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White Plume

White Plume is a hero tale of the Sioux nation featuring the supernatural trickster figure Unktomi (Iktomi) who serves as a catalyst for transformation, whether for good or ill. In this story, Unktomi is the villain whereas in others, such as The Bound Children, he is a force for good. The tale is among the most popular Sioux legends.

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The following is taken from Myths and Legends of the Sioux (1916) by Marie L. McLaughlin. It has been edited for space considerations, but the unabridged tale will be found below in the External Links section.

There once lived a young couple who were very happy. The young man was noted throughout the whole nation for his accuracy with the bow and arrow, and was given the title of "Dead Shot," or "He who never misses his mark," and the young woman, noted for her beauty, was named Beautiful Dove.

One day a stork paid this happy couple a visit and left them a fine big boy…Time passed, and the boy grew up to a good size, when one day his father said: "Wife, give our son the bow and arrows so that he may learn how to use them." The father taught his son how to string and unstring the bow, and also how to attach the arrow to the string. The red, blue and yellow arrows, he told the boy, were to be used only whenever there was any extra good shooting to be done, so the boy never used these three until he became a master of the art…

One day the boy came running into the tent, exclaiming: "Mother, mother, I have shot and killed the most beautiful bird I ever saw”…The parents decided to give a big feast in honor of their son killing the strange, beautiful bird…The guests soon arrived…The great chief and medicine men pronounced the bird "Wakan" (something holy)…, the chief and councilmen bestowed upon the boy the title of White Plume.

One day, a stranger came to the village, who was very thin and nearly starved…After he had eaten and rested, he told his story.

"I came from a very great distance," said he. "The nations where I came from are in a starving condition. No place can they find any buffalo, deer nor antelope. A witch or evil spirit in the shape of a white buffalo has driven all the large game out of the country…Another evil spirit in the form of a red eagle has driven all the birds of the air out of our country…Many a marksman has tried his skill on this bird, all to no purpose…Another evil spirit in the form of a white rabbit has driven out all the animals which inhabit the ground, and destroyed the fields of corn and turnips, so the nation is starving, as the arrows of the marksmen have also failed to touch the white rabbit. Anyone who can kill these three witches will receive as his reward, the choice of two of the most beautiful maidens of our nation. The younger one is the handsomer of the two and has also the sweetest disposition. Many young, and even old men, hearing of this (our chief's) offer, have traveled many miles to try their arrows on the witches, but all to no purpose. Our chief, hearing of your great marksmanship, sent me to try and secure your services to have you come and rid us of these three witches."

Thus spoke the stranger to the hunter. The hunter gazed long and thoughtfully into the dying embers of the campfire. Then slowly his eyes raised and looked lovingly on his wife who sat opposite to him. Gazing on her beautiful features for a full minute he slowly dropped his gaze back to the dying embers and thus answered his visitor:

"My friend, I feel very much honored by your chief having sent such a great distance for me, and also for the kind offer of his lovely daughter in marriage, if I should succeed, but I must reject the great offer, as I can spare none of my affections to any other woman than to my queen whom you see sitting there."

White Plume had been listening to the conversation and when his father had finished speaking, said: "Father, I am a child no more. I have arrived at manhood. I am not so good a marksman as you, but I will go to this suffering tribe and try to rid them of their three enemies. If this man will rest for a few days and return to his village and inform them of my coming, I will travel along slowly on his trail and arrive at the village a day or two after he reaches there."

"Very well, my son," said the father, "I am sure you will succeed, as you fear nothing, and as to your marksmanship, it is far superior to mine, as your sight is much clearer and aim quicker than mine."

The man rested a few days and one morning started off, after having instructed White Plume as to the trail. White Plume got together what he would need on the trip and was ready for an early start the next morning. That night, Dead Shot and his wife sat up away into the night instructing their son how to travel and warning him as to the different kinds of people he must avoid in order to keep out of trouble. "Above all," said the father, "keep a good look out for Unktomi (spider); he is the most tricky of all, and will get you into trouble if you associate with him."

White Plume left early, his father accompanying him for several miles. On parting, the father's last words were: "Look out for Unktomi, my son, he is deceitful and treacherous."

"I'll look out for him, father;" so saying, he disappeared over a hill.

On the way he tried his skill on several hawks and eagles, and he did not need to use his painted arrows to kill them, but so skillful was he with the bow and arrows that he could bring down anything that flew with his common arrows. He was drawing near to the end of his destination when he had a large tract of timber to pass through. When he had nearly gotten through the timber, he saw an old man sitting on a log, looking wistfully up into a big tree, where sat a number of prairie chickens.

"Hello, grandfather, why are you sitting there looking so downhearted?" asked White Plume. "I am nearly starved and was just wishing someone would shoot one of those chickens for me, so I could make a good meal on it," said the old man. "I will shoot one for you," said the young man. He strung his bow, placed an arrow on the string, simply seemed to raise the arrow in the direction of the chicken (taking no aim). Twang went out the bow, zip went the arrow, and a chicken fell off the limb, only to get caught on another in its descent.

"There is your chicken, grandfather."

"Oh, my grandson, I am too weak to climb up and get it. Can't you climb up and get it for me?"

The young man, pitying the old fellow, proceeded to climb the tree, when the old man stopped him, saying: "Grandson, you have on such fine clothes, it is a pity to spoil them; you had better take them off so as not to spoil the fine porcupine work on them."

The young man took off his fine clothes and climbed up into the tree, and securing the chicken, threw it down to the old man. As the young man was scaling down the tree, the old man said: "Iyashkapa, iyashkapa," (stick fast, stick fast). Hearing him say something, he asked, "What did you say, old man?" He answered, "I was only talking to myself."

The young man proceeded to descend, but he could not move. His body was stuck fast to the bark of the tree. In vain did he beg the old man to release him. The old Unktomi, for he it was, only laughed and said: "I will go now and kill the evil spirits, I have your wonderful bow and arrows and I cannot miss them. I will marry the chief's daughter, and you can stay up in that tree and die there."

So saying, he put on White Plume's fine clothes, took his bow and arrows, and went to the village. As White Plume was expected at any minute, the whole village was watching for him, and when Unktomi came into sight the young men ran to him with a painted robe, sat him down on it and slowly raising him up they carried him to the tent of the chief. So certain were they that he would kill the evil spirits that the chief told him to choose one of the daughters at once for his wife. (Before the arrival of White Plume, hearing of him being so handsome, the two girls had quarreled over which should marry him, but upon seeing him the younger was not anxious to become his wife.) So Unktomi chose the older one of the sisters and was given a large tent in which to live.

The younger sister went to her mother's tent to live, and the older was very proud, as she was married to the man who would save the nation from starvation. The next morning, there was a great commotion in camp, and there came the cry that the white buffalo was coming. "Get ready, son-in-law, and kill the buffalo," said the chief.

Unktomi took the bow and arrows and shot as the buffalo passed, but the arrow went wide off its mark. Next came the eagle, and again he shot and missed. Then came the rabbit, and again he missed.

"Wait until tomorrow, I will kill them all. My blanket caught in my bow and spoiled my aim."

The people were very much disappointed, and the chief, suspecting that all was not right, sent for the young man who had visited Dead Shot's tepee. When the young man arrived, the chief asked: "Did you see White Plume when you went to Dead Shot's camp?"

"Yes, I did, and ate with him many times. I stayed at his father's tepee all the time I was there," said the young man.

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" asked the chief.

"Anyone who had but one glimpse of White Plume would surely recognize him when he saw him again, as he is the most handsome man I ever saw," said the young man.

"Come with me to the tent of my son-in-law and take a good look at him, but don't say what you think until we come away."

The two went to the tent of Unktomi, and when the young man saw him, he knew it was not White Plume, although it was White Plume's bow and arrows that hung at the head of the bed, and he also recognized the clothes as belonging to White Plume. When they had returned to the chief's tent, the young man told what he knew and what he thought.

"I think this is some Unktomi who has played some trick on White Plume and has taken his bow and arrows and also his clothes, and hearing of your offer, is here impersonating White Plume. Had White Plume drawn the bow on the buffalo, eagle, and rabbit today, we would have been rid of them, so I think we had better scare this Unktomi into telling us where White Plume is," said the young man.

"Wait until he tries to kill the witches again tomorrow," said the chief.

In the meantime, the younger daughter had taken an axe and gone into the woods in search of dry wood. She went quite a little distance into the wood and was chopping a dry log. Stopping to rest a little she heard someone saying: "Whoever you are, come over here and chop this tree down so that I may get loose."

Going to where the big tree stood, she saw a man stuck onto the side of the tree. "If I chop it down the fall will kill you," said the girl. "No, chop it on the opposite side from me, and the tree will fall that way. If the fall kills me, it will be better than hanging up here and starving to death," said White Plume, for it was he.

The girl chopped the tree down and when she saw that it had not killed the man, she said: "What shall I do now?"

"Loosen the bark from the tree and then get some stones and heat them. Get some water and sage and put your blanket over me." She did as told and when the steam arose from the water being poured upon the heated rocks, the bark loosened from his body and he arose. When he stood up, she saw how handsome he was.

"You have saved my life," said he. "Will you be my wife?"

"I will," said she.

He then told her how the old man had fooled him into this trap and took his bow and arrows, also his fine porcupine worked clothes, and had gone off, leaving him to die. She, in turn, told him all that had happened in camp since a man, calling himself White Plume, came there and married her sister before he shot at the witches, and when he came to shoot at them, missed every shot. "Let us make haste, as the bad Unktomi may ruin my arrows."

They approached the camp and whilst White Plume waited outside, his promised wife entered Unktomi's tent and said: "Unktomi, White Plume is standing outside, and he wants his clothes and bow and arrows."

"Oh, yes, I borrowed them and forgot to return them; make haste and give them to him."

Upon receiving his clothes, he was very much provoked to find his fine clothes wrinkled and his bow twisted, while the arrows were twisted out of shape. He laid the clothes down, also the bows and arrows, and passing his hand over them, they assumed their right shapes again.

The daughter took White Plume to her father's tent and, upon hearing the story, he at once sent for his warriors and had them form a circle around Unktomi's tent, and if he attempted to escape to catch him and tie him to a tree, as he (the chief) had determined to settle accounts with him for his treatment of White Plume, and the deception employed in winning the chief's eldest daughter.

About midnight, the guard noticed something crawling along close to the ground and seizing him found it was Unktomi trying to make his escape before daylight, whereupon they tied him to a tree. "Why do you treat me thus," cried Unktomi, "I was just going out in search of medicine to rub on my arrows, so I can kill the witches." "You will need medicine to rub on yourself when the chief gets through with you," said the young man who had discovered that Unktomi was impersonating White Plume.

In the morning, the herald announced that the real White Plume had arrived, and the chief desired the whole nation to witness his marksmanship. Then came the cry: "The White Buffalo comes." Taking his red arrow, White Plume stood ready. When the buffalo got about opposite him, he let his arrow fly. The buffalo bounded high in the air and came down with all four feet drawn together under its body, the red arrow having passed clear through the animal, piercing the buffalo's heart. A loud cheer went up from the village.

"You shall use the hide for your bed," said the chief to White Plume.

