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whalyrae · 2 months

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THE OLD GUARD - CHAPTER 4

"We don’t get a say on how it ends, we never have. But we can control how we live."

Summary : You are a powerful witch, cursed and hurt through ages. Owner of your esoteric shop, you were resigned to live this lonely life when the powerful magic of soulmates and fate came to you.

Pairing : poly BTS x reader (she/her)

Genre : soulmate au, demons bts au, witch y/n au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : eventual smut, angst, mention of depression, death, suicide, past trauma, violence, blood, past (sexual) abuse, past torture, PTSD, scars, self harm, and more.

Tag list : @blackrockshooter780 @babyymeme @starrlo0ver @suckerforv @mushroom-main @m1sss1mp @prettydancingdamzel @i-have-no-life-charlie @avadakadabra93 @veronawrites @kawaiikpoplover268 @didi-9310 @ghostlyworld @carolinexkpop @gooooomz @00ihatesnaku

A/N : After months of struggling with life, health, mental health issues... I can FINALLY POST AGAIN !! This chapter was really hard to write (I cried a little at the end ngl :D), I have constant writer block, constant impostor syndrome... I have the perfectionnism trait but in a toxic way really TT.TT Don't hesitate to like and reblog !! Also don't be afraid to leave a little comment or if you have any questions, here or in anon in my inbox !! they are really really welcomed, I love reading all your impressions and thoughts !!

Also thank you so much !! I was inactive for a very long time and I still got daily alerts with people who liked/kudos the chapters and the story :(( I can't express (yeah i'm an author and i can't express through words LOL) how much i'm grateful :(( ♥♥

ps : ah and sorry if there is any mistakes or anything it's almost 2:30am when I post this and I had an really emotionnal day fgkfdhlfk LOVE YALL MUAH ♥

Playlist link : The Old Guard Playlist

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 3 // Chapter 5

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

She was wondering whether it would be better to ask Handong to stay with her. She had assured her that she would handle the situation and that Handong could go home. She knew that Gahyeon would need her at their coffee shop.

However, now that she was in the living room of the seven boys, her soulmates’, after bringing one of them in an utterly unconscious state for a reason as unknown to them as it was to her, she was starting to regret this decision.

She couldn't understand what had happened with Jin the moment their eyes met. She couldn't say anything, the words were stuck in her throat as they stared at each other without a word. He parted his lips as if he wanted to say something, but just like her, nothing came out.

He'd known she was his soul mate, of course he could feel it. Just like her. But had he recognized her? Did he know that the two of them were the firsts of their soulmate bond to meet, long before any of the other six were born? She couldn't be sure and didn't have time to find out.

She had seen his features contort in pain, and without a word, he had collapsed. Luckily, Handong, who had seen them, was able to catch him in time, preventing him from falling to the ground and potentially injuring himself.

Thanks to a spell that increased her strength tenfold, she could carry him without Handong’s help and any difficulty to the place where he lived with his mates. But she couldn't stop herself from hurrying, worried sick about him.

And that's where she is now. Jungkook helped her carry Jin to the living room, laying him on the sofa. While Yoongi woke up Taehyung and Namjoon. Jimin and Hoseok hurried to get a damp cloth on Jin's forehead.

Namjoon and Taehyung stormed into the room, not hiding their surprise at seeing her there in total panic.

However, they didn't ask any questions. Yoongi probably had to explain to them what happened and what was going on.

She was standing in front of the sofa where Jin was lying, staring at the unconscious demon, his features distorted by pain. The sight of him was enough to make her stomach twist with soreness.

"Hey, Noona..." Jimin's soft voice startled her. He was standing next to her, a comforting smile on his lips, "Everything’s going to be fine, don't worry..."

She didn't even know what to say. She didn't dare to look him in the eye, or any of the other boys. The guilt she'd been carrying around with her all these centuries was only getting stronger.

She could hear voices behind her, probably the boys talking amongst themselves, or maybe they were trying to talk to her. She didn't know. Nothing around her was clear and precise. Her vision was blurring, her heart rate had been racing for a while and she was getting worse.

She gasped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned round abruptly, facing Namjoon. The other boys were behind him, except for Yoongi who was next to Jin.

"Hey," he greeted her with a gentle smile, "don't worry, everything's going to be fine,” he repeated Jimin’s words, “You're having a panic attack, I'm gonna help you, okay? Look at me."

His voice was soft and reassuring, it had a calming effect on her. His presence and warmth invaded her whole being, despite the anxiety attack she was having.

She raised her eyes to meet him. Slowly, he tells her to take long, deep breaths. The first time, she breathed in and breathed out. Then a second time. And a third.

Finally, her breathing returned to normal and her heart rate calmed. Seeing this, Namjoon gave her another smile, his fingers caressing her shoulder to calm her down.

She had the strange impression that Namjoon probably possessed some kind of power capable of influencing the emotions, feelings, or even bodily reactions of the people he touched. Or maybe it was just the soulmate effect.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes... Thank you..." She replied with a small smile, seeing Hoseok approach her with a glass of water. "Thanks… and sorry, I wish we'd met under different circumstances..."

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm enchanted to meet you."

Hoseok gave her a big, bright smile, which he succeeded in communicating to her.

"I guess you guys have questions... and why did I show up with Jin in this state..."

She turned her attention to Jin. A wave of emotion suddenly washed over her as she realized that yes, he was there, in the same room as her. Her soul mate, the first to cross her way, the one she'd lost so suddenly and brutally centuries ago. A mixture of joy, sadness, guilt, and apprehension.

"Do you know what's going on with him? And why is he in this condition?" Hoseok asked curiously, taking back the glass she'd just drunk in one long sip.

She bit her lower lip nervously. She had to tell them. Jin was their soulmate, just like he was hers.

But where to start?

"Come on, settle down here."

Yoongi straightened up to install her on the sofa, right next to Jin still unconscious. He'd then sat down next to her, while the others had taken seats in front of her, Namjoon and Hoseok on the low table, the maknae on the floor, clinging to each other.

The sight made her smile gently. But quickly the smile disappeared, replaced by apprehension. The words just wouldn't come out of her mouth. She knew that the moment had come, that once she'd told them everything, they'd hate her, reject her, and she’d lose the people she'd waited for all her life.

"Noona... I can smell your fear all the way up here..." murmured Jimin, her eyes landing on him with surprise, "I'm an empath, by the way..." he explained with a shrug.

"You don't have to be an empath to sense the fear radiating from her." chuckled Taehyung, teasing his companion who gave him a nudge on the shoulder, "Oops, sorry sweetie."

"I know that from the moment you will know the whole story, you'll never want to hear from me again and I... argh that's the last thing I want," she admitted with a sad smile. The events of the last few days had paralyzed and overwhelmed her in some ways when it came to making the right decisions, and she was extremely upset with herself about this.

"But I think I need to stop being scared, and selfish like I have been."

"We could never hate you," Hoseok said firmly, the others all giving signs of approval, "no matter what you've done."

"Tell us all the horrible things you ever did, and let us love you anyway."

She recognized Namjoon's words. And she wasn’t surprised that he could quote Edgard Allan Poe, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

She couldn't deny that his words made her feel a tinge of comfort, because he was sincere, and every one of the other boys thought so.

But they didn't know the whole story yet, so the chances of them thinking differently once they knew the whole truth were pretty high.

"Where to start..." she took a long breath, "Jin... I met him before I even knew I was immortal. That was... uh... it seems like an eternity now, at the beginning of the 15th century."

She expected the exclamations of surprise that followed.

"Wait... you mean you and Jin hyung..." Jungkook fell silent to think.

"Why didn't he ever tell us about you then? And why have we never met you before ?” asked Yoongi skeptically, "You're our soulmate, his soulmate, how could he..."

"It's more complicated than it sounds..." she sighed, scratching the back of her head nervously. "I always knew I was a witch, my mother was a witch herself. I lived in a village in France during the period when the witch hunts began. It was also during this period that the Malleus Maleficarum was written."

"I know this book," Hoseok sighed loudly as he shook his head, visibly annoyed, "this pile of garbage written in the late 15th century, which supposedly explains what a witch is, how to recognize one, interrogate them, and kill them."

"A load of bullshit yeah," Namjoon added with a chuckle, "I rarely waste my time reading books, but this one..."

"Tell me more !" Jimin exclaimed, "I read it too, well, not all of it, it's so... misogynistic and sexist!"

"I... was one of the witches who had to go through all the torture and experimentation to write this... book or whatever it is. And most of the women who suffered all that crap were just ordinary mortals," she admitted with a little restraint.

Horrified exclamations were heard from the maknaes and Hoseok. Yoongi and Namjoon closed their eyes for a few seconds, repressing the anger rising within them.

Talking about these events did not leave her indifferent; these memories were among the worst she had ever known, and she still sometimes had nightmares about them.

She remained silent for a few moments, before finally speaking up.

"That's not the point. Jin is the point. When I met him, he was a merchant passing through the village." A small smile appeared mechanically as she recalled this memory, "It was love at first sight. Of course, it was. He knew I was his soul mate, but I... I didn't even know what a soulmate was. He taught me. He taught me so many things..."

She turned her head towards Jin, still unconscious beside her. Oh, how she'd missed him. He hadn't changed a bit.

"I immediately sensed that he wasn't human, just as he'd guessed that I was a witch. So much better in a way, it made things easier."

Delicately, she let her fingers stroke his forehead, brushing aside a few strands of hair, a tender smile on her face.

"He stayed in the village after that. I had taken over the bakery from my parents who had passed away from an illness a few months before I met him. We weren't the richest, but we were happy.”

The other boys couldn't contain the grins on their faces. Of course, this story was beautiful and worthy of a fairy tale. But they all knew that fairy tales were only fantasy stories. The reality was not nearly as lovely.

"We lived... two years like that before everything went to hell."

She felt her hands tremble as she recalled what she was about to say.

Jimin sensed her nervousness, fear, and sadness. He left Taehyung and Jungkook's embrace to kneel before her, gently taking her hands in his for comfort.

Her gaze met his, and he offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. But she couldn't relax.

"The witch-hunt had begun and was becoming increasingly virulent and violent. The villagers had always thought it was strange that I hadn't suffered the same illness as my parents. I knew the rumors about Jin and I. But until now, we'd managed to keep a discreet, almost unnoticed presence. Until she came along."

Jimin squeezed her hands a little tighter as he felt her anger rising.

"That demoness... came to our village, supposedly a cloth merchant. She fell for Jin. Was it love, or just a physical attraction? I don’t know. She succumbed to his devastating charm, like so many others before her." She chuckled, imitated by Yoongi.

"As you would expect, Jin did nothing but ignore her and rebuff her advances. She didn't appreciate it at all… I learned later that this half-succubus demoness was renowned for finding prey and not letting go until she got what she wanted."

"A real nasty leech..." muttered Jungkook.

She noticed, however, that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok expressions had changed. They had exchanged glances, seeming to pass a message to each other that she didn't understand. She decided to ignore it for the moment.

"Things got worse after she arrived, after Jin's rejection." She took a long breath. "She's the one who delivered me to the villagers, who exposed me. When we realized her plan, that she was planning to take Jin with her by force, by any means necessary, we wanted to run away. We'd go to Asia, or America, or wherever, to another continent, away from her, away from all of this. But that demoness had planned everything… We were young, unaware, and inexperienced, unlike her. I was barely 25, and he was 23... we just wanted to..."

She paused to calm herself, her heartbeat quickening again. Fortunately, Jimin was able to calm her, just by being here, his soft hands on hers, and she was grateful for that. She thanked him with a small smile, which he returned by stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. How could a demon be so angelic?

"She specialized in memory magic..."

"Oh, I'm getting the hang of it..." muttered Namjoon, clenching his jaw.

"That bitch…" added Yoongi, making her huff.

"The villagers arrived in the middle of the night. We didn't see it coming. The demoness took advantage of this moment to attack Jin and cast a spell to erase me from his memory. The last time I saw Jin was before they put a bag over my head when he was unconscious in her arms."

She lowered her head, and it was only when she felt Jimin's soft hand on her cheek that she noticed a tear had rolled down.

She knew what the demoness had done, she knew that she'd erased Jin's memory, simply because she'd come to see her a few days later in the cell where she was being held captive. She explained everything, adding that she had offered to give her over to the Catholic order of Dominicans who wrote the Malleus Maleficarum. Which happened, the day after she came.

"When I finally escaped... After several months," she continued anyway, her voice trembling, "I looked for him, I... crossed France from top to bottom, and Europe... I looked for him everywhere, for many years... I never found him... until now..."

Jimin's hands gripped hers a little tighter. She looked up at him, then at Yoongi, who had moved a little closer to her. Their shoulders were touching, his way of showing her some comfort.

"So that's what happened..." muttered Namjoon, who had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowed, looking thoughtful.

"I hate humans..." blurted Jungkook as he hugged Taehyung tightly, his companion nodding in agreement.

"And so, you thought we'd hate you, or I don't know what other nonsense might go through your little head when we know the truth?" Yoongi asked, holding back a laugh. “I don’t see why. I mean. It’s genuine, really.”

