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lunanoc · 3 months

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PART III: WHO ARE KING SHANG OF LU AND THE IRON-MASKED GENTLEMAN, AND WHY IS IT EVEN IMPORTANT

finally we’re reaching the end of this thing

(to see previous disclaimers and context here’s part I and part II of this madness)

blanket spoiler warning for the books once again

more disclaimers, the entirety of this part is where i veer solidly into crack theory and full-on interpretation, so while everything i’m presenting here does have arguments based on sources that’s important we do love sources, it’s very much speculation and not hard fact

now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into the really wild stuff

with the various versions of “king shang of lu”’s and the iron-masked gentleman’s story, along with king mu of zhou’s story more or less unpacked (or as unpacked as they can be given we don’t know everything or even have a definitive truth), the real question then becomes what exactly you do with that information

based on what we’ve determined so far through the various versions of these characters’ stories, and taking into account the dubious nature of some or all of them to some degree, i feel there are a few base assumptions and conclusions you can come to, and that i’ll be working with from here on out:

the silkbook that wu xie found in “king shang of lu”’s coffin was indeed a fake, and was placed there with wu xie in mind, knowing that he would find it, and its purpose was to ease wu xie into the game the wu and xie families had been playing with the wang family. whether it was wu sanxing himself or the wang family who did it isn’t certain, and while either is a solid option, @tiesanjiaoshenanigans raised some solid arguments in favor of it being wu sanxing that you can read in their reblog here. in any case, it’s highly unlikely that it was xiaoge. grain of salt because i haven’t reached this point myself, but i’ve looked into a particular passage in ten years (Ten Years, Ch. 31, Key) where wu xie thinks back on the seven star palace, and while he does speculate that wu sanxing had a hand in using the silkbook jin wantang brought to him for his own purposes, wu xie also works on the assumption that it was xiaoge who swapped out a real silkbook for the fake one that contained the first version of king shang of lu’s story, and that his unease was due to recovered memories. granted wu xie does also speculate that he’d had the impression that xiaoge had been to the seven star palace several times before, which is entirely possible due to its significance in relation to “the truth of the world” (credit to @kelly42fox for speculating that maybe the headless corpse thrown into the sacrificial ding cauldron at the entrance of the seven star palace was in fact that missing blood zombie that xiaoge had subdued on a previous visit, and it was this memory that was triggered). however, while wu xie’s word is generally the most trustworthy simply because he’s dmbj’s main narrator, bases his assumptions on logic, and readily course corrects when he’s proven wrong (so in that sense he’s not the type of unreliable narrator who deliberately misleads the reader), he’s still a limited pov character, and what wu xie thinks he knows isn’t always necessarily the truth. because again, xiaoge planting the fake silkbook implies either he or chen pi ah si had a solid motivation for deceiving wu xie specifically, which seems odd all things considered

the wang family’s version of the tale of king shang of lu is the closest we have to the truth simply by virtue of it being the most detailed, of providing additional information that conveniently sheds light both on things mentioned in prior books and things mentioned in later books, and of it being a tale they clearly believe in. while it’s likely not the entire truth, both because they have a clear bias, and because they themselves are lacking key elements of this history, namely what “the truth of the world” is and what their feud with the zhang family truly stems from (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 146, Wang Zanghai), it’s the best candidate so far

the iron-masked gentleman from the first two versions of “king shang of lu”’s story and the owner of the fox mask from the wang family’s story are the same person, and there might be more to his identity than you’d think

with all this being said, what’s left to consider is the possible identities of the characters in this story, namely king shang of lu, the iron-masked gentleman, and king mu of zhou, and the ramifications of those possibilities

let’s start with the iron-masked gentleman, as he’s arguably the most nebulous of the three, and for the sake of convenience i’m going to refer to him as just iron mask from here on out since that’s what he’s best known as

ironically however, the first detail i want to bring attention to regarding him is that he specifically wears a fox mask adorned with “patterns often found on bronze ware”, bronze ware being so precious a material at the time that it was used almost exclusively for ritual objects, most often funerary ones (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 132, Lesson). later, we learn from the wang instructor that similar fox masks were correlated with a specific group of tomb robbers operating in shandong (where this story takes place) during the same time period (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 134, Deception). based on this alone, i feel it’s safe to say that some type of parallel is being drawn between both iron mask, and if not this particular group of grave robbers, then at the very least the activity of robbing tombs. this detail will be important in a bit

for now, let’s look at how iron mask is presented to the reader in the various versions of king shang of lu’s story we’re successively given:

in the first version taken from the fake silkbook, iron mask plays a fairly neutral role despite helping king shang of lu to find the famed jade burial armor, which ironically in this version he also reveals the existence of to the man he advises

in both the second version briefly mentioned by xiaoge and in the third version given by the wang family, iron mask plays a more duplicitous role, either by stealing the jade armor for himself, or by sharing in duping the ruler of the state of lu to acquire his resources to find the jade burial armor in king mu of zhou’s tomb

according to the wang family’s version of the story, iron mask wasn’t king shang of lu’s advisor, but rather the advisor of the ruler of the state of lu, and as such, while he wasn’t in a position of direct power himself, he was in a position to influence said power, and he clearly did given he deliberately swayed the ruler of the state of lu into granting resources to rob king mu of zhou’s tomb. it’s also noteworthy enough to mention that the state of lu happens to be where confucius was born among other eminent scholars of the spring and autumn period, the intellectually prosperous period preceding the warring states period, and the one during which king mu of zhou supposedly began to implement his plan by incorporating the guarantee of tomb robbing into chinese tradition itself (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 135, Stone Box). as such, the state of lu had a particularly important cultural influence on the rest of china both at the time and going forward. what i’m getting at by bringing this up is that iron mask was therefore not only in a position to influence the court of just any of the many states of the eastern zhou dynasty, he was in a position to influence one of the more prominent states of the time that had been a hub for some of the foundations of chinese culture for millenia to come. that iron mask was the one to recommend “king shang” to the ruler of the state of lu in the first place, clearly long before king shang ever had any sort of prominent position at court, further solidifies this idea.

and while there’s no direct evidence to infer that king shang, iron mask, and king mu might have been searching for and robbing tombs before iron mask ever brought up the idea of robbing king mu’s to the ruler of the state of lu, the previous connection between iron mask and the grave robbers with fox masks seems to hint at that possibility, and the narrative, by drawing this parallel, lends itself to interpreting iron mask and these fox-mask wearing grave robbers as some sort of organized collective

as mentioned in a previous part, the wang instructor explains to li cu that a number of these fox masks were found in tombs all over shandong, and that grave robbers of the time associated foxes with grave robbing because they’d often burrow in grave robber tunnels and around graveyards. what this then means is that, assuming these fox mask-wearing grave robbers and iron mask are indeed connected, then the activity of grave robbing itself is also connected to iron mask, or rather iron mask is connected to tomb robbing. as for the reasoning behind why someone would consistently wear a mask to the point their identity becomes eclipsed by it, the easiest answer is to assume that concealing their identity was maybe the point, and in the case of iron mask, given we have no information on his real name or anything else about him really, if that was his goal, then he clearly succeeded. therefore this fox mask he wears potentially has the dual purpose of both hiding his identity, and establishing some form of kinship with others who wore similar masks

to sum up then, iron mask was a man whose true identity and name remains unknown, who held an influential position in the court of one of the more prominent and certainly most culturally significant states of the eastern zhou dynasty, was associated in some capacity with grave robbing via kinship with a group of people who wore the same type of mask as him, and he used his influence at court to sway the ruler he advised into taking actions that benefited him in some capacity. as it happens, we know of at least one organized group of people in dmbj’s universe who also held influential positions in various imperial courts, are associated with grave robbing, and used their influence in spheres of power to sway rulers and/or the course of history in directions that benefited them and/or their endgame

do you see where i’m going with this

again, there’s nothing anywhere that can directly confirm that either iron mask and/or the fox-masked grave robbers were members of the zhang family or even associated with them, but there’s also nothing to technically disprove it either so i’ll just. leave the parallels here for people’s consideration

but where things get even more interesting is when you stop to then consider who “king shang of lu” might be

outside of the very first stone slab we get in the seven star palace that describes king shang of lu as having been “born with the ghost seal in hand” and the command of the army of the dead, if we assume that version 1 of his story in the silkbook that wu xie finds is dubious at best, then we don’t really get all that much about king shang of lu’s life or identity. the wang family’s version describes him as being introduced to the court of the state of lu as a descendent of the zhou emperor and as a “strange man” or “奇人” (qiren), which can either mean a “strange” person or an “extraordinary” person, as in having extraordinary talents, which arguably, given what his tomb looks like, he was (Sand Sea Part III, Ch. 132, Lesson).

beyond this however, there’s nothing in the wang family’s version to suggest that king shang of lu was anyone of note before iron mask quite literally pulled him out of thin air, as if he’d never existed until he suddenly appeared at court one day like a mysterious messenger from the beyond that the ruler of the state of lu, if not purports him to be, then may also believe him to be. the mystery persists with the tale of how king shang of lu supposedly gained his title by communing with the dead king mu of zhou to ask permission to open his tomb, since while we know that this perspective on what happened is in fact skewed by what the ruler of the state of lu who was tricked saw, and that in reality, king mu of zhou wasn’t dead, knowing this doesn’t answer how king shang of lu actually acquired the ghost seal or who he really is, if his identity is even significant. that he was “born with the ghost seal” in hand is likely a descriptor made to reflect him coming out of the coffin he’d been sealed as if “reborn” under his new title with the proof of his “covenant” with king mu of zhou. however, given the meaning of the name 殇 shang mentioned earlier (that is to say “to die young or at war”), and despite the explanation given of his title as a means to justify the subsequent robbing of king mu of zhou’s tomb, it nonetheless leaves you wondering why this name, and why specify that he was a direct descendant of king mu rather than simply “forming a covenant” with him? it could simply be that it was the most efficient ploy to manipulate the ruler of the state of lu into finding convenient moral outs, and there’s nothing more to read into it than the first step of the elaborate plan king mu of zhou had roped king shang of lu and iron mask into

but consider: we’ve established that while it seemed as if there were only two people working together, in fact there were three. but what if against all odds, there really were only two people in the end? after all, a third party is never really hinted at in the earlier versions of this story we get in book 1, unless you count the initial corpse in the fake silkbook version of the story that king shang supposedly removed from the jade burial armor when he found it, but that can’t have been king mu if king mu was in fact alive. what i’m saying is, what if we consider the crazy possibility that king mu of zhou and king shang of lu were in fact the same person

we know that king mu of zhou faked his death centuries before, and while he might have simply sought out and convinced king shang and iron mask of his identity, objectively, the less outside parties involved in his plan, the better. to be fair, it’s entirely possible that king mu used himself as a living example that immortality existed in order to bait king shang and iron mask into helping him, only for them to betray him later and successively take the jade armor for themselves. but if you consider the possibility that king shang was nothing more than an alias king mu used to “return to life” so to speak, it wouldn’t be less fitting of an explanation, as who could possibly have stood to recognize the face of a man centuries dead? of course, nothing really exists to solidly confirm this idea, which is the case for pretty much all of this “meta” that’s entirely speculation at this point but consider

after all, king mu of zhou saw “the truth of the world” in the queen mother of the west’s kingdom. i’ll come back to her briefly later, but we also know that to our knowledge, before wang zanghai, the zhang family were the only other people to have access to that “truth”. it’s reasonable to assume that king mu of zhou, having seen the “truth of the world” and returned from the queen mother of the west’s kingdom changed from it in more ways than one, might have also gained knowledge of another party who knew this “truth”. it’s equally reasonable to assume that rather than go through a third party and thus introduce an unknown variable into his plan, and seeing as king mu of zhou had been “dead” long enough that no one would recognize him should he choose to assume a different identity, it would have simply been easier to approach the only other party who both shared in the same forbidden knowledge, as well as presumably shared similar goals to some extent. and if iron mask was a zhang, then coming back to the previous point, given his particular social status, iron mask would have been the prime candidate for king mu to turn to for assistance. it also stands to reason that if iron mask was a zhang, then by extension a member of the zhang family would have accepted a mutually beneficial arrangement. after all, king mu’s plan and goals aligned somewhat with the zhang family’s interests, and they had to have been aware of king mu’s covert manipulation during the spring and autumn period. using grave robbing as a means of perpetuating curated traditions and culture over centuries, manipulating the flow of history, and thus making it extremely easy to practice convenient historical revisionism perfectly aligned with the zhang family’s designs. arguably it’s also precisely what the zhang family had been doing and continued to do, as wu xie himself eventually speculates, wondering if the zhang family had used tomb robbing as a means of disseminating if not false, then modified histories in order to control china’s “fate” through the ages (Tibetan Sea Flower, Ch. 67, Biggest Secret)

in addition to that, considering we know the ghost seal is something tied to the main zhang family, particularly zhang qiling, and that it allows passage into the bronze gate beneath changbai mountain that houses the ultimate (which is what “the truth of this world” ostensibly is) past the ghost army that does exist (though whether they can be controlled is something we have no evidence of), it’s also not a stretch of the imagination to consider that the zhang family might have lent the ghost seal to king mu/king shang for appearance’s sake. and if all this did have to do with the zhang family and there really were only two people involved in the endgame of this story, it might also provide a tentative reason for xiaoge’s unease as he tries to parse through why there isn’t a third blood corpse in the seven star palace. it might have triggered a memory or some feeling in him that there was an explanation to all this that existed but that he wasn’t privy to in the moment, but perhaps he had been privy to it in the past, and perhaps he had come to find it many times before that he could no longer recall because it was a place tied to the zhang family in some capacity

that does however raise the question of why then had iron mask’s memoirs been circulating if he’d been a zhang, but then again, dissemination of information via tombs was a plan the zhang family had every reason to encourage and perpetuate if they hadn’t already been in the business of practicing it, so if iron mask was a zhang, he would have neither had any qualms about participating in it himself, nor of providing a revised version of the truth. after all, we have no indication that version 2 of the story as told by xiaoge is a truthful account either, especially since this version still doesn’t reveal a name for the iron-masked gentleman despite it coming from his supposed memoirs

in addition to that, we also get an interesting tidbit in hindsight from practically the very beginning of book 1, where wu sanxing takes note of the fox pattern on the warring states silkbook that started wu xie’s journey into the conspiracies and says that it depicts “the mask worn by the earliest people in the state of lu when they were offered up as sacrifices” and that it must mean that “someone with a very special identity” was buried in the tomb, possibly “more respected that the emperor” (Book 1, Ch.3, Temple of Seeds). it’s hard to say what to make of the notion that the fox-masked people were “sacrifices” considering the wang family’s story explicitly makes them out to be grave robbers, so either or both of them is a lie. however, it does at least confirme there is something special about these fox-masked people beyond what’s being said (especially given the green-eyed fox corpse, who following the zhang logic, might have been a lower ranked family member offered up as a sacrifice and who turned after death, but this is probably a stretch), and whoever is buried in that tomb is abnormally important. the only real issue you run into with this train of thought is considering how far back the zhang family tomb extends, why would any zhang of note not be buried in it, so that’s at least one gap in logic

all of this then leaves us with a final question: if we assume iron mask was a zhang, and that king shang of lu was in fact a false identity created by king mu of zhou for himself, then what exactly happened in the seven star palace, and who is who in what coffin?

we know that the seven star palace is a warring states period tomb constructed on top of a pre-existing western zhou dynasty tomb. there’s no indication of whether this pre-existing tomb was meant to be king mu’s (in which case it was at least partially a dupe as he was still alive), and raises the problem of king mu not having had the jade armor prior to the king shang of lu story as he was actively looking for it, so he can’t have found it in his own tomb. to me, this means there are two possibilities to consider:

possibility one: king mu had a tomb built for himself during his reign that was designed with his plan in mind, which might explain the presence of the snake cypress (which we again only ever see elsewhere in gutongjing in ancient ruins related to a candle dragon baby snake mine, so clearly it being in the seven star palace is of some significance). king mu and iron mask did find a jade burial armor, but in another tomb or elsewhere that isn’t what would become the seven star palace

possibility two: king mu and iron mask, with each other’s mutual knowledge and abilities, found a tomb containing a jade burial armor that happened to be a western zhou dynasty tomb. the story then roughly proceeds like in the first two versions, and king mu/shang removes the corpse from the jade armor and takes it for himself

in some ways i feel like the most logical and likely option is the first one, simply because the mechanisms inside the seven star palace are too precise and deliberate, namely the timer coffin that was tied to the box with the baby in it (which i won’t be getting into here because that’s for another meta). this then leaves us with the problem of determining exactly who is who in this tomb by the time wu xie walks into it. the wang family implies that king mu’s plan ultimately failed because he hadn’t considered that someone like wang zanghai would come about and have the ability to hijack king mu’s plan for his own purposes. you can interpret that either as referring to his grave robbing plan alone, or that it also refers to king mu himself successfully staying in the jade armor for as long as it would take for him to come out of it side effect free. the ambiguity of what the wang family meant by “plan” makes it difficult to decide whether, following that wording, it leaves room for king mu to have been dumped out of the jade burial armor or not, which doesn’t really make deciding who is who any easier. for the record, wu xie mentions later when he comes back to this story in ten years later that he believes the one buried in the coffin under the snake cypress was iron mask (and npss also states this in his timeline in the postscript of book 8). if we choose to believe this is correct, and that king shang of lu was in fact king mu of zhou, then it leaves two more possible outcomes to the story:

possibility one: the thing in the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace is king mu of zhou, and he was also the blood zombie that xiaoge killed

possibility two: the thing in the coffin is king mu of zhou, but he didn’t turn into a blood zombie, rather into something different or more powerful, and therefore the blood zombie xiaoge killed was someone else

the only thing that makes me doubt in this theory that king mu of zhou could both have been the blood zombie xiaoge killed and whatever was in the coffin at the entrance to the seven star palace is that to start with, there was a coffin so elaborate there to begin with convenient enough to place someone in (unless there had actually initially been a sacrifice in it and that’s the body that got dumped in the ding cauldron on the side to get replaced), that if wu xie was correct in assuming xiaoge had been to the seven star palace before, he would have left a dangerous blood zombie that could roam around in it “alive”, and lastly, the fact that not only did xiaoge kowtow to it to ask for safe passage within the tomb, even after having killed the blood zombie, xiaoge insisted on respecting the time limit the thing in the coffin had set and pushed wu sanxing’s team to leave the seven star palace before dawn regardless. it’s worth noting that xiaoge has never kowtowed to a corpse outside of this occasion (to my knowledge at least), has only actually knelt in front of changbai mountain that houses the bronze gate really, and has only ever spoken to one other also incredibly old and likely powerful corpse that was very likely one of the first people to come out of the kunlun mountains, and that rests inside the meteorite in tamutuo (Restart Part I: The Sound of Providence, Ch. 222, Countdown to the Finale 4).

