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bowtiepastabitch · 3 months

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Heaven's Not Homophobic in Good Omens, and Why That's Important

I need to preface this with, I am not trying to start a fight or argument and won't tolerate any homophobic or bad faith arguments in response to this. Cool? Cool.

This is in large part inspired by this ask from Neil's blog, which sparked some discourse that I don't want to get involved in but that brought up some analytic questions for me.

He goes on to reblog a question asking about Uriel's taunt specifically, clarifying that "boyfriend in the dark glasses" can just as easily be read/translated from angelic as girlfriend or bosom buddy. The idea is that an angel and a demon "fraternizing" is seriously looked down upon, not that heaven is homophobic. And that's super important.

We see homophobia in both the book and show, of course. Aziraphale is very queer-coded, intentionally and explicitly so, and we see the reaction of other humans to that several times. Sergeant Shadwell, for example, and the kid in the book that calls him the f-slur when he's doing magic at Warlock's birthday party. These are, however, individual human reactions to his coding as a gay man.

I am, personally, not a fan of heaven redemption theories for the show; no hate for people who want that it's just not something I'm interested in. I don't believe that heaven is good with bad leadership, or that God Herself remains as a paragon of virtue. To me, that's not in line with the themes and messages of the show. It's important, however, that heaven doesn't reflect human vices. Heaven can be nasty and selfish and apathetic in its own right without ableism, homophobia, transphobia, or racism. This matters for two reasons.

Firstly, we don't need the -isms and -phobias to be evil or at least ethically impure. In a world where we spend so much time fighting against prejudice and bigotry, our impulse is to see that reflected in characters whose motivations we distrust or who we're intended to dislike. While it's true that that's often the big bad evil in our daily lives, it can really cheapen the malice in fictional evil from a storytelling standpoint. A villain motivated by racism or as an allegory for homophobia can be incredibly compelling, but not every bad guy can be the physical representation of an -ism. Art reflects the reality in which it's crafted, but the complexity of human nature and the evil it's capable of can't be simplified to a dni list.

Secondly, and I think more importantly, is that for Good Omens specifically, this places the responsibility for homophobia on humanity. If you're in this fandom, there's like a 98% chance you've been hurt by religion in some way. For a lot of us, that includes religious homophobia and hate, so it makes sense to want to project that onto the 'religious' structure of Good Omens. It's a story that is, in many ways, about religious trauma and abuse. However, if heaven itself held homophobic values, it would canonize in-universe the idea that heaven and religion itself are responsible for all humanity's -isms and -phobias and absolve humans of any responsibility. Much like Crowley emphasizes repeatedly that the wicked cruelty he takes responsibility for is entirely human-made, we have to accept that heaven can't take the blame for this. To make heaven, the religious authority, homophobic would simply justify religious bigotry from humans. By taking the blame for religious extremism and hatred away from heaven and the religious structure, Good Omens makes it clear that the nastiness of humanity is uniquely and specially human and forces the individual to take responsibility rather than the system. Hell isn't responsible for the Spanish Inquisition, which by the way was religiously motivated if you didn't know, and heaven isn't responsible for Ronald Reagan.

This idea is perhaps more strongly and explicitly expressed in the Good Omens novel, in the scene where Aziraphale briefly possesses a televangelist on live TV. It's comedic, yes, but also serves to demonstrate that human concepts of the apocalypse and religious fervor are deeply incorrect (in gomens universe canon) and condemn exploitation of faith practices. Pratchett and Gaiman weave a great deal of complexity into the way religion and religious values are portrayed in the book, especially in the emphasis on heaven and hell being essentially the same. They're interested in the concept of what it means to be uniquely and unabashedly human, the good and the bad, and part of that is forcing each individual person to bear the brunt of responsibility for their own actions rather than passing it off onto a greater religious authority.

Additionally, from a fan perspective, there's something refreshing about a very queer story where homophobia isn't the primary (or even a side) conflict. The primary narrative of Good Omens isn't that these two man-shaped-beings are gay, it's that they're an angel and a demon. The tension in their romantic arc arises entirely from the larger conflict of heaven and hell, and things like gender and sexuality don't really matter at all. Yes, homophobia and transphobia are very real, present issues in our everyday lives, but they don't have to be central to every story we tell. There's something really soothing about Crowley and Aziraphale being so queer-coded and so clearly enamored with each other without constantly being bombarded with homophobia and hate. It's incredible to see a disabled angel whose use of a mobility aid makes no difference in their role and to see angels and demons using they/them pronouns without being questioned or misgendered. It's all accepted and normalized, and that's the kind of representation that we as queer people deserve.