Next came a cry, "The eagle, the eagle." From the north came an enormous red eagle. So strong was he, that as he soared through the air his wings made a humming sound as the rumble of distant thunder. On he came, and just as he circled the tent of the chief, White Plume bent his bow, with all his strength drew the arrow back to the flint point and sent the blue arrow on its mission of death. So swiftly had the arrow passed through the eagle's body that, thinking White Plume had missed, a great wail went up from the crowd, but when they saw the eagle stop in his flight, give a few flaps of his wings, and then fall with a heavy thud into the center of the village, there was a greater cheer than before.

"The red eagle shall be used to decorate the seat of honor in your tepee," said the chief to White Plume.

Last came the white rabbit. "Aim good, aim good, son-in-law," said the chief. "If you kill him, you will have his skin for a rug." Along came the white rabbit, and White Plume sent his arrow in search of rabbit's heart, which it found, and stopped Mr. Rabbit's tricks forever.

The chief then called all of the people together and before them all took a hundred willows and broke them one at a time over Unktomi's back. Then he turned him loose. Unktomi, being so ashamed, ran off into the woods and hid in the deepest and darkest corner he could find. This is why Unktomis (spiders) are always found in dark corners, and anyone who is deceitful or untruthful is called a descendant of the Unktomi tribe.

#History #Sioux

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cherubispunk · 3 days

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NEPHILIM: THE FALLEN - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: fallen or damned? who's to tell when it's joel miller?

a note from Lucy: DONT HATE ME I KNOW ITS BEEN A LONG TIME!! Not entirely happy with this but it's been sitting in my docs for months now and i had to get it out there to give me some peace of mind so please be aware it may well be riddle with grammatical mistakes and typos galore. as always like, comment and reblog to save a sinners sanity!

playlist | moodboard + poem

wc: 2755

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! Jackson era!post outbreak!Joel, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, yearning, idiots in love, angst angst angst!!!!!!, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, oral sex (m! receiving), rough oral sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit) - Lucy crying over a bloody google doc :)

series masterlist | m.list

Ephesians 2:3 Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.

The sky was bruised. It was like God– or whatever resided up there– knew. The grey clouds, and the garish yellow of the setting sun, and the deep blue that ebbed into purple…they all knew. Your heart ached too. Bruised. It seemed to crack a little more each day. What started as nothing more than a hairline fracture had split into a gaping, weeping slice. Why? Because Joel was always quiet. For such a large man he had a ghostly habit of creeping into a room without notice. Creeping into your heart too through your hollow ribs. You could feel him behind you now though. His breath thick on the nape of your neck and it cooled the thin sheen of sweat on your skin. Soothed your burning flesh while saving it from the inferno. The tension became bearable. These little spaces of empty matter between all else. That slight awkwardness about his usual stoic yet confident demeanour…it was endearing now.

You were easing into the silence, content with watching the bruise darken from purple to midnight blue. The sky would turn on its bright little stars, and the moon would slice through sapphire as the early evening aged. The sun was going to rest now, the greying moon taking its post to watch over the town. You should follow the sun’s direction. Close your eyes so as to not have to witness his all too soon departure.

His fingers, so gentle, so strong, gently traced the curve and divot of your hip under the covers. It was strange to think just moments prior they had been inside you. Making you feel boneless in bed.

“Bambi?” He asked, tentative and uncharacteristically uncertain. He loathed it; the change in him.

“Mhm?” You hummed lazily, your hands tucked under the pillow to keep them warm, knees curled up to your chest. But no answer nor following question came. You knew what it was. He was cramming something back down his throat before he had the chance to say it for fear of being out of line. One day it shall choke him blue. He was strung so tightly. Tension in his shoulders that made them rise uncomfortably. And you noticed this when you turned to face him. Neither of you spoke for a moment, as if you were fooling yourself into believing he might continue. Your heart cracked a little more when he turned to face the wall,

“Never mind. It’s nothin’.” He had no reason to be weary of you. However in the past few weeks, coming up to a month, there was subtle, almost imperceptible unease that lingered. And festered. Palpable. Tangible. You could feel it when you reached out to touch his skin. So warm and gorgeous. Golden like ichor in this setting sunlight. You dared to press your lips to the wing of a shoulder blade, skin mangled with scar tissue where you liked to imagine wings once resided, and felt him flinch under your featherlight kiss. “Don’t, Bambi.”

“Joel-“

“I said: No.” His voice was firm, and didn’t give much leeway for convincing. “It’s not somethin’ you know how to fix.” But you were stubborn now. You’d found your feet. You stood your ground more, imitated behaviour. Before he could turn away again you reached to right him, set him flat on his back upon the mattress and splay your hand over his soft stomach under the covers. His throat tightened when your hand ventured timidly south. Then his breath tangled in his throat when it wrapped loosely around his half hard cock. Gently stroking it until it stood to attention in your palm. “Let me help…the way I know how.” You whispered into his ear, running your tongue under his earlobe to bring it between your teeth. Voice like honey, so sweet, and smooth, and slow pouring enough to get stuck in. Jesus Fucking Christ, he hated himself for even entertaining the idea of letting you do this for him. For being the one to help you find your feet. For being the man who tarnished innocence. It seemed all he did these days was ruin what little good there was left in the world. He’d taken an entire inkpot to a pristine sheet of paper, splattered black all over it without a care in the world until now. He felt like the space between you was stygian and reeked of his own sin. It simmered and spat and writhed and any moment now I would boil over the second you came to terms with the fact you were too good for him.

His nostrils flared with the thought but with a twist of your wrist he melted. Because at the base of it all, the very depth of his humanity, he was a selfish, selfish man. You watched a swallow pass down the thick column of his throat and rested your head on his shoulder while your hand dragged up his thick, full shaft, thumb smearing a bead of precome over the delicate flushed skin of its head. Joel watched the ceiling and wallowed in pathetic self pity as you kissed your way down his navel, lips moving in a mumbling of words he couldn't quite hear. He let out a breathy moan when you wrapped your lips around the tip, pressing your tongue flat to the underside to let the taste seep onto your tongue. He then closed his eyes trying to imagine anyone other than you between his legs. Another mouth. Another tongue. Someone else's voice.

It was no use because it seemed your eyes, the shade, the shape, were printed to the back of his lids. He gave up. He was too old to try to partake in sisyphean tasks.

Joel sat up and you moved between his legs as he threw the covers off to watch you. His back to the headboard, your warm mouth inviting him deeper, he hesitated to press a hand to the crown of your head, but when you pulled off to lick a flat tongued strip from base to tip, he found himself taking a fist of your hair and righting you over the head completely, pushing down so he slipped into your mouth. Muscle memory had the twitch of a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. The sight of you was enough to have his hips begging to buck, chasing the back of your throat, attempting to find that reaction again.

What you couldn't take of him you wrapped loosely in one hand and the other cupped his balls, adding the slightest pressure that had a dirty cuss passing his chapped lips. Deep inhales billowed in his nose, nostrils flared slightly as he dragged your open, salivating mouth up and down on his length. What he would never understand is how much you hungered for this every time. There was a pain in wanting him like no other, and a reward this great sowed the seed of pleading. You didn’t mind yearning for him because, to you, being hungry was quite a satisfying feeling. It feels nice to want something. To yearn. To have a purpose. You imagined he felt quite the same with the way he could hardly keep his hands from your cunt or your mouth when you passed his front door’s threshold.

“Look at me, Bambi.” He grunted, and your eyes fluttered slightly before the hue of them locked on his through your tear clumped lashes. “I’d like this mouth a whole lot more if it didn’t say such pretty things to me.” He almost lamented, and you felt a tug at your heartstrings. “Makin’ a man hope again.”

Joel sighed, eyes closing for the briefest second. His large hand was still pushing your head with the gentlest of force back down, then his fingers gripped at your hair, dragging you again so the warm, silken touch of your lips and tongue made the fire in his belly start to burn. It was aching, and deep rooted, and had a slow simmer to it. One he begged to hurry along. Joel wanted nothing more than his release so he could set you free again. Set the bird free of its cage. So he threw caution to the wind, and soon you felt the tip of his thick cock reach the back of your mouth again, your throat constricting. “Why won’t you hate me, huh Bambi? What did I do to deserve this?” He asked. If you knew no better you’d have thought his tone implied he hated it. His teeth gritted, words seethed between them. He spat it out in a way that made him seem unworthy of your attention— or the very taste of the thought disgusted him and made his stomach pull up in a wretch. Joel bit down so violently on nothing he swore his molars might turn to dust and clag in spit with the way he was salivating over the sight of you; Puffy lips, bloodshot watering eyes, messy hair. Bent over him and sucking on his cock like it was your only goddamned purpose in life.

You wanted to reply, splutter out the words, but he silenced you. The tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat, and causing your stomach to recoil, tensing as you gagged. Retching slightly as he grimaced at the sound. “You know I can’t love y–” he stopped mid sentence as the ache bloomed into a deep burn. You were oh so grateful because it meant you wouldn’t have to hear what you yearned not to. What you buried deep beneath your stomach and above your diaphragm— that slow, blooming ache. The feeling would never see the light of day. You’d rather die than come to terms with the fact that Joel would not be yours. He belonged to the world. The mass of nature that befell you. That which kept you human and incompetent. He was large, untamable, and oh so delectable in all ways other than matters of love. Joel Miller could not love you.

“Fuck- gonna come, Bambi.” He choked out, head falling back. You looked up at the sight of him through your lashes, lips parted, his brows creased gently in the space between them. Just as you yearned for him to love you, you yearned to be destroyed by him. Coated in him, broken down to pieces by him. Joel Miller could quite literally break you in half, then half again, and again— to the point where nothing was discernible— and you'd get on your knees to thank him for it all. Maybe loving him and being destroyed by him were two in the same?

In the months you’d known him you’d grown to learn that this was as close to a purpose as you’d get. The world robbed you of one, so you searched for it. Selfish enough to keep digging to find one. Only it had no purpose. It has a pattern now, and patterns trick and deceive people into believing in divine intervention. Joel was your divine right. Your purpose. That was what you believed. What you thought about each night. What you thought about now as you took his cock down to the base, the head of him brushing the back of your throat and folds soaked– drenched in the essence of your own arousal. All of which was emphasised by the ache you felt between your thighs that ebbed a little deeper with wanting. A ghost of the pleasure you felt when he was inside you. You entertained it with two fingers slipping between your thighs, teasing your clit. “God— Bambi…” He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as he let go. Hot ropes of his release flooding your mouth with their heady, salty taste.

You pulled off his shaft, now wet and slick in your own saliva, swallowing a mouthful of his release. His eyes never left you, honing in on the ripple of your delicate throat as you swallowed his come down. Joel couldn't help but hook a thumb into your mouth to unhinge your jaw— to see if anything was left. Nothing was. There never was. Like him, you were too selfish to leave anything.

He should have known better. You never disappoint. “Bambi, you’re too damn good for me.” he panted, skin sweat slick and flushed.

“I promise I'm not.” you whispered to the skin of his lips before he wrapped a large, steadying hand around your arm and pulled you up to his chest. His face met yours and when you looked into those hickory eyes you could have melted on the spot; For the hue of them was nothing like you'd ever seen before, and could command nations to their knees. And if not nations then it could certainly do so to you. “I’m just as damaged as you.`’

The words had his gut in knots because they were akin to holding up a mirror to his visage. And holding his head in place. Holding it still so he was forced to look himself in the eyes and reflect. Reflecting on the monster he’d become. The monster he would always be.