why adamantly continue to uphold the demands of a creature that you’ve killed and that can presumably no longer harm you? unless leaving before dawn was an imperative that went beyond the sole demands of the thing inside the coffin at the entrance, it’s a little strange. however, the problem with saying that whatever was in the coffin at the entrance to the seven star palace and the blood zombie that xiaoge killed are two different entities makes things difficult, because it would mean there was some third party involved somehow, and it gives possibility two (the one where king mu/shang and iron mask find another tomb to steal the jade burial armor from and co-opt it) a little more ground. i haven’t been able to find any conclusive information on where the real-life king mu of zhou was buried, and it’s hard to say how much of an argument a real-life fact holds for something like this, but it’s interesting to note that the western zhou dynasty’s capital was fenghao, located in what’s now part of present day xi’an in the province of shaanxi, and the province of shaanxi is roughly 800 km (or 500 miles) from the province of shandong where the seven star palace is. it’s relatively far, especially for the time period, so does the distance justify the thought that it might not have been king mu of zhou’s tomb that was used as the basis for the seven star palace after all? did king mu/shang and iron mask really find a tomb that contained a jade burial armor and co-opt it? more food for thought

either way, whether or not the blood zombie xiaoge killed was king mu of zhou, if we choose to follow both wu xie and npss, then it doesn’t change the fact that it’s very likely that regardless, king mu of zhou ended up in the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace, and iron mask in the jade burial armor in the coffin beneath the snake cypress. in that case, it brings into question the motivations iron mask might have had for doing this if, following the current theory, he really was a member of the zhang family. surprisingly, it’s not too difficult to think of some plausible ones

the zhang family have been searching for a way to curb their own terrible longevity curse for centuries, to the extent their blind determination to find meaning in their existence is what proved to be the fatal weakness that drove them right into wang zanghai’s and the wang family’s trap. if he really was a zhang, why then would iron mask have been any different, especially since given the time period, knowledge of anything connected to either the queen mother of the west, or what her kingdom housed (re: the meteorite), or both would have likely still been fresh enough for zhang family members anyway. the promise of the jade burial armor could have been a tempting offer for a man himself doomed from birth. it’s also possible that while king mu of zhou’s grave robbing plan naturally aligned with what the zhang family had likely already been doing, and so in that sense they facilitated it, they drew the line at him potentially accessing longevity, as king mu of zhou remained an outsider and therefore an unknown variable in the long run. better then for one of their own to guard something like a jade burial armor than someone who while aware of the “truth”, wasn’t necessarily an ally, which is what ended up happening much later with wang zanghai. king mu would thus have been a liability to dispose of. and king mu/shang might have sensed this and tried to have all the people working with him killed like the first two versions of the king shang of lu story seem to suggest, and so iron mask really did fake his own death to ensure king mu couldn’t succeed

i realize this idea raises a number of other problems, such as again why the zhangs would not either have kept some knowledge that one of their own was buried not only outside of the family tomb (which had things dating back to the spring and autumn period, suggesting burial in it had already been an established tradition then), but also in something like a jade burial armor. maybe they did, and it’s one of those secrets only zhang qiling is privy to. only xiaoge would truly be able to answer that (not that he will). it’s also possible following this logic that if iron mask did fake his own death, doing so placed him outside the scope of the family enough he was free to act of his own selfish free will and seized the opportunity, but again, this is all speculation. it also raises the question of why the wang family, if they’d known there was a zhang buried in jade burial armor, wouldn’t have tampered with it and removed him, but then again, they likely needed to keep the corpse there to bring their plan against the zhang family to fruition regardless of who it was

for the sake of debate, i might as well also share an alternative theory to this, that while i feel has a lot more problems and ultimately doesn’t fit with a number of other elements of dmbj lore brought up here where the theory this “meta” has been about so far does, is still maybe worth mentioning. it’s essentially the reverse, that the iron-masked gentleman was king mu of zhou’s fabricated identity, and king shang of lu was a zhang. again, i feel like this spin on the theory has a lot of logic problems going on, but if i had to make a case for it:

殇 shang and 张 zhang are vaguely homonyms and both pronounced in the first tone, which while it’s likely a coincidence, lends this theory a tiny bit of substance given the zhang family is also associated with death both by nature and design

if king shang was a zhang, it could explain why he would have had access to the ghost seal, in which case it would have been iron mask who sought the zhang family out and then ultimately duped them

if iron mask was king mu, then his ability to spin a tall tale about himself to the ruler of the state of lu would have been much easier

if king shang was a zhang, then slaughtering any outsiders aware of the plan would have made sense to ensure knowledge would stay within the family

it would also mean that king shang the zhang was tossed out of the jade burial armor and presumably into the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace while iron mask/king mu took his place, and was maybe duped by iron mask/king mu who faked his own death because the zhang family’s hubris has always been massive and he didn’t suspect he could be bested

this would fit with the interpretation that by saying only wang zanghai prevented king mu’s plan from succeeding, the wang family meant both his grave robbing plan and his ability to successfully attain longevity without side effects

this would have presumably also given iron mask/king mu the time to accomplish his “series of things” such as writing his “memoirs” onto a silkbook, constructing his own coffin duo together with the box that contained the unborn baby

that would mean that whatever was in the coffin at the entrance of the seven star palace was a zhang, which might explain why xiaoge would feel the need to kowtow to it when this is something he doesn’t usually do

again, as nice as this idea seems, it has a bunch of flaws to it, namely for example how that would then connect the fox-masked people and iron mask (unless you want to consider those were simply his own followers brought about by implementing his own plan), how king mu even in disguise could have had held a position at court without any suspicion and likely no familial backing as he’d faked his own death, and many more. so ultimately i feel like t’s not as solid of a theory, but it’s an interesting contrasting thought

as for who the queen mother of the west really was, that’s also up for debate and lot more difficult to determine. though li cu suggests even she might be a fabrication meant to embellish the story of king mu of zhou for the sake of luring people into believing immortality existed, we know enough by sand sea to be certain she did in fact exist. while it’s unclear whether she truly was the queen mother of the west of legend, i like to think she was simply because we have no other accounts of anyone with that name, and because of how deeply entrenched she was in things relating to “the truth of the world” that she was more or less implied to have been privy to. the theory i’m personally going with is that she discovered the meteorite in the qaidam basin and constructed a kingdom around it (which would have taken far longer than a lifetime to accomplish to the degree that she did), knowing full well what the meteorite represented and what it could do. and if she did know, then considering her knowledge of “the truth of this world”, and her supposed longevity, it’s not entirely impossible to consider, especially given the title of the book itself, that the queen mother of the west might be related to the ancestors of the zhang family mentioned in queen mother’s ghost banquet, and that she simply belonged to a different branch of those people who took a different direction than the zhang family did, and sought to remedy the curse in a different way. and what better way than to return to its source? after all, knowing the zhang family’s origins, it’s not impossible to suggest that not all of the people who emerged from beneath the kunlun mountains and among other things built the bronze gate all ended up congregating to form what would become the zhang family. we know, for example, that baima, xiaoge’s mother, also had special blood akin to the one running in the zhang family, enough that she passed it on to xiaoge, ironically granting him purer special blood than any other main family zhang by that point. so it’s not that far-fetched to think there may have been offshoots of the zhang family’s ancestors who chose to lead a different life and eventually drifted apart from their brethren enough that they lost knowledge of each other, or served a different purpose for whatever is controlling the zhang family like marionnettes on a string

so this has been a massive “meta” i still can’t believe i actually sat down and wrote this

hopefully it makes some kind of sense and isn’t just incoherent babbling i’m going to be honest that’s still what it is lbr and i’m not sure it’s contributed much to anything besides being one more rabbit hole crack theory, but uhhh if you’ve stuck out this long thank you for reading! and feel free to comment or add anything onto this i’m always happy to talk about dmbj lore please talk to me about dmbj lore

#dmbj #meta #dmbj meta #idk if i'm more pikachu face at the fact i wrote this #or actually finished it #BUT IT IS DONE #thank fck #i want to say this is my humble contribution #but really what is it contributing to #besides me gnawing on my walls about dmbj lore #i'm literally that that one gif of the guy and his conspiracy theory red thread board #this is my life now

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formulafics · 6 months

Text

★ DO I WANNA KNOW? | JB22

Scenario: in which a series of unexpected events, starting with being stuck in the same hotel room with a single bed, takes teammates yn ln and jenson button from major rivals to lovers.

Pairing: jenson button x fem!reader

A/N: no one asked for this but LAWD I LOVE JENSON BUTTON. i had to do something about it 😔 shoutout to @renarots for supplying memes and 4 am brain rot that contributed to the making of this fic and most of my other ones too

NOTE: yn and jenson drive for mercedes (i had to do this for my own sanity)

racing_news

liked by buttonnation, sebrrari, and 12,432 others

racing_news jenson button responds to questions about his relationship with teammate yn ln following this weekends rumors.

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formulawrld idec about the rumors jenson looks so fine bro

formulavettel i bet seb knows all the tea about them. sebastian please spill

webbersebberf1 🤨 surely they could have just gotten another room? they have the money for it. idk, me thinks they’re dating and trying to keep it secret

⤷ ferrarilvr LITERALLY. you genuinely cannot convince me that they aren’t dating after this

⤷ shumione you genuinely thing they’re together even with how much they clearly don’t like each other?

⤷ ferrarilvr 🤷🏻‍♀️ things change and honestly i feel like they’ve had feelings for each other and just didn’t want to admit it

It had been three months since the “hotel incident”. Finally, you texted him. You weren’t sure what to expect from him, but you were ultimately relieved by his response, and didn’t wast a single moment on making your way to him.

With each step you take, a small splash sounds beneath your feet. Rain patters on the ground, and you pull your jacket closed in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold gust of wind that blows through the night. Each stride is powerful and determined - the truth is, you like Jenson. What once was a deep disdain for the man has somehow formed into a blossoming adoration for him. Miscommunications and mistakes lead you down the wrong path with him, but ever since the night of the “hotel incident” — as you, Jenson, and your team call it — you haven’t been able to see him in a bad light.

“Look, i’m sorry,” Jenson says, his expression softer than it had ever been towards you. You were almost offended, thinking he was about to try and make you feel bad, but that wasn’t the case. “You’re more than welcome to go - actually, i’ll pay for your hotel room if you want to leave, but if you’re choosing to stay, i’ll give you your space.” It was unlike him, at least, the him that you knew. He seemed remorseful and genuine, like you and him were anything but rivals. It made your heart beat just a little faster in your chest, and you couldn’t deny how strangely right it felt to be in the same bed with him. Even sharing the room was almost natural.

You turned away from each other to change, but both of you were guilty of peeking over your shoulder. Your eyes lingered for longer than you’d ever admit, but the same went for him. Neither of you could muster the courage to say anything, to address the tension between you both, and despite what should have been an awkward atmosphere, you both found yourselves comfortable in each others presence, even with the weight of your forbidden thoughts.

Not much happened after that, truthfully. Things did change though. Suddenly, his presence didn’t irk you, and you could never get on his nerves. You worked together more willingly, almost volunteered, and through those minor changes, you both came to realize how wrong you’d been about the other. Sure, Jenson had his moments, but he was sweet, a genuine and polite guy. You weren’t entitled the way Jenson thought - in fact, you were humble, kind…and how could he ever not see just how beautiful you are?

He doesn’t know the answer to that, but now, knowing that you’re moments away, he finds himself anxious. In a good way. He’s excited to see you, and he laughs to himself about how ironic that is given how he used to dread seeing you. A knock on his door draws him back to reality, and he knows it’s you. Outside of the hotel room, you wait impatiently, and breathe a sigh of relief when he finally opens the door. Instanly, like an instinct, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into his warmth. His reaction is just as instinctive, and he wraps his arms around you, guiding you into the privacy of his room.

For the first time, you talked. Not yelled, not argued, just spoke to one another. It was a completely different experience for the two of you, one that you never thought would come of your relationship, but it came to you naturally. The warm touch of his hand holding yours, the somehow assuring and slightly intimidating way he looked at you as you spoke, the way he didn’t just listen to you, he heard you. And, you did the same for him. Though he didn’t have much to say, you listened and heard, and soon, you felt as though you’d only just met him, yet known him for years. Not the rival Jenson, but a Jenson you could get used to, one that you didn’t back away from when he leaned in.

It was a small, sealing kiss that he placed on your lips. One to really ensure that all of this was happening, that things were changing between the both of you, and you both accepted it, with a weight lifting off of your shoulders.

mercedesamgf1

liked by the.ynln, jensonbutton, and 265,672 others

mercedesamgf1 last time in Abu Dhabi…

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hereforbutton okay but are jenson and yn dating? PLEASE TELL US

formulaobsessed ARE YOUR DRIVERS DATING? YES OR NO?

⤷ mercedesamgf1 🤭

⤷ hereforbutton okay so what the fuck does that mean

formulayn we do NOT care about jenson rn where is my wife

mercamgfan maybe this time don’t prioritize the inferior driver 🙏🏻 yn deserves her wdc

hereforyn i’m so scared that this race is gonna send yn and jenson back into their rival arc

⤷ jensonbuttonlvr NO WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT. i cant handle them going back to rivals now

⤷ ynsgirlie i know. now that we have them being nice, i can’t imagine going back to what they used to be

mercedesamgf1

liked by the.ynln, jensonbutton, nicorosberg, and 346,789 others

mercedesamgf1 OUR WORLD CHAMPION ❤️ an exceptional performance from yn today, and a well deserved win. thank you for another amazing year, @/the.ynln

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the.ynln i’m gonna cry 💔 thank you guys so much.

formulayn THATS MY FUCKING WIFE IM SO PROUD OF HER

buttonynamg MY BABIES P1-P2 IN WDC IM SO PROUD RIGHT NOW

formulaobssesed who’s here after the post race interview? 🤭

⤷ markwebba I KNEW THEY WERE GONNA FALL IN LOVE

⤷ jensonsbutton bro jenson was heart eyes for her in the whole interview and the way he kissed her cheek when she started talking about their relationship 💔 he was so gentle

⤷ hereforbutton what got me was her getting emotional about the win and him hugging her like :( i was always hoping they’d start getting along but i did not expect them to become like this

🏷️: general taglist | @renarots @jsjcue @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @minkyungseokie @treehouse-mouse

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

Text

The Host | Yandere Zoldyck Family

“I’m so happy, we were able to locate the portal so quickly! Now you all can return to your world without breaking the space-time continuum!” You mused, happily sipping on the piping hot tea in front of you.

Whether you liked it or not, you wouldn’t have refused this cup. After all, it was specially crafted for and given to you by the reclusive Zoldycks. It was an honor—more like a miracle that you were being served an un-poisoned cup of tea.

You were used to prickly (read as: murderous) anomalies that were ejected into the aimless void of time. As per your occupation you housed and befriended said anomalies until it was time that they returned to their dimensions.

When you were selected at the end of your life for this position, the galactic overlords in charge assured you that this was a duty perfect for you. That no matter what, your tenants would find themselves comforted by you during their time there.

You begged to disagree even though none of your tenants had successfully ended your life yet. You prepared yourself for the day they one day would.

“Yes, it will be a shame to lose contact with a host as pleasant as you.”

Zeno smiled, closing his eyes as brought his own cup to his mouth. Letting a hand fall over your heart you silently thanked him. Another hand reached for you tearing your attention away from the former head.

“It is a shame your work keeps you so busy!” Kikyo cried, holding your hand. Gingerly running the pads of her fingers over your knuckles.

“Ah, but I feel as though I haven’t worked a day.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you like this job of yours?” The old man raised his brow.

“Of course! When I’m not hosting I’m free to do what I please and the guests that come by always make things interesting.”

Memories of the various visitors came to mind as you smiled; Kikyo puckered her lip in a pout. Her clutch on your hand had gotten slightly tighter, nothing alarming but noticeable.

“But don’t you feel overworked? Tired? Lonely?”

“There’s always the other people in the town.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have expected them to have any intelligible conversation.”

You dismissed the slight towards your community, it’d be impossible for her to realize their worth within the year. Granted they weren’t particularly strong or inquisitive; it wasn’t like they were built to be outstanding anyway. Nonetheless, they were kind to you and always understanding when it came to the guests. Not once have you needed to send a complaint to upper management. Everyone played their prescribed roles without fail.

“They can be really pleasant, once you get to know them.”

Zeno sighed, “So you say but I can’t imagine you not caring for them. You're always so forgiving.”

“Well…they have their flaws.”

“Ah! You’re too humble (Y/n)! The least they can do is honor your contribution to their pathetic lives!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zoldyck but a cake every once in a while is good enough for me.”