She arched her eyebrows in confusion. She thought that it seemed logical. She hadn't been able to protect Jin, she’d left him in the clutches of this demoness who'd probably done a thousand and one things to him that she didn't even want to think about. She hated herself for it.

"Hyung." Hoseok sighed, shaking his head, "stop."

"I failed to protect him, he's my soulmate and... I abandoned him and..."

"You didn't do any of that, Y/N."

Namjoon approached her. He took Jimin’s place and knelt down facing her, placing his hands on hers.

"You're both the victims. You've met someone stronger, older, more experienced than you and she took advantage of it. You did everything you could. You did your best. You could never be blamed for that. We could never blame you for that. ."

"And Jin hyung won't blame you either, I'm sure," Hoseok added with a small smile. "When he will regain his memory, when we will give him back what that demoness stole from him, he'll be the happiest man in the world to have you back with him, with us. Believe me."

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to cry, not yet.

Yoongi wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"It's over now," he whispered against her hair, "you're not alone anymore, you won't be. We've found you, you've found us."

She couldn't hold back the few tears that had started to fall. How could she not break down, after all those centuries spent alone, thinking that her soulmates didn't want her, living with the guilt of having abandoned the only soulmate she’d ever known.

They said the same things as her friends when she told them everything a few days ago.

None of them thought for a second that what happened to Jin and her was her fault.

That feeling of being understood, of not being judged, of being accepted despite her past mistakes and scars.

That feeling of being in the presence of her soul-mates.

She hadn't felt so at peace in what seemed like an eternity. Ever since Jin and her were separated.

°°°

"Noona... I have a few questions..."

"Here we go... the kid and his questions. Wait, I'll get you an aspirin and a big glass of water."

Jungkook glared at Yoongi, who had gotten up to go into the kitchen, a sneer on his lips.

Jin still hadn't woken up, but after a simple soothing spell and an herbal ointment she’d carefully placed on his temples, he was calmer, his body more relaxed.

She hadn't wanted to stay, not wanting to risk another attack if Jin woke up again. She learned through Yoongi about the migraine attacks he'd had since the day she met Namjoon.

But the boys convinced her to stay. Namjoon and Hoseok had disappeared into their library, explaining that they were going to rummage through their books after a potential counter-spell. She wanted to go with them, but they insisted she stay with Jin and rest.

It didn't take long to realize that Jin's seizures had a direct link with her.

As her soul mate, and despite his forced amnesia, his subconscious knew who she was. But it wasn't strong enough to bring back the memories the demoness had made disappear. Well, they hadn't disappeared, technically; she'd just hidden them very well somewhere in his psyche.

her scent on the clothes of Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook had been the trigger for his subconscious to awaken, for his memories to struggle, to resurface and make Jin realize that yes, he did know her, as his intuition suggested. Yes, the person on the hill was her, yes every memory he thought belonged to someone else was his, and that the blurry person sharing them with him was none other than her.

The migraines, the loss of consciousness... were only signs that his body, mind, and soul were fighting to bring his memories back to where they belonged, to finally give him back what that demoness had stolen from him.

Or at least, that's what she’d come to conclude on hearing Yoongi's explanations.

"Ask me anything Jungkook, don't worry," she replied with a small smile, still sitting next to Jin.

Yoongi had returned with some drinks (no aspirin, to Junkook's great relief) which he gave to the three maknae, still sitting opposite her, and to her, then sat down on the coffee table.

"I was wondering, how did you find out that you were... immortal? I mean, what does that actually mean?"

She'd been expecting this question. Even for demons, immortality was still a rather vague concept. Nobody is immortal. Demons and vampires aged slowly, very much more slowly than human beings. But they weren't really immortal.

"I died for the first time after the Malleus Maleficarum experiments, they sentenced me to be hanged to death, like all the witches at that time."

She heard the exclamations of surprise from the maknaes. Yoongi remained silent, listening to her attentively.

"I actually died that day. Except... except a few seconds after I took my last breath, my heart started beating again, and I came back to life."

None of them could believe their ears. Yoongi couldn't hide his surprise either, and she knew that a thousand questions were forming in their heads.

"The second time was a few days later. At a bonfire." she continued, bowing her head, "The thing is… I feel all the pain, all the way to death. But for some reason, I live again and again. No matter how people try to kill me, no matter how I die, my wounds heal themselves, my organs reform."

"Is it due to a spell?" finally asked Yoongi with his eyebrows furrowed, "or maybe some kind of witch, a hybrid with a phoenix..."

"I think you're going a bit far, hyung..." Taehyung chuckled slightly.

"Hey, every proposition can be plausible, gamin."

She couldn't hold back a smile. It was obvious that they'd known each other for several decades now, that they'd been through a lot together. In a way, she was relieved that at least they hadn't had to go through all that alone.

"I've never known the reason, or why I became like that," she finally continued, scratching the back of her neck, "I just am. Several times I thought I wouldn't get up this time from certain injuries, especially during the wars, but I always got up again. And just like that, more than 600 years have gone by."

"Maybe it's just that fate didn't want you to die before you met your soul mates, who knows." Yoongi chuckled, shrugging.

"If you think the universe and destiny are that kind of romantic..." Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"I'm tempted to believe that theory, it's much sweeter and more romantic than a curse put on you..." added Jimin with a little pout.

"Sometimes things just happen, and they're impossible to explain. Even for creatures like us." she let go with a sigh and an embarrassed smile, "In any case, I've stopped looking and obsessing over it, I've just accepted it."

"Still, it must be painful to die, over and over again..." Jimin cocked his head to the side, feeling a wave of sadness as he thought of all she'd had to go through in her long life. As an empath, his reaction hardly surprised her.

If they knew. She didn't want to dwell on how some humans and even other creatures had taken advantage of her immortality to put her through the many horrors she’d experienced. This wasn't the time to talk about all those things.

“Our pretty soulmate is strong and courageous.” Yoongi finally broke the silence after a few seconds, “She’ll talk about it when she feels ready.”

She bites her lips. She wanted to tell him to not call her pretty, but she felt that it was destined to fail. Yoongi seemed to be stubborn, maybe a little too much.

“Do you guys think Joonie and Hobi will find something ?” Asked Jungkook, looking at Jin with worry.

“For sure they will!” exclaimed Jimin, “Namjoon has books that are centuries old and unique, Hobi and him are the most intelligent demons ever! They’ll find something, surely!”

Jimin was passionate, his trust in his partners was blind and absolute. It was probably the same for all of them, she was sure about it, but Jimin was the one who showed it the most.

“In the worst case…”

“Taehyung don’t start…” mumbled Jungkook, as the others sighed.

“Let me finish! In the worst case, if we don’t find anything for Jin hyung, the solution is simple, very simple. We’ll create new memories, so many new happy memories all together!”

“If something was robbed from you without your consent, I think you'd like to have it back. Don't you think so?" Yoongi asked, his voice softened as he ruffled Taehyung’s hair who nodded with a sad pout.

He was just as worried as the others. There were so many unanswered questions, so many theories without explanations, so many problems without solutions yet.

“Namjoon and Hoseok always find a way to resolve problems, you should be used to it now.”

That voice startled all of them. All five heads turned to the sofa beside Yoongi and her. To everyone's surprise, Jin was staring at them, or rather, at her.

“Jin you’re awake !”

While the younger hurried towards their eldest, their faces racked with worry and relief, she reflexively stepped back.

She couldn't get very far, as her back bumped into a chest. She turned to face Yoongi, who placed his hands gently on her shoulders. He could read the stress and apprehension on her face. He couldn't imagine what she must be feeling right now, coming face to face with the one she'd lost centuries ago.

"Where are you going like this?" he asked at first in a slightly teasing tone, before he leaned towards her and whispered, his voice softening, "Relax, everything's fine."

She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. She'd spent her whole life looking for Jin and his other soulmates. Now they were all here. They were all in the same house. Everything still seemed so unreal that she didn’t know how to react or what to do.

“Y/N ?”

She froze when she heard her name coming from Jin's lips. The others in the room gave him a surprised, confused look.

"Hyung, do you..."

"Remember her? Us? Unfortunately not, I don’t. But I heard you guys talking earlier, I wasn't totally unconscious. Thanks for the herbs, by the way, they really appeased my headache."

Her eyes widened at his words. Had he heard everything? Did he know the whole story, just like his other soulmates? In a way, she didn't know if she could handle a new explanation, which was a bit of a relief. On the other, she was concerned about his reaction, since he was the one who was affected.

Jin straightened up to sit on the sofa, helped by Jimin. Yoongi was still standing behind her and gave her a gentle nudge, so that she didn't push herself aside.

Jin's eyes landed on her. For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at her. She could feel the stress twisting her stomach, her legs going limp as cotton. She felt weaker than she had ever felt before.

"Can you come a little closer, please?"

Jin's voice was soft; she perceived no anger, no resentment on his side. He had kept his comforting aura, the same one she'd known so long ago, the same one that had reassured her countless times.

She soon faced him and lowered herself slightly to be at the same height as him.

How was someone supposed to react to finding their soulmate and youthful amnesiac love, lost in tragic circumstances centuries ago?

She was torn between tears of joy and relief, but the guilt that consumed her seemed to be the most dominant feeling at the moment.

"Jin I..."

She pursed her lips. Her voice trembled. For sure her body would betray her right now.

Jin offered him a tender smile and shook his head.

"Shht, it's all right." he murmured his words as he gently grasped her hand, "come here."

Without waiting for a response from her, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.

At first, her eyes widened in surprise. Quickly, she couldn't hold back any longer. Her arms followed and she hugged his waist as if her life depended on it.

"I know what you're thinking," he began, his hand running gently through her hair, "I'm not angry or anything, how could I be? It was never your fault, nor mine." He paused before letting out a small sigh, she could hear all the pain, the sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry you've had to carry this burden all alone all this time…"

Her whole body was shaking. His voice was shaking, as if he were holding back his own tears. She was fighting inside. She was fighting herself not to break down. But her traitorous body still betrayed her, and she couldn't even control her tears, which had started to flow uncontrollably.

But his words. His words resonated not only in her heart but in her entire soul. She didn't know how much she needed to hear those words from him until now.

"We'll find a way, and everything will go back to normal, it will be even better, I promise."

After all these years, these centuries of living with the weight of guilt, the weight of regret, the feeling that she'd never be able to meet her soul mates... she felt all this weight recede, making way for a quietude and lightness like she'd never known before.

An eternity of torment, torture, and pain was finally over.

It was as if she'd been deprived of oxygen all her life, until now, as if her breathing had been cut off, and now she was finally getting it back.

And even though she was currently crying her heart out in Jin's arms, she could also feel Taehyung's warm, reassuring hand on her back, Jimin's, Jungkook's, and Yoongi's presence in the room, Namjoon's and Hoseok's, even if they weren't in the same room with them.

Her cries were no longer cries of sadness. There was only relief, and it was becoming more of an evacuation from all that time of pain and isolation.

All those smells, all that warmth that invaded her body at that moment, brought her calm and relief she'd never be able to explain, not even in a day, a year, ten years, or even a hundred years.

The reunion with Jin that day, feeling him against her again, as well as having the presence of her soul mates around them, those who were destined for her. After all this time where her heart and soul had been crying out for help, she had finally been heard.

The darkness was finally disappearing, as the clouds and obscurity finally allowed the sun a chance to shine.

And despite her tears, she couldn't help smiling, because at last, she knew that happiness really was within her grasp.

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thebirdandthebee · 1 year

Text

Mighty Fine (18+)

Just a little slump-buster ft. our favorite aviator. Taking requests for TGM and The Bear in my inbox. Smut ahead. Painfully pining Rooster. 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Mighty Fine Caroline, see, Caroline - all the guys would say she's mighty fine WC: 3716

The Hard Deck was not in a poor financial state – in fact, since Penny took it over five years ago, she’d done better business than the establishment had ever logged.

Sure, some positive changes, listening to customer feedback and stocking just the right kind of beer helped. But Penny knew that for the past year, there was specifically one woman who helped bump sales big time.

And tonight, a Friday night ahead of the fourth of July, Penny knew they’d hit record numbers.

The leggy brunette flitted about the full bar – packed asses to elbows – with a smile that held a secret and lashes longer than a summer afternoon.

Caroline was all perfume and warm skin. A promise of what could be behind a beauty mark and cherry gloss.

Tonight she’d tucked her white tank into a pair of cutoff shorts and knotted an American flat bandanna around her neck, the tip of the triangle teasing her cleavage. The low-slung cowgirl boots did nothing to interrupt the long lines of her legs and she trusted them with each pivot she needed to make through the crowd.

When her attention landed on you, it felt like you were the only person in the room. She knew how to work a crowd. A small gallery assembled to watch her re-stock the tray of cherries – one of her favorite snacks throughout the night.

“Caro, sweetheart,” Penny called, topping of a lager pour.

“Penny, my love,” Caroline countered, popping the tabs on three ciders.

“Can you let me these men live for one night?” Her boss teased, nipping at the fabric around her employee’s neck.