“I’m not asking you to love me, Joel.” You spoke, your voice quiet, slight and timid. Uncertain of his reaction. The way your eyes met his was proof of that. Wide like a foal, wide enough to register the unjust curl of a lip. “ I’m just asking you to stay…”

The words had been burning the tip of your tongue red raw. Each night as he lay beside you, the same questions— words made up of nothing but consonants that had a profound effect on you– would hardly let you rest in his arms. They tortured you instead; Mocked you. It was the equivalent of hanging. You could feel the ghost of a noose around your neck. It might as well have been His hands. It was as rough as them after all.

What is wrong with you? What is so repulsive about you that warrants his departure? Was it the curve of your hips– their dips? Or even the bump on your nose– how dare it not have the perfect influxing curve! The slant of your eyes? The jagged stretch marks on the inside of your thighs! Not only had they the nerve to exist in their silver, shining mockery, posing as a diamond, but they had the fucking nerve to sit where others could see. Fuck them entirely and their very existance. Were those very thighs plump enough? Too plump? Why was there no gap between? Was there too much of a sag to your breasts? The colour of your nipples– why did they have to be that colour? Were the lines on your forehead marring your skin? What on you– about you– detested him? Because if you knew you'd cut it off. You'd change it. You take a knife to your nose and cut it off even if it was just to spite your own face. Now, laying here with him, you wish to be anyone but yourself. Yourself was the woman that disgusted you. It would always be the woman that disgusted you if he didn’t fall in love.

“That's jus’ the thing, Bambi.” He sighed, his mouth moving in a slow hushed mumble. His wind chapped, weathered lips grazed the shell of your ear, “I already do.” Followed by silence, and then: “An’ I ain’t no good at it, I’m afraid.”

That was the problem. Joel thought it had to be a life lived in an entirety of carolling laughter for you. A warm, joyous time. The kind of peace the world seldom granted anyone anymore. Not bound to him by the twine of his selfish nature. In the wrong man’s bed. If the world had told him anything before it was that he deserved to be alone. First Sarah. Then Tess. Ellie too. It was only a matter of time before you left too. He had no clue that what you wanted was just to be held. To be kept. He didn’t have to carve out a hole in himself to accommodate you. Nor give an arm or a limb. He just had to stay. Exactly where he was now. Exactly as he is. But selfish men believe in selfish things. And Joel Miller was a selfish man.

Maybe he wasn't. Humans are, after all, selfish creatures. If we are innately selfish does that make us selfish, or just human. Regardless– Joel was selfish. Yes. But more importantly: He was the damned, the scrutinised, the beggar. All of the above.

Joel Miller was, and forever will be, the fallen.

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golden222petal · 20 hours

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🥀 You are making progress even when progress hurts 🥀

⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ

Change can be scary. Often times change is out of our control which can be nerve racking especially when the path ahead is unclear.

On the flip side change can also be beautiful. It is possible that the change taking place is for our best interest or an indicator of our new “normal.”

We can’t control change but we can trust that the the changes sweeping into our lives will take us where we need to go. We can trust that our higher power (as we understand them) has a better plan in mind, make an effort to take care of ourselves.

The best way we can care for ourselves is by learning to accept change. We do this by:

Practice acceptance and surrender to the present moment. This allows us the space to grow and be free. Resisting change can cause internal conflict and make us feel like we're at war with our own thoughts.

In order to practice acceptance, we must be in touch with our feelings and acknowledge them in the present moment. This enables us to move forward and deal with the next task. By accepting what is happening, we can determine what actions we need to take to care for ourselves and establish boundaries that are necessary.

Detach with love - Release the urge to control and embrace life's unfolding journey. Surrender to a higher power and let it handle the rest.

Patience - A gift that follows acceptance and gratitude. Surrendering to our feelings allows us to fully accept who we are and what we have, and prepares us to be and have more.

⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ ⊹ ˑ

In conclusion, embracing change can be a challenging yet rewarding journey. While change may bring uncertainty and fear, it also holds the potential for growth and new beginnings.

By practicing acceptance, detaching with love, and cultivating patience, we can navigate through change with grace and trust in the process.

Remember that change is a natural part of life, and by surrendering to it, we can align ourselves with our higher power and pave the way for personal growth and self-care.

XOXO Goldie Petal 🌸

#feminine energy #leveled up mindset #luxury black women #black luxury #black femininity #self improvement #black girl luxury #self care #black women #self love #soft black women #it girl #becoming that girl #girlblogger #girlblogging #self growth #self healing

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mindofserenity · 1 month

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صوم

When we are fasting, we are diminishing all worldly distractions. Forgetting the things that are simply surface-level. We naturally begin to seek what is most soulfully fulfilling; learning the Sunnah of the Prophet ﷺ, gaining wisdom and sabr, and attaining better habits and knowledge. Giving sadaqah. And ultimately pursuing the pleasure of Allah ‎ﷻ.

This month is about nourishing our soul rather than feeding our stomachs.

#mindofserenity #may we all continue to learn from this #may it follow us for the rest of our lives #subhanallah #islamic reminders #myreminders #writing #thoughts #islam help #revert #islamic post #islamicquotes #writer #ramadan #fasting #sabr #tawakkul #quotes #islam

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aromantic-pantyanarchy · 4 months

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It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

#aromantic #aro #aro positivity #reference to aphobia

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gb-patch · 4 months

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GB Patch Games: 2024 Intentions

[Adorable guest art by @dreamtydraw]

Welcome to 2024, everybody 🥳️

This is the year of Our Life: Now & Forever (and 2025 will be too, but let's not get ahead of ourselves that much). After a good five odd years of making Our Life: Beginnings & Always content, it's amazing to look ahead and see only the progress that will be done on this new game. Qiu and Tamarack are the center of the GB Patch Games universe now. But even though I'm not creating any new OL1 scenes, there may still be some exciting developments for the existing stuff. Cove hasn't been forgotten.

💚❤️️💙

If you want to know about what will be accomplished specifically in January, you can read that HERE. Now here's the entire year's goals-

Honestly, 2024 is gonna be the most basic year in a very long time, haha. There's not gonna be major launches of new DLCs, or a full game going live, or any bonus Moments. It's simply making progress on OL: N&F. That's pretty normal for game development. It's just not something we've had to go through since 2019. But we're hunkering down for the long haul on this one.

Specifically, Step 1 will be fully completed in 2024 and I'll make as much headway into Step 2 as possible. There will be two updates to the public demo, one probably in May and another sometime in Fall/Third Quarter 2024. Those will focus on Step 1 scenes still. I can't guarantee we'll be able to rework the Step 2 part of the demo with new content this year. As it is, the content was made to be a demo preview. A lot is gonna change for the complete version.

And that's about it for our main game. I appreciate all of you who decide to follow along with the process.

Beyond that, the Our Life: Beginnings & Always digital artbook is going to become available through Steam and Itch.io in early 2024! Maybe not January, but ideally no later than February.

Finger's crossed, we will also launch Our Life: Beginnings & Always for Mac on Steam and make it available for Androids through the Google Playstore. I can't state it with confidence, since there's constantly been roadblocks/issues with those, aha.

My final little note for this coming year is that, potentially, there could be more information coming out about the game that's going into production after OL2, "Project W".

▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾ ▴ ▾▴ ▾ ▴

And that's what you can look forward to. Every year I'm amazed I can continue to do this as my fulltime job. I'm always wondering when that will end, but I'd be lying if I said I could see that point. The support GB Patch Games has gotten, and still gets each day, is more than enough to for it to continue for the rest of OL2's development.

I'm pretty confident in assuming that when that game does launch it's going to be successful enough for Project W to go into full production. It's a truly wonderful thing. Thank you so much for being here. We'll do our best with the time and attention you've given us.

Happy New Year 🥰️

#our life #visual novel #dating sim #interactive fiction #our life: now & forever #our life: beginnings & always #gb patch #gb patch games

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fandom · 1 year

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Memes

At a certain point, it was just hard to keep up. They seemed to fall from the sky like fizzing raindrops, soaking everything in pure wildness—memes, that is. 2022 had an absolute bumper crop of memes. The fertile field of this year’s chaos was sown freely, resulting in some impressively widespread phenomena. Most of it remained pretty contained within the dashboard, but at the end of the year the biggest meme of them all broke containment…We’re getting ahead of ourselves here.

Cast your mind back to January 2022. We kicked off the year with Horse Plinko, which soon joined forces with Eeby Deeby in a frenzy of flaming gifs in which the poor horse plinko’d its way to Super Hell. Nothing has ever summed up the mildly deranged meme generation process on Tumblr so perfectly.

This era of memes merged smoothly with the Month of Blorbo. Can you believe blorbo from my shows is more or less purely a 2022 phenomenon? Granted, the original post happened in late 2021, but it was the new year by the time “blorbo” secured itself in our vocabulary. How did we even live our lives on Tumblr without the word “blorbo”? It’s impossible to even imagine at this point.

Springtime dawned with the rise of Live Slug Reaction, which dominated the dashboard as everyone rushed to plop that shocked slug in the corner of their favorite gay moments from TV and film. And in May came a very important event that would define the rest of the year on Tumblr: the launch of Dracula Daily, Affectionately dubbed “tumblr book club,” the serialized email newsletter found a hugely involved following on Tumblr and spawned an infinite variety of memes, beginning with the iconic paprika recipes.

The Summer of Morbius dominated Tumblr from June onwards, with everyone going bonkers with Morb-based puns, jokes about the film’s most ridiculous moments, and reblogging a single GIF somehow containing the entire movie that would crash your browser when it played on your dash..

The i love you x i love you y text post meme saw us to the end of the summer, and autumn came with the rise of the GOUGER. Or is it GOUGAR? Regardless, the strange but harmless creature took over everyone’s meme palette for a while, getting involved in increasingly silly scenarios.

This free-for-all was interrupted by the death of Queen Elizabeth, an event that was solemn everywhere else. . But on Tumblr, of course, users swamped the dashboard with Queen Liz-related memes and commentary. And crabs. There were quite a lot of those.

Later, in September, the Try Guys saga unfolding on Twitter and YouTube filtered over to Tumblr in the form of the “lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship” meme, with Tumblr users casting various favorite co-worker ships in the roles of the controversial real-life pairing.

And finally, closing out the year, the meme you’ve all been waiting for: the one and only Goncharov (1973). Just in case you’ve been living under a rock, Goncharov is a movie borne out of the magic combination of a misprinted shoe label and Tumblr’s fertile imagination. Thanks to a fake movie poster by user @beelzeebub, which gave names and faces to the characters, Tumblr ran absolutely wild, churning out analysis, fanart, and even fanfiction at an astounding rate. This was by far the meme to win 2022: it gained coverage all over the internet, including the freaking New York Times, and even Scorsese himself acknowledged it. You did that, Tumblr. Goncharov forever, all hail the power of the Tumblr meme!

#year in review #memes #tumblr2022

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rboooks · 11 months

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DC x DP Fic idea: The Royal Consort

Wesley Weston runs a blog after getting over his desire to expose Danny's secret- primarily due to no one believing him- and no one pays attention to it since almost all of Casper high school has one too.

The difference between the hundreds of other blogs is that one of his pictures of Phantom is clear. A perfectly uncorrected image of the famous ghost, whereas nearly all other pictures are blurry due to ghosts disrupting cameras. Even Wes isn't sure how he managed to capture him so well.

