and come here mortal."

"I don't want."

"I didn't ask if you wanted it. Come with me, if you're afraid I'll keep it."

"No way. I won't." Poseidon looked at the beautiful mortal as the woman shrugged stubbornly.

"It's pointless mortal that you hate the ocean so much." He didn't want to ask directly why.

She looked thoughtfully into the water as she shrugged.

"Tell me the reason for this hatred of the ocean, mortal."

"Water plays with you, water imprisons you, water makes you crazy, and the insane cannot live in society. The water overflows."

Poseidon wanted to deny it, but mortal was right. That's how he summed up his thousands of years of life.

"Let's go inside, mortal. Don't be cold."

The Tyrant of the Seas sighs as he walks ashore.

Perhaps he could leave the mortal a little to himself.

Of course he wasn't forgiven.

For now, at least, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back.

"You are so ugly."

"You're being disrespectful again, mortal.

"But are you ugly?"

"Shut up and get in, damn mortal."

#ror x reader #snv x reader #poseidon x reader #ror poseidon #snv poseidon #ror poseidon x reader #snv poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader

[brittle-doughie]

Taking a break from angst-time for some good Ole fashion family drama!

I'd like to request a scenario where a matriarch relative from Y/N's family roping them into an arranged marriage with an upper-class cookie (whoever it is up to you)

Said relative is introduced coming to the kingdom where they try to take y/n cookie to their would-be-fiance, only to notice a plethora of cookies either following, stalking, or budding in on their "familial reunion."

P.s. Hope your having a safe belated new year, brittle-doughie! Your the best

- 🥀 Anon

Forced Connections

Much appreciated, my dude. Arranged marriages pretty much spell disaster for the would-be spouse if you run a kingdom!

Crowned Cupcake Cookie, that was the name of the cookie in the photograph sent to you, the one you were apparently meant to be wedded with for the sake of “keeping the doughline pure”, as Sugar Cane Cookie, your family’s matriarch, would put it.

AN: Many thanks to Runebrave for massively carrying with the design, as you guys may know, I don’t have a single creative bone in my body lol

Your mother, Molasses Cookie, couldn’t be any more embarrassed that her side of the family is meddling with your personal life, wanting you to choose how you want to live it, wanting you to choose who you want to be with…but Sugar Cane Cookie insisted.

She was expected to arrive with Crowned Cupcake Cookie soon, which means having to break the news to your Cookie Kingdom before they did. They deserved to know…

You opened the door to your quarters to see Financier Cookie standing by, she gave a small bow to you.

“Y/N Cookie, I see that you are alright today. It gives me relief knowing that you haven’t gotten hurt.”

And it helps to know that a cookie like her is always keep watch over you, when she makes it to the schedule at least. Quite a number of cookies are always gunning to make your bodyguard spot such as Caramel Arrow or Raspberry Cookie, had to break up a few scuffles on occasion.

But that’s a topic for another day, you’d rather you give her the news of what’s to come..

You tell Financier Cookie to be ready, for your kingdom will have…important guests arriving soon..

“I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior and that will go for the other cookies. May I ask who these guests are?”

It will be your family matriarch, Sugar Cane Cookie…and your soon-to-be fiancé, Crowned Cupcake Cookie-

You see Financier Cookie stop in her tracks, a thousand yard stare straight ahead, as her grip on her sword shakes.

“….What?”

Now now, you know that sounds like a big shocker already, but it’s being forced upon you and you really can’t-

“A forced marriage…as if the circumstances can’t get any worse…”

You asked for her to please settle down, this was beyond your control once it was made known to be an order in your family!

Financier’s grip on her sword tightens up as she takes deep breathes, indicating the hidden rage that was boiling inside her

“Don’t worry about it, self-discipline is something I need to practice for anyway…just don’t expect me to be cordial with this…fiancé of yours if she steps out of line…”

If Financier could get like this, there’s no telling how the others will be…

———————————————————————

Jealousy is hitting Kouign-Amann Cookie when she learns of the news. What kind of cookies were your family to try and set you up with something arranged?! As opposed to..what your heart wants..

She can proudly boast that her skills as a Paladin exceeds what this visitor can do for you, anything crossing your path can just meet her sword! What can this visitor do? Because they probably won’t be able to do as much compared to Kouign!

Not giving up is also another part of being a Paladin! Nothing this newcomer can say or do will deter her at all, even if it ends up in a fight! Because Kouign is more than willing to put this cookie six feet under if they push their luck…

———————————————————————

Almond Cookie is on the case. Not only was this arranged marriage done without an agreement on your end, but you weren’t even on a first name basis with this other cookie? This has gotten him on high alert that required a whole lot of coffee, he’ll need it if he’s to dedicate his time to this problem.

He’ll be right there with you for when your arranged spouse has entered the station. The safety of the Cookie Kingdom’s ruler is of the upmost importance to everyone, including him. Especially him. He felt like being your barrier, the wall of protection that you can count on!

And..just reading on whatever files he can scrape on up on this Crowned Cupcake Cookie…he’ll definitely need to be on guard for whatever she has planned or would be ready to do. He’s more than happy to slap her in cuffs if she so much as LOOKS suspicious..

———————————————————————

Did this mean you won’t be able to come to her picnics anymore? You’ll be giving all your time to Crowned Cupcake Cookie?

It was a pretty unfortunate realization for Cherry Blossom Cookie, she felt like what you and her had was going pretty nicely. It just felt like a pain to her heart to suddenly lose that connection to a cookie she’s never heard about.

She can’t just deny your future spouse a picnic though. In fact…she very much would like to invite her to the best picnic! She promises to make Cupcake’s food R E A L S P E C I A L to commemorate the occasion. She’ll make it so good, it would be to D I E for…

———————————————————————

Your cookies could only internally cringe when Crowned Cupcake arrived on the train and was already hovering around you. She went on a long speech about the fairy tale romance of a princess meeting the one she loves being a reality for her. Financier’s self-discipline was TESTED with how much Crowned was putting her hands on you.

Almost as if she sensed it, Crowned Cupcake started to giggle, her back towards the envious crowd of cookies. She turned back towards them, with wide eyes and creepy smile, her right eye twitching.

“Oh? Am I sensing objections between me and my dearest being together…? If that’s the case…”

She put away her staff…before slowly pulling out a sword from behind her, with dry strawberry jam staining the blade, her smile growing more deranged.

“I’m more than happy to settle any differences. Dungeon or execution..? Hehe…”

#yandere cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #kouign amann cookie x reader #kouign amann cookie #almond cookie #almond cookie x reader #cherry blossom cookie x reader #cherry blossom cookie #cookie run oc #oc cookie #crowned cupcake cookie #cr x reader #cookie run

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: none

Part XI | Part XIII

You were sitting in your room, breathing deeply. Even after Rhys left, whatever he did with the scent of magic it stayed like that. You were overjoyed with the feeling of not wanting to puke. Your headache and pain of limbs eased, too.

The garden outside the window plunged into darkness, it was past the dinner time. But you didn't move a bit. You were sitting like this since he left, thinking about the offer he made you. Memories, your past, faces of your parents, your childhood. Did you want it back? Would it fill that empty space in your heart and soul that you felt all those years you lived alone in the forest? Thousands of questions without answer swirled in your mind.

A soft knock sounded on your door. You ignored it, wanting to be alone. Rhysand said he would give you time to think things over, so it most likely wasn't him, but it could be his mate. Or even worse, your cousin Mor. You weren't in mood to listen to her ramblings.

The door opened and closed and few tendrils of the shadows wrapped around your hands, playing with your fingers. The room filled up with refreshing scent of cedar and mist. You waited for the wave of nausea to hit you, but nothing happened. Closing eyes you breathed in deeply and for a moment you were back in the forest. Tension from your shoulders disappeared.

Porcelain rattled against the wood. Tray with plates full of food appeared on a small table next to the armchair.

"Figured you must be hungry," a deep voice said lowly. Your head followed the sound. Azriel was standing behind the armchair, giving you a soft smile. His eyes of colour of warm honey shone even in the dark room. "Can I?" He gestured to the other armchair.

You nodded. Your heart again did strange things in your chest. You saw this male just several times during your stay here, but it was always the same. Surge of energy ran through your body, pinching your skin, your heart was jumping, racing and stumbling. Yet a sense of peace filled you. As odd as it was, he made you feel at home.

This was the third time you were alone with him, because usually you saw him only at a meal time. To be honest you would like to spend with him much more time than those short moments. You felt good in his presence and he never bothered you with rambling or stories of the past. He was rather a silent type. In a certain way he reminded you of Tamlin who also wasn't too talkative and enjoyed silent and peaceful moments. Your heart clenched painfully at that memory.

When Azriel introduced himself he said he was a spy of your brother, so you imagined he was quite busy. He often disappeared for several days. Azriel was also the first one to call you by your name. That was another reason you liked him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

You searched for the answer, considering what you actually felt. "I think I'm confused. Uncertain.."

"About what?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't pretend you haven't heard about it. I pretty sure that Rhysand informed all of you about the things we spoke today."

His lips pressed together for a second. "You are right. He did, but I'd rather hear it from you personally. And just so you know, he made sure the whole house and garden are stripped of magic, so you can leave this room, if you want." His voice was gentle. He always spoke like that with you.

Your eyes widened. "Why would he do something like that?"

"There's nothing he wouldn't do for you. You are his baby sister and he loves you dearly." His posture and gaze was communicating similar emotions. You didn't know how, but you knew, Azriel would do just as much for you if not more.