“Ah! So simple (Y/n), it screams you no nothing of luxury!”

“Really I feel as though I’ve almost been overwhelmed with it with the Zoldycks here.”

“Please! If you could see the Zoldyck Estate in our world, you’d truly know luxury!”

You let her continue, chatting with her and Zeno, who occasionally chimed in. It was time to enjoy their company for they’d be gone before you knew it.

____________________________________

“Ne (Y/n)! Alluka wants to hold onto your jacket for a bit is that alright?”

“Oh? I barely noticed I left it behind but sure.”

You continued to walk side by side with Killua making your way to your destination. The wind was cold. Wisping at your cheeks and nose as you mesmerized yourself with the smoky puff your breath made. Catching cat-like blue eyes watching you with amusement you stopped, replacing it with an embarrassed smile.

He snickered. “What? Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh Killua you're the only kid that makes me feel like a silly child again.”

“Eh?! You make it sound like I’m the reason you’re just childish anyway.”

You playfully hummed. “Hm. Maybe I am.”

You shared a laugh before letting your eyes begin to wander. Looking past the trees of the park to admire the clouded sky blending into the freezing lake. Despite having walked this path millions of times before, it never failed to take your breath away. Making you sigh in awe, you minded the frozen droplets hanging off the naked branches; looking as though they were a part of some artist’s canvas.

Even the rosiness that danced at your cheeks brought by your body’s attempt to warm you in the frigid season, felt magical in its own right. It was easy to lose sight of your path as your feet remember the way; allowing you to drift.

But before you could go too far the warmth of another hand-a smaller hand in your pocket brought you back. Looking down in surprise at the blushing owner looking away from you. You chuckled intertwining his smaller, rougher hand with yours as you walked with a pep in your step.

“I-I’m just keeping my hand warm. Where I’m from it never gets this cold.”

You smirked. “Sure!”

You didn’t believe him and he knew that. But that wasn’t the point anyway.

“You two seem to be getting along well.”

The monotone voice stopped the both of you in your tracks. Standing in a slim-fitted insulating jacket was the eldest of the Zoldyck children. Standing precisely on the crack in the sidewalk he demanded you meet at. You didn’t miss the annoyed click of Killua’s teeth. Or the blank foreboding stare directed at a specific pocket of yours.

“Yup, Killua offered to walk me to our meetup spot. If you’re alright with it, I wouldn’t mind if he came with us.”

Illumi robotically tilted his head, his eyes still trained on the same spot it had been focused on since he started watching you.

“I doubt Kil would find any enjoyment in where we’re going.”

Killua's eye twitched. “Oh? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere for adults, I’m sure you’d find it boring.”

“Really try me,”

The two intensely held each other’s gaze, vaguely conveying that this may need your intervention. With a well-timed sneeze, you might have saved yourself and the whole park from their ‘playful’ exchange of blows. Illumi seemed to back down first stepping closer to your unoccupied side where he waited for his brother to leave.

Said brother didn’t look all too convinced. Squeezing his hand in yours brought his attention to you, already smiling in silent reassurance.

“Hey, take care of my sweater for me ‘kay.”

The silent message was heard as Killua, who begrudgingly released your hand from his hold. With a final glare towards his brother, he’d begun to leave, watching as you turned and waved to him as he went. He also watched as his brother slipped his hand into your opposite pocket. With a final click of his tongue, he moved at speeds practically impossible for the human eye back to the apartment you’d organized for him and Alluka.

Making your way wordlessly out of the park, finally stopping within the toasty insides of a ceramics shop. With the unmolded clay in front of you and the guide having finished their instruction, you finally giggled at Illumi.

“I’d hardly call ceramics an adults-only event.”

Illumi didn’t laugh, he didn’t even look up from the shape he was focused on molding.

“I would. He isn’t a part of this so it isn’t bizarre for it to be considered an adult event.”

You decided to keep quiet about the toddler two tables down. Instead, you poked your head over the assassin’s shoulder to see what he was making. Glad you hadn’t started working on your own creation, you pulled back the raven locks that were spilling dangerously close to his work in progress.

Missing the slight stutter of his fingertips as he registered the soft, gentle hold of your fingertips he continued. Opting to focus solely on his creation with more intensely.

“I’m so glad I brought a hair tie for this exact moment.”

“...if you don’t hurry up your clay will dry and your money will go to waste.”

“Ah. So money conscious.”

Finished with a nice low ponytail, you scooched back into your seat; prepared to begin your own creation. Sparing a glance at Illumi, you expected he’d be laser-focused on his work but instead he was staring at you unapologetically. While you found this wasn’t uncommon for him it didn’t change the fact that it was still odd.

“So uh what are you making?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just asking, are you worried I’ll make fun?”

“My finished product will be more than enough to answer you, right?

“I guess so.”

You had an inkling of worry that he’d create something graphic and horrific. But you had to remind yourself: he wasn’t Milluki. Who unapologetically, on multiple accounts, scarred surprised you with animal entrails, graphic posters, and concerning digital art that bore striking resemblance to you.

Speaking of striking resemblance…you had a glorious idea.

____________________________________________________

“So…what is it?”

You hated to ask but you had to. The ceramic resembled the bare requirements of a face colored by a paint color akin to your skin tone. Somehow when you turned your head to the left side you saw a screaming face but when you turned your head to the right it looked as though it was smiling.

“....”

He just stared at you blankly (as he usually did) but you could tell there was something unfamiliar. He turned his head away from you as he reached for his creation back.

“If you can’t tell than it shouldn’t matter.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sorry!”

You held the…thing in your hands with care as you bore witness to the rare sight of an embarrassed Illumi.

“Even if I don’t know what it is I think it’s beautiful in its own right.”

“Don’t lie its unbecoming of you.”

“I’m not lying!”

You let him snatch it from your hand and tuck it in his pocket. Smiling to yourself, you found comfort in that he didn’t immediately toss it into the trashcan by the doorway. Catching up with his quick pace you held you’re wrapped creation to your chest.

“I would like to continue on now.”

“Don’t just sweep it under the rug! It’s all about growth.”

_____________________________________________

“Here you are Kalluto!”

He was doing what you had suggested: finding his own style. Alas, he still found himself taking the most buried articles of clothing from your closet and posing in the mirror. If you had noticed you didn’t say much, when you let yourself into the room he’d been given.

“I made it just for you.”

The vase had a pink hue, with speckles of purple. He liked it but he was curious why he was gifted this.

“I based it off the color of your eyes. I saw the shade being offered and I thought it’d be a perfect souvenir for you.”

His cheeks were overtaken by a hot crimson as he gingerly accepted the small vase. He loved it! Holding it close to his chest he almost missed the presence of his eldest brother outside his room. Judging by the slim-fitted jacket, his hat, and his pointed stare at the gift itself told Kalluto everything he needed to know. So that was his decision, for his day out with you? The ceramics shop?

The image of you crafting something while smiling along with him. Hands touching one another while you both crafted something beautiful. Your attention solely focused on him.

He’s so jealous.

“Thank you. It looks beautiful.”

“ I’m so happy you like it! I was worried I wouldn’t get the color right but looking at you now I see I’m right on the mark.”

Kalluto’s cheeks never changed from heir red color, causing him to tuck his head into the collar of the shirt he stole from you borrowed. Sending a cautious look at the figure in the doorway he took a gamble. He put the vase down, quickly moving to nestle his head into your stomach almost immediately having your arms wrap around him. He didn’t bother locking eyes with the observer, instead pretending to be fully enveloped by your attention.

If he did have a problem, Kalluto could argue that his time with you was limited. Therefore nothing was off the table. Not when their access to you would be gone forever. He’d rather it not be that way.

__________________________________________________

“Silva.”

The call of his wife had the current head of the Zoldyck family, wordlessly asking what she needed. Nonetheless, he responded in kind.

“Kikyo.”

The two of them were seated a ways apart from one another each sipping on their respective drinks as the candles slowly burned.

“We need to talk about (Y/n).”

“What is there to talk about?”

He knew what she wanted to talk about. Those of any authority within the Zoldyck family already had a gray consensus about their host. All that was needed was definite words, so that they could be a united front on the subject.

“On the topic of (Y/n) coming with us.”

Silva crossed his arms.

“We cannot.”

“Why not? All of us like them! They show promise in maintaining the family, they’ve even convinced Kil to come home more often!”

He wanted to grit his teeth but he didn’t. Only brought his cup to his mouth for a pensive sip.

“No, they’d never survive training. Let alone our world in general.”

He maintained his composure as he parroted Zeno’s consultation. Even as his wife slammed her own cup on the tray and opened her mouth to protest. He knew she’d ask because he had asked.

“Mr. Silva. Is it okay if I call you that or would you rather it be Mr. Zoldyck?”

It amazed him that such a meek, small, weak host would have made him even consider bringing you along with them when they returned. Their host couldn’t be farther from them brimming with compassion and mindfulness that brought out a side the family had long since fought against.

It shouldn’t have enamored them as it had. But it did. Leaving everyone in the family vying for their attention. With them the family’s prowess in killing meant nothing and it didn’t do any favors in garnering positive response.

But it was for that exact reason Zeno mused that they’d never fit in the Zoldyck family. Even if they chose the route of marrying you into the family it would diminish your time with the everyone. Favoring the one they’d marry over all others. It’d be so unfair

“Husband, this opportunity to attain a sliver of another world would benefit the Zoldyck family! Even more so as a tenant or as a servant under all our care! It wouldn’t impede the family’s strength and their rules to serve would make them an asset to explore.”

“And have them reach a butler’s strength alone. At their level?”

Kikyo hung her head covering her visor with her hands as she resisted the urge to weep. Silva refused to look at her, focusing intensely on the still liquid in his cup. The pain in this revelation was mutual.

“Mr. Silva, did you go to aquariums when you were younger?”

“For missions.”

“What about on your own?”

“What would be the purpose of that?”

“I don’t know, to see the animals. To learn about them.”

“What use would learning about these animals do? If there is no time that I’ll be within their biome it would do nothing for me to retain this information.”

“Isn’t it nice to just be in awe though? To just fathom loosely about the world we barely have begun to discover?”

The image of their excited face illuminated by the tank was the moment Silva’s first felt that emotion. It reminded him of meeting Kikyo, of having his heir, of establishing a budding lineage. He learned that feeling was better not left ignored for it could very well determine the safety of the ones he felt it for.

He’s seen it in his children, in all his children, so he could only see what he could control spiraling for the others. He could only think about the repercussions for when they returned home. There’d be no way to cull it easily; with you being literal dimensions apart.

Kikyo’s sulking stopped abruptly her hands folding to sit on her lap.

“Perhaps there is a way to bring them without breaking the rules.”

Blue eyes look at her expectantly.

“The Zoldyck’s have not encountered anyone worthy enough to consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“Yes, the process hasn’t been used within the family before…if it were to be implemented–” There was something hopeful within her voice and a twitch of a smile on Silva’s lip.

“Then the rules that qualify the one adopted would be entirely up to the head of the family.”

Silva attempted to resist the smile that spread across his face, as he leaned back onto his hand. How apparent would it be that their host had such an impact on them since they left the mansion? But even so, this was proof that they should have their host after all.

“I’ll have to check with Zeno…but perhaps it might be a veritable solution.”

____________________________________________

You were glad you spent the night before sobbing your heart out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to smile through the Zoldyck’s goodbyes. Granted none of them, except for Kalluto and Alluka, were even close to shedding a single tear. Nonetheless, you hugged them all trying to calm yourself.

The otherworldly energy spewing from the portal never made you nervous before and yet your hair was standing on end. Your tolerance for fearful situations had decreased significantly as you got to know the Zoldyck family but it never completely went away. You weren’t an idiot.

They were a family of assassins.

It’s foolish not to expect threats on your life at every other turn. But this had an effect on you on a deeper level than that. This was more unsettling.

Was it the amount of place-holding spirits killed during their stay? Or the physical planet of this dimension lurching as it coughed up one of the most murderous families to stay here? Or was there something wrong with the integrity of the dimension itself?

You were tethered to the realm and it was tethered to you. For the most part, it only means you have a loose idea of what’s to come with the weather or an effect on a guest’s actions. But in times of dire situations, you’ve had the world reach out to you. At this point, you were already looking for a sign.

But that wasn’t your main focus not when the younger ones were keeping you occupied. Hanging on your arms were Alluka and Killua; the latter was playfully mirroring the former.

“Aw (Y/n)! We’ll miss you so much!”

“Yeah! We’ll miss you soooo much!”

“Ah Killua at least you could pretend to be serious about this.”

Spying Kalluto a ways off clutching the vase you had made him you gave him a small smile.

“This relocation didn’t turn out to be a complete waste.”

Milluki spoke up, unabashed as he pulled along a cart of all his anime and gaming memorabilia. You could see the invisible sneers of disgust from majority of the family, Killua didn’t even bother hiding his.

“For once I’d agree,” Illumi chimed sending a bottomless look in your direction. “There were plenty of…unexpected trades to learn in a world devoid of hunters.”

“Thank you?” You shrugged.

Zeno let out a chuckle putting a thoughtful hand on your back.

“I think all of us in the Zoldyck family have learned quite a bit.” You had to fight the tears now.

“For that we thank you.”

The entirety of the Zoldyck family bowed to you, leaving you to fight tears at the demonstration of respect and love they had for an average-dimensional host. Fanning at the water building up in your eyes you bowed and thanked them yourselves.

“You guys! Get over here and give me hugs!”

You made sure to hug every member of the family even if they made unsettling comments as you did Milluki.

Getting the timing perfectly right the portal opened to its full size, the electric blue illuminating everyone’s faces. You could smell the atmosphere of the Kukuroo mountain and the forest upon it. All that was left to do was for them to enter.

“Alright now as stated before time has only been an hour in your world. Now you will be coming down from the sky but I’m sure you all will manage.”

“Thank you for everything (Y/n).”

You bowed your head to the patriarch missing the devious glint in his eyes.

“Of course.”

Starting with Silva they each dove into the portal, leaving you to stand by yourself in the field of sunflowers selected as a gateway. Turning away from the flashing portal you could finally address the world’s message for you. The surrounding grass began to lay down unnaturally, spelling out a word.

“They–”

You bent to down watching as the green blades folded into more words, filling your heart with trepidation as it spelled slowly.

“--will not–”

The blades continued to fold slowly as the sunflower stems frantically sprouted from the ground. Not bothering to wriggle free from the stems wrapping around your wrists, you tried to hurry the world’s spelling. Why did you feel like you needed to rush?

“-let you go–? Wait what the he-”

Before you could finish a translucent, glowing, and golden dragon, like one from Japanese folklore came out of the portal. Wrapping around your entire body it skillfully carried you into the shrinking portal. Only stopping for a short time to wriggle free of the sunflowers that were simultaneously pulling at your limbs.

Now on the other side of the portal, you were being pulled backward. Your front looking at the endless sky watching the portal shrink and close, slicing the desperately reaching sunflowers and their stems.

Something within you seemed to break but before you could dwell on that you finally tried to register what was going on.

“AHHHHH!”

Diving with you in it’s coil the dragon was rocketing in the direction of a mansion. All you could do was hold tight as the dragon slowed to a stop. Gently letting you lie on the floor, taking a moment to ground yourself you barely registered the booming voice.

“Congratulations (Y/n), you’ve been inducted into the Zoldyck Family.”

“W-what?”

“As the adopted of the Zoldyck, you’re duty to the family is to be protected and to participate in the family to the best of your limited abilities.”

“Wait—”

“Per your lack of Zoldyck blood, your title as the adopted is willing to change for the family’s convenience.”

“HOLD ON!” You stood up fully holding your shaking hands out as you began to process what this would mean. Before you can get a word in Kikyo runs up to you, shoving your head into her chest as she rocks your unsteady form.

“Rejoice my (Y/n)! Now for all the care you’ve given us, we get to take care of you!”

“Mother, you’ll smother them.”

“Ah big brother, don’t need to get jealous I’m sure you’ll get your turn.”

“I know that.”

Unable to speak or look too far away, you felt Alluka and Kalluto grab at your pant legs. No doubt they glared at one another as they vied for your attention.

“(Y/n)!” ”(Y/n)!”

Being no help at all Killua wasn’t too far behind, ”Oi don’t hog them all.”

Whether it was the exhaustion of dimensional travel or losing air within your mother Kikyo’s breast. Beginning to lose consciousness you could barely make out the ghost of a smile on Silva’s face. Zeno withheld no courtesy, smiling happily as he turned away.

After all, you were home with them. Where you belonged.

Surely the Zoldyck family could handle the dimensional repercussions of claiming their host.

607 notes · View notes

honeyhoshi · 2 months

Text

you do it naturally

summary: the hiding, the secrets, and staying back to watch him shine has never been an issue. until today.

it’s the night before the biggest show of his life, but it’s soonyoung's turn to show her that he’s her biggest fan.

this is a part of the playlist universe

genre: social media au/trad fic hybrid, solo idol au, celebrity x non-celebrity

wordcount: 4,606

pairing: solo idol!hoshi x afab!reader

warnings: discussions about self-esteem issues, body image/weight, feelings of jealousy, plenty of frustrated tears, afab reader, female anatomy, fingering, squirting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, crying during sex (good!!), dirty talk (lovingly), pussy drunk hoshi (canon), implied chubby/bigger reader

author's notes: unfortunately i am horribly in love with hoshi so this is my humble contribution to his smut tag

As someone whose life revolved around sugar, butter, and flour, this was a new world. The tension in the air is palpable and the flurry of activity is so different from the kind of rush you’re used to. You’re nearly tripping over your feet trying to catch up to the member of the staff who's been sent to assist you. This must be so out of their scope of work, it's almost embarrassing how clueless you are to all of this.