“I can’t show my love for America the beautiful?” Caroline replied with a wink. Penny laughed with a shake of her head.

Caroline had started at the Hard Deck last summer, asking for a few weekend shifts – the ones no one else wanted to take in order to enjoy their own weekends – since her classes for UCSD ran from Tuesday through Thursday.

“Rent’s due this week, Pen!” Caroline called as she ducked under the counter, greeting her adoring audience as she head to the stockroom to grab a crate of Sam Adams.

Rooster entered the bar that night with his hopes high and his buddies trailing close behind.

He’d had his sights set on Caroline for months. A squeezed shoulder here, a bat at his biceps there and he was hooked. Sometimes he felt like a cartoon, floating behind her like a cherry pie on its way to cool in the open window.

“Oh Rooster, you’re so fucked,” Fanboy commented, catching sight of the brunette wonder first. She was pouring a line of shots across the bar top, handing them out to a group of sailors who wished she was their treat instead. Taking a clear glass for herself, they all clanked their shots before tossing them back.

Penny didn’t mind if Caroline drank on the job – she was a grown woman who knew her limits who could always use working as an excuse to get out of it.

“Here’s trouble,” Caroline announced, “G&T, Fanboy?” She asked as they saddled up to the bar – their first stop before heading back to the darts.

“Please,” Fanboy grinned, basking in the glow of her attention.

“A rum and Coke for Coyote, Hefeweizen for Phoenix and porter for my Rooster,” she listed off, gathering glasses and stationing herself over the beer taps. “That sound right?” She asked with a tilt of her head, locking eyes with Bradley.

“Perfect as always,” he replied, his honey brown eyes melting into hearts.

“Ladies first,” Caroline simpered, handing Phoenix her beer, “then, we go in order of beauty,” she added. “Fanboy,” she passed over the gin and tonic, “Coyote,” she listed next, giving his rum and Coke a swish, “and, last, but certainly not least, Rooster,” she pulled the tap of the porter, leaving just the perfect thin band of foam at the top.

“You trying to break my heart?” Bradley asked, leaning over the bar, willing her to lean in closer.

“I gotta keep you humble, Rooster,” she replied, pushing his glass toward him, “because I know they don’t call you that due to the size of your ego,” she said, turning on a heel to attend to the other side of the bar while Jimmy grabbed the trash to bring out back. Though she tossed a wink over her shoulder that made his upper lip tremble beneath his mustache.

“When you going to let me buy you a drink?” He called out, voice nearly blending in with the buzz of the bar. She shook her head with a laugh, focusing on the task at hand, but they both knew she heard him.

Rooster joined his friends back at the darts. The Fourth of July weekend was guaranteed chaos at the ‘Deck – not too unlike Homecoming weekend at UVA. Bradley loved the liveliness of it all. However, it meant that Caroline’s attention was pulled every which way except his.

“I just think if I could get her alone for 10 minutes…” he said, eyeing her hopefully as she moved about the establishment.

“Rooster, give it up, she’s way out of your league and half the bar in here is hoping she’ll go home with them tonight,” Coyote said honestly.

“You’ve been drooling over her for months,” Fanboy agreed, “it’s getting pretty pathetic.”

But Rooster was more confident than ever. He knew they’d be great together – he just had to show her.

A little time passed, they took up a game of darts and after not too long, Caroline found herself making a sweep for empty glasses.

“Another, Phee?” She asked Phoenix, who nodded with a smile.

“We’ll do another round,” Coyote supplied. Caroline stacked up empty glasses, swinging around the space, aware of Rooster’s eyes on her as he leaned against the side rail that ran the length of the back wall.

“Grab your glass?” She asked, matching his posture against the drink rail, her open hand effortlessly clasping a tower of glass. Rooster pushed his empty toward her, a little downturned twitch of his mustache giving him away. “Why so glum, Rooster? It’s the Fourth of July,” she said, a little pout on her lips that made his stomach flip. “Have to imagine it doesn’t get better than that, huh?”

“What’s it going to take for you to have a drink with me?” He asked. “You know I’m eyein’ you up every time I come in here,” he elaborated.

“Maybe,” Caroline began, “I don’t want to have a drink with you at my place of work?” She suggested lightly. “But if you invited me to Buzzards, your odds would be a lot better,” she shrugged. “Thanks for the glass, Rooster, you can pick up a fresh one in 10.”

Caroline flitted away, making her journey back to the main bar with two tall stacks in her hands, gracefully hip-checking the counter to step inside.

“Maybe you do have a shot after all?” Phoenix asked, raising her brows as she turned back to the game of darts at hand. Bradley’s eyes tracked her as she moved about, pouring beers and mixing cocktails, his eyes zeroing in as she popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth before doing the same to a young, blonde sailor on the other side of the bar.

He wiped the back of his mouth off, crossing the room and heading over to the piano, his first initial plucks of the keys enough to clue a patron in to pull the plug on the juke box.

He cleared his throat as the intro grew stronger and louder, some already recognizing the tune.

“Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing,” he crooned. “But I know it’s growing strong.”

A few cheers rang out.

“Was in the spring, and spring became the summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”

Caroline’s attention pulled over to the far wall, it now impossible to ignore with half of the bar singing Neil Diamond.

Hands, touching hands Reaching out, touching me, touching you

“Sweet Caroline!” Rooster belted, “good times never seemed so good!”

The crowd sang back, fists being pumped in the air.

So good! So good! So good!

“I’ve been inclined to believe they never would,” he focused his attention back down on his hands, but he could feel the brunette’s stare on the back of his neck.

Caroline shook her head, topping off another drink before grabbing a tall one and making her way through the crowd, which was packed near the piano as he carried on.

One, touching one

“Reaching out, touching me, touching you,” Rooster remained as focused as he could when he felt a paper-light touch travel across his the span of his shoulders, followed by a full beer being set on the top of the piano.

“Okay,” Caroline grinned, “you’ve got my attention,” she said, her arm resting across the top of his back. “So what are you going to do with it now that you have it?”

“The Deck is open until 11 – Buzzards is open till one, meet me there when you’re done?” He asked.

“I’ll be there,” she agreed, running her hand up his spine to squeeze the back of his neck. Rooster could barely keep playing as he nearly twisted his head all the way around to watch her walk away.

Buzzards Bar was different than the Hard Deck – younger, louder, and for Rooster, much less likely to run into his superiors. Sure, lots of sailors and aviators ended up there, but it wasn’t a dedicated bar like their usual haunt. Without the uncertainty hanging over his head, he really loosened up and had fun with his buddies at the Hard Deck, but they didn’t join him a Buzzards, opting to go find some fireworks instead.

It was 11:45 and Caroline hadn’t shown up yet, at least that he could see. He grabbed a round of drinks, another beer for him and a dirty Shirley for Caroline. If nothing else, he knew she loved cherries and this could be a pretty safe assumption.

Keeping a barstool warm near the back, Rooster’s gaze scanned the growing crowd on the dance floor. He could feel the air shift as Caroline approached the table, dressed in her same little outfit, bandanna around her neck like a little pack of goodies he’d like to unwrap. However, an unfamiliar man, who was standing just a bit closer to her than either of them liked, was closely trailing her. He was obviously trying to carry on a conversation with her over the loud bass of the music and she couldn’t be less interested.

Without effort or hiccup, Caroline waltzed right up to Rooster, standing between his legs that were angled outward on either side of his body, his feet on the bar of the stool. She leaned up against him, her elbows on resting on his thighs with her back to his front. Rooster’s arm immediately looped around her body, resting just below her neck, spanning across her chest.

The man immediately got the message and backed off, but she remained snug in his embrace when he walked away.

Caroline tipped her head back to look up at Rooster.

She knew she had a reputation as a flirt. It was silly to be a bartender and not take advantage just a little bit of what God gave her. But she loved Rooster’s attention. He was safe, simple and straightforward. He didn’t play games and treated her with respect.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she smiled, sending the breath rushing from his lungs.

“Happy Fourth,” Rooster said, using his free hand to offer her the cocktail.

“Mm, cherry – how’d you know?” She asked, taking a sip through the small black straw.

“Watchin’,”he replied, missing her warmth already as she put a little space between them, standing with her back to the dance floor.

“You watchin’ me?” She asked innocently enough, elbows on the high-top table. It took everything in him to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage that was winning the fight against her little white tank top.

“Hard to look away,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. “Though I think this is the most time you’ve ever spent looking back at me,” he added.

“Then you’re not as observant as you think, aviator,” Caroline said, setting her drink down reaching for his hand, pulling him off the chair and leading him into the throng of bodies. “Because I look at you plenty.”

Rooster was so surprised and exhilarated he wasn’t sure where to put his hands right away as she leaned back into him, moving her body to the beat of the song.

Cause great scenes might be great But I love your bloopers

“Rooster, relax,” Caroline purred as he ducked his head down to be closer to hers – his height difference over her apparent. She reached back, taking his hands in her and placing them on her body – one on her ribs and the other just inside of her hips. “You got me right where you wanted me.”

And perfect's for the urgent Baby I want forever

Caroline’s hands drifted up to cradle the back of his head, her back arching in the slightest. And while Bradley Bradshaw was a man of morals, they were mostly forgotten as he lowered his mouth to Caroline’s neck.

Caroline, don't you see that I want you to be mine?

“You request this one?” Rooster asked, his mustache ticking her in a skin, which immediately went to her nipples, hardening them beneath her tank.

“Just lucky I guess,” she breathed, rolling her head to the side to give him a little more access to her skin.

“I think luck follows you around,” he said.

“It must if you’re here with me,” she replied. Rooster didn’t even justify her comments with an answer. If she thought she was lucky because he was there with her, she wouldn’t begin to comprehend the amount of times he’d dreamt of this moment.

“Rooster?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug as a test. The groan in her ear told her all she needed to know.

“Caroline,” he huffed out an exhale.

“I don’t want the rest of that drink,” she said, looking up to lock eyes with him. “I want you to put me in that big blue truck of yours and take me home.” Rooster felt his heart skip hard enough that it shot him with adrenaline.

“Honey, lead the way,” he replied, sober as a judge.

She’d seen the blue Bronco pull up to the Hard Deck a hundred times – it was as much a calling card of Rooster’s as his mustache or Hawaiian shirts. Now, she was thrilled to be inspecting the inside, her back to Rooster’s side with his arm draped over her shoulder again as she made the most of the bench seating.

Leading Caroline by the hand from the car to the house, she gladly stepped into his bachelor pad.

Rooster was just grateful that Bob was out of town for the weekend.

“Roommate?” She asked, walking along the picture rail in the family room – something Bob put up. It was mostly his stuff, anyway.

“You know Bob?” Bradley asked, tracking her movement as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Bob the sweetheart is your roommate?” She asked, looking over her shoulder, eyes dilating in the slightest as she took in the view. Rooster with his big shoulders, broad chest and handsome face – honey brown eyes focusing entirely in on her.

“Bob the sweetheart?” He asked, a small quirk to his lips.

“Bob the sweetheart, Bob the puppy dog…” she trailed off. “Pen and I have many nicknames for perfect Bob.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about perfect Bob,” Rooster said, advancing her like a predator stalking its prey.

“Want me to tell you what we call you behind your back?” She asked, a glint in her eye as he scooped her up with one arm, holding her tightly to his body as he carried her back to his bedroom.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“We – well, more like just me, because Penny babies you,” she screamed as Rooster gave her ass a hard squeeze. “But I,” she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “I call you Oh My God Rooster,” she giggled, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue. “Want to know why?” She asked.

“Tell me,” he said, kicking in his bedroom door.

“Because I always knew one day you’d make me say,” she fisted his shirt in her hands and tossed her head back, “Oh my God, Rooster!” She moaned, quickly gasping as he dropped her on his unmade bed.

“That shit isn’t fair,” he pointed an accusatory finger down at her before reaching for the fly on his shorts.

“Why not?” Caroline asked with a tilt of her head as she leaned back on her elbows.

“Because ever since you started at the Hard Deck, you haven’t given me the time of day,” he crawled over her on the bed, sealing his mouth over hers.

“I was avoiding you, I’ll admit,” she smirked, hips lifting as he began to pull her shorts off. “I knew as soon as this happened,” she paused, lifting his chin up to kiss her once more, “there’d be no going back.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend?” He asked, running his nose down her jawline as he reached behind her, pulling off her tank.

“Oh Rooster, we’re going to be much more than friends,” she purred, unhooking her bra. She reached for her little bandanna, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on, cowgirl,” he said, licking his lips. Stunned, he found himself down on the mattress, Caroline swinging a leg over his body to land gracefully on his hips. She pulled her bra down her arms and tossed it somewhere into the darkness – Bradley’s bedroom illuminated by the bright light of the moon through his window. He thought his tongue might roll out of his mouth like a yoyo.

“Does that make you my bucking bronco?” She giggled, reaching behind her to give his erection a quick, firm pump.

“Jesus,” he hissed, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Just Caroline,” she grinned maliciously.