A lump rose in your throat and tears filled your eyes. Suddenly you felt really bad for everything you told to Rhysand earlier and that you basically accused him of drugging you with who-knows-what medicines.

Azriel reached out, caressing you cheek. "Y/N, hey. You okay?" he cooed softly.

Without thinking you leaned into his touch. "I was quite harsh with him earlier.. well, the whole time.."

He chuckled. "No need to feel bad for that. He will survive. His ego is too big to be hurt by that. Also he is used to get a cold shoulder from you."

His laugh was so contagious you smiled, too. For some reason you felt special to witness it. You didn't know where the feeling came from, too. It seemed that your heart remembered more that your head.

He pushed the tray closer to you. "Try to eat something before the food gets cold. You will feel better with full tummy."

Tummy. What a ridiculous word coming from lips of a male like him. It was too sensual. It made your insides throbbing with.. could it be lust? It was hard to name it as you had never experienced anything like that except of that last evening with Tamlin.

Pushing those feelings and thoughts to the back, you eyed the plates. There was a lot of vegetables, some meat and fruits. All your favourite ones. You had to admit that he was really good at his job. He noticed even the smallest details. You blushed when your stomach growled loudly. Your eyes darted to him half expecting to find him laughing his head off, but Azriel pretended he didn't hear anything, merely smiling at you encouragingly.

You picked up a strawberry and took a bite. As the sweetness filled your mouth you closed eyes and sighed softly.

"You haven't changed," Azriel muttered amused.

You raised a brow in surprise, looking at him.

"You always loved the strawberries so much that one could feel its taste just by watching you eat them," he explained. He looked so.. gentle.

Your heart made a somersault in the chest picking up on speed, breath caught in your throat. There was another certain feeling you couldn't name, but it was close to what you felt when Tamlin smiled at you, teased you or when he played the fiddle for you. It kind of hurt, yet it was sweet. Just like the strawberry you ate.

Swallowing hard you took a fork and tried to concentrate on the food. It was quite a hard task.

Azriel silently watched you eating. Strangely you didn't mind it at all. When you finished, you pulled the knees to your chest and looked out the window. The garden was so dark you hardly recognised the shapes of trees and bushes, Sidra flowing behind the garden reflected the lights of the city on the opposite bank. And above that all, the stars twinkled, shining brighter than you'd ever seen them.

"Have you thought about Rhys' offer?" Azriel asked suddenly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"M-hm," you grunted. "That's why I'm so confused. I don't know if I want it."

"Why? What's stopping you?"

You silently watched the night sky for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "It's like.. I don't know.. I'm afraid who I would be after finding out who I was before. That I could lose myself."

"I don't think you would. If there's something you have in common with Rhys, it's strength. I've noticed it back then and I see it in you even now. There aren't many who could live through what you did."

Your cheeks burned. "But what if I change?" you mumbled barely audible.

"Believe it or not, you haven't changed that much," he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "With memories or without them, it's up to you who you will be, but no matter how you change it will still be you." And we will love you nonetheless. He didn't say that, but he didn't have to. It was in each word he spoke.

This male was strange. In a good way of course. It only took him a few minutes to make you feel better, lighter, to make a part of your worries disappear. You felt good with him. You only knew him for a short time, yet you could open up and talk to him about anything.

"I'm scared to remember. I don't know it for sure, but .. I think there are some memories that should remain forgotten.."

Azriel nodded. "If you want, Rhysand could try to revive just a small amount of memories at a time. You can stop any time, he won't push you to continue."

"Really? Do you think he would..?" You were surprised. When Rhysand told you he could bring the memories back, you imagined it would be all at once. You didn't know he could do it in small amounts.

Azriel raised a brow. "Of course he would. As I said he'd do anything for you."

That gave you something new to think about. By the time Azriel bid you a goodnight and left taking the tray with him, you had made up your mind. Afraid you could change your decision until the morning, you decided to look for Rhysand and tell him right away.

You went down the stairs and to the sitting room, but all lights were already turned off. In your hurry you didn't notice what time it was. With little hope you headed to his office. You stopped in front of the doors and listened. It was quiet inside. Thinking he had already gone to sleep, you turned around. You made only three steps into a hall when the office doors opened.

"Y/N?" Rhysand sounded tired. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

You turned to him, suddenly uncertain what to tell him. All courage you had just few moments ago, had left you. "I-.."

"Come in," he opened the doors wider.

You stepped in and looked around. You hadn't been in this room yet. Air was filled with smell of old parchment. Walls were covered with shelves full of books. There were several armchairs and sofas, so all members of his family could attend a meeting here. The room was dominated by large desk with two big windows behind it. There between the windows a painting of Feyre was hanged.

You smiled. "You love her a lot."

Rhysand stood next to you, looking at the same painting. "I do. She is my mate, my everything. I waited for her for 500 years. Some day I will tell you how we met. You'll like it," he smirked.

He gestured to the one of the armchairs in front of the desk and you sat down. He leaned against the desk, watching you with a smile, waiting.

You fidgeted nervously and cleared your throat. You couldn't stand the kind look of his violet-blue eyes, so you gazed down on your intertwined fingers.

"I-.. I talked with Azriel and.. I would like to accept your offer."

Rhysand's smile widened. "I'm happy to hear that." He watched you closely, tilting his head to the side. "But?"

You breathed out shakily. "Azriel told me you could return my memories in small amounts. I-.. I'm still not sure if I want to remember everything that happened to me.. I-"

His big hands landed on yours, squeezing them gently. "It's okay. We can stop whenever you want. I promise."

You shot up, tears stinging your eyes. Before you knew what you were doing, you hugged him. Rhysand stiffened for a heartbeat, but then his arms wrapped around you.

"Thank you," you whispered into his shoulder. He answered by running his hand up and down your back, rubbing it lovingly.

"If you want we can start tomorrow. What do you think?"

"I'd like that."

That night you slept peacefully, without nightmares.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal

#tamlin x reader #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #azriel fanart #az x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel x you #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x reader #sarah j maas #writers on tumblr #writers

[carolmunson]

a thousand times a day | rockstar!eddie

fall frenzy req by @saltystormyx: 'I'd like to request a mini-fic with your rockstar!eddie au character. I'll leave it totally open to whatever you want to write.'

fall frenzy set list

back in action with a couple we haven't hung out with in a while! it was nice to get to revisit these two in some way. i had a different story for them to start -- something dirty and slutty -- but i just couldn't get into it. i needed something cozy for them. perhaps now that the seal is broken we can venture into some more slutty stuff between these two at some point. welcome to an early thanksgiving with the munsons before they were married.

tw: 18+, mostly very fluffy, some references to drug abuse, some references to using/addiction/getting clean. otherwise, two hotties in love. reader isn't referred to as 'stella' in this fic but the last name 'rink' is used a couple times to refer to reader and her family.

November, 1992

"I just, ugh honey I feel so awful to cancel on them." You blow your nose into a tissue but also direclty into the phone, making Eddie pull the receiver away from his ear for a second. You called in hysterics from a shoot in New York that you have to do pick up shots in Georgia and the earliest flight back they can manage is on Thanksgiving; leaving your plans to go back upstate to celebrate with your family in the dust. The flights had been paid for, even Wayne was making the trip to Syracuse to celebrate with you and yours. It was finally going to feel normal now that Eddie was three months clean and things had settled down some. He wasn't touring and they were only in the early stages of writing a new album and even then, the band spent most of their nights in the home studio instead of going into the city. Every now and again he'd come upstairs to grab more Pellegrino's out of the fridge and give you kisses on the cheek while you went over potential scripts.

Depsite having moved back at the beginning of November and back to falling asleep tied up with each other, you hadn't put your ring back on yet. It sat resting on your jewelry stand in your dressing room, as shiny and perfect as ever. Your bare ring finger sat as a reminder to him that he's not there yet; that he still has so much to prove -- but he meant what he said. You were gonna be his wife one day.

"Baby, it's okay. They're gonna understand," he assures softly, "It's not like you're doing it on purpose; they know you can't just not go." "It's just s-so stupid. An-an-and it's the first -- fuck, Ed it's the first one without Dad and I just feel so bad for my mom having to look at two empty seats and I don't know, babe. Like, I just feel like I'm r-ruining everything," you choke on your words, fully blubbering into the phone, make up smearing down your cheeks onto the hotel pillows you're leaning against. "You're not ruining anything sweetheart," his voice soft but firm, "You want me to get on a flight to you? I'll go right now."

"N-no it's okay," you sniffle, "I'm meeting up with Simone and getting dinner and we're gonna red-eye back home so we can get ready for Atlanta."

"Oh, so I get to see you tomorrow morning?" he grins, feeling selfish almost at how much he loves hearing your time away from him is cut so short.

"Yeah," you sniffle again, his heart pangs, "Probably really early."

"I'll have breakfast ready for you, okay? What do you want?"

"Um," you shrug to no one, "I don't know. Waffles." "Okay," he smiles, "Waffles it is."

The call home was less sweet; your mom understood but you could hear the dull ache in her voice. The subtle sadness mom's have in their register that they try to mask with an airy laugh -- years of feigning their own disappointement from life barely lived. She knows you're busy and she understands, she tells you a million times. You hear it but you don't feel it; you know she'd rather you blow it all off to come home again and see your family.

You'd rather blow it all off to see your family. Eddie had only seen your childhood home once -- quaint in size, snickered when he saw that you grew up with two guest rooms. He knew you grew up with it made, but you never made it so clear. You had walked through the trailer park to visit his old stomping grounds like you knew was growing up poor was like. Maybe you were a good actress after all.