It’s been three years since you started dating Soonyoung, and while you’ve never missed one of his shows in Seoul, this is your first time attending one of his rehearsals. He’s notorious for being laser focused and demanding of his team, making sure everyone remembered their collective goal of an amazing show. You never wanted to get in the way of that or to be considered a distraction.

In fact, that’s always how you’ve operated as his girlfriend. You understand where you stand, what your role is, and when it’s time to work, you will stand back and let him shine.

But when you make it to the front of the stage, taking a seat close to Soonyoung’s managers after giving them a friendly smile, you can’t help the wave of pride that comes over you as you take everything in. The stage is massive, the largest Soonyoung’s ever had, and over thirty dancers are on stage with him as he adjusts the blocking and tweaks steps.

Then he catches your eye.

His eyes disappear as he smiles and you can’t help but do the same. You fight off the urge to wave, wanting him to get back to what he’s doing knowing full well they have limited time to go over everything before resting for the evening. You can’t take your eyes off him though. Preparations for concerts usually take him away from you for weeks at a time, and with the scale of this one, you hadn’t seen each other in the flesh for a month.

Just seeing him in front of you now already makes you feel sated.

“Can we do another run of the new song with the pair choreo. We just want to see which works better,” the director calls from the tech booth.

“Nari-ssi, please come up. Everyone else, take 5,” the choreographer on stage with them calls into her mic.

Soonyoung had mentioned he was debuting a new song at the concert. It was something he and Jihoon had worked on last minute that he couldn’t stop talking about, wanting to drop hints but also saying he wanted it to be a surprise for when you would see it at the show. He had dropped the topic dead a few weeks ago.

Nari bounds up the stage with a glorious spring in her step, bare faced but glowing. Her practice clothes fit her like a glove and her overall vibe gives off the energy that she herself was an idol.

That ugly feeling starts to simmer in your stomach as what you suppose is the song starts to play. The intro is slow and sultry and the sweat in your palms starts to grow uncomfortable. Only an idiot wouldn’t understand the sensuality of this song from the get go.

The love of your life is standing right there but you can’t take your eyes off of Nari as she finds her blocking before the verse starts. Nari smiles at Soonyoung and makes a comment you can’t hear from your seat. You feel sick.

Soonyoung and Nari are facing each other with one of his hands on her chin, lifting her gaze to him. His other hand is resting on her slender hip and in a three count from their choreographer, they move in unison.

“Three, four, five, ‘oh baby, cause I’ da, da da!”

The MR only covers the backing vocals but still you know that’s Soonyoung’s crooning and matched with the way his and Nari’s hands and bodies move, you’re transfixed. Horribly.

You avert your eyes, unable to focus and try to play it off as replying to an urgent message, but you’re startled when you hear a loud “SOONYOUNG FOCUS!”

Your head flies up to find Soonyoung staring you down from the stage, eyebrows furrowed and looking, dare you say, nervous.

“We need to see how this is actually going to look like tomorrow, so please let’s put more effort into this. Poor Nari’s giving it her all, Nyoung-ah.”

Soonyoung tries to communicate with you wordlessly but your unwillingness to keep eye contact makes it difficult for Soonyoung to get whatever it is across.

The music plays back again and they return to their starting positions and you know he’s turned it On.

The look on his face, the focus in his eyes. This is what he looks like when he’s locked in, and when his body starts to move, everything falls away.

But Nari.

They move seamlessly, sensually, and just Right. She matches every beat, wave, and touch he gives her. And gives back that same sultry energy with a flick of her wrist, dip of her hip, and when she leans her head back on his shoulder, allowing him to move her body to the music.

You could never move like that. You could never fit in his arms like that.

The song ends and the dancers around them hoot and jeer and Nari blushes as she and Soonyoung finally break their grazes, breathless.

They would never cheer for you like that.

This has never gotten to you this badly. Usually, the distance between the two of you allows you to compose yourself when things get muddled in your head, able to piece yourself together when the fear and insecurity claw up your throat. But your usual proximity is nonexistent and the gap has been closed.

Being with an internationally acclaimed artist meant busy schedules and only being able to squeeze in the littlest dates every now and then. You had time to prepare for those, give yourself the pep talk of It’s been three years. If he wanted you gone, he’d have said something by now.

In preparation for the show you two had made prior plans you would stay with him, an impromptu long weekend “getaway” you had put in at work almost 3 months ago. But now it feels like you’re trapped. You’ve been short with him since his rehearsals wrapped and you’d met up with him in his private dressing room. You could only stomach to say surface level good jobs and you’re always so amazing!

There’s no way he hasn’t picked up on it yet because the air in the car was nonexistent. It was stifling and you could feel the waves of anger simmering underneath Soonyoung’s skin, just waiting to burst forth the moment the two of you were alone.

He knew something was wrong. He always knew.

The ride up the elevator to his unit felt like the longest and shortest elevator ride of both of your lives and the second Soonyoung had let you into his place and locked the door behind him, you wanted to cry.

“Can we finally talk about this?” He starts.

“What?”

“Babe.”

“Soonyoung.”

“Are we really doing this?” He sighs, exasperated.

You feel bad. But the sadness is gnawing at your head and heart and neither are working correctly.

“We’re not ‘doing’ anything, Soonyoung.” You say as you toe off your shoes and put down your bag before facing him.

And what a glorious face it is. He’s always been the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He looks best like this, you think. Soft and free of makeup and tired and home.

“I’m sorry,” you start, face beginning to crumple and the sting of hot fresh tears threaten to spill.

“No, no, no, baby. Come on, come here,” Soonyoung’s scrambling to pull you into his arms, “Hey, hey, shhh. Look at me, talk to me.”

He pulls her face into his hands and tries to lift her gaze towards him. But she fights and tries to keep her head down.

“Baby, you have to talk to me, okay? You have to talk to me and tell me what I did wrong, hmm?” He respects your refusal to look at him and instead hugs your head to his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of your head.

Soonyoung wraps his other hand around your shoulders and maneuvers the two of you to lay on the couch, You’re still sobbing, large tears falling from your eyes and dampening the shirt he’s wearing.

When he moves to lay down on one of your favorite spots to cuddle in his home, you freeze in his arms, sobs stopping and shoulders going rigid. You push yourself off of him, hands going up to brush the tears off the face.

“No, no, I’m too heavy, I'll crush you.” It is almost business-like how you snap back into this cold tone.

Soonyoung stops, sits up straight, “What are you talking about?”

You groan, “Soonyoung, I don’t want to get into it. Please, you’ve had a long day, tomorrow is going to be—“

“No,” he cuts you off, “We don’t get to talk about tomorrow until we talk about today. Until we talk about what’s going on right now.”

“Soonyoung—I just. I don’t know how to talk about this. I’m just blowing things out of proportion. It’s nothing, I swea—“

“It isn’t nothing, though, is it?” He says, softer now. He reaches up for your hand, “You’re upset. You’ve been upset since I saw you after rehearsals. We have to talk about this, baby. We promised each other we’d talk things through.”

Your eyes sting again, a fresh batch of tears ready and threatening to make their appearance. That sharp feeling in your nose is there, any second now.

“Tell me how I can make it better, baby.”

The dam breaks and you fall boneless into Soonyoung’s embrace. You straddle his lap and wraps your arms around him, pressing the two of you chest to chest.

You bury you face in Soonyoung’s neck and let out a shuddering sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m being so, so immature and so unreasonable. You didn’t do anything,” you say, still slightly unintelligible from the tears.

“You’ve never done anything that’s made me sad or angry, Soonyoung. It’s me, it’s me and my stupid brain.”

“Hey, hey, no. Please please don’t say that, hmm? Let’s work this out together,” Soonyoung coos.

“I-i-i just felt so horrible, Soonyoung!” You finally cry, “She looked so beautiful and perfect and just so RIGHT in your arms and God, the way you two moved and how everyone watched the two of you.”

Soonyoung pulls away, grasping you face in his hands and finally locking eyes with you.

“I know I said I’m okay keeping this a secret and keeping everything simple and under wraps, and it’s fine! I promise, it really isn’t that.”

“Then what is it, baby?”

You’re quiet for a bit as Soonyoung traces the path of your tears with his thumbs, wiping them away.

“I’ll never be able to do what she can. Nari. I’ll never look like her or act like her or move like her. I can’t even dance with you without looking like a fool.”

Soonyoung feels his heart sink. His own eyes start to grow bleary and when he blinks a tear falls to his cheek. He drops his head to your chest and breathes you in.

“I’m sorry—“

“Oh no, Soonyoung it isn’t yo—“

“I’m sorry that things have gotten this far that you’ve grown to feel that way. I’m sorry because I know in some way or form all of this has become that and I didn’t catch it.”

When he lifts his head, tear tracks mark his pretty face and his nose is red.

“But you have to know,” he starts, eyes very serious, and not daring to look away from you, “You have to know that you are everything. You are everything to me. You’re even more than that.”

“And we are going to dance. Oh we are going to dance all the time. I am going to dance with you in the kitchen when we’re waiting for focaccia to bake, we are going to dance in the bedroom when we change the sheets, and we are going to dance when I marry you. And everyone will have their eyes on you and they will clap and cheer because just look at the woman I love.”

“Soonyoung—“

He stands with a start and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, elbows hooking over his shoulders. His hands are under your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. He’s carrying you into his room.

The lights automatically flicker on as he enters and kicks the door closed behind you, “In fact, baby, why don’t we start now hmm?”

“What, start what?”

He grins and any semblance of sadness has vanished from his face. He smiles and something in your heart is elated.

“Dancing, of course.”

Soonyoung is known in the industry as an ace — able to sing, rap, compose, choreograph, and above all things, dance. And dance with you he does.

The way he can make your body move is unexplainable because once he placed you at the center of his bed, he’d strummed at your body, mouthed at your pulse and had gotten you out of your top and jeans before you could even fully comprehend.

His mouth is hot on yours and he breathes in your air as soon as you exhale and you’re growing lightheaded as his hands continue to undress you. In an attempt to get some air in both your lungs, he pulls away to frantically tear his shirt over his head, not daring to take his eyes off you. He flings it over his shoulder unceremoniously, not a care in the world where it lands and makes quick work of his sweatpants.

“What, you thought you’d get lucky tonight?” You quip at him, “Even when you knew I was feeling tilted?

He’d gone commando.

“Good mood, bad mood, whatever the fuck mood, I want you,” he laughs as dives back in to kiss you.

His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t know what and where to touch, wanting to feel you everywhere before settling on the thickness of your thighs. He spreads your legs slightly so he could slot himself in between them, cock pressed perfectly to your center.

And then he grinds. The head of his cock nudges perfectly at your clothed clit and you let out a mewl.

“There you go, let me hear you,” he groans into your ear, “Y’sound so good for me, sweetheart.”

“Soonyoooouung,” you can’t control the drawn out moan of his name. After everything you’re pent up and everything feels too much already.

He lets his mouth trail wet, open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your neck as his hands busy themselves undoing the hook of your bra. He scrambles to get it off of you and immediately pulls one nipple in his mouth, nipping and soothing it with a slow lave of his tongue.

He grips your other breast in his palm and squeezes, biting his lip at how your flesh molds to his touch.

“Fuck your tits are fucking perfect.”

This man was groping and grinding against you, and you blush as he compliments your breasts.

He continues kissing down the valley between your breasts and you hold your breath as he starts pressing his lips onto your stomach. It dips and springs back as he moves and your eyes zero in on the deeper colored lines of your stretch marks. There are more on your thighs to match.

But he makes no comment.

He instead groans whenever he stops to suck a bruise and to run his tongue over the mark he’s made.

“You’re so,” he starts, almost breathless, “You’re everything.” He laughs at his own inarticulate thoughts before hooking his thumbs into the elastic of your underwear.

He pulls them off and moves back up to press a deep kiss to your mouth, “I want to make you come three times, love.”

“What?” You’re dazed.

His right hand moves down to trace your ass and hook under your knee so he can spread you open.

“First, I’m going to fuck you open on my fingers,” he breathes, “then when you’re nice and wet and open for me, I want you to sit on my face, alright?”

With all his talk distracting you, you’re suddenly startled when you feel his thumb on your lower lips, starting to spread you apart.

“Then when you’ve come all over my face, I’m going to fuck my come into you, just how you like it. Right, baby?”

He slips in two fingers into you with no warning and you keen, high and wanton and uncontrollable.

Soonyoung is rough and quick when he fingers you and no matter how slow and sensual the lovemaking is, this will always be fast, hard, and messy.

While one hand is busy pumping two fingers into you, the other pinches your clit and quickly rubs, wanting your first orgasm to come as quickly as possible.

Your lower lip is close to bleeding as you try to keep your voice down but Soonyoung only chuckles when he sees your attempts at restraint.

“Baby we’re soundproofed in here. Make all the noise you want.”

You want to slap at his chest playfully at least, get him to feel some semblance of shame, but just as you try to make some quick remark, his fingers brush that spot inside of you and he presses down hard.

You’re unable to hold in the scream that rips through your throat as his arm flexes and he roughly thrusts his fingers in and out of you.

You clench your eyes shut as you finally let him have your first release. It’s almost explosive and you spill messily all over his fingers and arm, his other hand making a bigger mess, spraying drops of your release letting them fly further.

Breathing comes hard but he’s already pulling out of you and moving your body around until you’re on your knees.

Soonyoung lays on his back and tugs at your hands to grip at his headboard, “Fuck I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Soonyoung, what if—“

“If you want to stop, we’ll stop. Just say the word,” he says, propping himself up with his elbow.

“You have to do the same,” you say shakily, still trying to get your bearings after the mind blowing first orgasm.

“Unlikely, but you know I’ll tell you everything, love.”

And just like that he lays back again, looking more eager than you could have ever imagined. You kneel over his chest and slowly inch upwards before lowering yourself over his mouth.

Soonyoung’s always loved eating you out. He loves when sex is wet and messy and loud. He loves the taste of you and making so much noise while he’s pressed up against your pussy it almost seems like he’s the one getting release.

Every flex and curl of his tongue has you whimpering and you can’t help the way you throw your head back as his nose nudges at your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

He coaxes this second one slower but it hits you just as strongly as he continues to mouth at your core even when you’re crying and shaking from the sensitivity. You almost topple off the bed as you climb off Soonyoung to lay back next to him on the bed.

You turn your head to Soonyoung and the entirety of his lower face is wet with your release and your face burns. But Soonyoung is aglow with arousal and just so much love.

He coaxes your mouth to meet his own and it is a reprieve from how quickly he moved for you to reach your high twice in such a short period of time.

You can taste yourself on his mouth but it makes you groan as his tongue pushes its way to mingle with your own.

Despite the desperation at which you both moved, this is slow and quiet. Just you lips moving against each other and the sheets rustling fills the space.

Soonyoung pushes himself off the bed cautiously, desperate to keep his lips on you as he positions himself between your thighs.

Just like that a switch flips and the urgency to have him starts once more. He pressed his cock against your entrance and let the underside slide against your wet cunt. It offers you little relief, the friction hardly enough to get you there.

He pulls away and brings one hand to your face as the other holds him over your body.

Soonyoung’s hooded lids and glazed eyes are a sight to behold. His hair is damp and the shorter strands that frame his face are plastered onto his forehead. There’s a bead of sweat that’s clinging to the cut of his jaw and you ache to press your mouth to it.

His thumb traces the curve of your cheek, the plumpness of your lower lip, and slowly he’s pressing the finger between your teeth. You press your tongue against the pad of his thumb and wrap your lips around the finger, and suck.

God, I love this man. I will always only love this man.

“I love you,” he gasps as he finally presses in and sinks into you.

Any other day and it would be embarrassing how close you both are to the edge, but you both know that his evening was far from normal. Your heart is hammering in your chest so hard you feel like it’ll rip itself out of its confines. Everything feels too good and too much and you want it. You want this every single day if you could.

Soonyoung sits up and uses both hands to grip onto your hips and to brace himself. What he does next makes your head spin.

“I’m so close, baby. You gotta say it.” He stands on his knees, changing the angle slightly. Then he lifts your hips just right and the noise you let out as his cock sinks into you perfectly is completely pitiful.

“Say it.”

“Soonyoung!” you cry out. It’s a sob, really. Depraved, almost, in the desperation and the raw fucking feeling thats burning through your nerves.

“Just say it baby, you know the words. Say it and I’ll make good on the very last fucking promise I made tonight,” he says, the edge in his voice making itself known. He wanted to make this evening soft, slow, and for every movement to have meaning. But he has always been hungry.

Hungry for the stage, bigger venues, brighter lights, more challenging steps, and of course for you.

He breathes in through his nose sharply and tries to exhale slowly and paced, “Just say it baby, I know you can.”

“You’re mine.”

“That’s it. I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

The years of precise practice and this industry expertise has made the man you love into the most exquisite lover.

He thrusts quick and deep and the undulations of his hips have you seeing stars and tearing up once more. He’s everywhere, in your eyes, head, lungs, heart and you’ll be damned if you ever let him go.

The insecurities and the problems and the people will always be there, they will always cause uncertainties but this is one thing you will always be sure of. You will always be sure of him.

Soonyoung comes with a cry of your name and the most beautiful gasp against your mouth as he pumps you full of his cum, pushing you over the edge and he swallows the cry you let out.

He pulls away to press breathless kisses against your face and any other part of you he can get his lips on mumbling, “I’m yours, I’m yours. I’ll always only be yours.”

It starts slowly, warm, and comfortable. The rustling of the sheets and the hot wet press of his mouth slowly coaxing you into that soft space of barely awake, but able to slip back to sleep if you stayed quiet enough.

“I gotta go, baby,” is Soonyoung’s whisper, cheek resting atop your head.