“Why don’t you get up here and let me find out how sweet you are, Caroline,” he cajoled, tipping his chin up. The brunette threaded her fingers through his hair as she settled over his mouth, a long, low moan drawn from her lips as he licked a broad, flat swipe up the seam of her sex. Rooster’s hands slid around her sides and up to her lower back holding her body tight against his face.

“You’re never allowed to shave that mustache,” Caroline panted, followed by a high-pitched whine as she felt his whiskers against her clit. “Right there,” she mewled.

Rooster was a generous lover and apparently had a voracious appetite.

“Jesus Christ, Rooster,” she shivered as one of his thick fingers teased her entrance, circling her slowly as his lips cradled her clit. She could feel each and every one of his taste buds against her. “Roo, please,” she panted, “I want your cock.”

Bradley lifted her, a squeal on her lips as she landed back down on his abs. She couldn’t help but smile broadly at his wet mouth.

“If you smile at me like that again, I’m going to fucking marry you, Caroline,” he threatened, absolutely captivated by her.

She untied the bandanna from her neck, reaching down to cover his eyes and tie it loosely behind his head.

“Then don’t look, because I think I’m going to enjoy this a lot,” she said, smiling just the same as she lined up his cock and slowly sank down on it.

“You’re amazing,” Rooster crowed, “God you feel so good,” he said, hands resting on her soft thighs.

“You’re big,” she huffed, “like shit, Rooster, how do you have such good posture?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh. She settled herself all the way down and squeezed him on an upswing, making his abs flex as he tried to keep from busting immediately.

Leaning down, while still riding him smoothly, she pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, tracing the line there with her tongue. He jumped as she dragged her teeth against his jawline, biting him gently while rolling his balls in her palm.

“Caroline,” he sounded worried, “I-fwa,” he lost his words as she did it again.

“Want me to stop?” She asked innocently enough.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted while she tweaked his nipple.

“I can see it now,” she giggled, the action sending a ripple of pleasure down his spine. “C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e,” she twirled a finger across his pec.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promised, a sweat breaking out across his brow. He could feel her fingernails just grazing his happy trail as Caroline circled her clit, wanting to meet him at his level.

“Rooster?” She asked, and he could hear the breathlessness in her voice.

“Caroline?” He countered, his face screwed up in conversation.

“Cum,” she commanded, finding her own euphoria, setting him off just moments later, thrusting up into her as he rode out his orgasm. Caroline grinned, pushing off his blindfold to reveal his beautiful face again. “Hi gorgeous,” she greeted, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

“What did I tell you about that smile?” He groaned, palming her ass in his hands.

“I know the consequences of my actions,” she sighed dreamily. Climbing off of Rooster, she wandered her way into the bathroom, cleaning up and grabbing the T-shirt that was slung over the bathroom door before pulling it on.

Rooster was sure he was delirious as she joined him back in the bed, hiking a leg over his hip and throwing his comforter over both of them.

“Rooster?” She asked, sparing a glance over at his alarm clock, which was flashing nearly two in the morning.

“Caro-line,” he sang back.

“I want my eggs scrambled in the morning,” she said, eyes closing gently as she curled up on his chest.

“Yeah? And what would you like to eat?”

#Top Gun #Top Gun Maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #Bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw smut #rooster #rooster smut #rooster fluff #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x ofc #smut head #rooster is a big simp

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hum-suffer · 3 months

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I wish to share this on my own blog but I know I will get a ton of hate from people I call 'friends'. You can ignore this rant and all, I am just leaving this in your inbox because one of your post was so crucial in my disillusion process. It was that one post about how many people lost their lives for chanting "Jai Siya Ram" The whole RJB thing, I was always on the fence about it. Leaning slightly towards the "Why cant we build schools and hospitals there instead!" team. While even with my biased views I still accepted that the Hindu side had a right to grieve over the temple that was razed all those years back- despite acknowledging that it was an injustice, I still felt they shouldnt raze down mosques and that the whole RJB grandeur should have been muted etc. My own parents constantly fed me one sided views. That it was all a Brahmin supremacist movement. That it was a movement to oppress the minorities. That it was never even a real issue but instead artificially manufactured for political reasons. Like any other kid I felt my parents can never be wrong. Unfortunately, in that perception I was the one in wrong. Sorry this is turning lengthy but it is weighing heavy on me. The whole excitement that was built around 22nd Jan- it appeared to be an overhyped media gimmick to me. However as the date neared, I saw the saffron flags adorning every street, almost every flat in my society and every shop in my area. The strangest part of all this, I live in a non Hindi state. We were always told this whole RJB movement was a movement of 'illiterate Northies'- that was the language I had grown up hearing. However what I saw was the opposite. Every street temple was adorned. I had never seen this level of festivities even in peak festivals like Diwali. Forget that, even the street hawkers had decorated their cart thingies. Poorest of the poor slums had saffron flags. How could it be if the whole thing was artificially created? Our house maid asked for a day off for that day so that she can watch pran pratishtha event. These arent 'illiterate northies' The highest residential towers here had diwali lightings. Fanciest of the malls in my city, Brand shops, cars- everything your eye could see had some symbolism of RJB festivities. Almost like everyone was under Ram's spell. On tumblr, while scrolling I then came across that post of your which I mentioned earlier. And I couldnt scroll past it. I decided to read on it. Why were people killed for chanting that one name? Was it really that deep? Are Hindus still carrying scars of that event that many have said didnt even happen? Is Ram really that relevant? Is he even real? So many temples for him and yet why are they fighting for that one? Cant they just pray in the other temples? And when I digged, the amount of skeletons that jumped out were the worst reality check I have had so far in life. I was a mess, I still am. It is atrociously horrific. The more I read the truth of all the events, of our past, of our present struggles- it is so unbearable.

Its been two months since the event and I could only bring myself to send this to you today. I am beyond horrified with the reality. I went to the temple near my society on the 22nd. The crowd there was spellbound. When Ram Lalla's face was shown on the projector, I expected everyone to raise Jai Shree Ram slogans but everyone was so quiet. Crying. Sobbing. It was bizarre to witness it in real time. I teared up watching all of the people sob around me. I didnt even care for him then, in fact Shri Ram's character as I had known of him until then was one of "that misogynist king who wronged his wife". I was fairly negative to him and yet I too couldn't help but sob on that day while looking at him. He appeared so real, so adorable-so alive! I had always seen the gods as just stone but on that day his eyes- I swear they looked alive. I tried hard to see the stone but i couldnt overlook the god. The smile, the eyes, the cheeks- so sober, so lovable.

That was the day I witnessed in real time who he really is. He is the king that united everyone across the country behind one cause. Poorest of the poor and Richest of the rich- they all stood side by side that day. Everyone celebrated, everyone cried. Thats who Ram is to the people of this country. Ayodhya is hundreds of miles away from where I live and yet on that day it felt like we were all standing right there in this court. I couldnt even decide what i felt about it for many days after that but on the 22nd I found myself healing from some wound that I didnt even know I needed to heal from. Hearing about that one scrap-collector lady that donated a measly 20 rupees for the Ram temple; about that one gold merchant who spent a fortune on the golden gates of the temple- it was extremely eye opening. People of this country are so mad in love with him. Rightly so. He accepts them all. As the story goes, he doesnt differentiate between a little squirrel or the mighty vaanars. Two months later, I am now desperately seeking his refuge too. I dont know if I would ever be able to live the euphoria of that again however the very fact that I could feel his presence despite all of my reservations against him for all of my life means that he doesnt hold a grudge against me. He included me in the celebrations and now I wish someday I can feel attached to him the way all those people who laid their lives for his cause did. Jai Siya Ram

First of all, my dear, never be sorry to contact me in any way. I encourage it, i promise, and you will never find judgement with me for any reason, provided that you are respectable, which, you are. And as someone who has also been through some serious disillusionment, I would never ignore this.

I absolutely understand the apprehension in sharing your new views in your blog due to the response from others and i would not pressure you at all to do that. You can take your time and until then, my ask box and dms are always open for you.

As far as Ram Janmbhoomi goes, I was unaware of it as well, for almost all my life. I was raised to turn my head the other way, should I notice things that might be controversial. My father was the first one in my family to break out of the mold and search up the atrocities that have happened in our country, especially against Hindus, as those are the ones that the general media seems eager to push under the rug. From him, i started learning more and later it became my own idea to never be unaware of what has been and is being inflicted on Hindus.

Personally, when I was younger, I felt similar about Shri Ram. Why did he abandon his wife? If he abandoned her on the word of a washerman, what does it mean for us, mere humans?

It is only when I got older that i understood that this part was not in the original Ramayan, at all. This is from Tulsidas Ji's Ramcharitmanas. And it has been popularised extremely to the stretch that it lost the meaning. Tulsidas Ji's narration of Shri Ram abandoning his wife is, in a way, to show that Shri Ram was the epitome of control and law and abided by the law as well as the wishes of his citizens even when it was not beneficial to him. Agnipariksha, in the Ramayan, was to exchange a illusion of Mata Sita with the real Mata Sita. This, in my idea, is because Mata Sita is Lakshmi herself. She would not stay in a place where women are not respected.

What I mean is, our texts are large and elaborated with metaphors. Sometimes, interpolation as well as local folk tales also become a part of our interpretation of such texts. I am not giving you excuses, but reasons for your misinterpretation of Shri Ram.

I'm so very proud of you for taking initiative for yourself and trying to see the situation happening around yourself without bias. It is extremely amazing that you took up a search of your own in answers and decided to find the truth, despite any previous reservations you had.

Shri Ram protects and nurtures us, my dear. He will not hold a grudge against you, ever. Trust your instincts and give into him, connect with him in any way that you feel is best. For example, visit a temple some day. Read up about him sometimes. Talk with him, like you would with an elder brother. Understanding Ram, in a way, means understanding yourself.

I'm honoured that a post of mine could help you question the bias views you previously held. Thank you so much for coming to me, my dear. And my ask box as well as my DMs are always open, you ever want to talk.

Jai Siya Ram.

#hindublr #ayodhya #ram janambhoomi #we all were misguided some day or the other but Shri Ram is guiding us back #we must let him steer us

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rockybloo · 3 months

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A LONG while ago I had made a post considering making a Patreon or something of that sort for my stuff and how I was pondering things about it.

And I had gotten an inbox response (that I didn't post for very obvious reasons y'all will read later on under the cut) requesting I only post NSFW artwork on it as said person said they didn't care about 18+ artwork and went on to explain how everyone's money is tight right now and that they really didn't want to miss out on story and OC stuff.

And I feel like enough time has passed that I can form a proper response. Because I do understand money being tight but...there's just levels to this that made me feel some very offput by this response to me simply thinking about making a Patreon.

The first thing I want to state is that, if I did make some subscriber content, I definitely wouldn't hide lore heavy stuff behing paywalls. It would have been bonus extra content people could def live without or at the very least something they could see weeks or months earlier than people not subscribed to it (which is something many artists I follow do).

The second thing, is that I understand many do not like NSFW work. I totally get it. HOWEVER, I love drawing intimate things, so much so that I already have alt accounts where I post my more adult content for other adults to see for free because I treat it the same as my sfw art. It's just stuff I wanna draw for fun. And it wouldn't be fair suddenly cutting off those people over on my alt and telling them to pay to see my OC's tiddies from now on.

I also very much am not a fan of having people tell me to my face that they don't care about NSFW content in relation to my OCs and stories. Please keep that to yourself or at least in your friend group Discord servers. Telling me to my face is just a major vibe killer.👎🏾

Third, and by far the most important thing I want to say, is that "YES" money is very tight for everyone right now. Believe me, I know.

However, it's super important that people understand creators are also part of the group when y'all say "money is tight". Like I said, society is hella unstable and everyone is struggling. Artists, especially the ones brave enough to be doing freelancing for a living, are also tight on money.

It's why so many have subscription services for their work. Nearly every creator with a story or characters I follow have a subscription of some sort that people can pick as an option to support them.

When I was considering making a Patreon, I definitely was not expecting everyone following me to hop on board. In the past, I have had people ask if I had one. So me potentially making one would have been meant for those people who were interested in it. It would have been a more "out of the way" option of showing support.

That being said, many artists are share their work for free. Many do so because they love sharing their creations with others. While I don't believe the person who sent in the inbox ask had meant to come off as entitled, I do think people have to check themselves when it comes to their responses to artists in general wanting to make a little money off their own creations.

I have seen so many times where an artist starts to do something to earn money, whether it be merch, adopts, or commissions, and people will complain because there's a price tag for something they got used to getting for free.

Just like someone who enjoys looking at art has the freedom to decide if they want to give said artist money or not, an artist definitely has the right to decide "I want to make some money from my art".

"Art is a luxury" is very much a two way street. You don't have to pay, but an artist doesn't have to make all their work free.

#important rocky post #rocky rambles

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saltsicklover · 2 months

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To Love, To Die, and Everything In Between

This was a requested work, you can find the request HERE Find my Master List HERE Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader Word Count: 3k+ Rating: R Should I put an old school Wattpad excuse as to why I've been gone so long? Also, I really hope my tag list is right!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of war and fighting, mentions of death, regular cannon violence (probably less), No use of y/n, the term Sweetheart, Tons and Tons web weaving, credit at the end. This is so fucking angsty.