Another difference between his blog and others is that one of his followers happens to be John Constantine, who followed the kid a long time ago due to the fanfiction of the Bats and found them hilarious.

John opens his phone app, expecting a new chapter to the Bruce Wayne/Superman fic, and spits out his tea upon seeing the High King of the Dead casually in the human world. Horrified that the King has not been appropriately welcomed- which could lead to a war that the humans would never win- he calls an emergency Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It didn't help that they had allowed a county to pass the anti-ecto laws, which ruined any attempt to appease the Ghost King once the news broke to the public. The League still worried about a declaration of war even after they demolished the laws and the United Nations had the States apologize on humans' behalf.

They quickly discover High King Phantom has been visiting Earth for almost three years. Before his coronation, Phantom had not been outside the Infinite Realms very often though he has appeared throughout history. Cave drawings date back thousands of years before the first ancient Egyptians, but he's visits are few and short.

Life would naturally send him back to the Realms because he had too much power and ectoplasm. After taking the throne, his powers only grew, which meant someone had to summon him as the only way for him to stay on Earth longer than an hour.

Now as King, he appeared only within the small town of Amity Park daily. Why?

John sighs. "He has an anchor. Someone is tying him to this plane. Like the helmet for Nabu, which allows Doctor Fate to exist here without being launched back to the Infinite Releams, Phantom has bonded himself. And I know who that is"

He pulls up a class photo on Weston's blog and points to a boy wearing a particular necklace.

"Danny Fenton is wearing the official Royal Consort of the Infinite Realms symbol and has been since he was fourteen. Phantom's husband may be our only hope to salvage the terrible mess the USA's bloody GIW placed the rest of us in."

Danny loved the necklace he found in Pariah Dark's old haunt. He inherited Pariah's haunt and everything inside once he was crowned and hasn't taken it off since. He didn't think it would be an issue. It's not like it would out his secret to his parents or anyone else since it was in Ghost Speech. Even he didn't know what it said.

Then one morning he comes down for breakfast only to have the most important members of the Justice League sitting in his living room waiting to greet him.

Desperate to keep his halfa status a secret, Danny must convince the entire world watching him, that he's just a human who scandalously eloped at age fourteen with one of the strongest beings in the mulitverse.

Jack's horrified "We were shooting my son-in-law this whole time" became a meme that has trended for months.

( Part 2 )

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #Danny is girlboss gaslight his way through this #his parents knew he was bi but married!?#The Royal Consort

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redwing4life · 2 months

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Prettier Than a Van Gogh

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

WARNINGS: Bucky struggling with self image, a frankly illegal amount of fluff

SUMMARY: You suggest painting Bucky’s back to help him see the beauty he fails to see in the mirror

WORD COUNT: 1333

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your voice rings out from the entryway of the apartment, your tone light as you use the phrase you’ve come to love. Bucky said it once when you first moved in together, unaware of its old fashioned nature; you teased him for it in the following weeks, and yet you’ve come to find it endearing - now using it each time you walk through the front door.

“Bucky?” You call out, met with silence once more. While you’re used to coming home to a quiet apartment, the lack of a usual reception of hugs and kisses is worrying.

Concern tugs at your brows as you kick off your shoes. You consider for a moment that he’s been called away on a mission - something that happens every now and then - but his boots still sit on the shoe rack and there’s no sticky note on the wall from him.

“Bucky, darling? You home?”

Spinning round the corner that leads to the open plan kitchen and living room, your frown deepens upon seeing no sign of your boyfriend; the bathroom door is open and he’s not there either. Your eyes lock on the bedroom door that sits slightly ajar before your feet carry you forward.

You knock gently on the wood and peek inside, “Love?”

Oh how your heart drops at the sight before you. The reflection of the mirror Bucky is stood in front of shows you the shame etched across his features. He’s wearing the dark blue and green plaid pyjama bottoms you got him for Christmas with no shirt on.

You’ve found him like this before, him staring with disgust at the scars littered across his torso, but mainly his shoulder. It’s like a knife to the stomach every time you see him with that look in his eyes; if only he saw himself the way you do.

Feet pattering against the hardwood floor, you approach Bucky with eyes trained on his - though he’s yet to glance at you.

“I thought we agreed you didn’t have to do this to yourself anymore, sweetheart” You say, voice quiet and dripping with love. Coming to a halt behind him, you drag your fingers up and down his toned back a couple times before stretching them around his waist.

Bucky’s skin tingles at the warmth of your hands, now flat against his stomach. “I don’t know how to stop” His lips twist into a grimace.

“Then we’ll learn how to.” You reply, slowly stroking the skin beneath his belly button. “Cause you deserve to see yourself the way I do”

You almost gasp when Bucky finally meets your eyes through the mirror, wondering if you’ll ever get used to his beauty.

“Do I?” He asks with a frown.

“Oh, honey,” You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, “you deserve that and so much more.”

His lips turn up slightly and you revel in the way his body responds to you. Your right hand reaches out to grab his vibranium one, raising them up with your palms flat against each other. Still stood behind him, your fingers intertwine while your eyes never leave each others.

You continue, “You may not see that yet, but i’ll spend every minute of our lives teaching you to see it too”

He spins in your arms while still holding your hand and rests his flesh one on your hip. Naturally, you start swaying from side to side, dancing to the hustle and bustle of the street outside. You find yourself thinking of ways to help him while your head rests on his chest.

“Hey, Buck?” You mumble against his chest.

“Yes, doll?”

“I have an idea”

Bucky was skeptical of your plan at first, but your big smile and excited bouncing on the spot won him over. Not that it takes much persuasion when it comes to you.

So now he finds himself lying on his stomach on your bed while you straddle his back, slowly sketching out a drawing on his back.

“Can I at least get a vague idea as to what you’re gonna paint on my back, sweets?”

You giggle to yourself quietly, “Nope.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but can’t hold back a grin. You’re being very secretive as to what you’re planning; you said you want him to just enjoy relaxing for now.

“Okay, you ready?” You ask, dipping a brush into the paint on your palette.

“Yes, ma’am”

When the brush makes contact with the small of Bucky’s back, his back tenses at the unusual sensation. “Fuck, doll, it’s cold” His voice is muffled with the pillow beneath his chin.

You mutter an apology, gently running your hand up and down his side comfortingly, trying to counter the cool brush with your warm hands. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” He replies quickly, “keep going”

So you do. You spend nearly an hour swirling paint over your boyfriend’s back, incorporating his scars into your design. Blues and yellows blend together to form a version of Van Gogh’s starry night, curving round his vibranium shoulder and down to the middle of his back.

Bucky stopped fighting the fatigue that was tugging at him, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He’s slept peacefully for the last twenty minutes to the bizarrely satisfying feeling of being painted; a content smile has graced your lips ever since he fell asleep, happy to see him so comfortable in your presence.

You never take for granted how Bucky lets his guard down around you. You may not be able to control his feelings toward himself, but you can certainly give him every reason to trust you.

The painting is nearly finished as the super soldier stirs beneath you, a sigh falling from his lips.

“How’s it going, doll?” He asks, trying to turn and look at your work only to have his eyes covered.

“No looking! I’m nearly done” You squeak, desperate to keep it as a surprise. “Just a couple minutes and you can see it”

Bucky hums in response, returning his attention to the movie playing on the tv.

Finally finishing up with some detailed strokes, you drop the brush in the water jar and tidy up. When everything is cleared, you help Bucky to stand up without smudging your work, leading him back to the mirror you found him in front of only a few hours ago. Your hands rest on his hips, drawing circles on his skin without even realising you’re doing it.

“Okay, if you don’t like it we can wash-“

“I already love it, y/n. You could’ve painted a rotten apple and i’d wear it for a week if I could” He interrupts you. You can’t help but admire him right now, a soft expression on his face.

“Okay, you can look”

Silence falls upon the room as Bucky turns to face you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead before looking over his shoulder.

“My god, sweets”

“Is that a good ‘My god’ or a bad ‘My god’?”

He can’t tear his eyes away from his body for the first time since the 40s. “It’s beautiful, y/n. I-“ Words fail him and you swear you see a tear in his eye.

“That’s how I see you, Buck.” You say. “You take my breath away every time I see you. Your scars are part of you, so I love them too”

He turns back to you and holds your face in his hands, “I love you so much, doll. You’re so damn talented, and to have you use it for me- it makes me wonder what I did to deserve you”

You raise your hands to cover his. “You deserve the world, my love. More than I could ever give you”

“Well,” Bucky grins and rests his forehead on yours, “lucky for you, you’re all I want”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: eeee my first fic, please like and reblog if you enjoyed - maybe give me a follow toooo ;)

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #buckybarnesbirthday #buckysbirthday #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky barns x y/n #sebastian stan

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yuellii · 9 months

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flawless night, forevermore

feat. ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, childe, kaveh, raiden ei ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings

> part one / part two ( more characters )

KAMISATO AYATO. lover

His lips curled up with a fathomless fondness he did not even notice about himself. His ticklish gaze, his admiring eyes, his comforting silence—such a poor, poor man drowning in his hopelessness, falling love struck into the night.

Even atop the dewy grass that stained his carefully tailored clothes, he paid no mind to the mess as he preferred to hear you talk instead. The intelligence of a Kamisato was long forgone in the melody of your voice, and perhaps you had strum his heartstrings too much to the point he loses his senses. He forgets a lot of things about himself when he’s with you, perhaps at one point, even his own name.

Kamisato, the name that ties him to a lifetime of formality and not a single night of rest. A dreary lifetime that does not allow him to learn the wonders of love. But oh, how he loves you.

“I’ve always wanted one of those cute little tea tables,” you muttered into the cool winds under the glowing moon. Your finger absentmindedly traced an oval into the air, a motion that had his head following your invisible drawing. “We can sit together in the mornings and have tea before work.”

“Then we’ll get one,” Ayato affirmed. He failed to notice how his own grin had widened, simply as an automatic reaction from seeing your pleased smile at his response. “Little cushions for us to sit in, too,” he added on. “You know those round ones? We can have them in our favorite colors.”

Look at him, blushing over silly cushions.

There’s a dazzling haze in his eyes when he’s like this. It’s a spark that never runs out once ignited, for he has a history of rambling when he’s with you. “There is this porcelain tea set we can get, which has a pattern I know you’ll like,” he’ll say, further jumping to “And it comes in a set of four—we can always invite Ayaka and Thoma over to drink with us.” He’ll go on and on like this, fantasizing of a life where you lived together, happily ever after.

He’s imagined this for eons in his head. Such innocent-presenting ideas and remarks, but it’s obvious in the way he talks so fast. It’s ridiculously evident the more excited he gets as the night stretches on, that he’s been daydreaming of the moment you move in with him, so he may love you every day.

All he asks is to be forever yours, for as long as time permits.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BAIZHU. sparks fly

It almost never rained in Liyue.

But his words were such a booming thunderstorm that no water droplet could ever compare, even amidst this cold, grey afternoon. And only when he finally blew you away like a thin stack of cards, did he feel a sharp sense of emptiness at the sight of you running off into the pouring rain.

Baizhu admitted that you were a burden to him. Boring, unintelligent, annoying—that you were a hindrance to be around. You were only a distraction to Qiqi, and more importantly, a bothersome presence to him.

It took all his willpower just to spit such venom from his tongue straight to your face—all his might just to convince you that seeing him is a bad idea. And yet, you still called him a liar.