You hum in response, not fully coherent to put together words after he’d pulled endless strings of moans and cries from your lips the night prior.

He presses a kiss to your hair, “Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I’ll see you tonight, gorgeous.”

You feel the way the bed dips and the blankets move as he goes to stand. He slips on his shoes and, unable to leave so easily, moves back towards the bed and kneels by where your head rests on a pillow.

“I love you, think about what I said last night, okay?”

You tried to keep yourself collected, keep the frantic energy sizzling in your veins at bay. Soonyoung had put on the show of his life, something that happens just a few times in a performer’s life, you’re sure. Pride had swelled so grandly in your heart. You had been so lovestruck watching him that it felt like he could see you whenever he had turned his head in your general direction.

Backstage is still abuzz from the end of the show. You’re sure people are still running around making sure the egress goes smoothly, that all the fans are able to exit the stadium safely. But everything comes second the moment you hear his voice.

“Has she been escorted from her se—“

You can’t help it. You’re so happy, so excited, and so in love with him. You’re running toward him. He’s changed out of his encore outfit and into a sweater—oversized the way he likes them— and sweatpants. He could slip into bed any second now it looks like.

“Soonyoung!” You call out, stealing his attention.

He turns to you and the most breathtaking smile spreads on his face and you throw yourself into his arms. He catches you and you wrap your legs around his slender waist.

“It was amazing, you’re so amazing. Congratulations, oh my god!” You’re blabbing, you can feel your mouth going a million miles an hour but you can’t stop.

You pull him into a crushing hug as he gently puts your feet back on the ground, keeping your arms around his neck.

“And that new song, Jesus you weren’t kidding, it’s so good and the choreo! The way you moved! You changed the choreo last minu—“ In a split second, his lips are on yours and you can’t help but smile against him.

You break away, breathless when you remember, “Soonyoung, everyone can see.”

He gives you a silly quizzical look, “Only thinking about that now and not when you jumped into my arms?”

You’re speechless. He’s right.

“I’d be happy if everyone knew,” Soonyoung says simply and pulls you in again for another kiss.

When you pull away, you suck in a large breath and say, “Okay.”

There’s a small smile that he can’t hide as he asks, “Okay…? To what, exactly?”

You blush and bury your head in his chest. You want to while, he’s so annoying.

“To everything. To everything you said last night,” you mumble into his chest, trying to muster enough confidence to keep going.

“Okay, I’ll move in with you. Okay, I’ll tell all my friends about you. Okay, let’s make us public.”

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you. if you’d like to drop a like or reblog this, it would mean the world to this new author!

#frizzy fiction #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi smau #hoshi imagines #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung smut #soonyoung imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios

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khaire-traveler · 7 months

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For the first time in a while, I prayed to a few deities I haven't spoken to in quite some time. I asked them to assist in having a good time with a brand new friend. The conversations that followed with that friend were life-changing. I realized how much I had been ignoring myself and my own well-being. I realized how fucked up certain situations I had gone through recently truly were. I realized how low I had made my own standards when it came to making and keeping friends. I realized how desperately I needed someone to listen to my recent traumas and validate my experiences, instead of immediately putting me down. I want to humbly thank Aphrodite and Dionysus for the time I had with that friend. I believe that they helped contribute to the genuinely life-changing experience that I had.

I say this all to emphasize that having good, strong relationships with deities doesn't mean giving them offerings every single day, saying prayers every time you get the chance, or going out of your way to do things for them at the cost of your own well-being. Having a solid relationship with deities doesn't look like receiving some immense spiritual sign every single time they reach out to you, hearing their voices speak from the heights of the heavens (or the depths of the underworld) as clearly as one breathes air, or being able to perfectly interpret every type of divination you receive from them.

You don't need to have some profound experience to know that your deities are there, supporting you through some of your toughest battles. Sometimes the divine express themselves in ways that are as mundane and average as seeing a butterfly outside your window or finally feeling motivated to take care of your physical needs.

Something wild and extraordinary isn't going to happen every twenty seconds while you're worshipping a deity. That's simply not how life works, but that also doesn't mean you're doing something wrong. That doesn't make your relationships any less valuable or important. That doesn't invalidate the more mundane experiences you've had with your deities. It's ok that you don't have something "interesting" happening every five minutes. You don't need to. You don't have to.

All that truly matters is that you feel happy, that you feel content within your worship. Make sure your relationships with your deities feel like a safe place for you because if they don't, maybe something needs to change.

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #paganism #paganblr #rambling sorry #i got like no sleep these past few days #so i apologize if this makes absolutely no sense #dionysus deity #aphrodite deity #deity worship

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drdemonprince · 2 months

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something im kind of connecting the dots to re: your posts about shaming people who don’t wear masks…in ‘20 and ‘21 I spent a lot of time posting shaming instagram stories telling people they needed to mask, and i yelled at family until i was blue in the face bc they weren’t masking, having big weddings, etc. and it really created a rift (obviously) in my relationships. I’ve also spent a lot of time and energy in the past 4 or so years telling people that it’s not possible to be an ally to trans people if they still engage in any media created by jk rowling. Especially given that her anti trans manifesto has been cited in anti trans legislation in the uk, she says that she assumes that anyone who continues to engage with Harry Potter media approves of her transphobia, etc the list goes on. And yet i still see my friends going to the wizarding world of Harry Potter, marathoning the movies with their friends, going to see the new movies in theaters, and so on. Obviously my aggressive shaming posts and conversations (which have alienated a lot of people) aren’t doing jack shit. Your mask shame posts made me realize that it probably wasn’t right of me to do that. But I don’t see how I can stand up for what I believe in and show people that it’s not okay to keep doing this shit AND play nice and not create trouble. Do you have any thoughts?

Thanks for this great question and for sharing your experiences.

I think when we shame, part of it is a grappling with our own powerlessness. It feels terrible to confront that no matter how much we care, and no matter how much we plead, we cannot make another person take action. When people we love or rely on won't hear our pleas and won't take action, it wounds us so deeply, and it makes sense we react in anger or seek to shame them hoping it will make them care. But it isn't effective.

I think one of the first steps is accepting our powerlessness as individuals. We have to stop expecting ourselves to somehow persuade people to change their behavior and views, when all the research indicates that such change is rare, slow, and very hard, and cannot be accomplished on a person who does not already want to be influenced. We have to sit in the humility of not being able to make others care, and take time to grieve how badly it hurts. Our understandable and huge hurt feelings need to be processed. many of us have a powerful need to express our rage and have it witnessed by others who understand.

From there, we have to think very strategically about what kind of collective work we can do that will shift social norms, facilitate the behavior we want to see, and fight for systemic changes that will actually address the root issues.

This may be things like passing out masks at protests. Joining a local mutual aid fund to contribute to the expenses of people who are quarantining. Protesting an event space to make them institute a masking policy. Unionizing with our coworkers to demand paid sick leave. Shoplifting tests and redistributing them to people in need. Terrorizing the business leaders who dragged us all back into the office. Sharing the wastewater data. Asking loved ones about their COVID mitigation decisions in a sincere way. Organizing outdoor events for our communities. Paying for a buddy's vaccine.

There are countless ways for us to be plugged into an active community that is larger than us. The work is humble, and ongoing, and what you do personally will never be enough on its own, and you must accept that in order to believe that it does not have to be. We are in this together.

In short, I think the tough emotional realities of feeling disrespected and not cared for much be addressed by finding community with people who do care and will give us room to voice our outrage. And then we have to work together to create the circumstances that allow real systemic change to germinate.

Right now, people conflate that emotional need to express rage with the political need to take action. And what feels cathartic to do or say is not necessarily what's persuasive. There has to be room for both.

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galvanizedfriend · 1 month

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KC Wip Wednesday

This is my humble contribution to WIP Wednesday! It's a scene from the rewriting of TVD S5 - Yokan's version. In it, The Originals never happens, most of the Mikaelsons remain in Mystic Falls and Klaus and Caroline are kind of a thing, but nobody knows (for sure). Remember that moment where Katherine locks herself up in a safe with Stefan to "cure" his PTSD? It's that, except it's Klaus, not Katherine. This alludes to a very Klefan past, btw. Be warned if you're not a fan.

Also, this is for @definedareasofuncertainty, who wanted me to write her Easter Klefan. 🤧 There you go, friend! And you know, not beta'ed and all that.

Klaus lies on his back, takes a calm breath as the heavy door is closed with a thud, engulfing them in absolute darkness. All in all, he'd say a metal box is hardly the most uncomfortable setting he's found himself in. He prefers the comfort of first-class accommodations, but he's traveled in worse. The grown man beating about beside him does make things rather unpleasant, though.

"Stop! Caroline! Get me out of here!" Stefan screams, smashing his fists against the iron safe's indestructible structure. The more desperate he gets, the more uncoordinated and weaker his movements become, thus making the effort completely useless, however accomplished in making the experience all the more miserable for him.

It's embarrassing how incapable Klaus is of saying no to Caroline whenever she asks for a favor. Locking himself up in a box with a traumatized Stefan has to be an all-time low. The things he won't do when she bats her eyelashes and says please.

"Oh, stop it," he remarks in a bored tone as he shoves Stefan aside. The old safe is rather spacious, but definitely not enough to comport two men, particularly if one of them won't stop bloody writhing like a worm in hot sand. "The more you scream, the more breathless you become." The more I want to tear your vocal cords to shreds.

"Get me out of here, Klaus, get me the fuck out of here!"

"Relax, Stefan. I'm here to help," he says. "I'm what you would call a greater agony to alleviate the smaller pain you feel being trapped inside the box. It's reverse psychology, or so Caroline read in a book. What do you think of a little werewolf venom high to speed up the process?"

"You're psychotic. You're fucking insane!" Stefan starts pounding on the box again. "Caroline! Caroline, open up! Open it now!"

"I'm sorry, Stefan!" comes her muffled apology. Even through the metal barrier she sounds thick with guilt. It was her idea, but already she's cracking. That bleeding heart of hers… "I'm sorry, I will -"

"Do not touch that box, Caroline," he commands with his full authority. "Leave it."

There's a long pause, the sound of Stefan's heart hammering away inside his chest in the box as they wait to see what she'll do. A beat goes by before she mumbles a final sorry and scurries away, likely to avoid the temptation of putting poor Stefan out of his misery.

Klaus' lips pull into a grin. "Good girl."

Stefan starts shaking beside him, his breath becoming even more labored. "I can't breathe," he gasps. "I can't - I can't -"

"You don't need to breathe, Stefan. It's all in your head," Klaus reminds him pointedly. "A vampire having a panic attack, honestly. When you think you've seen everything…"

"You're not fucking helping!"

"Pardon me. My bedside manners have gone a little rusty since the last time you've experienced them." Klaus casts Stefan a glance, sees the way his eyes widen in horror, his body growing stiff as a rod, and he can't contain the self-satisfied smile that draws across his lips. "We did once find comfort in each other's company, didn't we?" Stefan makes another panicked sound, smoothing his hands across the cold metal door above them, trying to find a way out. Klaus chuckles. "Don't worry, mate. Caroline can't hear us. Your sordid little secret is safe with me. It's just us here, alone under the cover of darkness. Nothing we haven't done a dozen times in the past. Ahh, the 20s…" he speaks around a dramatic sigh. "It was the roaring years, indeed."

"What are you doing?"

"Making conversation."

"I don't want to talk to you, I especially don't want to talk about that." Stefan nearly chokes on the last word, inching as far away from Klaus as the confined space will allow, as though the mere idea of touching him fills him with utter revulsion. Klaus knows better; it's the way he remembers exactly how it didn't what terrifies him.

Anybody who's met this watered down, colorless version of Stefan would never be able to tell how much of a free spirit he used to be. He was fun. A far cry from the shivering man beside him now. Tragic, really.

"I know you like to pretend it never happened. Frankly, you've become quite an embarrassment of your former self, so I wouldn't proudly advertise it either. This bunny-eating, crying in the dark skin you're wearing these days is someone is wouldn't be caught fraternizing with if you were the last human being on earth."

"Then leave me the fuck alone already."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not here for you," he snaps back. And then, putting a leash on his rising temper, he continues, "But since I have to be… I can recognize that there was something about that time we had together that suited us both, more than just for the obvious reasons."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. I was a tool for you."

"A tool for self-destruction."

Klaus huffs out a disdainful breath. "I was a balm to your tortured soul, Stefan, even at a time when you embraced your true self. I indulged you because you amused me, but at the end of the day, when we were together, it was all rather transactional. It wasn't about sentimentality or a shared appreciation for extravagance. It was about the hollow inside us. The fact we were always desperately seeking to fill it with… Anything, really. Whatever we could find. Passions. Pleasure. Violence. Cravings. But it never lasted, did it? Those things lack a purpose. They're all flitting in their essence, an immense explosion of satisfaction followed by… Nothing. We were both hungry, and we kept trying to find the thing that would sate us. You had lost your mind; I had lost my home. Like drawn to like." Klaus turns his face to Stefan, finds him staring back, eyes glinting with an emotion he can't quite read in the gloom. He always did fancy Stefan's eyes, though. There is something raw about them, something honest for a change. A little opening to the truth in his soul he tries so hard to hide from the outside world. "That's what the darkness is, Stefan," he continues. "Loneliness. It's what restrains us. The monster we cannot outrun. When it all stops - the laughter, the liquor, the hunger - and everything goes quiet around us, that's when we feel it. The curse of eternity. The weight of our years, deep in our bones. And the inevitable loneliness that comes with it. You had your names on the wall, I had my letters, but when all was said and done… We were both stuck in infinite darkness. Except for a few glorious stolen moments, in that repulsive room of yours." The corner of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided smile. "I was the bigger monster you needed in order to humanize yourself. Whatever you were, I was worse, and so I assuaged your guilt. Much like me being here right now. But then of course you found religion!" He laughs, closing his eyes and facing forward once more. "Your spiritual path towards the light. Elena Gilbert." He enunciates the name like it's coated in something toxic. His general distaste for Elena goes further than the fact she has thwarted so many of his plans. It's the boring saint act he cannot get over.

"Yes," Stefan says, his voice rough. "And then I lost her."

"Right. Because she chose your brother." Klaus chuckles. Stefan shifts uncomfortably beside him, the urge to hit him palpable in the air. It only spurs Klaus on. "How so very tacky. No taste, that one. Personally, I think there's no amount of blue eyes or good sex that can make Damon tolerable. What a wanker. I just want to bash his face against a wall whenever he opens his mouth."

Stefan scoffs. "Get in line."

"It's ironic, isn't it? You were at your absolute best behavior, weeding out all of your instincts, everything that made you fun and interesting in order to fashion yourself into a fairy tale prince for her, and what does she do? She chooses the dullard bad boy. Typical." Klaus shakes his head. "Ungrateful little -"

"Shut up."

"Martyr," he finishes with a smirk. "She probably thinks she's going to fix him, doesn't she? I bet he encourages it. But that's the difference between you and Damon, isn't it? Even with all your valiant efforts, you know creatures like us cannot be fixed. We're beyond salvation."

He gets a sudden twinge in his chest, an image flashing in his mind. A smile as bright as the sun. Hair the color of wheat. He sees her shifting under his sheets, feels the warmth of her touch, the brush of her rosy lips against his skin. It ignites a sense of joy inside him unlike anything else, a sense of possession, of belonging, of having found something that is far more precious or rare than any of the hundreds of treasures he's collected over the course of his life. But along with it comes the ever-present fear. Of loss. How long before he ruins her, like he's ruined everything else he's ever cherished? How long before he hurts her, even if he doesn't mean to? Before his darkness tarnishes her and kills that smile? Before she decides he's not worth it?

"How do you make yourself worthy?" he asks, the question tumbling out of his as though of their own accord. "How do you earn the affections of someone so…"

"Good?" Stefan finishes for him, reading his thoughts. "With sunshine and rainbows shining out of their eyes? Someone like, say… Caroline?" Klaus goes quiet, all his humor bleeding out of him in a second. "You don't," Stefan answers his own question. "You'll never be good enough for her, Klaus. Just like I was never good enough for Elena. Not really. The truth is they deserve much better than the two of us." He sighs, deflating with resignation next to Klaus. "I guess we did make quite a pair, you and I."

"Then perhaps we should die together," he says with an edge of aggression, his mood taking a sudden downturn. He's suddenly irritated. With Stefan, with this ridiculous situation, with himself for agreeing to that. "You and I, in a box, at the bottom of a quarry. Over and over again, drowning in suffering for all our sins and the women we don't deserve. How about that?" Silence stretches out between them, absolute. There's no response from Stefan, but there's also no pounding pulse, no disgruntled breaths. "Oh, look," he says dispassionately. "Someone's not having a panic attack anymore. Congratulations. You've conquered your fears. All you had to do was remember there are worse things than dying."

Klaus gives one violent kick on the door, sending it flying off its hinges. He pushes himself up, stepping out of the safe.

Caroline comes whooshing in, eyes wide as she takes in the state of the safe, the way Stefan is still down, cowering from the sudden burst of luminosity.

"What did you do to him?" she demands.

Klaus' mouth inches upward into the barest hint of a grin, no mirth whatsoever. "I fixed him."

#klaroline #klefan #yokan writes #wip wednesday #this is a very klaroline rewriting though you probably can't tell from this one scene #i'll probably never write this but i liked the idea #SIGH

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fizzigigsimmer · 15 days

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This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race

There's no following @bigdumbbambieyes but take this humble offering.

The Best You (Never) Had

written for @harringrove-relay-race

Rating: M

Pairing: Steve x Billy with a heavy dose of angst.

I was charmed and instantly driven insane by the absolutely bomb Harringrove playboy bunnies drawn by @adelacreations, and it inspired me to wonder about a trans femme Billy, running into her past at a strip club.