---

They say it's about the journey, the destination itself nothing more than an ending, all the importance found in the steps it takes to get there. But really, it's the destination itself that holds the meaning. After all, if that wasn't the case, the destination wouldn't come with a soul crushing grip, fingers digging into the folds of my lungs just to starve out the capacity for air.

The journey's memories would not be left with inky smears of fingerprints, the clarity nothing more than the orange tinted, overexposed film and the whirring of a projector still clicking though no more film is passing through. Nothing left but the flickering light of the present, the whirring akin to blood rushing over ear drums.

Destination means death to me. If I could figure out a way to remain forever in transition, in the disconnected and unfamiliar, I could remain in a state of perpetual freedom.

And this in and of itself is death. Squinting through the glaring light that is now I can see the curve of his lips, the way they give frame to perfect teeth and a tongue that has done nothing but speak promises that his hands have kept. And his hands are gentle. They are clean. They have guided me, unseeing, through the journey of the last year.

It's been months through screens. Fingers hovering over buttons. The decision of to call or not to call. Messages collecting in inboxes and photos of moments I never had the hope of being a part of. It's better than our mother's had, or their mother's before them. Crackling phone lines and tear soaked stationary from wars past. Though the story has been the same, it has always been the same. And the story is this: man fights for his country, for his love, for his honor, for the women behind them and the men standing at his shoulders. They fight for dignity, out of duty, out of order and for a future they have no hope of seeing. That is not to say that they won't make it out alive, that they won't come home. No, it is to say that they are leaving a legacy, moving pieces of a chest board from which the game was erected at the turn of the first war and shall be played until the end of the last.

Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.

And what are we? The women who stand behind them. The women, the families, the love that stands behind them as they fight for dignity, out of duty and out of order as they search for their honor. Tear drops on stationary, kisses pressed to closed envelopes spritzed with perfume. We are crackling voices through barely connected telephone lines. We are the viewers of the photographs and the "likes" on social media, the wish you were here comments and the well wishes from worlds away. We are the same as every woman that has come before us. In love with a Soldier, an Airman, a Seaman, a Marine who's gaze is forward.

You have a row of dominoes set up; you knock over the first one, and what will happen to the last one is that it will go over very quickly.

From NAS Pensacola, to just east at NAS Jacksonville. Jacksonville turned to NAS Yorktown which gave way to Miramar in the way the coast gives way to the waves. The letters came in sparser than the phone calls ever did, but maybe that's what did me in. That last letter, an acknowledgement of life in the wake of something horrible having been prevented that now sinks below the horizon, down, down, down.

It's always my own breathing, my own heartbeat. After all, I am still alone, even if he is alive and well. He stands an ocean and a world away. It's always my breathing.

She runs, trips and pitches down the stairs, holding her letter.

She follows the letter down, down...

Blackout. A clatter. Strange sounds—xylophones, brass bands, sounds of falling, sounds of vertigo.

Sounds of breathing.

The Hard Deck on a sunny evening is all rich wood and the stark smell of the ocean, the windows pushed open to invite the fleeting warmth into the bar. I haven't made it further than the front stair case; Jake Seresin's smiles, an invite and a warning all at once though it isn't directed towards me. He doesn't even know I'm here, and I could keep it that way. I could run now, I could leave, deal with everything over the phone and through ink strokes of dying fountain pens in the same way we have been dealing with everything for months.

I can at least be neat. Walk out and be seen as clean.

The thing is this, Jake is home. Here at the Hard Deck, on the beach in Miramar, California surrounded by his squad, his newly minted and now permanent squad. The Daggers, the name fitting the feeling that the news pushes into the space between my ribs. An ache lives there now, unrelenting and dangerous. A reminder that the journey, our journey, has found the light at the end of the tunnel, and it's a train heading straight for us. We stood no chance, not with out feet planted firmly on the tracks.

The shame of being seen consumes me.

I know the look that will streak across his eyes before that smile lands full and glistening on his lips. I know that look of happiness, the one that is unburdened and surviving though it shouldn't. A smile that knows nothing of the pain looming around the corner, the dagger still stuck in my side and the way that I have been tracking blood behind me, droplets splattering crimson sick on the pavement as I limp out from hiding. He's not going to notice the way my skin is still slick with blood or the way the proverbial handle still hangs from it's new sheath between my ribs. It's red ink under his rose colored glasses.

I think I've already lost you. I think you're already gone.

Though it wasn't a choice he made, at least, it hasn't been since he agreed to this job in the first place. The moment that ink dried on his contact, royal blue and officially binding, it hasn't been his choice. Not really. And maybe somewhere along the line I got tangled up in it all. In the kindness of his words that snuck out from his cocky grin and the way his eyes raked over the unbroken skin of my body and claimed it as land to tend. Maybe my heart has always been in my hands; why he has shielded me from the horrors of the world with his own body, even before he had a chance to see them with his own eyes. Maybe he knew my skin was supposed to stay unbroken.

Maybe it wasn't.

But either way, I still bleed now. And Jake still wears the rose colored glasses that come along with survival like this. A second chance at life, he declared proudly over the phone no less than a week ago, a chuckle laced in his voice in a shallow attempt to hide his utter bafflement. He wasn't supposed to make it back from this one, no matter the promises his Captain made. Jake's tone worn thin over the phone like he knew it was the end. He wasn't supposed to make it back. Our story was supposed to end there, my own body on the other side of the railroad crossing while Jake fell gallantly from the sky; a blaze of glory and red hot heat.

But now he's home. Home, home, home.

That's the whistle of the oncoming freight train, a warning call.

It’s not enough nearly to survive. One needs to flourish.

I push into the bar, squaring my shoulders with my chin held high. There is no white flag here, no surrender. If one of us must fall from the sky, all burning red heat and glory, I guess it's going to be me.

To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light.

I know the look that's coming, the look that will dash across his eyes and the smile that will bloom. Worse yet, I know the look that will succeed his smile. That look where he will square his jaw and narrow his eyes, batting down the hatches to make sure no sense of hurt will make it through.

The hurt will make it though his eyes anyway. The cracks in his facade akin to the humanity he wishes he could keep from display. Hangman: a persona to keep emotions at an arms length though they already has a noose securely around his neck. I can see it in the pinprick tears collecting in the corners of his eyes even as he lifts his chin up; a Tarantino tilt of the head.

He spots me, eyes going wide as his smile. "Oh my god, Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" The sight of him in all his blond hair, blue eyed glory gives me pause. God, he is beautiful. He is beautiful, with kind hands that have guided me through these last few months and now, this moment will be the last time I truly get to appreciate it.

Those kind hands are working their way around my frame as he pulls me into his chest. He bleeds warmth, and for a moment I wonder if he can feel how much blood I've already lost, if it's wet against his palm as he grazed over my ribs. I wonder if he can feel it, and if it would still be warm. Warm with the feeling of me, and the love that I have for him. God, I love him so.

There can be no friendship with someone I am not ready to betray.

It's in this moment that I know, with his hands wrapped around me and my cheek pressed against the heat of his chest as his heart beats thickly in my ear, Jake Seresin is my best friend. He is my best friend and he doesn't know I'm bleeding out.

The train is getting impossibly closer, now. It's horn blaring in my ears so loud it's giving me vertigo. I sway a bit in Jake's arms; he grips me impossibly tighter- I begin to hemorrhage.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I am so glad you're here. If I would've known you were coming, I would've picked you up! I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming! Jeez, I can't believe you are here, Sweetheart, really. God, you feel good," Jake's words come uninterrupted, punctuated with another squeeze of his arms.

"Yeah... I'm," The words come out muffled against his chest, though it sounds like my own voice is a million miles away, "I'm here."

A moment more passes gently, stuck in the confines of his embrace before he pulls back. His eyes meet mine for a moment, stark blue in the way the the flag is, embedded with stars and glory and a weight I can not even imagine- before they are flicking back up to his squad.

And it's in this moment where I realize that Jake Seresin may love me, and I may love him, but there is no blood left in me. I have nothing left to bleed, only words to bare. There is only desperation on my tongue to beg the man before me to love me more than he loves his own glory, his own noble sacrifice, and his country.

Let me be very clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered.

I will be slaughtered too, whether it be from the knife still stuck in my side or the incoming train, I will be flayed open under the hot California sun for the world to see.

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly.

And yet, it will be okay, because I will be seen. Jake Seresin will see me, unclean and unkempt, void of blood and tears, the only thing left over will be the ghost of us and all the love that I still have left to give. Atoms cannot cease to be- I think my love for him is one in the same.

I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child and fell asleep on the couch during a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room.

"Can we step outside?" I peer up at him, my chin pressed to his sternum. Truth be told, I look past him, over the prominence of his brow bone and up to the planks of the ceiling. It's easier to take a hostage when you don't have to look them in the eye. For a moment I wonder if I should have feared getting blood on him to begin with, but knowing he himself could not feel it even as it coated his own palms helps me guide him from the audience of his friends. His wrist held loosely in my grasp until we've made it to the sand. For a moment I almost forget to let go.

Of course love is still there. Still, still, still.

There is a sort of sticky sweetness in the cavern of my chest now as I stand next to him. Maybe it's been there this whole time, encasing my heart and thickness of it's beating. Jake wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side with gentle hands. He hums with contentment, fingers brushing over my arm.

"I can't believe you're here," Jake still looks at the sky, the horizon line drawing his eye. "What are you doing here, sweetheart?"

My heart stutters in my chest. What am I doing here? My eyes catch the horizon too, as I pull the proverbial blade from it's place between my ribs. It too is sticky sweet with blood and smeared fingerprints.

I write my own deliverance.

The words are written on my tongue in bile. My hands shake. I shove them into my pockets, eyeline still stuck on the orange of the setting sun. It's warmth accompanies Jake's, sinking into my hollow corpse. Again I threaten to sway under the momentum of the moment. This is it. The ending.

"I came to say goodbye," They are not the correct words, the letters all jumbled up and ill-fitting in my mouth. "I came to wish you well." He turns his chin down to me, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Goodbye?" The word rakes itself out of his throat, all gravel and uncertainty. His hold tightens on my shoulders, just a little, pulling me tighter into his side. Heat continues to roll off his frame. My hands form fists in the confines of my pockets, an attempt at clutching this moment before it slips past.

"Yeah, I mean..." There's a pause. Breathing room. A forcing of air in and out of my lungs. Jake doesn't seem to breathe at all. "This is it, isn't it?"

"What could you possibly mean by that?" His gaze meets mine for the first time, steady and unyielding. Suddenly I am aware of just how much blue surrounds me now. From my cheap cardigan, littered with holes that still manages to fight off the chill of the breeze to the royal of the ocean waves. The sky is azure too, melting into orange and pink hues that will give way to the vast deep navy of the night. But there is nothing more royal that of Jake's irises. Still weighty with stars and glory, but reflecting my own strangled feelings back at me. The destination grips my lungs just a little bit harder, the train wheels squealing against the tracks, but it's too late now.

Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue.

I squeeze my eyes shut, too tight, and everything my eyes see is blue then, too. "I came to say goodbye, so you could continue your life, you know,?" I shrug vaguely, hoping he will get the idea, "Like really continue your life here, settle down. This is your home base now, and your family is in there. I'm not really sure what else you'd be expecting to happen right now."

The words pour out of me, not crossing my brain before they leave my tongue. A strangled sound of confusion leave Jake's lips as his arm slips from it's place around my shoulders. The chill gets in after that, right down to my bones.

"I-" The words catch. I hold my breath waiting for a moment, then another, then another. Jake breathes deeply now, forcefully. Taking each beath deep into his lungs like it's painful. I continue to hold my breath.

The spot between my ribs, now void of proverbial blade still aches, but now with more loneliness and finality than strikes of pain. A fact dawns on me in that moment, as my lungs burn for air, watching Jake's jaw stutter with upspoken words. Maybe this wasn't supposed to be an ending. Not like this, maybe not at all.

You are a burning house that I want to live in.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" With Jake's unsure words, I manage an uneasy breathe. My lungs feel aflame with new oxygen. My eyes meet the sand, my dirty sneakers looking out of place next to Jake's nice leather boots. I can't help the almost chuckle that escapes my lips, it comes out as more of a grimace.

It occurs to me that maybe Jake has no idea about just how much I'm falling apart. Just like my mother, and her mother before her. Loving men from afar as they fight- Soldiers, Airman, Seaman, and Marines. The shock of it all ricochets through me; a generational pain that is now mine to hold.

The splendid thing about falling apart silently... is that you can start over as many times as you like.