He had waffles ready when you got in at five in the morning, who knows when he woke up to start. The Belgian Waffle maker you got sent as a wrap gift two years ago was finally out of the plastic, box still on the kitchen floor. Batter dripped down the sides and next to it a serving plate of a small mountain of waffles.

The pink stains on his fingers give a hint to who sliced all the strawberries and other fruit. Separated and glistening in the crystal bowls you really only take out for special oocasions.

Three cans of whipped cream sat at the end of the counter, one already opened with a small peak puffing out. 'Ya gotta try the product first, it's the whipped cream tax'

He's so silly. You missed his silly.

You're not home for very long, a couple days before you start packing for Georgia and you spend it all in his arms. Meals together, sitting on his lap in the studio while he tries out new melodies, you even spent one night curled up in the living room to watch a pay per view fight of Harrington's. Their friendship was finally starting to heal up after Eddie's last relapse.

He pouts when you get ready to leave, shrugging your coat on after you put the cordless phone down to confirm your car. You pout back at him.

"Don't give me that face, you're making me feel worse," you frown.

"M'just gonna miss you," he says quietly, "It's lonely here when you're not around."

"I know," you nod up at him. You don't mean for the comment to sting, but it does a little. It's not like he didn't want to be there with you this past year.

He leans down to kiss you, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks.

"Don't be sad," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours, "We'll have a nice Thanksgiving together when you get back, just us." "What about Wayne?" you ask, heart panging at the though of his Uncle eating alone. "Don't worry about it, sweet thing," he lets his lips linger against yours again for just a moment, "Wayne'll be okay."

The flight had never been more turbulent. Atlanta had never felt more cold.

You hear the phone ring and ring for the second time only to get the tin-like sound of your mothers voice again, 'Thanks for calling the Rink's! We aren't able to come to the phone right now; but please leave your name and number and we'll call you back. If you're trying to reach Stella Rink, please contact her publicist at Starmade PR Corp.'

"Hi, it's me -- again," you say into the receiver, "I'm sure you guys are busy cooking or have the game on but um, I just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving guys...God, come on, I know you're there. Just pick up!"

Your voice wavers, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it I just --" "NOW BOARDING FIRST CLASS - FLIGHT 7995 TO LOS ANGELES."

You feel a slight pull on your arm from Simone, sighing while you hang up the pay phone to make it to check in.

"They hate me," you mumble. "They don't hate you, Rink," she assures, hand soothingly skating up and down your back, "They know what your life is like." The flight is long and you sleep during most of it, the sad pit in your chest spreading through heavy in your body. You couldn't wait to just be home and eat take out on the couch with your man; have him whisper sweet nothings of reassurance while you pout in the glow of the TV.

Rain pours in California, which is not common but of course happening on the day you feel so awful. You hope that they at least called the house; that Eddie had messages to relay to you; anything so that the guilt didn't eat you alive.

You make it home faster than usual; everyone home with their families leaves less people on the road. You tip the driver triple the fare after he helps bring your bags to the door -- holiday cheer already flowing in your veins.

To your surprise, Eddie opens the door as you go to unlock it, his smile evident on his face. He's dressed cozily, black on black Corroded Coffin sweat shirt and matching pants, socks scrunch down on his ankles -- tattoos covered outside from what peek out at the wrists.

"Happy Thanksgiving, baby," he grins. He takes your bags, putting them to the side in the lobby while you kick your shoes off at the door. He pulls you in to a tight hug to his chest and even through the laundry detergent you can smell the food from all the way out here. Aromatics, butter, garlic, rolls, turkey -- it smells like comfort, it smells like home.

"Did you cook?" you ask with hopeful surprise, "You made like, a whole thing?"

"I did the dinner rolls and I bought all the food; but I'm kind of shit at that home cooking stuff so I called in some reinforcements," his laugh is grizzly with smoked cigarette gruffness.

"Come on," he ushers you forward, taking your hand while you walk through the entry way and down the hall towards the kitchen. His hand is warm and worn, still slightly clammy while the nervous teenager in him still stumbles over dealing with you. Being with you. Loving you.

The kitchen is busy, people bustling and moving and at first you think he must've just hired a team but then a flash of your mom's red Thanksgiving apron catches your eye. Your neice's giggle rings through the echoey walls. Your sister Luna sits at the breakfast nook with your nephew to keep him out of the way, helping him with a coloring book from deep in your stash downstairs.

"Wait, what?" you ask outloud. Your mom looks up, a smile in her eyes when she sees you. "Happy Thanksgiving, honey!" she smiles big, both of your sisters getting up and following her while they flock to you, a group hug of Rinks in the entry way of the kitchen. You heart swells in your chest while you feel them surround you, smell the familiar fragrance of your mom's perfume; your sister's shampoo. It had been so long, too long.

"What're you guys doing here?" you ask, tears welling up in your eyes while the emotion takes you over. You try to sniffle back the tingle in your nose while a cry comes on. "Well, Ed called us when you left for Atlanta and asked if we wanted to all come here," your mom answers, "He got all our flights and everything."

You look over your mom's head to see Eddie leaning up against the fridge, wiping his own tear away off his cheek to see you so happy.

"You were so sad, angel," he shrugs, "I didn't want your holiday to feel so lonely. So y'know -- I got everyone here for you instead. Can't have my baby sad on Thanksgiving."

Your lower lip wobbles when you look at him, his soft gaze while your sister's go back to their previous tasks, "Let me help you bring your bags up."

When he says help he means he takes them all in one trip, you take note that all the guest rooms have been set up. Your family already unpacked and lived in like they've been here a day or two. By the looks of their suitcases they'll be here through the weekend. Your heart swells again. "Where's Wayne?" you ask quietly while you make it into your room. He pops your bags by the entry way of the dressing room to unpack for you later, coming up close to you to press a kiss to your cheek. "He's out back smoking the Turkey and listening to Alice's Restaurant on a loop," he chuckles, "He just drinks beer and hangs out -- definitely has a little crush on your mom though."

"Oh my god," you giggle back, "Well she's very pretty, I get it." "He's got a real soft spot for your neice and nephew," he nods, running a hand over the top of your head, "He's gonna be such a great grandpa."

"I bet he is," you bite your lip for a moment, thinking about a future where that's true. Where you have rockstar Eddie Munson's babies. You wish you could report all of this to the papers instead of whatever shit they put in the tabloid rags about him. HANDSOME ROCKSTAR FIANCE SAVES THANKSGIVING FOR AMERICA'S SWEETHEART!

People would read that, right? You'd read that.

"Was it a good surprise?" he asks, "It wasn't too much to spring on you I was nervous th--" "This is perfect," you nod, "It's so perfect, honey. You're perfect." "You're perfect," he counters, arms wrapping tight around you to give you a tight squeeze, "Why don't you get yourself together and I'll meet you downstairs. I gotta set things up in the dining room, things'll be ready to plate soon."

"Okay," you nod, pulling your airport best off over your head while you watch him disappear back into the house.

Dinner was one to remember. You hadn't felt the true familial magic of the holiday since you were a kid and suddenly it had flown back with a veangance.

In true Rink fashion, the after dinner digestif of Irish Coffee followed you all down to the inhome theater to watch Miracle on 34th street; the little ones and Eddie nursing hot cocoa with way too many marshmallows pouring over the tops of the mugs. "I don't have to have one," you assured him, squeezing him arm gently while you looked at the cup in front of you. "Don't worry about me," his voice calm and confident, knowing he was only going to make it half way through the movie before falling asleep anyway. Most of your family did except you and Wayne who was surprised to find out he was making his way to California instead of upstate New York.

"Couldn't find my good winter boots so it turned out for the best, I guess."

Your sleepy family finally roused, your older sister getting the kids set up in their own room downstairs before she made her way up to her room. Luna and your mom following suit upstairs, Wayne following soon after.

You and Eddie clean up the small theater and head to the kitchen to assess the damage of what needs to be done. Eddie gave house keeping the weekend off to spend with their families; so for the first time in a while dishes like this were all on the two of you.

Thank god for dishwashers and a good Bing Crosby Christmas record -- you're able to clean up the kitchen in no time; stealing kisses in between songs, getting lost in a dance or two.

When you get upstairs to your room you're both exhausted; but not so tired that your eye don't linger when he starts to undress. You know you don't have the energy for the night cap he'd like but it's nice to watch him; the dip of his waist, the way his shoulder blades move under his skin on his back. "Still hungry, Rink?" he winks; heat flames your cheeks.

"No, no, I'm just -- y'know," you shrug innocently, "You look good, baby."

"Thank you," he hums while he changes into a pair of boxers for bed. You make your way into your dressing room and slip into a little night gown for the hell of it, silk and lace so he has something nice to wake up to -- something to show how grateful you are for putting this together.

When you crawl into bed next to him in the still of the night, one arm wraps around you instinctively. Heaviness dips into your eyes at the touch, it's always so hard to sleep without him there. Your hand smooths over his chest when he feels it; the drag of metal across his skin. His hand comes up to take yours and his thumb reaches up to search for it; breath catching in his chest when he can confirm it.

You put your ring back on.

"Really?" he whispers into the dark, "Yeah?"

"Yeah Munson," you nod into the crook of his neck, "Gonna be your wife one day."

#rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson au #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things au

[hero-israel]

What they said.