Enjoy the adventures of Bunny Hargrove.

And stay on the look out for what @robthegoodfellow has coming up!

When Billie left Hawkins she hadn’t looked to her future and seen herself working at a strip club. She certainly hadn’t foreseen the possibility of having to serve her high-school bully cheap food and lousy drinks in one once she’d made it back to Cali. But that’s exactly what seems to be in store for her – fuck her life.

Five men occupy the half moon booth and table reserved mostly for bachelor parties and the occasional VIP. Billie’s coworker Amanda has been serving them food and drinks while they enjoy the sets of dancers on stage, but her wait shift is ending and Billie’s prepping to take over – tuning out the other woman as she complains about one of the men grabbing at her ass and being a poor tipper.

It seems impossible, but somehow it’s happening. Steve Harrington is sitting right there, watching Lacey wiggle her ass in red spandex to a Katy Perry song.

It’s been going on fifteen years, but Billie would recognize him anywhere. Same slouch to the shoulders and dreamy eyed stare – neither Lacey’s wild gyrations nor the conversation of the group he’s with enough to hold his full attention. Same stupid hair, although he’s changed the shape since high school. Now it’s held securely to one side by too much gel, and she just wants to break it up with her fingers. His laugh still doesn’t reach his eyes, and it probably says a lot about Billie, that some part of her is relieved to see that.

Her rent might be too high, her boss might be a creep, and her ex is still full of shit, but Steve Harrington is still hanging around with guys like Tommy and faking a smile, so it balances the scales.

He’s still gorgeous too, fuck him. Billie swallows and forces herself to look away, and not run away like the frantic beating of her heart suggests that she should. She’s got nothing to hide, and she’s not ashamed.

There’s no reason at all she shouldn’t saunter right over to the table with the bachelor party Amanda was gracious enough to split with her (knowing all about her rent worries) and flirt her way to another month of financial security; except for the fact that even in this day and age, certain people still get funny about people like her and Billie knows these guys.

Or rather, they knew her before – before she got out of Neil’s house, before freedom, before Billie.

There’s no reason at all she shouldn’t go over there and take that table full of drunk losers, eager to blow their cash on the club's cheap booze and dancing girls, for all that they’re worth. Nothing besides fear.

Fuck that.

The group is laughing loudly about something as Billie saunters up, one last swarm of butterflies taking flight in her belly as Hagen turns his neck to squint blearily at her.

God, that stupid smirk hasn’t changed a bit – wide and dopey like the dog he is, and mean in the eyes. Those beetle browns look her over just like they did on her first day in Hawkins, assessing for strengths and weaknesses to exploit; and for a moment she remembers the terror of being under that gaze and all the others like it. The fear of being caught out consuming her, choking her, day after day.

Sorry kid. Billie thinks to herself with a sway of her hips, right before parking herself up against the arm of the leather couch, warm skin brushing the sleeve on Tommy’s shoulder. The way that his lips part unconsciously as he gawks at her doesn’t make up for the past, but it still feels damn good. She’s a bad bitch and she knows it. Knew it back then but now she can show it and will kick ass if Tommy or any of his buddies decide they have a problem with it.

But it’s not recognition of any kind on any of their faces, it’s lust. They leer at the shiny shorts that hug her thighs and the plunging neckline of her tiny top – her employer's idea of a uniform. Whatever vindication she feels on behalf of her pitiful high school self, she doesn’t actually care anymore what Tommy and the clones think.

Billie finds her eyes going to Steve like they’re magnetized.

She shouldn’t care what Harrington thinks either, and yet, there’s a stupid flutter in her chest (damn it) when Steve looks her over, eyes lingering just a hair too long on her chest to be anything other than interested, before he meets her eye.

“Hey beautiful.” He leans forward a little, totally present now like he wasn’t before dripping charm he obviously learned in some board room working for daddy. And yet, there’s still some part of Billie that expects to wake up in bed back in the house on Cherry Street.

“What’s your name?” Steve Harrington is definitely asking, her, like it’s just a pre-courser to getting her naked, and Billie shivers. Fuck is she doing this?

“Hi Bambi, I’m Bunny.” She teases. Sees the line in the sand and walks right over it. Tommy howls like some chick likening his buddy to a baby deer is the most hilarious shit, and it sets the others off, oohing and ahhing and generally acting like fools as they rib Harrington.

But Steve ignores them, and the way he jolts a little when he hears that name, eyes narrowing on her in wary confusion, goes straight to her clit. Shit. One of these days her hard on for danger is gonna get her killed. But today it’s got her heart thumping and her pussy dripping as she clenches around nothing, like he’s already sliding inside where she obviously still wants him. She needs better taste in men. She’s sure her mama would have said she gets her poor taste from her if she’d stuck around long enough while Billie was growing up.

“I’m a sucker for big pretty brown eyes.” She winks at him, sugar sweet and he seems to settle a little. “Can I get you another round of drinks, or are you in the mood for something better?”

“Bunny.” He ignores the question to turn her show name over on his tongue, slow and curious like he’s tasting it. “Are you on tonight?” He asks, gaze twitching toward the stage and back.

“You calling me a stripper Bambi?”

“It is a strip club, and with a name like Bunny.”

Billie laughs and Steve’s mouth slides into a satisfied smirk, like that was always the end goal. Tommy rolls his eyes and pouts like an overgrown toddler, “Didn’t you date a chick named Trixie?”

“Yeah. So?” Steve drawls in reply, his focus momentarily shifting from Billie and back to Tommy, which if Billie’s memory serves, is exactly how Tommy likes it.

This is a bad idea. Such a bad idea. God, Hagen really hasn’t changed, but neither has Steve. Those dry little dig and the arch of his eyebrows are so familiar she feels a strange sort of relief. Like there was something inside her that had been counting down since the last time she saw him, afraid that he’d change and become lost to memory.

Fuck. That sounds – it’s not, what it sounds.

“So, you can’t tell a stripper by their name is all I’m saying.”

“Dude, are you serious? I met Trixie because you paid for her to show up at my apartment dressed like a police officer and give me a lap dance on my birthday.”

Now there’s an idea, Billie thinks as Tommy, remembering the incident, smiles sheepishly.

“I’m not dancing tonight, no.” Billie finally answers his question, pulling Steve’s attention back and a shiver goes down her spine when his eyes snap to her. “But I wouldn’t say no to tying you up and having my way with you, Pretty Boy.”

She doesn’t have to wonder if Steve remembers her the way she remembers him. If the words Billie had said and the insults, she’d flung had burrowed under his skin to live with him the same way Billie lives with his.

Steve flinches, his eyes narrowing sharply on her, and it’s barely perceptible but she catches it before he’s being nudged at and jostled from both sides by his buddies as they hoot and holler about how he’s been chosen.

He never stops looking at her.

The only one who doesn’t seem absolutely thrilled for him to get picked up by some babe in a seedy strip club in Santa Monica is Tommy, who grumbles something about the attention being wasted on Steve.

For the first time Billie wonders if he might be the bachelor about to get hitched – and she’s the one to flinch this time, as her eyes dart down to his hand. The ring finger is empty, which doesn’t really prove anything, but the pale strip of skin she finds there tells its own story.

Divorced? Long engagement? Married already perhaps and out to prove the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Fuck she hopes it’s not the last one. Not because it would change anything for her. Maybe it would, if she were a nicer person, but she’s not the married one, and if she started splitting hairs about fooling around with married men her tip jar would be a whole lot emptier each month.

No. She just plain doesn’t want him to be attached. The thought makes her chest twist up inside and the bottom of her stomach feel like it’s going to fall right out her ass – the same fucked up emotional constipation she’d felt watching him run through the female population of Hawkins High like he was trying to make them all forget they’d watched Nancy Wheeler take his balls and then make an absolute fool of him.

“Thanks for the offer, Bunny -” Steve starts, and she can hear the butt coming as clear as the others can if the sudden swell of groans is anything to go by.

“Harrington! Come on man.”

“Boo!”

“See what I mean? That’s a fucking ten right there, and you’re going to blow it over some bitch who doesn’t even want you?!” Screeches Tommy.

Bingo. Thank you, Tommy, with the big mouth. So, it’s divorced. Separated but still holding on to the past – just like old times.

It makes her smile a little mean as she leans toward him, holding his gaze, purrs - “You scared, Bambi? Worried I might break you?”

Steve clamps his mouth shut. His eyes blaze at her and her throat goes dry.

“Oh ho! Careful now darlin, our Stevie boys got a pretty big ego. You might not want to poke that bull if you’re not ready for the ride.” One of the bros says with the kind of glint in his eye that says he lives for ‘big egos’ putting little women like her into place. Fucking prick.

Steve seems to think so too because he mutters, “Shuttup Andy” as he reaches in his pocket for his wallet.

“How much?” he asks her, sounding bored. It’s bullshit. Billie licks her lip in triumph.

“Fifty for a lap dance here at the table, fifty more if you want to see some tit.”

“How much for a private show?”

Her breath hitches, her stomach tightening in her eagerness, but somehow, she keeps the breath out of her tone as she replies.

“Depends on what you want to see.” She answers, and without so much as a pause Harrington smiles – challenges.

“Everything.”

Fuck. She’s doing this.

She’s not delusional enough to think that fucking him is going to heal her inner child or whatever, and while she firmly believes she doesn’t owe every one night stand a complete rundown of her medical history, she’s fully aware of how this is different – of what the upstanding thing to do would be.

But then Billie remembers the way Steve had started pushing back after their fight that strange night at the Byers house; the way he’d swooped in and pulled the rug out from under her – reclaiming his spot as top dog, just by existing. No begging. No apologies. He just opened the doors to that mansion he lived in and rang the bell, and Tommy and the rest had come looking for supper.

She remembers the cruel things he said to her as he flaunted his big house and fancy car, rubbing in how quickly it was over once he made it a real contest; because however shiny and new Billie had been to those kids, she was still just trash under it all. Angry white trash going nowhere fast, while Steve was Mr. Somebody. Once he’d pulled his head out of Wheeler’s ass and remembered it, he’d made turning the school against Billie his new focus.

Pushed further and further to the fringes, Billie’s only choice to keep the jackals at bay had been to fight them off until people got the message and started avoiding her altogether.

She’s not claiming victim. She knows damn well who started the fight – that it was her own demons that drove her to lash out and try and prove her dominance over him – and that after that night at the Byers, Steve had especially no reason to take mercy on her.

But just because she’d asked for the fight doesn’t mean taking a beating hadn’t nearly pushed her to the edge.

Billie swallows back the taste of bitterness in her mouth, from the memory of being alone, broken and desperate, aching to be near someone who loathed her and yearning for the looks he gave so easily to other girls.

Except now he is – King Steve – looking at Billie Hargrove like he wants her. Like he’d empty out his wallet and spend all of that nepo baby salary just for the chance to get at her; and like hell is she going to turn it away. Revenge couldn’t get sweeter than this. The only thing that could make it better is if he knew. It’s me on your mind. Me you can’t ignore. Me you can’t walk away from.

But it’s just a fantasy. The reality him recognizing her now or later has her swinging from vicious jubilation toward mind numbing panic on a dime.

Regardless - Steve Harrington stands up, ignoring the cheers of his drunk friends, eyes locked with hers – and Billie Hargrove makes her own choices.

Billie is going to ride Steve until he sees God, hollowed be her name. Because she wants him (still) and he finally wants her. Just for once. That’s all she needs.

She can worry about the aftermath after.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #harringrove relay race #trans femme Billy Hargrove #Billie Hargrove is a bad bitch and she makes no apologies #nor should she #Also love that her working name is Bunny #Bunny x Bambi forever lol

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in1-nutshell · 4 months

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I am once again humbly asking for more Brainstorm.

Brainstorm with a human buddy that, while not the most scientifically inclined, is very chaotic and excitable and is just a pure enabler for his bullshit.

Like Brainstorm will just be going on about his latest invention, and Buddy will just be sitting there listening to him, not really understanding what he's saying but they heard the words explosive, so they're on board.

dealers choice for platonic or romantic, i just want to see more of this funky little man

Hello again! It's nice to see people appreciate this mad scientist. I know Buddy surely appreciates his more explosive weapons.

Hope you enjoy!

Brainstorm and Human Buddy who loves explosives

SFW, platonic, mentions explosions, Human reader

MTMTE

Ever since they met, Buddy had been drawn to Brainstorm.

They couldn't tell you when their friendship started. Brainstorm couldn't tell you either.

But Ultra Mangus can tell the exact moment when his processor ache started.

Buddy and Brainstorm start clicking.

Ultra Magnus in his office.

"Someone is thinking about shenanigans..."--Magnus

It's no secret to everyone on board that Buddy loves explosives. The crew found out about it during the Pepper spray Incident.

An incident consisting of Pepper spray, pepper, a battery, engex, and Whirl.

That was also the day Whirl swears he found his soulmate. Or a good friend. He still doesn't know yet.

Brainstorm quickly figures out that Buddy isn't as scientifically inclined as he is. But then again not many bots are, besides Perceptor of course.

"Hey Brainstorm..."--Buddy

"What is it?"--Brainstorm

"In the hypothetical situation, I managed to set a binary gun on fire from the inside. What would happen if I put water on it?"--Buddy

"Well that a strange-wait you did what?! Where is it?!"--Brainstorm

"Oh it's right over there."--Buddy

"Why is it there!?"--Brainstorm

"I don't know I thought it was a good idea!"--Buddy

"How is putting it on the top shelf a good idea!? How did you even get up there?!"--Brainstorm

"I don't know!"--Buddy

Brainstorm does appreciate Buddy making an effort to understand his science rambles.

Does Buddy space out sometimes? Yes, they do.

Does Buddy try to contribute the conversation with zero understanding. Yes, they do and Brainstorm loves them for that.

Buddy wants to be in on any experiments that have explosives involved. Brainstorm, while he loves the enthusiasm, knows that Buddy shouldn't be around so much of it.

"Please, Percy! I want to see the cool experiment!"--Buddy

"I'm sorry Buddy but this one is simply too dangerous, especially for your organic nature can't withstand these conditions."--Perceptor

"Brainstorm?"--Buddy

"Percy's right Buddy. Your organic form can't handle this one."--Brainstorm

"Thank you Brainstorm."--Perceptor

"Which is why you need this exosuit to watch us do it!"--Brainstorm

"Yeah Brainstorm!"--Buddy

"No Brainstorm!"--Perceptor

If someone tries to give Buddy a hard time for not being intelligent enough, Brainstorm is ready and armed. No one is going to make his friend feel like a worthless intelligent slug, they are the ones who are the worthless unintelligent slugs!

"So you thought it was a good idea to go and tell Buddy that they were some dumb organic. Your words to be exact."--Brainstorm

"So? They are. All organic life forms are dumb and worthless.""--Random bot

" Oh I think my accomplice and I would disagree. Isn't that right Whirl?"--Brainstorm

Whirl with two blasters in his claws.

"You picked the wrong fleshy to mess with."--Whirl

Shoots Random bot in the knee.

"That's for messing with My Buddy!"--Whirl

"Your Buddy?"--Brainstorm

"I'm still working on it!"--Whirl

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte brainstorm x platonic reader #mtmte brainstorm #mtmte perceptor #mtmte whirl

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months

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Hi Angel!

I've been reading your kidfics and if it's okay I'd like to contribute to your little fucker cinematic universe because I have a real story that happened to me when I was tutoring and I think you might like it. 🌸

Little fucker is a clever kid. Sometimes too clever. And the problem is - she can't sit for the life of her. She will stand on her chair, rock it back and forth, run for water and for snacks and for whatever thing she wants to show you, but she will not just sit and do her homework.

Which is fair, she is only 7, but you're not so patient. So you decide it's going to be Sevika's problem now. Part of you hopes that little fucker will be more intimidated of her grumpy mom, but this hope is more of a delusion - you know Sevika is a softie and your daughter knows it as well.

Sevika thinks she got it, she is an adult, what can be hard about 7 year old's homework? Counting apples? Sevika is cocky about the whole ordeal, but you don't say anything, letting her find out by herself.

Sevika gets absolutely humbled when she sees little fucker's homework and gets confused at a math question 10 minutes in. Then she sighs in relief when she remembers she is only supposed to monitor little fucker and only help her if she is confused. Yeah, she can't sit through five minutes of work, but Sevika finds a way in a "waste my time I'll waste your time" deal. Little fucker's time management improves immediately.

One day they're doing homework and little fucker has to write a story, but before that, she needs to write details about her character (teddy bear on her shirt).

"How do you call really smart people?" Little fucker asks with a philosophical frown.

"Geniuses?" Sevika tries, also frowning in an effort to find the right word.

Little fucker looks at her disappointedly and Sevika sweats like she is a first grader in front of a teacher.

"Prodigy? Also a great word." Sevika offers, but the disappointment on your baby's face grows.

"I have no fucking idea, kid." Sevika admits.

Little fucker just flops her arms encouraging Sevika to try.

"Do you mean scientists?"

Another look of extreme disappointment. Sevika starts to feel bad.

Little fucker sighs and taps her pencil on her book, frustrated. Then she looks at Sevika again, still shocked at her lack of intelligence.

"Nerds." She says in mock surprise. "They are called nerds, mom."

Sevika is speechless. Then she snorts and nods, admitting her defeat.

"Okay. You're right." Sevika is kinda proud of her baby's sass and she doesn't even try to hide it.

"I'll use genius though." Little fucker says like an expert and slowly writes down the word.

"Yeah. Don't think your teacher will like it very much if you say your Teddy is a nerd."

Later Sevika asks you the same question.

"How do you call really smart people?"

"Competent?" You try offhandedly as you wash the dishes.

"Well, according to our daughter, they're called nerds."

"This girl, I swear to God." You snort. "It's all your influence."