"If you're saying what I think you're implying here, I need you to say it out loud," Jake breaks through the fog of it all, his voice stern and commanding. It sends a shiver down my spine. I have never seen him like this, burning so fiercely with love and it makes the sticky sweetness of my insides warm. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, I need you to say it. I need you to say the words out loud for both of us to hear, because I need to hear that goodbye if you're going to walk away from me. Oh God, Sweetheart, please don't walk away now,"

"When you were on that ship," I kick some sand with the toe of my shoe, a neat little pile of it forming in front of me, "When you called, I didn't think you were coming back, and now that you're here, you're alive... God, you're alive... I just thought that I'd be holding you back. I mean, if we kept this going, there would always be something dragging you backwards, and I don't want to drag you back, Jake. But, I also can't do it like this anymore. Our relationship has been spent through phone calls and letters and I don't think we've spent more than three days consecutive together, ever,"

"I am so fucking glad that you are alive," I can't help but laugh, the pressure a little less crushing, "But we are both worth more than this,"

When I finally gather the courage to look up, Jake's eyes are already on me, running over my features so slow like he's working on memorizing them. I have so much more to say, so many words that wouldn't fit on the collage ruled paper or in the textbox of a message. All of these words just begging to escape from behind my tongue.

"I love you," I blurt out, eyes linked with his blues, unhindered and unbashful. "God, I fucking love you, and I can't believe I'm saying it for the first time now, not over the goddamn phone, and we are on the periphery of a fucking ending,"

"It's only an ending if you call it as such," Jake reaches for my hand. I extract them from the their denim confines and let them slip into his. "Because I am not fucking walking away. Do you think that I would?"

What a question. What a loaded fucking question.

"No," I answer honestly, "Not on purpose, but I know the fight is always in front of you, and that leaves me in the rearview, and I am not going to ask you to give up that, to give up all of this, for me. You have a family here, now, even if you don't want to use that word. Those folks in there, the people you almost fucking died with, those are your people forever, now. They are who you have to fight with, and fight for."

"Yes, they are my family, but that doesn't mean that you aren't anymore," Jake squeezes my hands, pulling me just a little closer.

"Anymore?" I barely hear my own voice, but I do feel the tears welling up in my eyes. "Have I been your family before now? Before this moment, before you almost died?"

"Of course you have," Jake chokes down a chuckle. "You are my person, my home, and I want you here, here with me,"

"But what about everything that comes next. The next time you have to go somewhere in the middle of the ocean to fight an unknown battle, with enemies who are just trying to do the same thing. Everyone is just fighting to stay alive, to get home, what then?"

"Who do you think I was fighting so hard to get back to?" Tears fall from my eyes at his words, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. "Who do you think I will continue to fight to get back to? Sweetheart, I will dogfight my way out of anything if that means making it back to you," Thumbs swipe at my tears as he leans in, pressing his lips over mine. A welcome home and a goodbye all in one, but not a goodbye from one another, but from the people we used to be.

Death frees us from the torment of parting.

And so the train passes, I remain un-flayed to the world and Jake didn't go out in a blaze of glory and red hot heat. I may have bled out, but that dagger was never mine to carry- even if we were both fighting to get back to each other. And maybe a part of us died there, on that beach, our lips pressed together as Jake breathed life back into me. It's a death, but not one of finality, because If you're lucky, you die many times before you ever really do.

----

QUOTE CREDIT

Destination means death to me. If I could figure out a way to remain forever in transition, in the disconnected and unfamiliar, I could remain in a state of perpetual freedom. - David Wojnarowicz

I can at least be neat. Walk out and be seen as clean. - A burning Hill - Mitski

"She runs, trips and pitches down the stairs, holding her letter.

She follows the letter down, down...

Blackout. A clatter. Strange sounds—xylophones, brass bands, sounds of falling, sounds of vertigo.

Sounds of breathing."

― Sarah Ruhl,

Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. - Hamilton

"You have a row of dominoes set up; you knock over the first one, and what will happen to the last one is that it will go over very quickly." - President Eisenhower in April 1954

The shame of being seen consumes me. - Cynthia Cruz from diagnosis, The Glimmering Room

I think I've already lost you. I think you're already gone. - Matchbox 20

There can be no friendship with someone I am not ready to betray. -slavoj zizek

Let me be very clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered. - anecdote of the pig, tory adkisson

I hope death is like being carried to you bedroom when you were a child and fell asleep on the couch during a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room. - lilies abounded

It’s not enough nearly to survive. One needs to flourish. - Jack Tanner, The Source of Dreams, When Human Imagination Died

To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light - rainer maria rilke

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly. - Anne Sexton, A self portrait in letters.

Of course love is still there. Still, still, still. - unknown, tumblr

Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue. Everything is blue. - Halsey

You are a burning house that I want to live in. - unknown, tumblr

“The splendid thing about falling apart silently... is that you can start over as many times as you like.” ― Sanober Khan,

If you're lucky, you die many times before you ever really do. - Jake Weasley Rogers.

Death frees us from the torment of parting. lighthousekeeping, jeanette winterson

TAG LIST @its-the-pilot @t4medicroe @inkandarsenic @kmc1989 @inky-sun @harperdoodle @possiblyexisting @eloquentdreamer @ravenwtfbro @jessicab1991 @muddwheelz123

#saltsicklover #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x y/n #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #hangman angst #jake hangman seresin angst #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin fanfic #hangman fanfic #saltsickwriting #saltsickrequests

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fatuismooches · 11 months

Note

SMOOOCHES!! Hii my lovely dove!! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ʚ🍓ɞ

Okay okay! I know I’m flooding your inbox again but I have some fluff! (With angst) so if you don’t mind! —Okay I just have to say that soft Dottore is <3 especially since he’s cold and serious all the time (and doing evil man things) so him being soft for his lover could make me cry!! (especially since although he may have a soft spot for you him actually being full blown soft is like once in a blue moon) Okay okay so! Dottore most likely takes a few weeks or maybe more than a month to make new medication for Fragile!Reader whenever his last prototype fails. And with it I’m sure he gets frustrated, of course never to sweet little you. But, at times these medications he makes can have their side effects. Which is why Dottore almost always supervises you himself whenever he injects you with these medications. Since well, your fragile body sometimes may reject them, or lead to you on some occasions feeling fatigued or nauseated. So usually when you do receive a new medication you find yourself in his lab for most of the day. Always having to inform him how you’re feeling and if something feels off. Zandik of course is always keeping a keen eye on you even if he might be busy with some experiment. As one moment you can be talking about some fun thing you had done with the clones a few days ago, and the next you could be vomiting or worse, faint. So to say that Zandik isn’t concerned about you is an understatement. He really wishes he didn’t have to experiment new medications on you every few weeks or so to hopefully cure your illness. (He has injected at times some of his “patients” with the medication he’d use before giving it to you, but since your body is frail and weak the outcomes are always much different than compared to a regular healthy person) but Zandik would definitely let you sit on his lap while he works. Since he knows you’re very very vulnerable in this state. Which he doesn’t mind (as much as he hates to admit it Dottore is quite possessive over you) and he’ll even gently caress your hair with his free hand while the other writes away. So although you may feel yucky and absolutely exhausted. Zandik tries his best to alleviate your pain. Since you always say that being near him or being held by him makes you feel 1000% better. (Which he knows may not be true in actuality, but he just wants to make his lover happy) ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

But I hope you enjoy this brainrot I thought of this at like 12 AM at midnight since the power in our neighborhood was out for a whole 2 hours this past Sunday. It was kinda creepy seeing all the houses and streetlights have no lights turned on. The heat was unbearable Ꮚ ᵒ̴̶̷̥ ‸ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥ Ꮚ but I hope you’re doing absolutely wonderful! I love u so so much I give you so many hugs and chu chus!! I just wanna squeeze n cuddle u smooches !!! >< may you have an absolutely wonderful week and continue enjoying the rest of your summer!

-From your dear boo boo 🎐 anon! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

🎐 ANON BACK AGAIN WITH THE BEST BRAINROTS!!!

I am happily consuming soft Dottore, thank you for this sm 😭 (soft dot has been on my mind lately, I'm just. I need him to cuddle me) You’re so right, if he isn’t being serious, he’s being cunning or mocking too, so seeing him being actually genuine with his love for you!! Is so! <33 You can’t help but feel special because you’re the only person who will ever witness him like this!

It’s kind of funny actually. Dottore, the mad doctor, spending this much time on a cure. Helpful medicine. Everyone else would guess that instead he’s concocting poisons and injections to hurt others with (which they aren’t wrong) but they would never guess he’s carrying out genuine doctor things. Which he honestly couldn’t blame them for. If anyone saw how softly he acted with you, well… either they’d be dead, or he’ll never live it down if it was one of the Harbingers.

You dread taking new medications or getting shots, but you can’t help but feel you owe it to Zandik. You know how hard he works on these things, only for them to not work. His expression remains the same but you know he feels disappointed every time nothing seems to change in your condition. At the very least, you have a good amount of time to finally hang around him uninterrupted. Archon knows how challenging it is to be a Harbinger’s spouse, much less Dottore’s, with his schedule and lack of time. And to have his undivided attention on you? Phew.

Being treated by him so softly is enough to make you swoon!! But too bad you feel too tired to do that, so you have to opt for snuggling into his chest on his lap (which is arguably more comfy than your bed.) Feeling his gloved hand stroke your hair along with the soothing sound of pen against paper is far more relaxing than you thought it’d be. It felt like you could sleep for hours. Seeing him so concerned about your needs was so <3 to you, even though you felt crappy and down, he still wanted to be in your company and comfort you too <3

Omfg I love this crazy psycho doctor man so much. He would be so good with you too, he would have all the necessary equipment and such when you start to show certain side effects, already have his bed prepared for you to nap in if you get tired. He has many notebooks dedicated to you and how your condition, mental and physical, has changed over the countless years, he even has a section for new things he noticed about you and certain things you told him that he found amusing. Of course the lengths he would go to for you is limitless and he’d have some unwilling test subjects ready for whatever batch of medicine he’s working on next 🚶‍♀️(This is a little hc I thought of literally just now, but I was thinking, since he’s a doctor and all, he probably draws diagrams of the body every now and then, so what if he doodles you sometimes ;( he finds himself drawing your hand with your wedding ring on it!!)

I’m so sorry about your power! I would be so scared, I hope you’re okay now 💖 I am doing fine, I hope you are too my dear boo boo 🎐 anon 🫶🥰 GIVING YOU MORE HUGS AND KISSES SMOOCH!!! ILY!! ENJOY YOUR WEEK TOO!! As for me, I just hope I’m able to move around this summer. Whenever it’s hot, all my energy is sapped out of my body lol🧍‍♀️

#smooches talks #🎐 anon #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #LOTS OF KISSES FOR U 🎐 ANON ILY <333 #okay but: angst where the medication backfires and u get hurt 🚶‍♀️

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omegalomania · 7 months

Note

OMGGG I'm such an urban fantasy fan pls pls continue like I'm loving it

WHY I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. also i learned recently that my inbox is uhhhhh broken in the sense that its Just Not There on my dashboard so if you sent me asks in the past couple months i literally did not see them because the last tumblr dashboard update like, removed the little letter icon. from my dash. and idk how to bring it back lol

ANYWAY this whole au was born from me thinking a very lot about the whole aspect of so much (for) stardust and tourdust's staging where it relied on a) tangibility and b) magic imagery. like the album cover and the staging are all focused on real, actual things that one could conceivably touch (the album cover is an oil painting with glittery clay letters, the stage's props are all actual, interactable props, etc). and whats more, there's the additional "magical" element at work here: the magic 8 ball, pete's magic trick midway thru the show, the whole love from the other side mv, and so on. and because my brain is Like This, pretty soon id spun up a whole storyline out of wholecloth and now im going to make it everyone's problem i guess

ive elected to call it the magic stardust au for perhaps obvious reasons.

the magic stardust au takes place in a world that's a little bit like our own in some ways, and drastically different in others. its our world but shuffled a few degrees to the left, so to speak. for example, the state of iowa still exists - but there's a literal city in it called heaven. there's an alligator prince in this world, and he happens to be literal, as in literally an alligator who also happens to be a prince. magic is a thing here, and its so thoroughly common that no one bats an eye. it's all deeply ingrained into the fabric of reality. magic is twined through each and every soul. it's in the air, in the molecules, in the architecture, in the landscape. ancient, enchanted forests stand shoulder to shoulder with floating cities and underwater palaces and dense metropolises. magic is really just stardust in a sense, and that's just what everything else is too, so is it any wonder that stardust can act upon itself in strange and unique ways? that's all that magic is: stardust.

it always comes back to stardust.

so what happens when magic starts disappearing?

well, people don't notice at first. people don't notice because this thing, this force that's seeping in through little fissures in reality and leaching away all the strangeness in the world - it's clever about its work. it's cunning. it gets people alone and then it drowns them in itself, mercury-slick and flowing, and when it recedes...that's the scary part. not only are people losing their magic, they're also losing the memory of ever having magic in the first place. it's siphoning away the collective memory of magic. it's draining the world of all its charm and vigor and since no one can remember what it's taken once it's gone, it seems like no one can possibly stop it. no one even realizes that it's happening.

i've opted to call this force the annihilation.