“You mean none of those words,” you sharply inhaled via short, speechless breaths. He could tell you were breaking down from his hateful speech, but to his guilt, it was exactly what he wanted to see from you. “You’re just trying to drive me away again,” you spat out. You were trying to convince yourself: that fact alone was clear to him. But the longer he stayed quiet despite biting back the truth—biting back that he has fallen so immensely deep in love with you—you began to doubt yourself.

But the moment he watched your figure break down past this storm, he immediately crumbled with a sense of guilt much stronger than any curse he has ever wished upon himself.

Perhaps he was too harsh on you. Archons, perhaps he was too mean—this was exactly why he didn’t deserve you. You deserved better than such a sick, lowly man who could not even live for himself, instead binding his life to save others instead.

But still, even after all his own revelations and realization of his nonexistent self worth…

He was still a greedy, selfish man.

And that selfishness had him running right out of his door and into the pouring rain, not caring at how the sudden cold nipped and picked at his skin, or how the winds beat at his frail body. Not even the Archons could halt such a starvation for salvation—it was the only spark he had left to chase.

In this cold, dreary life—in this cold, dreary day alone—you still shone like the sun under the dim streetlights of Liyue upon this pale grey sky. His body still eased the moment you caught his eye, almost as if your gaze alone had suddenly removed every drop of sickness he self-injected into his own bloodstream, or as if you were the cure he was looking for all his life.

Such selfishness once again had his body fighting from collapsing when he desperately fell into your arms that held him so dearly. And the greed of mankind only snapped when found his lips settled so hopelessly against yours, clinging onto your kiss as if he would die tonight.

Truly, maybe he would. But for now, in your embrace, he feels the strongest he’s ever been since he sold his soul.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ALHAITHAM. enchanted

Archons, he hated these events, though he had no choice but to attend. No one could ever allow the Acting Grand Sage, even if he held so much spite, to escape the demeaning eyes of Sumerean publicity.

Alhaitham held himself as an independent soul. But this formalwear, this clanging of champagne glasses, this suffocating air—were definitely not so independent nor free.

This hall of aspiring young scholars and old men, all in one exhibit for the sake of research and networking. Academics is what they acclaim, but the Acting Grand Sage may be too thick of a personality for them (if he had one at all). But the only thing keeping his eyes open from boredom, quite surprisingly a person, was you.

You, who looked young compared to these much older alumni and long-time scholars. And it was truly you, out of the many faces in this room, who he could not name.

Your eyes met from across the room. Such a sliver of a chance—his eyes whispered a curious glance from the opposite wall among this dreary sea of scholars. There was a spark graced by the Electro Archon, perhaps; or maybe even a gush of wind from the God of Anemo. But every sense of composure was lost when his body moved on its own, walking himself closer and closer just to meet you.

It begins with hello; it always does. It continues with quick remarks, with “I’ve never seen you before,” and with “Have we met?” And soon enough, he feels like he’s in school again. He feels a flutter he has not known in years, an urge to talk quicker than he can think. The crinkle at the corner of your eyes has him immersed in amazement. The sole fact that you can crack a smile at him; a smile that wasn’t fake politeness like all these scholars.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, that expression of yours alone had his feet glued to the floor, like you’ve trapped him in such an engaging conversation he desperately could not let go. It was a forcibly dreadful night—you turned it flawlessly enchanting in a way that you read to him like a book, all in which he could not put you down once he begins.

And once the event ends, and he is forced to leave you so soon, he watches you walk away with an expression that he himself could not even read.

Wonderstuck.

He would never notice the light tint on his face, staining his cheeks all the way home.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHILDE. cruel summer

Left foot, right foot, tiptoe, right foot—hold the counter, hold the wall, hold the rail all the way up the steps… He’s got this.

One step down the hall, another foot down, a third one until he finds a steady rhythm. The room is hazy, the walls are spinning. His head hurts and he feels like a baby taking his first steps, so helpless and unsteady that he almost wants to cry again from exasperated frustration alone. Why was this so hard? Did he really hate himself so much, that he would stagger his way home from the bar like this?

One hand on the door, turn the knob, and—

Ah. He dropped his keys so loudly on the floor.

You woke up with a start from the bedside, immediately turning to him wide-eyed in both starling surprise from the noise, and more importantly, concern. He didn’t mean to wake you. He hated feeling guilty, but it was the exact feeling that crept up his spine once he saw the devastated look on your face. Frenzied eyes and dark circles—clearly you had stayed up just to wait for him, too.

“Ajax,” you voiced—a tone full of worry and heavy exhaustion, God, he felt so horrible. “Oh, Ajax, come here.”

As much as he didn’t like it when you cared for him like this, he was not immune to the sounds of your calling. His shaky legs carried him immediately, as if the alcohol in his system was pulling him towards you, too. “I’m fine,” he barely stuttered out. It was a claim he had to make immediately, a sign he was desperate to reassure you.

Your eyes grew heavier, though he did not know if they were lidded from concern or from sleepiness. Either way, he practically melted from the touch of your palms resting against his cheeks. So warm, but a much more pleasant warmth than the burning summer air that he just walked in, all the way home with a liquor-dazed mind.

“Have you been crying…?” Ah, and that was why your eyes were narrow—they were squinting at the sorry stains of tears that lined his cheeks. He forgot to wipe them, it seemed. It was almost laughable.

“No, just sweat from the heat.”

Crying over you… He’d never let you know that. To cry, to bleed, to die—you would never be the first person he tells.

“You reek of liquor…” Quite disgustingly so, he thinks. And yet, you still held his face so fondly, moving his head in such a gentle manner as you swiped his tear stains with the pads of your thumbs.

He stayed silent. He had no answer to this one.

“I love you,” he mutters, though it’s a confession nevertheless. And he says it so sadly—so miserably that you couldn’t help but sigh. He hates it, too. He hates it when you sigh. Because when you sigh, it means you’ll just let it go; No matter how many lies he tells, or how many times he cries, or how many secrets he keeps, you’ll still accept him like always.

“I love you, too.” And that was the worst line he’s ever heard.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

KAVEH. foolish ones

“Oh, woe is me…” Loves me, loves me not, loves me… “Did you happen to see anything in the mailbox?”

His roommate stared. “Go check it yourself.”

Kaveh heavily sighed. He couldn’t; He physically could not bear to do it. It’s not that he was lazy to get up, no. The real issue was the genuine grief he would feel when he opened the mailbox, only to see nothing inside. No special gifts, no romantic letters, and absolutely no confessions of love signed with your name.

It was embarrassing, really. To feel this dramatic and obsessed with words of admiration from you—oh, especially when Alhaitham found out about this whole lovesick ordeal. But he could not help his mind from just imagining it: the reflection of himself in your eyes as you finally confess your feelings of passion and love for him (feelings that didn’t exist, feelings he merely imagined you having, all so pathetically).

But he’s so weird, and he’s so terrible. To imagine a fabled life with you when you probably did not think about him this same way. How foolish. Did you daydream about him like he daydreamed about you every night before he slept? Did you think about him like he thought about you every time he sees your favorite color in the passing? Did you wait at your mailbox like he waited for any letters from you? No. No, you didn’t.

And he’s cried, quite humiliatingly. He’s cried that the perfect life he could picture himself having with you at his side would never be a reality. He’s cried a downpour of tears, simply because he allowed himself to be so caught up in a delusion that was so sick of him to conjure up.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“So sorry Kaveh, I already have plans…”

Plans with someone else. No wonder you hadn’t written him any messages, or contacted him in a while. That… was not the scenes he had in his head. His imaginations, his hopes, his dreams—they did not have someone else in them. For someone he was so hopelessly in love with, he felt so much hurt. A foolish lesson to be learned by a foolish romantic.

In the end, he’d just be talking himself to sleep again. He’d just smile at the sight of you flourishing. Without him, your world will go on turning. A world full of reciprocated love and devotion, one that he would never know.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

RAIDEN EI. you belong with me

The Raiden Shogun was self-destructive. No more than a few people knew of such a fact, but she was certainly one of them.

Because if she cared for her own wellbeing, truly, then she would not fall for selfish desires. Nor, would she be here now, sitting next to you outside a sliding screen in her private gardens of Tenshukaku, sipping your favorite tea and hearing your sweet voice ramble about something so unpleasant to her ears. If she prioritized her own emotions, then maybe she’d be living in blissful ignorance right now instead of listening to your woes over a lover… A lover that was not her.

“And then, she teases me,” you complained, though it was clear you hated it. You didn’t like whining about your partner, which was a good thing—but it made Ei feel sick, because it meant you really loved that woman. “I know she does that all the time, and I just need to get used to it,” you continued, “but sometimes, it gets too much, and she still doesn’t stop.”

But I wouldn’t do that to you, the archon thinks to herself. And suddenly, the tea isn’t as appetizing anymore, because her own words felt drilled onto her tongue, forever forbidden to speak aloud.

“Miko… Has always been like that,” Ei quietly admits instead. She doesn’t want to insult your lover, for that same person was also her own friend. She wanted to be supportive, but it was impossible when she was so in love with you, that she spent every second of each passing day just wishing she was in Miko’s place instead.

“Yeah… But—still, I mean…” You sighed, coming to a loss for words to describe the pink haired shrine maiden. “Is it really so hard to ask just for her to understand how I’m feeling…?” you whined in what seemed like genuine distress. Your face sunk into your hands, and it took all of Ei’s willpower just to keep her respective distance from a romantically taken friend.

But I understand how you feel, Ei once again thinks. She feels so dirty of a friend for comparing herself like this. I understand you better than she will ever.

“Ei…” you muttered. She almost chokes from the way you say her name. “What should I do…?”

Be with me, instead. “Don’t cry over something, or someone, you cannot control. It’s possible your personalities are just not fit for each other, you know.”

“But I love her, Ei…”

Ouch.

She clears her throat, recovering from sharp breath of air she just inhaled. A part of her just broke in that moment, and it was so obvious, too—her expression quickly changed, her body became stiff, her balance suddenly shifted, and yet…

You noticed none of it. Your head was too clouded over love for another woman that was not her; So clouded, in fact, you did not notice the way Ei almost began to tremble. The misery you carried only crafted tenfold for the archon, eternally unbeknownst to you.

But you don’t belong to her, anyways. So why was she crying?

#childe x reader #ayato x reader #baizhu x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #raiden ei x reader #al haitham x reader #ei x reader #tartaglia x reader #ayato kamisato imagines #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #genshin imagines

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comfortscripts · 5 months

Text

The Way I Love You ¬ Coriolanus Snow

Plot - All you want is one night with Corio, the real him. Pairing - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Best Friend!Female!Reader Notes/Warnings - Corio is ooc in this, but the idea is that he is slightly hinged for her and he is aware of his redflags. Possessive? Mentions of deaths. Reader is lowkey just blind to Corio's darkness. First fic back so let's see how it goes! Word Count - 1,443

9pm

“You promised!”

“And when exactly did I promise this?”

He watched as her fists clenched the corners of her skirt, breath dripping with exasperation. Calmly watching from the comfort of his leather chair, nursing a glass of amber whilst his eyes followed the milky fabric adorning his best-friend’s figure. Almost 30 minutes of her attempting to convince him to leave his opaque penthouse.

“Last year, when you were too busy on my birthday, you promised me that I could choose whatever I wanted to do for one da-” Stilling her movements, frozen as realisation washed over her. “You sneaky fucker! Not once have you forgotten a promise between us.”