"Dunno, I married a nerd after all, not you."

this is FUCKING ADORABLE IM SOBBING

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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jacksdinonuggets · 2 months

Text

~ T r a u m a ~

Summary:Lucifer is trying to spend some time to get to know Vaggie but she ends up in littlespace so Lucifer takes care of her.

It was rough keeping a big secret from Charlie. Even though she accepted her now and they were on good terms, things were still very stressful. Her wings contributed to that factor as well. They reminded her of what she did before Charlie found her and it gave her a lot of guilt. A few panic attacks later, she decided to talk about it to Charlie one day, hoping that she’ll feel better.

“Maybe you should talk to someone about this,” Charlie suggested, “I’m not exactly qualified and there aren’t many therapists in hell, but maybe you could talk to my dad,”

“Why Lucifer?” Vaggie asked, a little bit nervous. She didn’t exactly want to talk about all this heavy shit to her girlfriend’s dad. What if she makes herself look bad and he’s unaccepting of them? He did know she was an exorcist but never knew why she fell in the first place. It was too heavy to talk about in their little time together.

“Well, he’s also a fallen angel, he might understand how it feels,” The princess prompted.

Vaggie bit her lip, wondering what she should do. Finally, after a moment of hesitation, she sighed and agreed.

A day or two later, Vaggie stands in front of Lucifer’s room. It was just one of the nicer hotel rooms, so it wasn’t supposed to be as intimidating. But it was. She took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Mr Morningstar?” She called out, slowly opening the door and entering. He had one of the suites so she assumed he was just in one of the bedrooms.

“Ah, Maggie! Good to see you!” He popped up to her side and gave her a hug. She flinched, but then relaxed.

“It’s Vaggie, Sir,” She calmly corrected him.

“Vaggie, got it. Anyways, what brings you to my humble abode,” He asked, leading her to the kitchen area where he poured himself a glass of water.

“I- uhhh, I was hoping to talk to you about something,” She nervously looked around the room, trying to avoid eye contact. She really didn’t want to make this more awkward and terrifying than it already was.

“Oh, alright, let's sit then,” he walked over to the couch and gestured a hand to the one in front of it so they sat facing towards each other.

“So, I- Uh, Charlie wanted me to talk to you about some struggles I’ve been having that have to do with being a fallen angel,” she began, “I don’t even know how to start,”

She thought about it for a second and took a deep breath.

“What do you do when… you feel so ashamed for being an angel that you think it would be better if you were gone?”

“That’s a tough question. Mind telling me why you feel ashamed first?” he asked. He would probably have to tell Charlie about these thoughts. It definitely wasn’t healthy.

Vaggie’s memories and reasons why she was guilty flashed in her head. The people she’s killed. The souls lost. It's all her fault.

“I- I- I-,” She stuttered.

“Hey, it’s okay, take a deep breath,” he instructed. After she took a couple, she felt a bit calmer.

“I was an exorcist for years. I killed so many and hurt many more. I lied to Charlie, I lied to my friends, I even lied to myself. I kept saying that it was okay but it wasn’t! Nothing is okay! I’m not fucking okay! I’m a murderer.…” she confessed. He sucked in a breath but she wasn’t done.

“I wasn’t even punished! I- I deserve to feel hurt and pain. I deserve agony but no one will give it to me. My stupid wings are a constant reminder of the monster I am,” She began to stumble on her words as her lip began to quiver. She’s held so much in that she was an absolute mess now that she was talking about it. It made her headspace immediately fall like a bag of sand being thrown off a cliff.

Before she knew it, she started crying, sobbing even. Lucifer got really worried and moved to sit next to her. He wrapped his arms around her shaking body. She was very much ugly crying. The hiccuping, hyperventilating kind too. Why was he giving her comfort. He should be upset with her.

“Vaggie, you don’t deserve any pain. You’ve changed. You’re not deserving of a punishment anymore. You deserve comfort and help,” He told her in a calm, gentle voice. It was quite nurturing too.

Being a caregiver, he could notice easily when a headspace dropped and he could tell hers went deep down fast. He gently pulled her into his lap and began to rock her, trying to calm the baby down.

“Shh, shhh, you’re okay, we all forgive you, shh, shhh,” He spoke soothingly into her ear.

He made a rubber duck appear and held it in front of her.

“Look! It’s a ducky!” he sqeaked it, trying to get her attention. She looked up at it, still crying but not as many hiccups. Lucifer moved it around and made little quacking noises to entertain her. It seemed to help.

He gave the ducky to her once she stopped crying. She immediately tried to put it in her mouth.

“Ah, ah, ah, you don’t know where that’s been,” he took it out of her mouth and made a pacifier appear in her mouth. She sucked on while playing the rubber duck.

He lifted her up and placed her on the second couch. He snapped his fingers and her clothing changed. She was now in a thick diaper and onesie. Lucifer had babysat enough times to know what clothing helped her feel safe.

He brought her over to the bedroom and laid her down in bed before he took off his shoes and climbed in too. She seemed very clingy so he definitely would need to cuddle with her.

She snuggled up close to him as he massaged her scalp. He felt bad that she had to deal with all of this guilt. It was upsetting to say the least. Even though they weren’t very close, he still cared and worried about her.

He felt content once he heard soft snoring coming from the girl. It was a peaceful sight, knowing that she was no longer fighting her inner demons. He slipped out of the bed without waking her up and went back into the small living room area.

He brainstormed what kind of toys Vaggie would like. He wanted to make sure she had something to do when she woke up. After summoning a couple of blocks, a shape sorting game, and setting up a cute purple tent and filled it with a bunch of pillows and blankets, he sat on the couch and scrolled on his hellphone. He contemplated calling Charlie but he didn’t want her to think he wasn’t good enough to take care of Vaggie.

He sat there for a while until a scream erupted from the bedroom. He shot up and scrambled towards the sound. He followed it and opened the door. The sight he was greeted with was sad to say the least. The poor girl was shot up in bed, bawling while clutching the blankets. He could easily see sweat beads rolling down her forehead too. Using context clues, he realized that she must’ve had a nightmare.

“Sweetie,” he sat down next to her on the bed. He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead, waiting patiently for her to calm down. He wiped away her tears and held a tissue to her nose, which she blew into, clearing her sinuses. She cried for a minute or two until she was feeling a bit better.

Lucifer summoned a bottle filled with cold water and pulled her into his lap. A diaper change was in order afterwards but for now, he fed her the water, knowing that it would help. Once she finished it, she mumbled a “t’ank you,”

“You’re welcome, Little ducky. Do you want to talk about your bad dream?” Lucifer asked.

“Dun wanna think about it,” She told him. “Scary,”

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t need to talk about it. I have a small surprise for you but do you need any help getting your diapy changed?” He asked. She nodded, feeling way too small to do it herself.

He laid her down on the ground and began to make quick work of the change. Vaggie played with a small fidget cube so it wasn’t so overwhelming. Once he was done and taped everything up, he carried her on his hip into the living room where watched her play with blocks and sorting games.

Lucifer never realized how intense her trauma was. He was glad that he now knew so he could prepare for any future mishaps. It made him determined to be the best caregiver ever. He would make the small and scared fallen angel feel happy with herself again.

#agere writing #agere fanfic #age regression #sfw agere #hazbin hotel agere #sfw littlespace #little!Vaggie #cg!lucifer #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel age regression #hazbin hotel #age regression writing #age regression fic #regressuary #sfw diaper wearing #sfw padded agere #ageredips #sfw agere diapers

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jacarandaaaas · 9 months

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why waiting on a miracle is one of my favorite (and one of the most underrated) encanto songs:

So this song in my humble opinion is one of the most under appreciated songs from the movie so I’m here to give it some appreciation! (Also the irony of the song being about being ignored and overlooked and that’s exactly what happened)

So waiting on a miracle is the classic “disney I want song” but to me this song is so much more than that. One thing that sticks out to me immediately is the fact unlike most I want songs, mirabel isn’t singing about wanting more than she already has shes singing about something she lacks but SHOULD have already. From the title most people gathered that she wants a magical gift like the rest of her family and whilst that is true I find it profound that it’s not the magic for the sake of magic she wants. It’s the appreciation from her family. All she wants is to contribute and fit in and she feels the only way she can do that is if she gets a gift. It’s also important to note unlike most I want songs mirabel doesn’t get *exactly* what she wants at the end which she mentions is a miracle. She does however end up getting her ultimate goal which is the acceptance and she doesn’t need a miracle to do that. Also with the title being “waiting on a miracle” a miracle is rare it’s thought to be something almost impossible or not even real. So for mirabels I want song to be about this shows that even she herself is aware it’s literally an impossible ask but she’s just dreaming of the possibilities if she got something as rare as a miracle.

I also found the instrumental quite genius as some have already pointed out all the madrigal songs are in 4/4 time… except this one. Waiting on a miracle is in 3/4 time as yet another subtle way to show she’s out of place. as lin manuel himself said “she’s literally out of beat with the rest of her family” so thanks for that lin the song was already sad enough but you just had to do that👍

also congratulations to mirabel for being one of the few disney characters to actually say when they aren’t ok “I’m not fineeee” I know that seems minuscule but it’s so refreshing to hear a character actually express that they are feeling negative emotions and it’s ok to express that. Especially since bottling up emotions is so common nowadays it’s a good message for the next generation <3

also waiting on a miracle kinda sorta predicts the whole movie? “I would move the mountains, make new trees and flowers grow” “I would heal whats broken show this family something new” she ended up achieving all of that in the movie’ 1. The mountains split when the house was collapsing. 2. She helped isabela discover what else she could do thus making new trees and flowers grow. 3. She basically healed the entire family which is what was broken and she showed them all they are enough without gifts! So that’s just a nice little bit of foreshadowing.

Ok now back to the sad stuff! in the lyric “I would heal whats broken” turns out she’s not referring to the entire family but herself. She views herself as broken because she didn’t get a gift and she wants to fix herself 💔 another lyric to note is “cant keep down the unspoken invisible pain” a lot of people talk about how inconsiderate the madrigals are towards mirabel but the thing is they don’t realize how it effects her. We know she can put on a hell of an act (see family madrigal song) and she herself refers to her pain as “invisible” she’s hiding it from everyone so they don’t realize how badly she’s hurting because she puts on the whole optimistic act. So another way the movie demonstrates the communication issues within the family.

And how can I forget mirabel literally telling herself at the beginning “dont be upset or mad at all” she’s quite literally telling herself to not feel those things that she’s “totally fine” I also love the fact the music is in the tune of “the family madrigal” up until she says “I’m not fine” I just thought that was a cool detail!

I’ve seen people complain about “open your eyes” x3 because it doesn’t get any louder or higher it just stays the same. Well there’s actually a reason for that! the song is called waiting on a miracle, mirabel is stuck in that position. She’s stuck waiting. It’s also important to note that the visual of her begging to her abuela to “open her eyes” and not being noticed implies that she’s been trying for a long time to be noticed but she keeps being stuck.

Also shoutout to Stephanie beatriz for the amazing acting because I could FEEL the emotion and the passion. and yes I know it’s because she’s in labour but I also believe even if she wasn’t in labour the song would still sound emotional as stephanie is a really great actress! I believe in an interview she stated she wanted to perform this song like it’s the first time mirabel is expressing these feelings to herself. Basically yeah that’s true she had been lying to herself for a decade and finally she decides to admit to herself she’s not fine she’s not happy and she wants a change. The voice crack on “I’m not fine” is actually heartbreaking and this is the moment her facade breaks entirely, and I love the vocal cry she does on “longing to shine like all of you shine” it’s just these little vocal details that add so much to the song and make it so powerful

I’ve also seen people complaining this song isn’t “belty” enough but it’s just not that type of song! mirabel is stuck in her position and if you notice in a lot of Disney movies once it reaches the climax of the i want song the protagonist comes to a decision of sorts. Take “how far I’ll go for example” she decides she’s going to sail beyond the reef and the music climaxes, she also has the triumphant high note at the end. Waiting on a miracle unlike how far I’ll go is NOT a triumphant song. The music does climax but only to emphasize mirabels false hope as she’s saying all the things she would do.

with the high note I firmly believe that there’s only one significant high note at the end for a particular reason. Like I said above usually high notes in Disney songs symbolize achievement or a sense of strength found. Mirabels high note has the opposite effect. She’s quite literally begging for a miracle in desperation only to realize she’s wishing for a fantasy. “Am I too late for a miracle” is the line the song ends on and the visual is important here too. We see the fireworks fade away and mirabel is left standing alone in the dark because it was all in her mind. (Looking at you “mirabels gift is time stopping” theorists)

So yeah I find this song to be quite unique and raw for an I want song and I think the “vent” aspect of it is what makes me appreciate it even more. It’s not sugar coated. To quote stephanie beatriz herself: “real, human, imperfect, yearning to belong and hoping for something beyond what she sees in herself: an expression of hope and fear, all wrapped in teen angst.”

So uh go stream waiting on a miracle because it’s a great song 👍(also yes this rant is a mess I’m terrible at articulating my feelings on songs but it’s also just for fun I’m like not a professional lmao)

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virgoilluminati · 3 months

Text

WORLD CLASS

Chapter 6

previous chapter |next part

A/N: Hey guys, long time no see. Happy 2024! I hope everything is going the way you wanted this year to go so far. Apologies for being M I A. Cannot promise that it won't happen again, but I'm trying honestly. Here is the next part of the world class fanfic - currently posting archived posts so hopefully my posts will be a bit more frequent. Anywayysss enjoy :)

ps: i know that one of the photos y/n is wearing an orlando kit, please just imagine this as if its the england kit (i tried looking at couldn't find a single photo.)

y/nmorrison_

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y/nmorrison_ semi final jitters. First starting lineup for england!

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judebellingham - proud boyfriend moment ❤️

ellatoone game time! ⚽️

leahwilliamson my arsenal girl 🔴⚪️

lucybronze: well done lil sis. ✨💕

As the trio—Y/N, Russo, and Toone—receive a summons to meet with Serena Weigman, the tension rises once again.

Seated side by side in Serena’s office, the trio exchanges anxious glances, awaiting Serena’s decision. Before the manager can delve into the details, a sudden commotion outside the office draws her attention.

In Serena’s absence, Russo and Toone begin to whisper to each other, casting furtive glances in your direction. The mystery surrounding their hushed conversation only fuels your confusion.

Finally, unable to contain your curiosity, you ask, “What’s going on, guys? Why the secret conversation?”

Toone hesitates, exchanging a glance with Russo before breaking into a grin. "Okay, here's the deal," she begins, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "If either of us gets the chance to replace James, we've decided we'll give it up for you."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "What? Why would you do that?"

Russo chimes in, "Because, Y/N, we genuinely believe you deserve this opportunity more than anyone. You've been giving your all on and off the pitch. It's your time to shine."

You, humbled and slightly overwhelmed, stammer, "But... I don't understand. Why me?"

Toone smiles, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Because we're a team, and we know you'll make the most of this chance. We believe in you."

Russo nods in agreement. "You've got the heart, the spirit, and the skill. This is your moment, Y/N."

As Serena returns to her office, the trio—You, Russo, and Toone—shifts their attention back to the manager. Serena, her expression serious yet compassionate, begins laying out the scenario.

"Alright, girls, here's the situation," Serena starts, her eyes moving from one player to the next. "As you know, James is out due to the red card. It's a crucial match, and decisions have to be made."

Your stomach churns with a mix of nerves and anticipation. You exchange glances with Russo and Toone, both of whom share a silent understanding.

"We've got options, and I need your input," Serena continues. "Toone, Russo, both of you have been in excellent form. But here's the catch—we can only pick one."

Serena pauses, letting the weight of her words settle. Outside the office, the buzz of activity hints at the significance of the moment.

"Toone," Serena turns to the forward, "you've been a force up front. Your agility and goal-scoring prowess are invaluable."

Toone nods, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the decision at hand.

"Russo," Serena shifts her focus, "your ability to create opportunities and your strategic play have been crucial for us."

Russo acknowledges Serena with a determined nod.

"And then, there's you, Y/N," Serena says, turning to you with a hint of a smile. "A versatile player, a team player, someone who's demonstrated resilience both on and off the field."

You feel a mixture of pride and nervousness as Serena acknowledges your contribution.

"Before we make a decision," Serena continues, "I need your honest thoughts. Speak up. What are your strengths, and how do you think you can contribute to this crucial match?"

Toone and Russo take turns expressing their confidence in their abilities, emphasizing how they could make a difference on the pitch. You, though still battling the lingering nausea, speak about your adaptability, teamwork, and the determination to give your best, regardless of the position.

Serena listens attentively, weighing your words. Just as the discussion reaches a pivotal point, another commotion from outside interrupts the conversation. Serena excuses herself briefly, promising to return to finalize the decision.

In Serena's absence, Toone and Russo exchange glances, and you can't help but feel the intensity of the moment. The unspoken camaraderie among the three players resonates in the room.

Finally, Serena returns, her expression resolute."The decision is made," Serena declares. "Toone, Russo, thank you for your commitment. But today, Y/N, you're stepping into James' position. We believe in your ability to make a difference on the field."

A mix of surprise and gratitude washes over you. Toone and Russo, true to their whispered agreement, nod in support. The trio, now united in a shared mission, leaves Serena's office, ready to face the challenges that await them on the pitch.

jude's story.

In the early morning light, the Madrid football stadium stands quiet as your voice echoes, phone pressed against your ear. On the other side of the world, you pace the field in Australia, cleats clicking, engaged in your conversation with Jude.

"I did it jude, I'm on the lineup!"

"Ahhh! Congratulations my love, I am so proud!"

"I'm shitting myself though. What if I mess up?"

"Y/N, you won't." Jude's frown is evident through the screen.