(as you can probably tell, i like grabbing onto things from the #lore of the band's mythos rather than the personal stories of any of the members when it comes to devising aus. i love adapting lyrics, concepts, music video elements, and so on into stories, and grounding things into the concept surrounding the particular album or era i'm focusing on on as much as possible.)

anyhow, that's where our guys come in. or rather, that's where their stories all intersect. at the start, none of them have a whole lot of reason to interact with each other a bunch. all four of them live in the city of heaven, iowa, which as mentioned, happens to be ruled by our friend the alligator prince. stardust as an album is very preoccupied with the state of the world, voices a lot of general uncertainty and discomfort with the way things are run, and me being the way i am and having a baseline distrust of monarchy, i think the alligator prince is perhaps pretty honestly not the best at his job. his enforcers - well i'm not sure they'd strictly count as cops in this universe. but for simplicity's sake lets just call them cops and be content that they're probably not the best. corrupt, prone to favoritism, bad at their jobs. etc. this is important because it plays into how all of our guys end up getting to know one another.

hence, i introduce our four main players (featuring concept sketches i started throwing down once i realized this storytelling worm had burrowed into my head):

andy, as i've gotten into a little bit, is a rogue vigilante. he doesn't like the alligator prince. he's not keen on authority in general. he does what he does precisely because he's intent on giving people an alternative to the princes people. he's highly principled and completely unafraid to intervene with the prince's business if it means he's helping the people out. he lives alone on the outskirts of heaven, operates independently, and keeps his identity completely secret. he has a fearsome reputation in heaven but he's very well known. he's a little bit batman in that way - like, the guy's intimidating by default, but if you're in a pinch and you see him, you know he's going to help you out. and he's a hell of a lot better than a cop.

andy's magic, like everyone's in this universe, comes in two flavors: active and passive. his active magic takes the form of white lightning bolts, crackling bright energy that can shock, stun, and incapacitate in all sorts of ways. his passive magic comes from shadow, which is where his trademark hammer and massive, owl-like wings come from; they're actually solidifed shadow, and he can summon and dispel them at a thought.

(i can get into the specifics of how magic types differ if anyone wants to know details, but all you really need to know here is that everyone's got passive magic, which is their baseline, almost unconscious kind of magic, and active magic, which is the kind of magic that you have to work at. the annihilation steals both.)

joe is a freelancer. what this means is that he kind of ends up doing a lot of odd jobs based on whats being asked of him. this comes from a similar place from andy's motives - joe wants to give people an alternative to working with the prince's people. it's a job that requires wearing a lot of different hats, so to speak, so joe is a bit of a jack of all trades in that sense. joe of all trades? he's most frequently hired as a private investigator (again, an alternative to this universe's law enforcement), but he's also been called in as a bodyguard, a, uh "diplomat," and so on. he has a baseline familiarity with andy by virtue of having grown up in heaven and everyone knows about heaven's scary urban legend superhero.

joe's active magic takes the form of glowing blue knives, which he can use for aaaaall sorts of things. you can bet he uses them for every possible mundane use imaginable most of all though lmao. his passive magic is a procynoid form which, in plain language, means he can turn into a raccoon whenever he wants. because that idea from the love from the other side mv is too good to not use. said raccoon form can vary between a very ordinary-sized raccoon fella and a hulking, human-sized one. all comes down to how he feels.

pete is the sole proprietor and operator of pink seashell press, an independent news outlet. once again, this is in the interests of allowing people access to news that doesn't get filtered through the prince's people. it's a lot of hard and thankless work - pete is the only guy working this thing, so he's basically the whole staff. he's doing all the investigative reporting, writing, publishing, and distributing - but he believes in getting news out to people because it's important to get news from someone who isn't in the prince's pocket. he and joe are probably most familiar with each other since their work has a fair degree of overlap and comes from a very similar place. he's probably a big fan of andy lmao

pete's active magic takes the form of glowing green roses, which twine in thorny barbs and soft blooms alike. he can utilize them as both defensive/offensive and aesthetic/mundane purposes, which is nice! his passive magic isn't pictured in the below sketch because i hadn't yet nailed that down as an aspect of his character at the time of drawing, but it entails some partial skeletal physiology. he's got a skeletal arm and mostly skeletal abdomen. doesn't affect how he uses magic, but it grants him some invulnerability to stuff that might target internal organs that he, in part, doesn't strictly speaking have.

patrick is the odd one out here because unlike the others, he didn't grow up in or around heaven. he tends to be a bit of a wanderer, and heaven is just the place he happens to be passing through at the time. he keeps himself going with busking and gigs in small venues like cafés and bookshops as a local musician, and is incredibly cagey about his past. he's also very keen to avoid being noticed by the prince's people or authority in general. he's got the least familiarity with andy, joe, or pete, and is mostly interested in keeping his head down and making a self-sustaining little existence for himself.

this in huge part because of patrick's passive magic, which is a compelling voice. (inspired in part by the field of dreams quote that pete used to tease the upcoming stardust era, not long after the initial chicago tribune fob8 ad dropped: "but until i heard the voice, i'd never done a crazy thing in my whole life.") patrick doesn't actually have to sing for this to take effect. it can come from speaking too forcefully, making an idle suggestion, and a lot of different things. hence why patrick tends to get on people's bad side - he tries incredibly hard to keep this aspect from affecting his life, but once people pick up on this aspect of his voice, things fall apart fast. patrick's spent most of his life moving from place to place because of this. and yeah, he has no idea how much or how little he's influencing anyone at any given time. it's a complete nightmare.

his active magic is a tad more benign. it takes the shape of orange flames, which are fairly malleable and that patrick can reshape into instruments and such with a little effort.

eventually, of course, patrick does indeed get on the wrong side of heaven's authorities because of the same thing that always gets him in his trouble: that darn voice of his. this happens the same time that one of andy's jobs goes horribly wrong and he gets injured and caught. pete crosses the line one too many times, and joe just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. the bottom line is that at this point, all four of the guys end up in heaven's jail at the same time, and that's where their stories all properly intersect.

that's when the annihilation comes for them.

it leaks in through the cracks in the walls and around the grout in the windows and it starts gathering itself up - this horrible, awful force that they can all feel and just looking at it feels wrong. it's an inky swell of star-freckled black void, like a slice of the cosmos staring at them through the bars of their shared cell. it seethes hungrily for them.

the cops run, of course. they leave their charges stuck behind bars, at the mercy of this terrifying thing that - though they don't know it - wants nothing more than to sap their magic away.

the annihilation manages to get its claws into each of them, but only briefly because fortunately, the four of them work together to take matters into their own hands. they manage to bust themselves out of the cell and get the hell out of dodge, but not before the annihilation stains each one of them with its grasping, hungry force, forever altering their appearance. the annihilation leaves a silvery, ashy blotch where it bled onto each of them:

andy gets a massive splash of it on his chest that leaks up onto his throat. joe got splashed on the right side of his body, mostly on his right ear, neck, and adjacent shoulder. pete also got hit on the left, but it mostly consumed his left eye and left leg. patrick got stained on his left hand from the wrist down.

here's a quick and dirty doodle i did to kind of depict this. it didn't come out the way i wanted to and it's not set in stone yet, but it's the general notion.

the fact that these four guys got attacked by the annihilation but crucially managed to escape it before it completely consumed them has permitted each of them an incredibly unique trait: they can understand what it wants. it didn't succeed in draining their magic, so it didn't take their memories of magic either. the annihilation made a tremendous misstep in not isolating these guys when it targeted them, because in working together, they were able to escape it.

so they are in the unique position to realize what's happening, where no one else can.

whatever this thing is, it's old. and it's powerful.

and it's very, very hungry.

and that's the cliffnotes of how these four guys have to band together to save the world before all the magic is drained away for good.

#askin hours #anon #magic stardust #ONCE AGAIN IM VERY SORRY ABT THE BROKEN ASK BOX #if u sent me an ask in the past few months i only recently saw it and im not ignoring you i prommy #youre probably better off dming me for quick contact or if you hmu i can give u my discord

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charbies · 7 months

Text

been having a tough time.. stuff about it under the cut

writing a stream of consciousness about the past few months. I've been really depressed. I kept getting burned out from my job almost monthly, but could bounce back when I took a little time off. Then midway through the summer, it's like I just got stuck and couldn't get.. unstuck. by fall I had a full blown depressive episode; in september I could admit I was depressed, in october I went on medication for it, and by the time november came around it felt like there was no end in sight. Fall is my favorite time of year, and I felt like I was in a fugue state and missed it because I barely existed.

the ways this showed up in my body are unlike anything I ever experienced in my life before and that was terrifying. my head and body ached like I was coming home from war every day. I was falling asleep at the wheel, and it was a recurring pattern; my body was shutting itself off when the thought of what I'd have to deal with at work was becoming too much. I burst into tears whenever I saw my friends post pics hanging out and wished I could live closer and see them more. I felt so overwhelmed and empty, I needed everything to stop and I wanted to disappear.

my job is fucking hard. I try not to talk about it on here, but I work with people who are hurting and traumatized. I regularly have to tell them when I believe the choices they're making are going to wind up killing them. I have to tell them the last things they want to hear and still hope they trust me. The average burnout rate at my job is 2 years, I've been there for 16 months. I'm 24 and the youngest one there by a long shot. I know I'm good at what I do, but still feel way in over my head, I feel like I don't get to be my age. I've thought about quitting but I don't think I have it in me to leave and start over somewhere new just yet, not now. I feel trapped because as hard as the work is, I get way better amenities there than at most other places; this place is basically as good as it gets where I live and it's still killing me.

even tho I know how severe things were getting, I feel so guilty for ways I fell off the face of the earth. I stopped talking to friends, family, coworkers, pretty much everyone. I bailed on linktober and a bunch of other art projects I lined up and thought I had the energy to pull off. In general I just feel like a failure even though I know that isn't true.

I broke down hard and took a leave of absence, I get a few weeks off from my job. I've been off for 10 days and as badly as I've wanted to draw the idea also makes me want to jump out of my skin. So I'm taking time and hoping it comes back while I pull myself together.

I could use some advice or wisdom from anyone who has been through this in any capacity. Even silly stuff in my inbox would make my day. Tumblr was my comfort place when I was a kid and I think it will do me good to be able to look back on this post after I've worked through this and I'm doing better. Thanks for reading all of this if you did, it means a lot <3

#brb crying into my cat #tw depression #tw suicide #tw vent

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fiona-fififi · 15 days

Note

I’m the anon that sent you the ask about your fic! And that snippet was AMAZING! I’m seriously so excited to read this. 😍😍

I totally get being hesitant to engage with fandom at the moment, it’s hella toxic out there. I’m just LIBERALLY using the block button, which I’ve never really had to do before, but it’s making my experience much more pleasant. Don’t let them get you down, you are very talented!

Anon, I hope you're still out there! (I saw this several days ago, but then forgot to respond—I'm sorry for the delay!)

I'm glad you enjoyed the snippet! I'm hopeful that I might finish this one, but honestly, the state of the fandom lately has left me less than enthused. It's hard to get excited over writing or even just participating in fandom when it feels like anything you do is going to piss someone off.

I've never really been one to block—in the past it's always been easy to unfollow and avoid most of the issues. The problem I'm coming up against this time around is that these attitudes are seeping into blogs I've always trusted and really enjoyed, and it's super disheartening to see people I thought I could trust spouting the same rhetoric as the anons in my inbox seeking to be actively cruel. It's just not a great feeling to have to unfollow everyone, you know? Right now, there are only a handful of people whose blogs feel like a safe space anymore, and that is such a turnaround from even just a few months ago.

It's exhausting, honestly, and I'm increasingly avoiding posting any kind of opinions or thoughts about the show to avoid the bullshit, and at that point, what is even the point of being part of a fandom, you know?

So, anyway, I'm very glad you appreciated the snippet, and I'll try to maybe finish it one of these days. Hopefully, everything calms down here soon, so we can all just go back to getting along and enjoying the show we love.

#anon #thank you!! 💜#asks answered #911 discourse #911 negativity

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hollytanaka · 10 months

Text

another rant on a toxic user and fic writer in the COD fandom world — scroll past if you don't care

trigger warning: mentions of rape, incest, and abuse

First, the tumblr user lululandd began bombarding my inbox, calling me names in their vague posts— all because I said that I wished people were more respectful in what type of content they add when they reblog my posts. They'll have full blown convos about unrelated material under my gifs, while ignoring my gifs entirely or ignoring me. It's a pattern of disregarding the labor of creatives on this website. This happens to gif-makers and I'm sure fic writers too.

I told them it's not too much to ask people to be respectful while also asking them to reblog rather than simply like things. I obviously can't control other people's behavior. But I consider that this is part of basic tumblr etiquette for years now.

Nonetheless, her unwavering defense is that this is the internet and people can do whatever they want and people can add whatever they want (Hold onto this thought)—even if it means personally making people uncomfortable or purposefully triggering them, even out of deliberate spite in some cases...

Anyway, the bottom line is, lululandd has a track record of attacking gifmakers in the COD fandom who don't like rape/incest/abusive fanfics either. Which makes sense, considering she writes and shares this content too. She's probably targeted my blog, seeing a window of opportunity, simply because I've vocally stated that I am not a fan of rape/incest/abusive fanfics. Obviously I can't stop people from reblogging or writing/reading those fics! But other people on tumblr and I have asked that people tag their work correctly, hide it under read more/cuts, and also maybe reconsider posting it in mainstream fanfiction tags if it's particularly dark work.