Corio wanted to laugh as her face scrunched with faux anger, but all he did was cock his eyebrow as a gentle smirk settled on his lips. “Of course, I didn’t forget. However, this little song and dance has been quite amusing.”

Resting his drink to the side, he rose to full height and reached his delicate hand out towards the girl. “I will agree, purely on the premise that nothing we do could harm either of our reputations.”

A smile brighter than freshly fallen snow crept onto her face.

“You have my word.”

1am

Corio may have noticed the ache in his legs if he didn’t have such a captivating distraction hanging from his bicep. After aimlessly strolling through the Capitol, the myriad of hues illuminating their faces as they spoke of the most mundane aspects of their adult lives to giggling at memories of their youth. Having known one another since the tender age of 10, there is little left unsaid between the pair. Perhaps only one thing.

“I’ve missed you Corio”

Shifting his head to where her figure was pressed against his side, their tandem steps slowed. Only those who understood the inner works of Coriolanus Snow could see the cogs turning behind those azure eyes. Flickering across her face, attempting to decode her words.

“Don’t be silly. We see each other constantly; your office is barely 20 steps from mine.”

The young woman bit back a sigh. In all the years she had known Snow, he excelled in many things but struggled with matters of the heart. “No, I see Coriolanus Snow constantly. Future President of Panem, prodigy Gamemaker. I can barely remember the last time I had a conversation with the real you, Corio, before tonight.”

Stilling completely, allowing her arm to slip from the loop of his. It was a rare occurrence for the young man to be devoid of words, only having ever been rendered speechless by the very same woman only a touch away. In all truthfulness, he yearned for her presence. He longed for the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with delight when indulging in dessert, her uncanny ability to understand his thoughts, and most importantly, the way she allowed him to be himself.

He missed her too.

Perhaps it was his silence, or perhaps it was the cool air that unsettled her. Bubbles of anxiety began to rise in her stomach, fearing that she had overstepped or somehow offended the blond. “I only mean that you have sides to you. Whilst I like all of them, the one I care about most is the real you. I’m sorry, but I miss my best friend.”

“I barely know the real me anymore.”

It was truth. Being betrayed by Lucy Gray, the blood on his hands, the character he has had to play since; it was exhausting. The darkness swirling inside of him corrupting his daily thoughts, paranoia and greed clouding his mind. It was all too much to expose to her.

She embodied life, a breath of fresh air in a world torn apart by capitalism and violence. Coriolanus could never understand why she cared for him, why she befriended him. But he could never jeopardise losing her. The darker side of him wishes to lock her up in the Penthouse, so her sun only shines for him. Keep away the prying eyes of men who wish to glimpse the sweetness of her smile. But alas, he cannot. An innocent fragment of his soul forbids his darkness from tainting her, even if he must create distance to do so.

“After all that has happened, the Corio you know barely exists anymore.” Those stormy eyes refusing to meet her gaze by fixating on the gleaming silver ring adoring his finger. “If only you knew, you wouldn’t look at me the same.”

The warmth of her hand sliding into his captures his focus. “If only I knew about what happened during the games? If only I knew about Lucy Gray, and those people you killed? If only I knew how dark your soul feels? I know Corio.”

Snapping to meet her gaze, he feels as if she had knocked the air out of his lungs. How could she possibly know? Why would she be standing here with him? Was she going to hold this over him? A flurry of thoughts stormed behind his eyes, as she only tightened her hold on his large hand.

“Did you really think you could lie to me? I know you better than I know myself. When you came back from District 12, I could see behind those lies you were spewing. I saw the hurt she caused, the trauma you had witnessed, and how it broke the light inside of you.”

For the second time tonight, Coriolanus was speechless. Perhaps she didn’t know whose blood coats his hands, or the exact details of what happened those years ago, but she knew enough. And she was still standing there in front of him.

“And you still care about me?”

“I will always care about you Corio. Now come on, I want to take you somewhere!”

And with that, she pulled him further into the night.

2:45am

Neither of them had uttered a word since their conversation.

Laid side by side on the refreshing emerald blades of grass as they look towards the stars above, only their subtle breathing filling the air. Despite the silence, the interlocked fingers expressed a thousand words.

A hitched breath broke the still atmosphere of the hilltop.

“Do you love me?”

Her words stopped his heart mid-beat.

“What? Of course, I love you. You are my best friend.” His words flow smoothly, as his thoughts run erratically to concoct the perfect lie.

The grass shuffles as she turns her head to face him. “No, do you love me like I love you?”

Corio continues staring straight towards the constellations, knowing that her alluring eyes could weaken his resolve in mere seconds.

“Because the way I love you is more than someone who loves a best friend. Almost as if you are the only person who makes my heart dizzy with joy. If you don’t love me the same way, it’s okay. Just needed to finally tell you.”

The breeze acts as a ticking clock, emphasising the lack of response from the young man and amplifying the anxiety building in the woman as she faces the stars once more.

Its almost too quiet to be heard, a whisper in the wind, but she hears it clearly. “I do love you the way you love me.”

Turning in unison to face one another, his free hand reaching to caress the toasty skin of her cheek. Gentle strokes of his chilled fingers, drawing without destination on her skin as the blond builds the courage to speak once more.

“The way I love you terrifies me. You are the only one who brings me happiness, the only one who knows my sorrows, the only one I would sacrifice for. I obsess over you. I want to hold you and protect you. I wish to possess you. All because I love you the way you love me.”

Searching his irises for any fragment of dishonesty, her smile grows as she finds none. Inching closer to the man who has held her heart for a decade, his minty breath invading her senses.

With lips mere millimetres apart, a light whisper leaves her mouth “I’ll be yours Corio, for as long as you are mine. We can possess one another.”

As if those were the only words he ever craved, he intertwined his lips with hers. Soaking in the feeling of ecstasy as his hold on her tightens. She embraced the overwhelming sensation of complete bliss, revelling in every single second as her fingers interlock with his porcelain-locks.

Her lips fit with his so perfectly, it was clear that they were made to possess each other. And now that Panem’s king had his Queen, nothing could break him.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #president snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #tbosas #tom blyth x reader

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

Text

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter One - Royal Mess

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

Notes: The Monaco royal family has been fabricated for this story! I know nothing about the actual Monaco royal family so I have made it up, turned them into characters

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, hangover

2.1K

Series Masterlist

ROYAL MESS

In the early hours of the Morning on Friday, the 19th of May, Princess Y/N of Monaco was found lying in the street outside of MK Club Monaco after what appears to be a wild night out. Fans of the princess know this is no new occurrence for her.

When asked, employees in the club were quoted as saying: “It is always a delight to serve the princess. She is always polite and kind when ordering from the bar, always offering to pay for the drinks of those around her."

"Princess Y/N is fun to party with, sure. But she takes it too far, gets too drunk, and leaves us all wondering how far is too far?" Said one club patron to our reporters.

It leaves us all wondering how far is too far for the Princess of Monaco? When will her family finally take action against her partying ways?

Pictures such as these are not uncommon for the Princess of Monaco, showing us just how far royal privilege goes. It is at times like these where we thank any higher power above us that she is just the spare.

Having your entire life published for the world to see was incredibly hard. From the minute she was born, Princess Y/N of Monaco had been watched by the public. Her birth had been publicised, with minute by minute updates from the royal family staff to the papers (that was a tabloid problem actually. The staff member that had been feeding this information to the public had been fired as soon as he had been discovered).

Everything she did, from her very first public opinion, had been on television for the principality to see. Monaco loved her, but they mostly loved watching her. At first she was cute, the nation fawning over her. Her first birthday was televised, as was every birthday until she became a teenager.

As a teenager, Princess Y/N of Monaco tried to be withdrawn, to stay away from the public eye. But it was damn near impossible. She was the Princess, everybody wanted to know what she was all about. Her social circle was a pool of sharks, ready to sell her out for a quick bit of cash.

As Princess Y/N got older, she began acting out more and more. She had her first drink at sixteen years old, two years before she had reached the legal drinking age. From that moment, her life changed.

That was the moment she became this wild party girl. Where she’d been pristine and proper for the cameras and the tabloids, Y/N changed. She stopped caring about the cameras that followed her, about what the tabloids were saying about her. She was going to live her life and she wasn’t going to give a damn anymore.

She became this wild party girl. She had appeared in every club in Monaco before she turned eighteen. All of them were her regular spots by the time she turned eighteen. It was embarrassing to the Royal family of Monaco. She was embarrassing to the Royal family of Monaco.

Embarrassing to the point where her father made her move out. He bought her an apartment, somewhere to go that was just hers. It got her out of the palace, away from the rest of the royal family. She still went to the palace when she was needed, but that was rare.

It was easier to get back to her Monaco apartment after a night of getting black out drunk, but sometimes Y/N ended up at the palace. It was a force of habit by then, getting the taxi to take her back to the palace. She was never turned away, always allowed inside. Normally she stumbled away to her childhood bedroom, falling asleep in her clothes from the night before.

That was what happened this time. She had fallen asleep in the sparkly top and jeans that she had worn during her night out. She stank of alcohol and had a wicked hangover when she woke up.

It was disorienting, waking up in her childhood bedroom. She wasn’t used to it still, even though it was a pretty regular occurrence. After a few seconds of getting used to the blinding light in her bedroom (she was too drunk to close to curtains the night before), she quickly figured out where she was and rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

Fuuuuuck.

Her brother was never happy to see her at the palace after a night of drinking. Actually, he was always pissed, especially when she was drunk.

When she was done throwing up in her en suite, Y/N washed her face, trying to wake herself up. She placed some toothpaste on the toothbrush that had been placed in her bathroom for when she stayed over and began brushing her teeth, trying to get the taste of throw up out of her mouth.

As she brushed her teeth, there was a knock at the door. She shouted something around the toothbrush in her mouth, but it was unintelligible. The knock sounded again, the person refusing to leave her alone.

With a huff and a sigh, Y/N walked out of the bathroom with her toothbrush still in her mouth. “What?” She barked as she pulled open the door.

In front of her was her brother, already dressed in his usual fine suit. “Fuck,” Y/N hissed around her toothbrush, and his expression dropped.

“Language,” he said, striding into the room. He scrunched up his nose, the room already reeking of alcohol. Oh wait, that was just her. “Shower, get dressed, and meet me in my office,” he said and turned on his heel, walking out of the room.

As the door shut, Y/N pulled a face and stuck up her middle finger. She was far too drunk for this shit.

Spitting into the sink, Y/N put her toothbrush back. She stripped off her dirty clothes from the night before and climbed into the shower. The hot water was like heaven against her skin, and she relished in it. The whole shower was a slow process. She was slow to squeeze her shampoo into her hand and run it through her hair. If she remembered rightly from the night before, somebody had accidentally thrown their drink over her.

She took her time getting clean. It didn’t cure her hangover, but it certainly made her feel better.

Once she was done, Y/N got changed into pyjamas. She didn’t bother dressing properly, what was the point? She didn’t care for the people taking tours around the palace, didn’t care for the staff walking through the halls, or the security in every room.

As she walked through the halls, heading towards her brother’s office, she waved to the tourists. They instantly snapped pictures of her in her hello kitty pyjama pants but, again, she didn’t care.