And I could have put another 4-6 similar messages in here, I can tell what is weighing on peoples' minds. Though we are outnumbered, it is not hard to see through the lies of our enemies. We just need people who will listen to us.

"Every accusation is a confession" was never more true than in claiming JEWS want to kill off ARABS. The briefest review of regional demographics - WHO has actually wiped out WHOM - makes that instantly clear. Mahmoud Abbas said his family fled their home in Safed in 1948 because they were sure the Jews would try to get revenge for Arab massacres in 1929. In 1967 when Israel took the West Bank, Arabs in Hebron were so afraid of reprisals for 1929 that they flew white bedsheets from their windows and piled their weapons outside their front doors.

There is no such thing as a "genocide" that is true for Palestinians but false for white people. And while most of the time, posting about hypocrisy and double standards isn't going to make a real-life change, this is one time where I'd really like people to point it out, to demand answers from those who correctly identify the Alt-Right as lying. We should also request clarification on whether all warfare involving urban bombing is automatically considered genocide (spoiler: it isn't, but this time Jews are involved, aha!).

Desmond Tutu was notorious for insisting Jews forgive the genocide that had actually been committed against them and also that they be constantly condemned and judged for the potential genocide they were always just about to commit. It is not even meant as a statement of fact - just a way to put us in our place. As David Schraub put it:

For thousands of years, for much of the world, part of the cultural patrimony enjoyed by all non-Jews -- spiritual and secular, Church and Mosque, enlightenment and romantic, European and Middle Eastern -- was the unquestionable right to stand superior over Jews. It was that right which the Holocaust took away, or at least called into question; the unthinking faith of knowing you were the more enlightened one, the spiritually purer one, the more rational one, the dispenser of morality rather than the object of it. To be sure, some people were better positioned to enjoy this right than others. And some people arrived onto the scene late in the game, only to discover that part of the bounty they were promised may no longer be on the table. Of course they're aggrieved! The European immigrant who never owned a slave but was at least promised racial superiority is quite resentful when the wages of Whiteness stop being what they once were. Similarly, persons who lived far from the centers of Christian or Muslim power where Jewish subordination was forged are nonetheless well aware of what was supposed to be included in modernity's gift basket. They recognize what they've "lost" as acutely as anyone else.

Every definition of "genocide" rests on intent; you cannot accidentally do it. That's what both the U.N., Genocide Watch, and basic common sense say. The militia going door-to-door to torture and massacre all the children and elderly is genocidal intent. "The missile launcher built into your house just fired at us, we will now destroy it, you have 5 minutes to evacuate" is not.

I have no idea what is coming next in Gaza, how long it will last or how bad it will get. Godforbid, if the death toll gets another zero at the end, it may become impossible to get people to see it as non-genocidal, regardless of what is empirically, definitionally true. But if people are going to cite sources and moral authorities, let them stick with the boundaries they have introduced.

#Genocide #Israel #Palestine #Palestinians #Gaza #jumblr #Arab antisemitism #leftist antisemitism

[opbackgrounds]

You're stranded on a desert island in the Grand Line with two wooden stakes and a frying pan. Which of the Straw Hats would you NOT want to be stuck with, in order of most to least?

Bonus Question: Which of the Shichibukai would you rather be stuck with?

Brook--I'm not confident in his survival skills, and his cold based powers would not help me start a fire. I'd hate for him to see me die off first while he's stuck on an island alone, forever Usopp/Nami--These two are tied as they both have some strengths but the same physical weakness and fearful disposition. Maybe if we could build a raft Nami could navigate me to safety, but I'd trust Usopp's ability to build one more Chopper--The medical knowledge and physical skills would be invaluable, but as a reindeer he'd struggle mightily on a desert island Luffy/Zoro--They'd survive, but I probably wouldn't Franky--He'd build me a whole-ass house with air conditioning in about ten minutes flat, but not having access to cola might be a problem Jimbe--Strong, even-keeled, and with superior swimming skills, there's a lot to like. Again I'm not sure how well he'd do in a desert environment Sanji--Food wouldn't be a problem, and as a woman he'd rather die a thousand deaths before I so much as gave myself a splinter. Robin--She lived 4 years in Alabasta so would know how to handle a desert environment, has the most general knowledge and survivor skills, and the most useful Devil Fruit. I like my chances.

And this is cheating, but of the Warlords I'd definitely take Jimbe. I'd be lucky if the rest just killed me dead.

#sarc talks

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

If you can do you think you can do the Papas (separate of course) with a reader who bites as a form of affection?

Yes yes YES I absolutely can!! I personally would prefer to bite than be bitten (unless you're a vampire. You hear that, secret vampires living on tumblr? Come and bite me!! I'd be a great little vampire servant I swear!!) I also headcanon that the Papas all have some sort of vampire or demonic heritage so this will be a very fun set of headcanons. Hope you enjoy! There's very light suggestive content so minors DNI

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨

It takes him by surprise when you do it the first time

He's had many lovers in his time, and none of them have ever bitten him. He's always been the biter rather than the bitten

Primo think it's very cute once he gets used to it

Comes to expect it after you've been together for a while

If you ever stop biting him or you decrease the frequency of your bites he'll start getting concerned

He loves admiring the little bites you give him before his stupidly fast healing factor kicks in

Sometimes he'll bite you back playfully

It turns into a little play fight where you both bite each other and end up crying with laughter

"So you bite Papa? Jail! Jail for a thousand years!" (Said playfully of course)

When you're relaxing together or laying in bed, he will offer you his sleeve to bite or chew on

Calls you his junior vampire as a loving nickname

Generally loves that you show your affection in a way that's so different to other lovers he's had. He honestly prefers it to being showered with gifts

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨

Admittedly misinterprets it at first

Secondo thinks that it's your way of trying to get him in the mood and be rough with him

You'll have to explain to him that it's your way of being affectionate

Once you do explain it he immediately gets it and considers it an honour to be bitten by his beloved

Might tease you sometimes by covering your mouth with his hand when he senses you're getting ready to bite him, chuckling before kissing your forehead

Bite his palm while he's covering you mouth. He loves it

Does his best not to pin you beneath him and have his way with you if you bite him in certain places

Takes the time to explain to you that he loves when you bite him but where you shouldn't bite if you don't want to work him up

"Are you sure you're not the vampire in our relationship, tesore? Should I expect you to turn into a little bat and fly out of the window?" is his favourite little joke to make

Will immediately become concerned if you stop biting him all together

Anyone who gives you looks or says anything rude/unkind about you biting Secondo and he will give them the scariest, most intimidating glare he can muster

Will nip at your fingers and give you very light affectionate bites once he's comfortable enough with bites being your shared method of showing affection

𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨

He's into it IMMEDIATELY

Thinks it's sweet that this is how you show your affection and encourages it

If he's in one of his funny moods, he'll make an exaggerated moan and dramatically fall into your arms or onto the floor pretending that he's been bitten by a vampire

He doesn't bite back because his teeth are particularly sharp and he doesn't want to hurt you

However, he will very gently nibble on your finger tips or earlobe when you're cuddling, offering you his own hand for you to bite or nip at in return

He never requires any explanation as to why you bite to show your affection

If you do explain it to him though he'll listen intently the whole time and reassure you that he's completely okay with it and wants you to show your affection however you like

For Terzo, it's just another way of bonding and showing him how comfortable you are around him

Because of how sharp his teeth are, if you ever do want him to bite you harder when you bite each other he'll get some gum shields to wear so that there's extra protection and he won't hurt you

"My very own little Dracula. How lucky I am to receive and wear every one of your precious bites, cuore mie."

Don't even try biting him less or stopping your biting. He will sulk

He jokes one day that if you bite him particularly hard he'll get it tattooed

Or at least you think it's a joke until one night he's getting undressed and you see a tattoo of the outline of one of your bites near his collarbone

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚

Copia may be a bit oblivious, but he knows you well enough that he figures out pretty quick that you're being affectionate

It's as natural to him as a kiss on the cheek or holding hands

Anyone stares or gives you both a look when you bite him in public and he will stare right back at them until they get uncomfortable and apologise for being intrusive

Feeling you bite or nibble on him makes him smile

It's also a great comfort to him to feel your teeth on his skin when he's feeling anxious or insecure

Like Primo, he will offer you his sleeve to chew or bite on while you relax together

He doesn't bite back often simply because he prefers being bitten to doing the biting (Terzo and Secondo make fun of him for this. Primo tells them to shut up)

Jokes that love will never be dead so long as you keep biting him

"Between you and my rats, I couldn't say who bites me more!"

Will get upset if you stop biting him completely

Genuinely thinks he's done something wrong and will try to make it up to you, even though he's done nothing bad whatsoever

You'll probably have to make it up to him with a snuggle and bite session

𝐍𝐢𝐡𝐢𝐥

He's in denial about liking it at first

Will be a little snappy about it

Tells you to stop and pushes you away if you try to do it in front of others or in a place where you could be seen

Secretly, however, he loves it. He just isn't ready to admit it to himself straight away

It actually takes you stopping completely and him being grumpy as a result of that for him to actually realise and admit to himself that he loves being bitten by you

When he apologises to you, he makes it clear that he wants it to be kept in private at first while he gets used to the idea of you biting or nibbling on him outside of your shared space

His favourite place for you to bite him is his wrist. It's a place that he can look at whenever he likes but is also easy to cover with his Papal robes in public

As time goes on, he'll encourage your biting more and more until he's finally okay with being bitten out in public and not just the privacy of your room

"Were I not an immortal demon of the night, I would think you were the vampire here and not me"

Is more than happy to bite you back, though he gets a little too enthusiastic with it

On more than one occasion, you've needed to be checked out at the infirmary when his fangs have gone deeper than intended. Just to make sure he's not accidentally started the transformation process

If at any point he thinks you're biting him less or that you're going to stop, be prepared to be berated by him. Now that he's used to it, he never wants you to stop

#a little spicy #primo #papa emeritus i #secondo #papa emeritus ii #terzo #papa emeritus iii #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus nihil #papa nihil #primo x reader #papa emeritus i x reader #secondo x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus nihil x reader #papa nihil x reader #the band ghost #headcanons #headcanon requests

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 17: Something Just Like This

Space. A place in this world to call your own. It's something you had always wanted—something you craved.