This is from their pinned bio:

And this is a message she's posted to someone a few months back for simply stating they don't like seeing their favorite characters portrayed as toxic, abusive, and/or sexually aggressive bordering on sexual assault. (Headcanoning someone as a rapist/abuser isn't the same as headcanoning someone as being goofy or weird, for the record):

She blocked that user right after writing that.

TLDR: lululandd has a grudge against me and other gifmakers whom she's blocked simply because we don't put aside our personal dislike for rape/incest/abuse and worship her and others' writing. So, she takes it out on us by stating we're 'suburban christian moms' and saying that we simply want to control what other people do. That's not the case. I don't support censorship (can't believe I have to say that, lol) but I can still actively dislike certain genres of dark writing where there is a non-critical depiction of rape or abuse. But this user sees this as a personal attack, and thinks it justifies sending hate messages and writing vague posts about me and my other mutuals.

Also: fun fact! Someone replied to lululandd's post where they were vague-posting about me, name-calling me and calling me a "suburban Christian mom" (girl I'm a bi Latina who lives in urban downtown parts of cities primarily, but yeah I was raised Catholic, so what? What does religion have anything to do with how people interact with my blog?) And someone simply said that I wasn't asking for too much. I said, "thanks! that's common sense!"

Then lululandd proceeded to turn off replies and to delete my reply saying "thanks!" — BUT I THOUGHT WE COULD POST ABOUT ANYTHING AND ADD ANYTHING TO PEOPLE'S POSTS ON THE INTERNET?!? 🤯

Anyway, I've blocked lululandd and I encourage others to do the same if you dislike people thinking you're obligated to read triggering content and sending hate messages to people's inboxes. But then again, you don't have to because, ✨people can do whatever they want on the internet! ✨

#call of duty #cod discocurse #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #yep i'm tagging your fave character lulu because this is the internet and we can do whatever we want ;)#long post

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wardogsong · 3 months

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Good bye. I hope everyone who bullied me is fucking happy. I hope everyone who got my account deleted is happy. I'm done.

cw: mentions of self-harm and mutilation under the readmore, and also just basic dash consideration. I realize I have not been here in months, owe everything and everyone, etc... which adds an extra layer of mind-bending hilarity to this all.

Stray,

You are both breaking my heart and wearing my last nerve out. I'm only human. I'm not a saint. While I am genuinely very sorry that tumblr deleted your account, did you read the email that they sent to you? I know that you screenshotted it. You have it posted right now on this iteration of your blog.

Truth be told? I don't know if anyone reported your account. I can say with a clear conscience that I didn't. I had no reason to. The last I interacted with you and/or that account was when I was in the comments of your pinned post, talking to you there.

I am not exactly certain that your account would have required much reporting, to be honest. I think that you are imagining a bandwagon of people joining together to work against you, given the way you are currently in several inboxes, calling people bullies and so on. Again, I can say with a completely clear conscience, I have never participated in any such link up or bandwagon against you, or anyone else.

So let's keep it a buck. You do somewhat routinely post about the things mentioned in that email. It's your blog, you have a right to talk about the state of your mental health if you want to, but in this case, it was tumblr itself taking notice and action of the frequency of that, and what specifically you were saying.

Hell, let's go back in time a bit. You and I literally met and became mutuals BECAUSE you posted a farewell note on your blog, several deletions and remakes ago. It was written as if it were a done deal, and having been familiar with your url in the fandom tags, I was immediately worried for you, stranger that you were, and desperate to reach out to you hoping it would come before a too-late kind of moment. You know what the saddest part of that search for you was? Encountering people who did claim to know you and who said, with great shame, that this was somewhat regular for you.

You know it too, because even in our conversations you mentioned having been blamed or accused of attention seeking in the past and having callouts written about you.

The answer is right there, Stray. Your blog was deleted for mentions of self-harm. You may not have been glorifying it or promoting it, but you posted about it enough that you finally tripped a flag somewhere. That's it. That's all it is.

As for the rest? This is the second time you're calling me a bully. Yet again, I am asking you to prove it. Please show me the instances in which I bullied you, or the actions that I took against you. What, exactly, did I do? Because to the best of my recollection? I spent a while trying to be your friend, trying to be as supportive as I could be, introducing you to other friends of mine to help widen your circle, gaming with you, plotting things to write with you and then the one night I couldn't stay up late to talk with you because I was literally recovering from being incredibly ill AND had to take my son to an appointment the next day... ended up with you having sent me overnight screenshots of deleting your blog and either blocking or unfriending me on discord. Which one of those things was the bullying, Stray? Because the way I see it? You're the one who ditched me the second I couldn't be of use to you.

last but not least, rumor out of the hell part of this country says you have a problem with sharing mutuals. you don't like it when someone you like writes or interacts with someone you don't like and that may be the root cause of your distress. if so, rumors of my and @lt-ghxst's relationship are both greatly exaggerated and misunderstood. it's not my fault I tagged and bagged him, as that is what you do with wild gators. however, if he has slighted you, I don't take any responsibility for him. he's untrained and not yet housebroken. it's a miracle if I can get him to only piss outdoors. he bites. he's ornery and nasty-tempered. Honestly, he should probably be put to sleep but I am determined to break him in.

#self harm cw #also for anyone wondering or raising brows #that last bit of crack is just that #crack and hilarity inserted for my own peace of mind #and bc it's an inside joke with the mentioned party #don't mind us #we have to laugh or else we'd swing

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unrequitedloveletter · 1 year

Note

Hello dear! Can I please request a Pin x reader fic? I have this idea in mind about them exchanging letters for several years which lead to them falling in love just through written word and then the reader comes to the the island as a suprise and Pin shows her around and they're happy together. Ending with them confessing their love during her stay. Just fluff, fluff and more fluff, please. <3

Nice Catch- Pin Hawthorne

Wanna send in something for the five days of christmas event? here’s the link! requests for it close tomorrow, so if you’ve got any ideas for Pin, feel free to drop those into my inbox!

Hi!! I’m so sorry that this took as long as it did to come out! I’m not the best at writing love confessions--its why most of my fics involve established relationships--but I really wanted to get this one right, so it took me a bit longer to write then I’d originally anticipated.

I aged Pin and the reader up to 22!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

Yours and Pins exchanging of letters had started during your junior year of high school. A pen-pal program had been set up, and all that you had to do was sign your name onto a sheet of paper and visit the drama room once every two weeks to see if a letter came in. The letters were being sent to high schoolers all over, some in places like France or Italy, others in spots like Canada and a variety of states throughout America.

You’d signed up so that something could occupy your time between school, homework, and everything else. Pin had signed up for the same reasons, and neither of you expected to stay in contact past freshman year--though Pin called it year ten, per the schooling systems throughout europe--but, as time went on, you realized just how wrong you’d been by making that assumption.

Time passed by quickly, and before you knew it, you were a college graduate, Pin having finished up his undergrad. You still sent letters back and forth, though they became a bit more spaced out due to busy schedules.

There came a time where you and Pin finally figured out your time difference and started weekly facetimes, laughing and chatting for two hours, which quickly turned into four. Four hours turned into six, and somewhere along the line, six hours became twelve.

You didn’t text one another often during the week because of time differences and lives outside of each other. As you both went to college--you pursuing your career of choice where Pin decided to get an undergrad that would lead to a job as a farm vet by the time he was twenty six--you stopped texting altogether, went back to your letter-sending, and kept facetiming one another every week.

By the time that you were twenty-one, you’d come to a realization.

You were in love with Pin Hawthorne. Though you realized it at twenty-one, you’d been in love with him since you were eighteen, having fallen for him through the process of written word as you got to know him.

So, you got in touch with Zoe, one of his coworkers. She recognized you from the times that you’d been on facetime with Pin as he worked an easy Saturday at the stables, and the two of you had talked a bit through that. In June, the first inklings of an idea came to mind.

You wanted to surprise Pin, but getting time off where you worked required booking it months in advance. Zoe was completely on board with the plan and introduced you to Marcus, Jade, Becky, and Mia.

It was decided in June that you’d visit Pin during one of his less-busy times of the year. The university he was attending to get his degree in veterinary science gave students the month of December off, so you booked a flight to the airport closest to the island that would arrive early-ish on the morning of the second of December.

From there, you’d take a train to get to the island, rest off the jetlag during the two and a half hours you’d be stuck there, and Zoe and Marcus would pick you up from the train station. They would drop you at the hotel that Mia had gotten you a discount on, and Jade and Becky would pick you up two hours later, after you had more time to rest and recuperate a bit more.

All in all, you’d be there at noon. Zoe would trick Pin into going into the tack room, where he’d see you standing as you waited.

Pin opened the door, and you looked up with the creak it gave as it was pulled open, having gotten lost in your thoughts as you stared at the shelves.

You looked to him, meeting his gaze, and watching as his face split into a grin.

“Oh my God. This is real, right? You’re actually here?” Pin asked.

You couldn’t help but smile, laughing slightly as you nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “I figured it was time we met each other. We’ve been friends for six years.”

“Oh my God,” Pin said again, stepping into the offices. You let him pull you into a tight hug, hugging him back just as tightly.

“I talked to Zoe. She, Jade, Becky, Marcus and Mia helped me get this set up. I’m here all month, staying a hotel that Mia’s dad owns. The basis of it is that you’re stuck with me until a bit after new years. Congrats!”

Pin laughed, hugging you again. “I’m happier than I have been in months. Thank you so much for coming down.”

“I’ve been having a great time so far, so you don’t need to thank me, Pin,” your stay had just begun, but there had been zero bumps in the road to that point. “I wanted to get to know the guy beyond the letters, is all.”

Pin laughed. “Well, you’ve arrived at the perfect time then. I’m on my lunch break. It ends at one. Care for a tour?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Sounds great.”

So, Pin lead you both out of the tack room and the tour commenced. You stood, mostly quiet and content just to hear him talk. So much of your lives had been that, rambling off at the mouth with one another and responding in kin. It was incredible to know that such a thing wouldn’t change in the event that you were visiting one another in person.

Pin had noticed that, too. The only difference he could account for was the fact that you were with one another, the fact that you were present and in-person, not just with Pin through a screen.

Pin had been in love with you since the two of you were nineteen. He was almost glad for the fact that you’d not met in person to that point, simply for the fact that he was sure that, in the event that you had, he would’ve confessed and ruined the only friendship he had that’d lasted more than half a decade.

“This is probably my favorite spot,” Pin said as the two of you came to stand on the edge of a cliff. It overlooked the water, a beachside only a couple meters off of where the tide hit the sand.

“It’s my favorite spot during spring and summer, anyway. When snow isn’t covering the ground, sitting here and watching the waves makes thinking a lot easier.”

He allowed himself a small grin as he recalled being nineteen and realizing he’d been in love with you as he sat there, It’d been one moment concerning the two of you that he’d never forget, though he could admit that it sat among what sometimes felt like countless others.

“Well, when I come down in the summer, we’ll visit this spot again,” you offered. “Make a picnic out of it, watch the sun go down. We could turn it into a breakfast picnic and watch it come up, the sun is always up later in August, anyway.”

“I love that,” Pin agreed.

He figured it was better to tell you he loved you in person than through a screen or in the process of written word. “Can we talk about something?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something as well, actually. Shoot.”

“I—” he stopped himself, the nerves taking over for a second. It was the first day of your trip. What if, after Pin confessed and discovered his love was unrequited, the remainder of your stay was completely and utterly, undeniably awkward? What if it changed the tone of your friendship for however long into your lives that it was meant to last? “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were nineteen.”

“I was going to say the exact same thing,” you said, feeling like a weight had finally lifted itself from your shoulders. “Except for the fact that it took me a while to realize. I was in love with you when we were eighteen, but I didn’t realize it until summer of last year.”

Pin pressed his forehead against yours, arms easily wrapping around your waist. Yours came to rest on either of his shoulders, grinning so widely that you were entirely sure your mouth would soon start to hurt as your heart filled with something that you couldn’t quite describe. It was better than what you felt when you’d looked at him before. It was something above love, something closer to sheer contentment and love combined.

“Can I kiss you?” Pin asked. You nodded, humming your agreement.

In the next second, his lips were on yours and you registered the fact that you were kissing the guy who’d been your best friend for half a decade. You also registered that there was no place you’d rather be than with him, enjoying the first day of your stay and the end of the tour of the areas around Bright Fields.

When you returned to Bright Fields, hands interlaced, Marcus was the first to notice, eyebrows raised as he grinned, where Zoe and Becky nodded at you.

“Nice catch,” Becky said, looking at you like your relationship had been something she’d expected.

“I know,” you responded. Pin pressed a kiss to the side of your head as you spoke, giving your hand a squeeze.

It’d been the first day of your stay, and somehow, it was already the best one.

#Pin Hawthorne #Pin Hawthorne x reader #free rein

72 notes · View notes