She knew more than anybody else in her family that they were not the most famous thing in Monaco. No, the twenty-six year old Ferrari driver was. Charles Leclerc, Il Predestinato. He was the biggest thing in Monaco, the pride and joy of the nation. Y/N’s brother only helped to fuel this. The Prince of Monaco was maybe the biggest Charles Leclerc fanboy out there.

She knocked on the door before walking into her brother’s office. There were two security guards on the door, keeping the public away. Y/N walked the short distance and threw herself down into the chair opposite her brother, his rather large desk between them.

The first bit of responsibility that Henri, the Prince of Monaco, was given by his father, was to look after Y/N, his little sister. She was his responsibility – Henri knew he was going to be grey by the time he was thirty.

Henri pulled a newspaper out of his desk drawer and threw it down in front of her. It was opened perfectly, showing off the picture of her laying on the grass. “Seriously, Y/N?” He voiced as he sat back in his chair, staring at her.

Y/N picked up the newspaper and read through it. She’d only been back from her night out for maybe six hours; they’d gotten the story printed insanely quickly. But they always did when it came to her, she was a hot topic for journalists.

“I don’t know what you’re upset about, Hen,” she said as she put the newspaper back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “They don’t mention you in the article.”

Henri let out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair. He could have pulled it out from how much she frustrated him, let the bald spots appear. But he couldn’t. He was a prince; he had to be pristine and perfect. On the rare instances that the tabloids were speaking about him instead of his sister, he was often referred to as Prince Charming, and he had women swooning left, right, and centre.

Too bad Henri was more interested in cars than women.

“Do you seriously not understand who articles like this makes our entire family look?” He asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you that fucking thick? This shit makes us all look bad, not just you.”

Y/N let out a dramatic, sarcastic gasp. Her brother didn’t often swear, so she had to take the piss when he did. But Henri’s glare shut her up immediately. Although he tried to always remain composed, Henri was still scary when he was angry.

Well, she stopped with her dramatics, but she wasn’t going to back down. Suddenly, Y/N was standing up, her hands on his desk. “Like the article said, Henri, I’m just the spare,” she spat and sat herself back in the chair.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Henri said as he shook his head. He tried to keep his calm, remain composed, but Y/N made this very, very hard. It had been six years of Henri doing this, and he still wasn’t used to it. “You’re nothing but a spoilt, little brat.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. If Herni wanted to go there, he was going to go there. She let out a dry laugh as her nails dug into the arm of the chair. “I’m the selfish one?” She threw back, feigning surprise. “Was it me who threw a tantrum because I didn’t get a Ferrari 250 GTO for my twenty second birthday? No, wait, I think that was you.”

Henri glared, but he easily hid his surprise. How on earth did she remember the name of the car that he had so desperately wanted seven years ago?

But he dropped his glare and sat back in his seat, once again pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t him that she was annoyed at, it was the article, and she was just lashing out. “Go on,” Henri said, waving her off.

Y/N stood up, marching out of the office as Henri placed the newspaper back into his desk drawer. She stomped her way through the halls, ignoring the tourists as she went to gather her things and head back to her apartment.

She was near impossible to deal with. Twenty-two years old, and jobless. She was living off her family, living fast and living like she wanted to die young. When she turned twenty, her family had tried to force her into getting a job, but that had pushed Y/N into doing even more wild and crazy stuff. She had disappeared for three days, her only respite from drinking being when she was sleeping on a friend’s couch. She was on a full-on bender and her family was incredibly worried for her.

Keeping his eye on Y/N and putting out her fires for her was a full-time job for Henri. It had him so exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. She was going to be the death of him.

He had to do something with her, something to get her on the right track. But he didn’t know what.

There was one thing Y/N could be forced into. It was something fun, something she had done as a child and maybe the one event she looked forward to every year. Her eyes would light up as she watched it happen and she got to excited to hand the winners their trophies.

That was the Monaco Grand Prix.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @hellowgoodbye @prettiest-at-the-party @hollie911 @darleneslane @minkyungseokie @charizznorizz @rafaaoli @myescapefromthislife @choppedlambshandcowboy @spilled-coffee-cup @janeholt3 @mamako23 @catmouseggy

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader smut #charles leclerc x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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phoenixblaze1412 · 5 months

Note

hawoo i like your writings soooooo much!!! can i request something like dottore as our father? like we're his child, literally. can be biological or adopted, up to u!!

His Legacy

Dottore doesn't have the time nor energy to find a lover and create a child with them. He doesn't even want to adopt one, there's a lot of processes that needs to be done before he can officially adopt said child.

If he wants a child, he prefers them to have his genes, a child that can follow in his footsteps and have the same knowledge as he does but from a different perspective of theirs.

What better way to make a child than in the laboratory.

After a month of finding the perfect resources and killing countless women to obtain the proper egg cells, he was able to create an infant, you.

He welcomed you into the world with a grin, his eyes staring back at yours, just the same color as his. He noticed your hair was blue as well, with the tips being a different color, possibly from the unknown mother's genes but he doesn't mind.

The segments all stood on one side of the room while staring at you, currently being held by Dottore himself as he held you out to the segments.

"What is that tiny thing?" "It looks like us but the tips of their hair is a different color." "Are they a failed segment?"

"This child you see before you is mine. I created them in the laboratory using a random woman's egg cell and adding my sperm cell to it. I expect the rest of you to take care of them as well. As for the name... let's call it (Y/n)."

You weren't much of a talker through the years of growing up but Dottore did found out your teeth were sharp like his, he was proud of himself to be able to create you that got most of his characteristics.

He personally taught you everything he knows, from the concept of science itself all the way to the medical field. You're already an expert at opening up a corpse at the fine age of nine without even vomiting or even disgusted at the sight and scent of blood.

Sometimes, the other harbingers would forcefully carry you out of the laboratory just to be able to enjoy the outside world and explore more, much to Dottore's annoyance.

Without the others knowing, Dottore would call a segment and order them to follow you and make sure that you're okay without being caught by his fellow harbingers.

You were given the nickname 'Mini Dottore' by Childe.

Whenever the eleventh harbinger called you that nickname, he would end up in your father's laboratory with a large bloody bite wound on either his arms or legs, courtesy of you.

On special experiments that requires a living test subject, Dottore wouldn't allow you to join in on the experiment, you would be taking the job of an assistant if an occasion arises.

Yes he taught you how to hold a scalpel and how to open up a body but he did it with a dead one. He didn't want you to kill a living organism yet, he may be crazy but he's not crazy enough to let his child watch a person screaming to death.

The segments would use you as a secret weapon if they were told to ask Pantalone for more fundings for their projects. They knew how the regrator couldn't say no to you. You may be a mini version of your father but you're way more adorable than him is what Pantalone stated.

We know Dottore's hair is usually around shoulder length but he doesn't know how to style it. With you in the picture, he had to deal with your hair because it would be everywhere and it is a big problem. It's either he cuts it short with scissors or style it.

He doesn't style it. He just grabs the nearest sharp object he could use and cut it short. He did thought of styling your hair like his but the idea was quickly thrown to the trash when you pouted at him. Luckily he knows how to do a ponytail, although quite messy but he makes sure it doesn't get in the way of your tasks.

Dottore would often be puzzled whenever he would see you caring for animals that were supposed to be used for his experiments. He concluded that this kind personality of yours could have belonged to the woman he killed back then, whoever she was. At least he didn't have to tell you who your mother was if you ever asked him, you were made in a pod chamber in his laboratory after all.

It may not seem like it but Dottore is proud to have you as his child. Aside from the new opinion and perspective he benefited from you, you grew on him and made him care for you.

'Father's little helper' is the nickname Dottore would coo at you whenever you assisted him with his experiments.

The segments treated you as their little sibling, making sure you're safe from harm. Doesn't matter if they get injured themselves because they can handle it but you on the other hand, are more fragile than them.

Dottore promised himself that he would never make you experience the things he went through in his past. He would never make you feel like a monster like he had endured back then.

Some would call you the second harbinger's apprentice, others would call you his pet.

The harbingers however, calls you Dottore's legacy.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #female reader #gender neutral reader #il dottore x reader #child reader

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fob4ever · 5 months

Text

i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

#yayyyyyy #article

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absolutebl · 5 months

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Pit Babe - it's time for a Trash Watch!

I had to. Well, no I didn't, but COME ON. It's like Thailand is negging me. Let's burn rubber, shall we? Burn rubbers...?

The things I had been told going in about this show:

it's about car racing (this bores me)

it stars Pavel (my BL ult bias, he is my icon for a reason)

it started as an omegaverse y-novel but the A/B/O aspects would be stripped from the BL series

it's high heat

(There some chatter about whether point 3 was a mistranslation of something the author said, but don't bother me with trifles.)

Here's a definition of omegaverse:

Omegaverse, also known as A/B/O (alpha/beta/omega), is a subgenre of speculative erotic fiction, and originally a subgenre of erotic slash fan fiction. Its premise is that a dominance hierarchy exists in humans, which are divided into dominant "alphas", neutral "betas", and submissive "omegas".[1] This hierarchy determines how people interact with one another in romantic, erotic and sexual contexts.[2] (Wikipedia)

In my experience and opinion, omegaverse archetypes and tropes are often used to strip out female characters (and The Feminine) and as a tool to excuse extreme hyper-masculine behaviors without a critical feminist lens (leading to lazy characterization). Just as heat is an excuse to get nkd quickly, A/O/B is often an excuse for taboo and dubious consent actions and behaviors. Do I get why writers/readers enjoy it? Yes I do. Do I personally like it? Not particularly. (Although there are always exceptions.)

Putting all that aside, the above represents my foundational knowledge before Pit Babe started.

Oh and that the familiar BL faces appearing in this show were follows:

Pavel Naret (aka Pavel Phoom) from 2 Moons 2 & Coffee Melody - Pavel is a fluent English speaker, a bit of a drama monger, and a motorcycle rider/car-dude, this role suits him

Nut Supanut from Oxygen & Something in My Room - has an amazing voice, his somewhat wooden acting has improved steadily since Oxygen

Pon Thanapon - one of Star Hunter's stable first seen in the Gen Y series (where he stole the appeal of an intended pair), also v good in Make a Wish, I wish he'd get a lead role as he has a likable screen presence

Pop Pataraphol from La Cuisine - he's playing the Alpha rival and I'm not convinced he's suited to this role

Michael Kiettisak from Love Sick, Oxygen, Call it What You Want, Till the World Ends - playing the comic relief this time rather than his usual tortured stoic... huh

All the rest are either fresh faces or older experienced actors. Interesting mix. They must have some money behind this.

And now, get out your marshmallows! The dumpster is on fire! Let's start the roast.

Episode 1 - Platypus, Pickles, Pavel, & other Smoking Hot Problems

This first segment told with a 4 day retrospect, because I decided to do a trash watch only after @aliceisathome said I should.

My initial reaction:

the sheer audacity of Thailand being like "PitBabe is not omegaverse" and then serving "Alpha" to us on a platter in the first sex scene is

how dare

but also

what the actual fuck is going on? what world are we living in where a/b/o is LIVE ACTION ON OUR SCREENS?

we getting heat, knotting & mpreg next?

apparently this is my reality now

I'm not sure what weird quantum time stream I've jumped into but someone was all,

yes the whole world is hella screwed, but also...