For a while, you had that here in your apartment with Hydra and Cerberus, and now Bradley. And you had loved the space you shared with them. Until she came along and contaminated it. Your home, the place that was supposed to be your safe space, had been desecrated.

Maybe that's why, when you woke up in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, with Bradley still fast asleep, you found yourself scrolling through real estate sights looking at houses. You hadn't lived in an actual house on earth, ever.

The thought of having one never crossed your mind. Buying a house meant staying somewhere. It was a physical representation of permanence. Something you never had before.

But now, with Bradley, your husband, you wanted a place for the two of you. A place to raise your future family because you were done running. You'd found your place in this world.

You scrolled and scrolled until you found the perfect house. It was a four bedroom colonial. Two stories, fenced in backyard, and a large front porch. It had a pool, which you weren't thrilled about, but you knew Bradley would love.

It was in a quiet neighborhood in Coronado. The house had hardwood floors throughout, and the listing said it had been newly remodeled, which was evident in the pictures.

The outside had beautiful landscaping, which complimented the lime-washed brick of the exterior. The only drawback was the price. For most, it would deter them, but for you, who'd spent over a thousand years saving and investing on earth, it was a drop in the bucket.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you filled in your information to set up a meeting to tour the house at ten in the morning. You didn't want to tell Bradley because it's not something the two of you had talked about, but it felt so right.

So, in the morning, you told him you had some errands to run and a surprise for him when you returned.

When you came back home around two that afternoon, you were giddy with excitement. "Love, pack a bag." You announced to Bradley as you came through the door.

"For?" He asked you with a raised eyebrow.

"For Virginia Beach. I figured we might as well take advantage of this time off that we have. I know you've been wanting to go home for a bit, and I'd love to see where you grew up. So, I made a few calls, worked out a few things, and I booked us two first class tickets. Our flight leaves at five. You announce proudly as you go to your bedroom and pull out some suitcases and start packing.

"Woah, babe, slow down. What about Hyrda and Cerberus?" Bradley asks as you toss clothes at him.

"Penny agreed to pet sit for us." You tell him.

"Well, what about a place to stay? I normally stay with my aunt, but I can't just spring this on her." Bradley asks you concerned.

"Bradley, it wounds me that you don't have faith in me." You mock him as you turn around to face him for the first time. "I got us a hotel. Everything is taken care of. Now start packing!" You scold him as you return to your suitcase.

Bradley exhales, knowing that it's fruitless to argue with you. So, he relents and starts packing alongside you.

An hour and a half later, the two of you are being dropped off at the airport. You decided to Uber rather than leave either of your vehicles there.

The moment you get your bags out, a young man greets both of you. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw. I can take your things for you, and then you can follow me to the lounge."

Bradley looks a little surprised but hands your luggage over. The two of you follow the steward to the first class lounge and take a seat before getting a drink.

Bradley looks around as he settles into the plush chair with a glass of expensive scotch. "This is something else." He remarks. "Have you never flown first class?" You ask him.

"Never. When I fly commercial, I always try to upgrade to business because I'm too big to fit comfortably in economy." He shrugs his shoulders and continues to look around.

"You know, I sometimes forget that you're like, wealthy from being around so long. But then you buy me fancy watches and first-class plane tickets and I remember." Bradley chuckles.

"Bradley, Love." You lean forward in your chair. "I'm not wealthy. We are wealthy. You're my husband. For better or worse, what's mine is yours." You remind him.

"If you say so—still—it's a lot to take in." He sighs as he checks the time on his aforementioned expensive watch that you bought him.

A little while later, the two of you are on the plane tucked into your first class suite with all the bells and whistles, complete with lie-flat seats and a door.

Bradley is engrossed in finding out what all the buttons do when a flight attendant comes by with two glasses of champagne as you wait for take off.

"We didn't order these." Bradley says, but you pat his shoulder and chuckle. "They are complimentary. Perks of first class." You smile at him before grabbing the glasses and toasting. Minutes later, a dinner menu appears, and Bradley marvels at all of the choices, unable to decide.

You lean back in your chair and watch him over the rim of your glass. He's like a kid in a candy store. It warms your heart that you are able to give him all of this. You thought maybe completing your quest for worthiness was your purpose in life, but looking at your husband, you realize loving him is your true purpose.

The roughly six hour flight goes smoothly. After dinner, your suite is converted to a bed so you and Bradley can get some sleep. However, the two of you decide that joining the mile-high club was a better idea. You came with Bradley's hand firmly covering your mouth and his chest pressed against your back with him whispering absolutely filthy praises in your ear about how you were such a good girl for him.

By the time the two of you made it to your hotel late that evening, you were both thoroughly exhausted. You took a quick shower together before curling up to get some much needed sleep before meeting his family tomorrow.

....................

You woke up the next day extremely nervous.

Today, you would meet Carole's sister, Bradley's Aunt Marsha, her husband Tom, and their three children.

While the two of you were getting dressed, Bradley could sense that you were worried. The entire drive there in your rental car, he assured you that they would love you, and everything would be fine.

You felt nauseous as he pulled into their driveway. His aunt and uncle had a lovely home, and Bradley told you that they were great people, but this was all new to you.

You held his hand tightly as you climbed the couple of steps that led to the front door. Bradley rang the doorbell, and the two of you patiently waited for someone to answer. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze just before the door opened, and a lovely middle-aged woman with short blonde hair opened the door.

"Oh my goodness! Bradley! What are you doing here?!" The woman, who you knew had to be his aunt because she looked just like Carole, exclaimed as she pulled him in for a hug before cupping his face. She hadn't noticed you yet.

"Hey, Aunt Marsha! I had a few days off, so I thought I would fly out here and surprise you. I also wanted to introduce you to someone." Bradley said as you pulled you closer to him. "Y/N, this is my Aunt Marsha. Aunt Marsha, this is Y/N, my wife." Bradley smiled.

Bradley's aunt stood there silently for a moment before a wide grin spread across her face. You turned her head over her shoulder and called into her home. "Tom, Conner, Alyssa, Maddie, meet me in the living room. Bradley is here, and he brought his wife!"

Marsha ushers the two of you inside and directs you to her living room, where you sit down on the sofa.

"Marsha, what are you going on about?" And older gentleman, whom you assume is her husband, comes into room holding a cup of coffee before stopping in his tracks when he spies you and Bradley sitting on couch. You aren't sure what to do, so you shyly wave at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Bradley's cousin burst into the room. "Mom, what do you mean Bradley brought his—" a tall boy who has blonde curls similar to Bradley's stops short when he sees the two of you. "—Wife." He finishes in a choked tone. The two girls stand there silently, each mirroring their father's shocked expression with wide eyes and mouthed slightly agape.

Marsha stands up and scolds her husband and children. "Don't just stand there, introduce yourselves!"

All at once, the four of them move toward you. You and Bradley both stand up, and you shake hands with his Uncle Tom and his cousins Conner, Alyssa, and Maddie. You a sit back down, and there is an awkward silence in the room.

"Well, Y/N, tell us about yourself, honey." Bradley's aunt breaks the silence as she brings in cups of coffee for all of you. You take the mug and take a deep breath.

"Well, I'm a pilot like Bradley is, I'm originally from North Carolina. I'm thrity-one. I'm Greek. I have a dog and a cat, my rank is Commander, I graduated from the Naval Academy, and my parents passed away when I was nineteen. Oh, and my call sign is Hades." You say, telling them what you'd practiced on the drive over here.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry to hear about your folks." Marsha says. "It's fine, Mrs. Edwards." You shrug your shoulders. Bradley's aunt shakes her head.

"Mrs. Edwards is my mother in law. I'm Marsha or Aunt Marsha, whichever you prefer. We are family now." She smiles at you coming to sit by you on the couch and resting her hands over yours.

"Aren't you just the most beautiful woman. If there's one thing those Bradshaw boys can do, it's pick a beautiful wife. My goodness Bradley, she is gorgeous." Marsha compliments you. "Thank you." You smile back at her. "And she went to the Academy and is a Commander. That means she outrank you, doesn't it?" Marsha asks him.

"She sure does." Bradley chuckles. "Beautiful and smart. No wonder you couldn't stop talking about her when you came out to Maddie's graduation!" Marsha laughs, and Bradley blushes. You turn to him a quirk an eyebrow.

"Oh, honey, you should have heard him. He wouldn't stop talking about you!" Aunt Marsha says. "So, tell me the story, how did you two meet and all that jazz?" She asks you.

"Bradley was assigned to be my wingman, and we became friends and found out by accident that we were neighbors. We kind of danced around the fact that we liked each other for a while until Bradley asked me out on a date on my birthday. We went out the next day. Dinner and the boardwalk amusement park. He won me a stuffed shark!" You cheer as you tell them.