"But what if-" Jude interupts you, knowing her common weakness of self doubt.

Jude: "You know, Y/N, I've been thinking. I really want to get a dog."

You chuckle, adjusting your kit, "A dog, Jude? Seriously? That's your way of making me feel better?"

Jude, excitement in his voice, "Well, yeah! Imagine having a loyal companion to share the victories and defeats with. Plus, I could use some unconditional love."

Your tone shifting, you sigh, "I love the idea, Jude, but you know our situation. We have a tiny apartment in London, and with our careers, we aren't home much. A dog might not fit in."

Jude, thoughtful, responds, "You've got a point. But think about it, Y/N - a dog could bring so much joy into our lives. We could make it work."

You chuckle, "I can just see us trying to fit a dog bed next to all our football gear. It's a charming image, but practicality might get in the way."

Jude: "Practicality? Since when did footballers worry about that? We'll figure it out. Maybe hire a dog walker or recruit teammates for puppy play dates."

You smile at the mental image, saying, "You're optimistic, Jude. I love it. Let's make a deal: if we ever get a dog, it has to be an arsenal fan. No exceptions."

"how about England fan, as a compromise?"

"Deal!"

Jude laughs "Now, speaking of dogs, while you're preparing for your World Cup match, I'll start researching local shelters here in Madrid. We might find the perfect furry friend."

You grin, "In Madrid? That's ambitious, but I like it. Just make sure it's a dog that can keep up with both our busy schedules."

The conversation takes an unexpected turn as Jude hesitates, "You know, Y/N, we've been talking about this dog and our hectic schedules. What if... What if you moved in with me in Madrid? We could find an apartment here, and maybe that way, we can make having a dog work."

You, on the other end of the line, feel a mix of surprise and panic. "Move to Madrid? I mean, it sounds tempting, but that's a huge step, Jude. My club is in Arsenal, my family's in London. It's not just about football; it's about my whole life."

Jude, realizing the impact of his suggestion, softens his tone, "I didn't mean to upset you, Y/N. I just want us to find a way to make it work, you know? The dog, being together more, all of it."

You, taking a deep breath, reply, your voice wavering, "I appreciate that, Jude, I really do. But moving to another country, leaving everything I know behind, it's a huge step."

And with that, the conversation ends on a somber note, leaving you to gather your thoughts and prepare for your match, while Jude grapples with the realization that his suggestion has brought unexpected tension into your relationship.

Feeling the weight of the conversation, you take a deep breath and reply, your voice strained, “Jude, this is a lot to process. I’ve got a match to get ready for, and we both need time to think. Let’s talk about this later, okay?”

As you navigate the tumult of emotions, Jude, sensing your struggle, starts to respond, “Y/N, I didn’t mean to make this–”

Before he can finish, you interrupt, “Jude, I’ve got to go. Lucy’s coming into my room, and I need to focus. We’ll talk later, okay?”

Jude, left with his thoughts and the unresolved conversation, reluctantly agrees, “Yeah, sure. Take care, Y/N.”

The line goes silent, leaving Jude to grapple with the weight of the discussion. On the other side of the world, you face the challenge of compartmentalizing your emotions and preparing for the match ahead. The distance, both physical and emotional, lingers as you each retreat to your respective worlds, carrying the burden of a conversation that has taken an unexpected turn.

As you sit there, attempting to process the unexpected turn in your conversation with Jude, Lucy walks into your room, concern etched on her face.

Lucy: “Y/N, everything okay? You seem a bit off.”

You, forcing a small smile, reply, “Yeah, just… unexpected news from Jude. We were talking about getting a dog, and then he suggested I move to Madrid. It’s a lot to take in.”

Lucy, sensing the weight in your words, sits down beside you, “Move to Madrid? That’s a huge step. What are you thinking?”

You, staring into the distance, admit, “I don’t even know, Lucy. Arsenal is my home, my family is here, and I can’t just uproot everything. It’s overwhelming.”

Lucy, offering a supportive hand, says, “Take your time, Y/N. You don’t need to make any decisions right now. And if you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.”

As you sit in contemplative silence, Lucy gently reveals, “You know, Y/N, I was actually considering mentioning you to FC Barcelona. But I held back because I knew how close you are with Leah at Arsenal. However, things have changed now.”

You, looking at Lucy with surprise, ask, “You were going to mention me to Barcelona?”

Lucy nods, “Yeah, your talent deserves recognition, and Barcelona is always looking for top-tier players. I didn’t want to complicate things, but now that Jude has brought up this move, maybe it’s worth exploring. You could commute from Madrid and play with me and keira. No pressure, though. Just a thought.”

You, processing the unexpected turn of events, say, “That’s a lot to consider, Lucy. I appreciate your honesty and support. Let me think about it.”

Before Lucy leaves, you ask her quietly, “Please, Lucy, don’t tell anyone about this. Not yet.”

Lucy, with a reassuring smile, responds, “Never. Your decisions are yours to share when you’re ready. I’ve got your back, Y/N.”

And with that promise hanging in the air, Lucy leaves the room, leaving you to contemplate the potential paths ahead, the weight of the conversation still heavy on your shoulders.

england & lionessess

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england: kick off in 10 minutes, some of the cutest scenes in australia today, including this precious little mascot Tilly.

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user105 so cute 💕

englandfans06 it's coming home 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

In the bustling waiting area, players clutch their mascots, standing alongside their Australian opponents. You, battling persistent nausea, can't pinpoint the cause. A quick, vivid flashback engulfs you - you remember feeling queasy and unsettled just after your meeting with Sarina..

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. The vivid image of the office, the faint scent of paperwork, and the subtle anxiety that lingers in the air become etched in your memory. You shake off the unsettling thoughts, determined to focus on the task at hand - the World Cup semi-final.

Returning to the sidelines, your eyes catch the glimpse of your little mascot - a charming girl with braided hair named Tilly. You greet her with a warm smile. "Hello there, what's your name?"

The little girl beams back, "I'm Tilly!"

Kneeling down to Tilly's level, you create an instant connection. "Hi, Tilly! Who's your favorite football team?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Tilly hesitates for a moment, then responds, "Arsenal."

"No way! Who's your favorite player? Is it Leah, 'cause she's brilliant-"

She shakes her head.

"Meado?"

She shakes her head.

"Then who?" You giggle. Tilly hesitates for a minute before pointing at you.

Taken aback, you chuckle. "Me? Really? That's so special, Tilly. Thank you!"

You compliment Tilly on her adorable braids, expressing genuine admiration. Standing up again, you take Tilly's hand, leading her toward the pitch. The exchange transforms the waiting area into a moment of connection and inspiration.

As you step onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd intensifies. You, still feeling nausea, twirl Tilly around, creating a moment of joy. Your laughter echoes, a delightful contrast to the tense energy of the impending match. Your teammates, witnessing the scene, join in the merriment.

The referee's whistle signals the start of the match. You, still holding Tilly's hand, guide her toward the center circle for pre-game rituals. Tilly, wide-eyed, takes in the enormity of the stadium.

During the national anthems, you stand with Tilly, singing along proudly. The little girl, mimicking the anthem, adds charm to the solemn moment. You exchange a knowing glance with Tilly, a silent acknowledgment of the shared experience.

As the anthems conclude, you crouch down to Tilly's level. "You ready to watch an amazing game, Tilly?"

Tilly nods enthusiastically. "Yes! And you're gonna score, right?"

Y/N grinned. "I'll give it my best shot. And I have you cheering me on, so that's like having a secret superpower."

With a final exchange of smiles, you part ways momentarily as the match begins. Fueled by Tilly's infectious enthusiasm, you dive into the game with renewed vigor. Throughout the match, you steal glances toward the stands, where Tilly waves her miniature flag, cheering wholeheartedly. The documentary crew, capturing every emotion, immortalizes this heartwarming chapter of the World Cup journey.

Lucy Bronze and Leah Williamson gather the team for a powerful pep talk. Lucy's embrace envelops each player, setting the tone for unity and determination.

"Ladies, today is special," Lucy declares, her voice ringing with authority. "We're welcoming you onto this grand stage for your debut. We've seen your dedication, and now it's time to show the world just how brilliant you are."

Leah steps forward, her words infusing the air with a mix of authority and camaraderie. "Today, we beat the Australians not just for a place in the finals but for the pride of wearing this jersey and for the legacy we're building together."

The team absorbs the intensity of the moment, a shared resolve forming as they prepare to face the formidable Australian opponents.

"The Australians are tough, relentless," Leah warns. "This won't be easy, but we've faced challenges before, and we've conquered them. Today, we fight for each other, and we fight to win."

As they disperse to their positions on the field, Lucy and Leah's words linger, becoming a driving force for a team ready to turn challenges into triumphs. The pitch awaits, and with your debut adding an extra layer of significance, the England Women's National Team stands united, ready to leave their mark on the journey to the finals.

During half-time, you, overwhelmed by emotions stemming from the recent decision to consider moving from Arsenal to FC Barcelona, run out, seeking solace. Unbeknownst to you, Lucy, who knows the source of your distress, observes your hurried exit and decides to follow.

As you find yourself in the bathroom, tears streaming down your face, Lucy enters, concerned. "Y/N, what's happening? You seem upset."

Surprised by Lucy's presence, you try to brush it off. "It's nothing, Lucy. Just need a moment."

Lucy, aware of the underlying issue, insists, "Y/N, I know there's more to it. You don't have to face it alone."

Meanwhile, Leah, approaches the bathroom to check on you. Lucy intercepts her, blocking the entrance. "Leave her be, Leah. She needs space."

Leah, puzzled and concerned, insists, "Lucy, Y/N is my best friend. I can't just leave her alone when she's upset. What's going on?"

Lucy, torn between loyalty to you and the desire to protect your privacy, hesitates. "This is not something for everyone to know. Y/N needs time."

Leah, feeling the tension escalate, demands, "Lucy, I need to know. What's bothering Y/N? She doesn't keep secrets from me."

Lucy, frustrated and grappling with the conflicting responsibilities, finally blurts out, "She was considering a move to FC Barcelona. But nothing's confirmed—"

Leah, stunned by the revelation, looks at Lucy with disbelief. The confrontation shifts from concern for you to a heated exchange between Lucy and Leah, each grappling with their roles in your life and the challenges of balancing personal matters with the demands of the game.

Leah's eyes harden with frustration and confusion. "Wait—What?!!"

Lucy, defensive yet determined, replies, "Because she's trying to protect you, Leah. She knows how much you care. And you would also convince her not to go."

Leah, not satisfied with the explanation, shoots back, "Y/N and I share everything. What gives you the right to decide otherwise?"

Lucy, now equally frustrated, retorts, "I'm trying to do what's best for her, Leah. Sometimes that means making tough decisions."

Leah, her emotions bubbling over, exclaims, "Best for her? You don't get to decide what's best for Y/N without considering how it affects the people who actually care about her!"

Sarina, hearing the heated exchange between Lucy and Leah, steps into the bathroom, her presence commanding attention. "Enough of this," she declares.

The confrontation between Lucy and Leah intensifies, and you find yourself caught in the crossfire of conflicting emotions. Finally, you can't take it anymore. "Enough! Both of you, just stop!" The weight of your emotions spills over as you storm out of the bathroom, leaving Lucy and Leah in stunned silence.

Lucy and Leah exchange a tense glance but follow Sarina back into the main room, where the team is gathered. Sarina swiftly transitions into discussing the plans for the second half of the match, redirecting the focus to the task at hand. "As I was saying," Sarina begins, her tone authoritative, "we need to tighten our defense, capitalize on their weaknesses, and keep the pressure on. You, Y/N, are key in this; I want you to exploit the gaps in their formation."

Determined to contribute despite the emotional turmoil, you nod in agreement. The rest of the team, sensing the underlying tension, focuses on Sarina's strategic instructions, trying to maintain the morale built throughout the tournament.

The second half begins with renewed intensity. The team, despite the recent upheaval, channels their energy into the game. You, amidst the emotional turmoil, push yourself to deliver on the pitch. Lucy and Leah, recognizing the need to set aside personal differences, demonstrate a united front in their positions.

The opposing team notices a shift in the England Women's National Team's dynamics but can't exploit it. The players, committed to their roles, continue to execute the game plan, rallying together for a common goal.

As the match progresses, the team's focus becomes more pronounced. The exchange of glances and unspoken tensions are momentarily set aside for the collective pursuit of victory. The pursuit of victory resonates with every skillful play, and the once-challenged morale finds its way back, fueled by the shared determination to advance to the finals.

At the crucial moment, as the ball finds its way to you, Leah's words echo in your mind - a reminder of the strength that comes from leaning on your teammates. Your legs burn with exhaustion, but the goal beckons like an elusive dream slipping through your fingertips. With a burst of determination, you unleash a powerful, swerving kick that sends the ball soaring through the air.

Time seems to slow as the ball arcs towards the goal, every heartbeat resonating with the collective hope of the team and the echoes of the crowd. The goalkeeper, stretching in vain, can only watch as the ball, driven by your unwavering spirit, slams into the back of the net.

A thunderous roar erupts from the stands, the celebration echoing through the stadium. You, momentarily suspended in the bliss of triumph, are engulfed by your teammates, the weight of the match and the underlying tensions momentarily forgotten.

With the scoreboard now reading 2-1 in favor of England, the atmosphere in the stadium crackles with anticipation. The England Women's National Team is on the verge of securing their place in the World Cup finals.

In a strategic move, Russo enters thepitch, replacing Kelly. The team, riding the momentum of your earlier goal, senses the opportunity to solidify their lead. You, eager to contribute further, seize an opportunity near the sideline.

As the clock ticks down, you skillfully maneuver the ball, evading defenders with a series of deft moves. Russo, positioned strategically in the box, makes a decisive run, anticipating your intention. With precision, you deliver a pinpoint cross that arches gracefully into the penalty area.

The stadium holds its collective breath as Russo, timing her approach perfectly, leaps and connects with the ball. A resounding thud echoes through the stadium as Russo's header sends the ball hurtling into the net. The crowd erupts into ecstatic cheers as the scoreboard now proudly displays 3-1, marking a significant advantage for the England team.

You, having orchestrated the play, share a triumphant moment with Russo. The teammates, their connection evident in the precision of that crucial play, are engulfed by the jubilant celebrations of their colleagues. The dramatic turn of events showcases the resilience and teamwork that define the England Women's National Team, solidifying their position in the World Cup finals.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, as you and Russo revel in the glory of the goal that solidified England's lead, Lucy approaches with a compliment. "Y/N, you'd make a great addition to Barcelona," she remarks, a smile on her face.

While you reciprocate the smile, a sudden gut punch of realization strikes you. The prospect of moving to another team, even if just in conversation, reopens the emotional wounds stirred by earlier discussions. Despite the outward composure, your internal struggle intensifies.

Feeling the weight of conflicting emotions, you seek solace in the familiar embrace of Leah, who, overwhelmed with emotion, has tears streaming down her face. The joy of reaching a World Cup final, an elusive dream for Leah until now, has rendered her speechless.

You, sensing Leah's vulnerability, attempt to apologize for the recent bickering, but before you can utter a word, Leah pulls you into a tight hug. In that embrace, the unspoken apologies and the weight of your recent conflicts seem to dissipate. Leah's words ring clear, breaking through the noise of the celebration. "Bickering or not," Leah whispers, her voice choked with emotion, "none of it matters right now. We made it, Y/N. We're in a World Cup final."

The significance of the moment hangs in the air as you hold each other, your shared journey filled with struggles and triumphs culminating in this monumental achievement. The team, once fractured by personal conflicts, finds unity in the pursuit of a common goal. In that embrace, you and Leah celebrate not only the victory on the pitch but also the resilience of your friendship amid the challenges of elite football.

As your and Russo's celebration echoes through the stadium, the commentators seize the moment to emphasize the historical significance of this match for both the women's and men's teams. "Incredible scenes here as Y/N's goal propels the England Women's National Team to a 3-1 lead, securing their spot in the World Cup final. But, folks, let's not overlook the broader impact of this moment. For years, both the men's and women's teams have tirelessly pursued the elusive World Cup, and today, the women have showcased their prowess on the grandest stage."

The echoes of the celebration and the commentators' reflections merge into a symphony of triumph, resonating far beyond the stadium, marking a defining chapter in the history of women's football.

In the midst of the roaring crowd, the commentary captures the essence of your journey. As the England Women's National Team secures a 3-1 lead, the commentators emphasize the historical significance of this moment for both the men's and women's teams.

"Your goal, Y/N, propels the England Women's National Team to a 3-1 lead, securing your spot in the World Cup final. This moment isn't just about a match; it's about breaking barriers, rewriting narratives, and proving that women's football deserves recognition and celebration. Your journey is a testament to the strides made in the pursuit of global glory."

Leah's emotional reaction becomes a powerful symbol for the women's team, transcending the boundaries of just a match. "Leah's emotional reaction speaks volumes. For the women's team, this isn't just about winning a match; it's about paving the way for future generations and showcasing that women's football deserves every bit of recognition."

The unity between you and Leah is highlighted as symbolic in the grander scheme of things. "The unity between you and Leah is symbolic—a reminder that, regardless of gender, football is a sport that unites, inspires, and creates history. As you head to the World Cup final, you're not just competing; you're paving the way for future generations."

In the broader context, the significance of England's journey is acknowledged. "As we savor this moment, let's acknowledge the magnitude of what's happening here. England, with its storied football legacy, is on the verge of etching a new chapter in the annals of the beautiful game."

The shared dream between the men's and women's teams becomes a powerful narrative. "The men's and women's teams stand side by side in pursuit of a shared dream—a World Cup triumph that transcends gender boundaries. This moment isn't just important for England but for football as a whole."

leahwilliamson

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lucybronze - so proud of this team ❤️

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