Thailand has decided live action mm fanfic is gonna win it the culture wars

and I'm beginning to think they may be right

BL is now the platypus of the film industry

4 days later:

Considering how much chatter this caused there's a part of me that wondered if it was all intentional and a marketing ploy (to say it wasn't omegaverse when obviously it is). In which case... brilliant Machiavellian tactics, production.

But Thai studios are rarely this calculated in their promo. So I think it's all accidental. But it certainly caused a raucous few days on Tumblr.

On a completely different note, Babe's house looks like it started life as a particularly inventive Olive Garden. Or is that just me?

More random thoughts:

Pavel has had work done, why honey? You were the definition of perfect.

The smell thing is great, I love stuff to do with scent and necks. If omegaverse brings this to the table, fine. But...

Being all Alpha perfect butch manly man = I do not like Babe at all, I kinda want him to be brought down a peg. (Woo... pegging!) I never like narratives that glorify the captain of the football team (side eyes Cdrama CEO romances and Love O2O), Babe better have depth and damage (forget the pegging) of some kind or his behavior will get old FAST, faster than he drives (also, forget the pegging idea)

Nut is ideal in the Beta role. I mean, that's Way's character right? We all can see that. If it's not intentional, it's a miscast. I love how soft he is as as screen presence. He's great in this part.

None of the other characters are sticking out to me yet, but I'm prepared to love the side dishes in this, please make them swoon worthy!

I'm glad they didn't hold the Charlie = trickster reveal off, I like knowing he is a double agent up front.

Finally, with respect to an adequate trash watch, I'm in a pickle.

How am I going to drink for this show when there is so much else airing on Frigay? I can't keep track, if I'm drunk.

I need a strategy for this trash fire if the puns and snark are to spout forth! (HA Fourth!)

Controlled burn?

Anygay, see you all next week.

Episode 2 - Side Dish Addiction + Second Lead Syndrome are both infecting me at once

[FYI I gotta have my backup computer to watch this so that's why Imma sometimes be delayed getting the trash out to the curb.]

3 minutes! 3 minutes in and I needed to pause and wax snarkful. (Ouch, bet that hurts. Is waxing snark similar to a Brazilian but for BL? Is that why they all so hairless in The Sign?... I digress, where was I?)

Okay so the subber said Daddy but I don't think that word means what they think it means. Because Way said simply nong paa.

Usually they'll use the English word Daddy (pronounced Dah-deee) for, ya know, Actual Daddies (tm).

Wait wait:

Calling Daddy Actual

(My dumb sci-fi loving arse will see myself out the back before I start drawing Battlestar Galactica = Pit Babe connections. TOO FAR ABL. Too far.)

Look, I like the tension in this show. It's good to set up an unlikeable Alpha dog and then immediately turn him into an underdog, makes him a bit more likable. I still don't like Babe, but now at least I'm on his side.

Charlie = cute but v sus. Fortunately for him, Babe = cute but v thick.

Everyone calls Charlie Babe's dek. Yes sounds a bit like what you think but also means kid/child and SHOULD be translated as boy in this show. Why doesn't the subber get that? They a sub...ber after all. (I'll see myself out.)

Honestly, the script writers might know what they are doing with abo but our eng sub translator sadly does NOT. I'm so glad this is coming now in my BL watching life. When my ear and knowledge of Thai is so much better than it once was. Others much be SO CONFUSED.

Snicker. They just fucking with us, but it's fun to watch the mpeg speculation abound.

File this one under: Thailand's trouble with ESL plurals and also "you should have Pavel helping with these subs" sweethearts.

Production knows entirely what it's doing with this show and its omegaverse shizz (even if the subber doesn't) and I am very much enjoying the online carnage that results.

This dumpster fire continues off screen into the blogosphere and I continue to roast things over it.

Meanwhile, hi Pon! You so adorable! When you gonna lead out a BL for us?

Is Idol Factory stealing all of Star Hunter's talent? Are they the Red Racers of the BL world? These are the questions I ask myself as I watch this.

Is that AGE GAP I smell before me?

Is the 20 yr old college kid meant for the pit boss? Cause you all know I am a slut for age gaps.

Moment of a/b/o: Jeff's fear of touch/heightened personal space would be a plot marker for "baby doesn't want Alphas close cause he smells like an omega" but of course this show it not omegaverse. Not omegaverse at all.

nuh-uh

Linguistic corner!

Lung (sounds a bit like loo) is uncle(ish) it means basically a male relation older than phi. So Alan is the oldest in the crew.

Alan calls Jeff nu (which the subber translated as boy I would have gone with cutie or little one). Nu is a diminutive affectionate term that's technically gender neutral but is most often used by/on cute girls/women. Jeff did NOT like it. Then Alan sort of dodges through pronouns/particles settling on phi for I, ger for you, and ja for a particle. This is interesting because ger & ja kinda lower his age and status into a casual sphere. Not more intimate more equal to jeff... fascinating.

I love the new "Korean" red racer, he drinks my brand of soy milk. He is now my baby snake in the grass.

Get it? Snake.

He and Babe should end up together.

The fight wasn't bad, do both actors have kickbox training in their backgrounds?

Who am I kidding, I care only about Uncle Alan and Nu Jeff now. All others are irrelevant to me.

Also...

WHERE IS A BOY FOR WAY?!!! Or a Daddy. I do not care. (Methinks nether does he.)

I am now captain of the Way Appreciation Society. Let's all find a way... to get him some dick.

Also the BTS stingers are tons of fun. Looks like the set was a blast.

Finally, and I mean this kindly. Why isn't Noh Phouluang in this? He should have been cast as Winner. Bah. I'm biased.

But one should be with Noh.

Episode 3 - Side Dishes Delux

Gayest bridge n Thailand has made its obligatory appearance.

How much do I love uncle & nu? They are SO damn cute. Also nu flustered is the best kind of nu.

I could not care less about Babe and Charlie. Except I do love the smell thing.

Way will break my heart by getting his broken. He is right tho.

Tra la la. I feel like this is a bit like KP 2.0.

Charlie is a such a princess (and ace manipulator). Good thing Babe clearly likes being buttered up.

Babe's backstory was more interesting than I expected, I didn't think we would go so far into the paranormal side of a/b/o. I like it and I hope they lean into it quite a bit more. Make it part of the plot.

Unlike the kissing thing which seems to have been gotten over rather quickly.

I gotta say I'm enjoying the corporate sponsorship jockeying and tension more than I thought I would. I'm curious as to who Jef and Charlie are working for and what their motivation is. The plot itself is keeping me intrigued and that is rare for me with BL.

So no trash talk this ep, I was largely absorbed and entertained. I didn't event need booze. Shocking behavior on my part.

#giveWayaboy2023

Episode 4 - I (who never ship) am shipping the impossible

Here’s the thing. I just want this to be a better story than it is. Right now it’s kind of like a soap opera. I don’t hate lakorn, I really don't. To Sir With Love is a glorious chewing of the diamanté scenery (completed with death glitter). But...

If this is gonna be a soap opera it needs to lean into the messy side more than the tailored high concept side. Support characters and evil needs more screen time.

Instead, right now, I don’t know where I am with this show because it doesn't know where it wants to be. I’m kind of dangling in the middle of a dirty situation. It’s uncomfortable for me, and the show feels uncomfortable for the performers.

Also... I have questions.

Yes, of course I want to know what Charlie & Jeff are up to. Why can Jeff see the future?

But more importantly I NEED to know why Babe has a flying saucer bed?

That kind of lighting makes nobody look good, especially not at that angle. It’s very traumatic and I’m not wild about the shag rug either. I have concerns about Babe's taste. I guess is what I am saying.

On a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT note:

There’s absolutely no chemistry to justify this, but I have decided that I am going to personally advocate for, and ship, Way and the interloping not-really-Korean. They are both sort of own-moral-code types. I have tiny crush on Kim, and Nut is the prettiest, and Way is Best Boy so there it is, I would like them to hook up, please & thank you.

#giveWay2Kim2023

Arrow guy is cute, too. Will we get to see him bone?

Is he going to be another one of the adopted alpha super-kid pets?

What the hell, throw Arrow Boy a bone! All hot boys in BLs deserve bones.

Plot thickens.

Hah.

Thickens.

(I am an immature idiot.)

Episode 5 - wait wait way-t, can arrow boy have Way?

Look, BLabies, I didn’t get any screen caps this episode because frankly there wasn’t anything worth capturing.

I guess Charlie really does love Babe? Very dramatic if idiotic saving from the burning car. But Babe has gone to the broken Alpha place of extremely unlikeablability (frankly he was almost there at the start). If I were Charles B Spectacled I would be OUT by now.

Is that?

NO.

Don't get the plastic bowl.

No white towel sponge bath. Please kill this trope.

I mean, it's not as bad as singing, but that's because NOTHING is as bad as singing in a Thai BL.

AND the main boys are back together.

I don’t find their relationship or Babe’s lack of senses a particularly interesting aspect of the plot.

Unless, of course, Babe is pregnant and that's why he lost his Alpha sniffer.

BUT I do love the sides.

Jeff = the introvert precog who can’t/wont do people and Alan = the extrovert people person who WANTS but doesn’t understand him.

Were Jeff and Charlie ALSO raised by Evil Daddy MacEvilPants?

I liked the way Arrow CEO & Way looked at each other. Way, hon, give up on Babe (he sucks) and get thyself a billionaire bf with great aim and BDE.

On a completely different note, the best thing about this show is the blooper reel. That thing with the green smoothie going down his pants was hilarious!

In conclusion, this was a green smoothie down the pants episode. I was entertained, and it’s probably gonna be good for the plot in retrospect, but it was kind of squishy and unpleasant at the time.

Episode 6 - Are they actually listening to us now? Is Tumblr bugged?

This was a fun ep full of like actual racing and shizz.

Whatever.

Charlie is on the team now. All the teams, apparently.

Can we talk about Jeff and Alan?

The apology scene! Did you hear that Alan dropped to chan/ger? Eeeee!!! So cute. (He equalized their relationship in a soft way.)

Get it with that language play hottie. Next up: lengua play.

Please & thank you.

Meanwhile, as all of the Internet knows, they went fully in for omegaverse - no bars.

I have to say, one of the greatest typos (or whatever) in existence is enigma instead of omega.

That's where I personally would rank in the omegaverse.

Hello, my gender is... enigma.

Apparently it's a/b/o and sometimes e! Also sometimes switch-ee

Oh I'm very proud of myself with that one.

Funfunfun

Charlie. Babes. When a man asks to be thrown up against the wall. You throw him against that wall.

OMG is that arrow boy looking at Way in the bar?

3 seconds later.

Noooo.

Wait come back.

Noooooo.

That’s what I actually want to watch!

OMG. Who said nu was the first step to teelak?

I flipping love Alan.

Ah the boyfriend ep. Thank you, but I still don't trust Charlie.

Poor Way.

But nice crying jag, and I don’t say that often in Thai BL.

Now let him go, Way.

A boy with his arrows is waiting.

(source)

Note for the future: tumblr has a bug that stops allowing edits after a certain time/number, thus my full trash often occur in 2 segments as a result. Click on the "abl trash watches bl" tag for the full thing if you're reading this and later episodes are missing.

#pit babe the series #pit babe #thai bl #abl trash watches bl #Pavel Naret Promphaopun #pavel phoom #trash watch #2023 bl #currently airing bl #watch along #Nut Supanut #Pon Thanapon #พิษเบ๊บ

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