"Then Bradley got hurt, and I convinced him to move in with me, and last week, he proposed, and we eloped on the beach." You say, leaving out some of the more supernatural details before showing her your ring.

"This was your mother's ring, wasn't it?" Marsha asks with a few tears in her eyes. "Yes, yes, it was." Bradley says to her.

"She and Nick would have loved you." Marsha smiles at you. "You know, I never met two people who were more perfect for each other than my sister and Goose. You know he proposed after four dates. I guess when you know you know. I know Carole never loved anyone else after him. I hope they found each other in the afterlife and are happy together." Marsha sighs.

"They are." You sigh, and she looks at you confused. "I mean—I'm sure they are. Bradley has told me so much about them." You recover quickly. Marsha sighs before getting up to take your coffee cups. You offer to help her and follow her dutifully into the kitchen. You set the mugs down on the counter and turn to ask Marsha if she'd like help washing them.

But as you turn, your elbow catches the handle of one, and it crashes to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! Let me clean it up!" You drop to your knees to grab the broken fragments of ceramic. A sharp piece catches your index finger and you wince, drawing back at the pain.

You bring your finger up to examine yourself and notice the fresh, crimson blood leaking out of the cut. Your eyes go wide with shock. This isn't supposed to happen.

"Are you okay, dear? Here, let me get the broom." Marsha says as she scoops you to your feet and sweeps up the mess. "I'm so sorry." You say to her again.

"Oh, honey, don't you worry. There's a hundred more where that came from. Do you need a bandage? Come over to the sink and grab a stool, I'll clean you up." She says.

"I'm fine." You assure her as you wash the blood from your hands.

Hours later, you and Bradley's family, well, your family now, are gathered around the dining room tabled eating. The cut and dropped mug from earlier long forgotten.

The atmosphere is warm and welcoming and it's nice to sit down and have a family dinner where everyone wants you around.

It's nice to have a real family.

That night, when the two of you leave, Marsha and Tom insist that they have enough room for the two of you to sleep over, but Bradley tells them you already have a hotel room. His aunt makes you promise to come over again before you leave so she can show you some photo albums of Bradley through the years. When you return the next day, you spend hours flipping through them with her. Bradley blushes every time Marsha shows you one that he deems embarrassing, but you love every minute of it.

The two of you spend the next few days exploring. The day before you're set to leave, Bradley takes you to the graveyard where his parents are buried.

As you drive into the cemetery in your rented car, you hold tight to Bradley's hand. Afraid of what might happen if you don't.

He drives up a hill and stops at the top, pulling the car over to the shoulder and shutting off the engine. You both unbuckle, but you reach for his arm before exiting. "Bradley, wait," you say, catching him by the elbow.

"What's wrong, Angel?" He asks you with a soft expression. "I just—I just need to do something before we go out there. C'mere." You say to him as you pull him closer.

You lean over the console of the rental car and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of Bradley's neck before pressing your foreheads together. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths hoping that your idea works.

You break apart and look down, and a smile graces your features as you see what you were hoping to see.

"What was that about?" Bradley questions you. "I was seeing if we were tethered." You tell him. He cocks an eyebrow, still unsure.

"Graveyards and one of the places that I can easily travel back to the Underworld. When I'm in my true goddess form, I can see the portals inside them. But when I'm in my mortal form, I can't. If I would accidentally pass through one, I don't know if I would be strong enough to make it back. But if I'm tethered to you, I have something connecting me here to the mortal world. It keeps me safe." You explain to him.

"How do you know we are tethered?" Bradley asks. "Look at your ring. You should be able to see it." Bradley looks down, and there's a gold string running between the two of you. "Holy shit." He breathes out. "How—how is that possible? How can I see this?"

"Because you're the King of the Underworld. And as much as I never thought they existed, Bradley, you're my soulmate. Only soulmates can be tethered. It's how they find each other in the afterlife." You explain to him.

"But, but I thought you said we couldn't be soulmates. That our marriage could never be real?" Bradley shakes his head.

"Ancient laws are tricky. But I think you made it real, Bradley." You say as the pieces fall into place in your mind. "How?" He retorts.

"Because you made me an alter the first time we made love. You said you would worship at my hips, worship me. You made me an alter, and so when we got married—"

"We married at an alter of the Gods, an alter for you." He finishes. "Exactly." You smile. "So what does that mean, Angel?" Bradley presses further. "It means they can't take you from me. Gods can't tear apart soulmates. Looks like you're stuck with me." You chuckle.

Bradley smiles and kisses you before stepping out of the vehicle and coming to open your door. You slip your hand in his as the two of you walk to the headstone that marks his parent's resting place.

The two of you walk up, and Bradley introduces you as if they were actually standing in front of you. He starts talking about you to them, and you can't fight the tears that slip down your cheek at his one-sided conversation.

It's moving to watch him talk about your love and your marriage to his parents. He does it in such an enthusiastic manner that it makes your heart swell. Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you close after a few minutes and the two of you bask in the silence.

"I've met them." You say after a few long minutes. "What?" Bradley whispers as he looks down at you.

"I've met them. In the Underworld. The day your mother passed. I was in the Underworld trying to figure out a way to stay. She walked into Paradise asking about "her Goose." I thought she was talking about a pet until she explained that Goose was he husband's call sign. I got to see them reunite. It was— beautiful." You say to him.

"So they really are together. You meant it when you said that at Aunt Marsha's house?" Bradley tears up.

"They are together and happy and still in love. I'm sure you've heard this before, but you really do look so much like your father." You say as you cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes away some of his tears.

"I'm sorry I never told you before." You apologize. "It's okay. I understand why you didn't." Bradley says as he places his hand over yours. "I'm also sorry that I can't take you there to see them. If I was stronger—if I had my full powers—I could." You sigh, angry at yourself.

"It's okay, Angel. I know you could if you would." He whispers before kissing your forehead and pulling you in for a hug. The two of you stand there for a moment before you ask Bradley the question that's been on your mind. "Bradley, where do you want to be buried?"

He pulls back and thinks for a moment. "I never really thought about it. I always figured I'd either burn in, and there wouldn't be anything left of me or that I'd die alone and get boxed up and put in some military graveyard. But I think— I think I'd like to be buried here, with my parents. I'd like to have this view forever." He says as the two of you watch the hues of red and orange paint the evening sky.

"I think I can make sure that happens. Right here is going to be the perfect spot to spend eternity with you." You say. Bradley shakes his head. He doesn't say it, but he knows that he's going to die before you. But you've already promised him that you won't let him go without you. He just hopes you're both old and have lived a full life with that happens.

The two of you say goodbye to Goose and Carole with a promise to visit again soon before leaving.

Your flight home the next day is uneventful.

It's mid afternoon by the time you make it back. The two of you Uber back to your apartment before going to pick up Cerby and Hydra from Mav and Penny. You insist on driving to go get them. Bradley makes a fuss about it but ultimately gives in and hands you your keys.

"Angel, this isn't the way to Mav and Penny's." Bradley remarks as you make a turn. "I know." You hum back. You drive for a few more minutes before you pull into your final destination.

"Honey, who's house is this?" Bradley asks you as you pull in the driveway. "It's for sale. Let's go take a look." You say before hoping out of the car and bounding up the steps to the front door.

"Angel—baby—Hades, wait! We can't just go in a house that's for sale. We don't know if someone might be here!" Bradley scolds you as he follows you up the steps.

"No one is home, and we can go in if we have the key." You reply as you hold up the shiny piece of metal before unlocking the door. "How did you get that?" Bradley interrogates you as you step inside. "I have my ways." You laugh. "C'mon, Bradley, look around with me. Don't be such a kill joy." You tease him as you begin to flit throughout the space.

The bay windows along the back wall let in tons of natural like, and the floor plan is open concept with the kitchen, living room, and dining room flowing into one another. Gorgeous amber colored hardwoods run throughout the house and there is a fireplace along one wall.

The kitchen has beautiful light grey cabinets with white counter tops, and all the appliances are stainless steel. Bradley follows you up the stairs as he takes in all of the bedrooms before you lead him downstairs to the back patio and outdoor kitchen and the pool.

"Isn't this place amazing, Love?" You say to him with starry eyes.

"It's great, but—"He says hesitantly. "But what?" You ask him as you wrap your arms around his middle. "This is an expensive neighborhood and I know that you have money—"

"We have money." You correct him.

"We have money." He sighs. "But I don't want to spend so much of it. You earned that, and it's not fair."

You chuckle. "Bradley, I can't take it with me. And I've never had a reason to have a house until now. I mean, think about it. The yard would be perfect for Cerby and later on some kids. I mean, this would be the perfect home to raise our family in. You could teach them to swim in that pool while I make snacks in the outdoor kitchen. We could have our friends over. Heck, your aunt and uncle and cousins could come visit us. This place would be the perfect home for us!" You try to reason with him.

"I guess you're right. A place like this would be perfect for us to have a family. I guess we could talk to a realtor." Bradley laughs as the thought of you standing in the kitchen round and pregnant with his child while a toddler is running around the back yard with him creeps into his mind.

"We don't have to talk to a realtor, Bradley." You tell him. "I'm pretty sure we do, honey." Bradley chuckles.

"I'm pretty sure we don't. When we pulled up, you asked me whose house this was. Well, it's our house, Bradley. Welcome home." You say as you take a step back and dangle a key in front of him.

"You—you bought us a house? When? How?" He stammers, taking in your words. "The morning we left for Virginia. You'd be amazed what you can get done for the right amount of money.

"So you, you own this?" Bradley sweeps his hand around.

"We own this." You smile.

Bradley is silent for a moment before he picks you up and spins you around and carries you out the front door and onto the porch.

"Bradley? What are you doing?" You laugh. "I'm supposed to carry you across the threshold. It's tradition." He says with a matter of fact tone before doing just that. You break out into a fit of giggles as he sets you down and starts going through your home in earnest.

.................

Two weeks later, the two of you are all moved in. Your furniture fills the room, your photos and decor fill the walls and shelves. Your dishes sit in the cabinets, and Hydra and Cerberus have settled in nicely.

You've just come out of your huge new shower and are doing your nighttime routine when you notice a bruise from when you hit the corner of the kitchen island when making dinner, but you shake it off. As you apply some lotion, you notice the small scar on your hand from the mug you broke in Virginia.

When you go to inspect it further, you suddenly realize just how tired you are as you let out a yawn. You don't dwell on it because Bradley is calling you to come to bed, and the idea of being wrapped up in his big strong arms is the only thing you can be bothered to think of right now.

Taglist: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @withahappyrefrain @lt-spork @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @roosterisdaddy36 @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @asshlyyyy @inkandarsenic @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @skipchat @sunlightmurdock @princess76179 @supernaturalvikingwhore @schoollover @cheyrenee @briseisgone @angelbabyange @marvelouslyme96

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #tgm #top gun rooster #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #top gun 2 #false god #Spotify

[fourovcups]

I've been reading Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire as research for a project of mine, and it has certainly been an experience.

Desert Solitaire was one of these titles I'd heard bandied about in American nature literature growing up (the kind of thing teachers recommended once you finished Hatchet), but I don't here his work mentioned as much anymore. I recently re-encountered the title on a literal ecofascist reading list. While Abbey doesn't sound like an ecofascist himself, I can easily see why nature Nazis like him.

The book chronicles Abbey's time as a seasonal park ranger at the Arches National Monument in Utah There is a kind of uncertainty and inconsistency in the way he writes, even in the way he acts towards his surroundings in the desert. Silent Spring had only been published a few years before Solitaire was, and the eco-cultural revolution was not yet in full swing. Abbey writes lovingly about his desert environment. He describes in stunning detail, for example, the everyday beauty of a bumblebee alighting on a cactus flower, and decries the reckless "development" initiatives of the Bureau of Public Roads. But on the next page, he will say something like this: "...it's a foolish, simple-minded rationalism which denies any form of emotion to all animals but man and his dog. This is no more justified than the Moslems are in denying souls to women." Sure dude. Okay, fine, he was writing in the sixties. Some insensitivity is par for the course. But then, after pages and pages of decrying humans driving desert flora and fauna towards extinction, he describes with glee an instance where he stones a rabbit to death for no apparent reason.

It's a bizarre passage, and shows Abbey at his most unhinged. He describes the rabbit as "cowardly" for running away from threats, unlike the brave mountain lion, who stands and fights. He throws the stone and hits the rabbit's head: "He crumples, there's the usual gushing of blood, etc.," and the creature is dead. "I continue my walk with a new, augmented cheerfulness which is hard to understand but unmistakable [...] I try but cannot feel any sense of guilt." Reflecting on the incident, he concludes that his killing of the rabbit has made him a part of the desert, a membership bought by killing or being killed, being "predator or prey". Even so, he decides not to eat the rabbit, which he says is probably diseased anyway. He also describes using his walking stick to crush and stir up an ant colony, also without any reason beyond not liking ants. "Don't actually care for ants. Neurotic little pismires." These are far from the only times that Abbey violates his personal philosophy of reverence for all living creatures.

It's clear that Edward Abbey came to Arches National Monument already dissatisfied with the outside world, and with some authority issues to boot (some quick googling on his background shows two demotions as a military police officer for clashing with higher-ups). The freedom of the desert, its simplicity and balance, is a significant part of what makes it appeal to him. But its harshness, the hostility of its sandstorms and lurking rattlesnakes, draws him in just as much.

Edward Abbey is not an ecofascist. If anything, his ill-defined political beliefs can be vaguely defined as anarchistic, if they can be defined at all. Deleuze and Guattari write in A Thousand Plateaus that fascism is "a cancerous body rather than a totalitarian organism". It is fluid, mutable. Sometimes it lies latent, benign; at other times it rushes outward, colonizing piecemeal and erratically, in "flows capable of suffusing every kind of cell". Elements of Abbey, and of Desert Solitaire, contain such microfascisms.

Let's turn back to the linchpin of it all: the killing of the rabbit, which he sees as a joyous, cosmic act; one that links him into a (circular? pyramidal?) chain of being he was previously alienated from, in the atomized world of civilization. His joy is only augmented when he realizes he is not guilty for killing the rabbit. In per-modern hunting customs across the world, the taking of animal life is never free and unmediated. Thanks may be given to the spirit of the animal itself, or to the unseen powers that led the hunter to their quarry. Naturally, the sacrifice of an animal to a god was just that: for a god, not the human involved. What Abbey describes in the killing of the rabbit is something utterly different.

In Federico Finchelstein's Fascist Mythologies, Finchelstein says that in fascism, "consciousness was not a repression of inwardness (as Freud understood the workings of the Ego and the Id) but its actual distillation. [...] [Fascist consciousness] was not contemplative but similar to that of a sublime sensation of ecstasy."

The fascist subject is most "conscious" precisely when they loose themselves in the ecstatic abandon of the act. Such fascist consciousness is the foundation of the free, easy violence it facilitates.

When Abbey describes casting the stone at the rabbit, it is in a Meursault-like twilight of awareness. He sets up the encounter as a game, one in which he is a scientist experimenting on a rabbit that has been "volunteered" to him, and whose death is justifiable through its natural cowardice. He hardly realizes that the action he is carrying out, and when the rabbit dies he is shocked out of his reverie for a moment.

"For a moment I am shocked by my deed [...] but shock is succeeded by a mild elation."

For Abbey, primordial violence is what at last allows him union with the sacred world of the desert.

"No longer do I feel so isolated from the sparse and furtive life around me, a stranger from another world. I have entered into this one. We are kindred all of us [...] Long live diversity, long live the Earth!"

By carrying out this act of bare violence, Abbey frees himself from the civilized world and achieves union with the world of Nature, in which violence is a simple act: one that creates its own order rather than supporting existing ones. It is this union that, while the moment lasts, allows him to rejoice in his newfound "innocence and power".

That is where I will leave things for now. There are other, more overt themes that Abbey explores that are the chief reason Desert Solitaire appeals to many ecofascists, such as its characterizations of industrial society and "Progress". Abbey's later work, such as The Monkey Wrench Gang, set even more explicit examples of direct action and sabotage that inspired right-wing accelerationists as well as left-wing environmental activists. This is my first long-ish post; if you're interested in these kinds of posts on ecofascism and ecocriticism, let me know and I might make more in the future.

#Desert Solitaire #ecocriticism #ecofascism #books #Edward Abbey #fascism

[bemyvalentinechallenge]

The Be My Valentine Challenge 2024

An event from @timecanalwayshealyou

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The Be My Valentine Challenge is a challenge for writers, artists, and just any kind of creator, from the first of February to the 14th!

The idea is to create thirteen smaller, lead-up pieces based on the prompts; for example, ficlets/drabbles/one-shots, couplets, small artworks, individual gifs, et. cetera - and finish the challenge with a larger work; a fic, a full poem, a gifset, a big artwork, whatever sparks for you!

They can be a series or separate, and you're free to change mediums or fandoms for different days. If you'd rather create fourteen small works, or all large ones, or a combination of both, that's completely up to you! Prompts can be used after the event, combined, just do whatever! Only "properly" used prompts will be reblogged to this page, however.

The catch; it's all romance prompts, in the spirit of Valentine's Day and because everyone on this site is single and lonely.

Each day has a quote from an iconic or relevant romance film (The Notebook, Red, White and Royal Blue, The Fault In Our Stars, Pride And Prejudice, etc.), an iconic love song, and a romantic cliché, act, or item.

This account will be reblogging a few works (art, drabbles, ficposts, etc.) from the event tag (bemyvalentine2024) each day. Full tagging rules, the transcribed prompt list, and other event details are under the cut. If you're unsure about anything, send in an ask! Happy Creating!

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There will be an ao3 collection open from the first of February to the fourteenth for submission. Artworks, gifsets, etc. posted to tumblr should be tagged appropriately to be seen as part of the event.

The official spotify playlist for the event can be found here.

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Anyone who completes this event is considered a Valentine, and anyone who participates is a Lover. At the end of the event, a form will be put out, so if you wish to be tagged in a masterpost, keep an eye out! I won't be fact-checking, it's an honour system, so please be honest.

There will be completion and participation badges, too! They're in the works as we speak!

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Tagging System:

event tag - #bemyvalentine2024

prompt tag - #bemyvalentineno1, #bemyvalentineno2, etc.

(Or #bemyvalentinealt1, #bemyvalentinealt2, if you use alt promtps)

the theme or specific prompt/s you chose - #love poems, #quote, etc.

fandom or oc - #stranger things, #original content, etc.

any trigger warnings/nsfw tags if needed

and then your own tags!

Only works tagged correctly will be reblogged to this page, so please take note!

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Transcribed Prompt List:

Day 1: "But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." Because You Loved Me, Celine Dion | Love Poems

Day 2: "I want all of you, forever. You and me. Every day." A Thousand Years, Christina Perri | Growing Old Together

Day 3: "I fell in love with a world through her eyes." Ocean Eyes, Billie Eilish | Love at First Sight

Day 4: "I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you." Marry Me, Train | Wedding Vows

Day 5: "My love will keep me from being a lonely spirit." When I Look At You, Miley Cyrus | Long Distance

Day 6: "People do belong to each other, because that's the only chance that anyone's got for true happiness." Home, Edward Sharpe | First Love

Day 7: "It's so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk." Sweater Weather, The Neighbourhood | Snowed In

Day 8: "I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." Say You Won't Let Go, James Arthur | Love Letter

Day 9: "You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful." Lay Me Down, Sam Smith | Widowed

Day 10: "Hold on, are you writing a song?" I Want To Write You A Song, One Direction | Love Songs

Day 11: "To me, you are perfect." Perfect, Ed Sheeran | Kissing in the Rain

Day 12: "History, huh? Bet we could make some." Love Story, Taylor Swift | Historical Romance

Day 13: "I wish I knew how to quit you." All of Me, John Legend | Making Up

Day 14: "You don't step in love, you fall in. Head over heels." I Will Always Love You, Whitney Houston | Valentine's Day

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#bemyvalentine2024 #valentine's day #writing #fanfiction #art #art challenge #gifs #poems #poetry #writeblr #poetblr #artblr #please reblog #boost

[dduane]

...So this is the time of year when I return to this piece of digital art (or its earlier versions), tweak it a little, and repost it for Pride.

At the moment I'm looking at These Two Idiots (for so they are) and considering how long I've been working with them. Of all the characters I've worked with in print, the only ones I've known longer would be the crew of NCC-1701.

I first "met" these guys in late 1970, when I went to college and met the two people (not gay, incidentally) on whom they would be based. Not even knowing the word "trope" at the time, I fell headfirst into one, because there was this tall dark man and this short blond one... and much to my surprise, they started pulling a world together around them. It assembled itself bit by bit, in a sort of patchwork that gradually started undoing its seams and growing together into a rather unusual tapestry.

It was a crude one, to start with. But one thing the characters made plain to me from fairly early on was that their relationships with one another were not what mainstream 1970s culture would consider conventional. They were gay... but that wasn't at all the most important thing in their lives.* And as I continued assembling their background world through nursing school and then my first job in Manhattan as a psych nurse, their personalities began to fill themselves out in the foreground.

One of them turned out to be the son of a provincial nobleman, well aware of the expectations of those around him—that he might eventually wind up running that province himself. Yet at the same time he was aware that he had other problems, chief among them the discovery of a nascent power that would kill him young if he couldn't master it. And in the last thousand years, no one of his gender ever had...

The other presented himself more and more clearly as something of a hard case: someone who wanted to very much to be good at the family business, but wasn't... and knew it. Kind of a screw-up, always doing the wrong things for what he was sure were the right reasons. Yet, no matter how often he screwed up, he was also the kind of person who keeps picking himself up and trying again, because he's been told over and over that that's what people like him have to do: otherwise they're no use to anybody.

Imagine my shock when I realized that these two men—initially enemies in their adolescence, then frenemies, and as they grew, best friends and then much more—were the (incomplete) answer to the question I'd asked my Mom at the end of the bedtime reading of some fairy tale or other: "Why can't a prince rescue another prince?" Because one of them got himself more than once into situations where he really needed one kind or another of rescuing. The other one obliged him, while once or twice getting rescued himself. In short: a pattern was forming.

And when it broke out in full flower in 1978, the very last thing I expected was to be immediately dragged gasping and flailing under the surface of the novel that would begin the tale of what more they had to become. It was probably the most interesting six weeks of my life (and that includes the six weeks during which I first scrubbed in on brain surgery). The book—which sold a couple of weeks after it landed on its publisher's desk—kicked off my career as a novelist and screenwriter, and in its way proved that the world was at least somewhat ready for epic fantasy in which the basic culture was pansexual, polyamorous, and inclusive in ways that hadn't been attempted before.

So I owe them a debt, those two gentlemen up there: the tall dark guy with the amateur strategist's mind, the blacksmith's shoulders, and the peculiar sword, and the short fair gent who if he could would stay at home, live quietly in town, and work in the local library...but whom when kingship requires has risked everything on subsuming his being into that of the family demigod, in order to save the world in which he and his loved (and the rest of their found family) live their lives. A lot of people in the 1980s and '90s who'd never seen queer representation in a fantasy novel, found it at last while following Herewiss and Freelorn down their road. And it's been my pleasure to hold that space for new readers, and keep adding to it... because (if you ask me) it's needed more now than ever.

So, to the readership of the Middle Kingdoms works—now pushing half a century old—and everybody else who's celebrating the season: happy Pride!

*Not least because everybody else in their world is (at least potentially) some shade of queer, including God.

#Pride #Middle Kingdoms meta #Freelorn #Herewiss

[majaloveschris]

Why nothing makes sense, part 8.

Comic Con and Wedding Ring Edition

So before I start this part of the Why Nothing Makes Sense series, I'd like to say that I'm not saying there wasn't a wedding or that this isn't real. However, I'm going to explain why things don't make sense to me and why I think this might not be real.

So before we jump into this amazing Comic Con weekend, I'd like to go back to the DM Boston airport sighting. So that picture of them coming back from Portugal happened (according to that "anon") after their honeymoon and wedding. So we could all see in that picture that Alba was wearing no ring. This was obviously very weird to a lot of people, since if you are newly married, why wouldn't you want to wear your ring? We got explanations from anons, like they wanted to keep the marriage private or that they only had a commitment ceremony. After the thousands of articles and the comic con, we can all agree that both of these explanations are bullshit. So why wasn't she wearing a ring? Where was hers? If this is real and they got married, then why didn't she have hers on?

People love to throw around "they are private" excuses, but they aren't. They never were, and they never will, because they want to sell this relationship. Since Alba stepped into his life, he has forgotten that he is a private person. And he is still pretty private about everything except her. If they were private, there wouldn't have been Instagram stories uploaded or articles about their wedding, or he wouldn't have worn his ring, or even if he had, he wouldn't have talked about their wedding. This whole shitshow is everything but not private.

After people started questioning this whole ring thing, he suddenly appeared to wear one at the Comic Con. I think he was showing the ring much more on the first day but appeared to hide it more on the second. The ring alone looks cheap and not very fitting. I'm not only saying this based on the pictures, but I talked to someone who's met him (yeah, I have evidence they met), and they said it looked rather yellowish than gold, and it was clearly too big for him. He looked unhealthy, and I don't really understand the "he looks the healthiest and happiest he's ever been" comments because I don't really see it.

Then we got that amazing interview. So the whole thing started with the lady saying that he's been working a lot in the past 2 years, and if there was a personal project he was working on right now, This question was clearly planted. I doubt that he or his team didn't know about the questions prior to the interview. Even if they didn't know about this question, he could've said anything else. Saying he's getting ready for fall and immediately changing the subject, or he could've started talking about Dodger. He needed to talk about her; he needed to talk about the wedding. He said it was really, really great. Now call me disputatious, but he always said how much he wants to settle down, get married, and start a family. So if she is the one, if she is the person who makes him happy, etc., I would assume he would've said something like, "It was the best day of my life" or "This was everything I've ever wanted, and I'm so happy" not that it was "really, really great". Then he continued that they "kinda had two ceremonies, one on the East Coast and one in Portugal". What does "kinda" mean? You either had two ceremonies or not. And why did he say East Coast and not MA? Everyone knows he lives in Massachusetts, and there were like a thousand articles about them getting married, so there isn't really anything to hide at this point. Then he mentioned his wife's Portuguese, which we've all also known, and I don't even want to mention the awkward "Go Portugal!" thing. He also said it was wonderful and beautiful, but a lot to organize. Then he said they've been enjoying life since then, and he mentioned autumn and seemed excited and happy to talk about it. He turned back to "their" life, and his face changed again. It seemed like he didn't even take himself seriously when he said that they were "reflecting". I think he only mentioned the last sentence so he could change the subject and start talking about something. It felt like he was trying to remember everything he had to say and share.

People said he looked happy talking about the wedding. I mean, he didn't look desperate or sad like every other time we saw them together. I care more about actions than words, and him smiling while talking about the wedding won't make me forget how he acted during the NYC pap walk, Disney, that awkward car kiss, or the Boston airport photo. I also think that you can see that as soon as he changed the subject, he looked happier. He looked way more excited to talk about autumn and Dodger than about his own wife and their kinda weddings. And he definitely talked much more about it.

He didn't share new information; everything he's said we already knew about the weddings. There wasn't a fan who asked him about her during the interview; they knew the questions prior, and even if they didn't, he didn't have to talk about her. So then why? People won't start liking her and shipping them just because he talks about her, and what if some people think they didn't get married? They seem to care so much about what people think about this, which I don't really get since if this is real and they are happier than ever, then why do they keep trying to convince people that it is? They are supposed to be private, yet they act like they are selling something. They keep trying to fill gaps and make this more authentic, but it's not and never will be. Those things that make this whole thing really fake for me and for a lot of people are already out there. You can't change what's done, and no matter how hard they try, those inconsistencies and bullshit are out there and will stay there. They can try to explain and fill the gaps by "randomly" mentioning it or publishing an article, but again, why would they do that? Why are they doing all of this if this is genuine and they have nothing to sell or prove?

#majaloveschris #why nothing makes sense posts #cevans-love