#anywho that got real long #good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #media analysis #good omens analysis #queer coding #queer representation #ineffable husbands #gomens #aziraphale x crowley #anywho happy valentines day #love my fandom #not beta read or majorly edited because I'm a busy guy with homework so lmk if there's any errors that need correcting (politely!)

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iamjucie · 2 months

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Pet (18+) pt. 4 of 4

Ascended Astarion x f!reader

Chapter Four: Pink

I suggest reading the first three of the series before this, there is a bit of a plot in the porn. Just a little.

Summary: Master Astarion takes away your hurt and allows you to enjoy the sweet nothing of enthrallment.

WARNINGS: Smut, Extremely dubious consent, Mind control/manipulation, Orgasm control, Abusive relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Physical Abuse

I do not say this lightly- Astarion is evil in this. This is an extremely toxic relationship. You have been warned!

(AO3 Link)

When he goes to lift your hips from him, you flinch and groan. So overwhelmed with sensitivity from both of your earth shattering orgasms.

He notices this and tuts, “Darling, I do expect you know I am not finished with you yet. Are you feeling…” he moves his hand down, pushing two fingers inside and allowing his wrist to graze your clit, drawing a scream from your lips. “...Sensitive?”

“Y-yes master I- Ah” he begins to massage inside you while you talk to him. He loves to see you struggle. “I-I don't think I can manage any more master… I-It- it hurts.”

“My poor child,” he coos while still massaging winces and hisses from your lips. “What are we meant to do about that, hm?”

You are struggling to think through the assault on your senses, rendering your brain struggling to focus on anything the pain he is bringing onto you “I-I don’t know…” you stutter pathetically, “C-can you make it stop hurting? Maybe I- You- M-Make it feel good.”

Astarion stops in his conquest to destroy your senses and places a hand on his cheek, feigning surprise. “Darling, are you asking me to compel you to enjoy it?”

“Y-yes. No, I-I don’t know. I only want to make you feel good, that is my purpose. Would that be bad? ” you inquired, genuinely confused.

“Absolutely not my dearest!” he chuckles as he reaches to caress your cheeks, as if you were a child embarrassed that she said something wrong. “I would be happy to oblige.”

You settle yourself into position ready for your master to take the wheel. Gods, you loved when he did this. You love having him in your mind, controlling your every move, your every reaction. When thinking is all you ever do, it’s blissful to not have a thought in your head.

The feeling of him entering your mind is akin to laying in a fresh set of silk sheets. Fog drapes over your thoughts and everything seems far away. Wrapping your brain in a warm, silky coating. You are no longer in your body, you are elsewhere. Here, everything is quiet.

Everything except him, and he is all that matters.

“Okay, Pet.” you hear his voice ring in your mind amidst the fog. You tilt your head inquisitively, awaiting your command. You can’t wait, you are so very eager to serve. “All I want you to do is feel good for me. Can you do that? Nod if you can do that.”

You nod.

The fog suddenly lifts slightly and you are back in your body with Astarion. Everything has a slight tint of pink to it, but that’s ok. Pink is a very good color. It makes you feel very good.

“Sigh, Look at what has become of you dear.” he reaches his hand to caress your cheek. “So utterly pathetic.”

You smile at him, the fog makes words jumble in your mind but you can hear your master’s voice. Master’s voice is so beautiful. You reach your hand to grip his on your face, nuzzling your face into it. It makes you feel very good.

He flips you onto your back, your giddiness is palpable. You giggle as he caresses you. Everything tickles a little, it feels good.

“Gods, you’re giggling like a gods-damned child.” he scoffs, “You’re a shell of the powerful woman you once were. Do you know why, love?”

You don’t quite understand what he’s saying to you but you get the impression he is expecting a response. You tilt your head with an inquisitive expression, replaying what he said to try to understand. All you can do is think about how good his voice makes you feel.

A more prominent voice comes into your mind. He has a command for you.

“Say, ‘Why, Master?’ for me, love” it echoes in your brain until it is fulfilled.

“Why, master?” you say with no thought or intention behind it. You look at him with the deepest form of affection known to man; enthrallment.

He grabs you and pulls your ear to his lips. “Because I took it from you.” he hisses, hand moving down to your clit to massage it. “I stole your strength, your talent, your mind from you.” he smiles at you.

He’s so pretty when he smiles.

“You put up quite the fight for a bit but in the end, I won. I always do.”

His fingering in your cunt gets more aggressive, he loves making you feel good. He feels so good inside you, and his voice is like music in your clouded mind.

“I beat you, fucked you, isolated you until you were exactly the way I want you.” He scoffs, “Proof that my power is strong enough to turn the strongest heroes into whores that only exist to be my cumslut. The hero of Baldur’s Gate, locked in a bedroom in my palace for me to fuck when I please.”

He starts to laugh, he must have told a joke. Master is so funny. You laugh along with him.

He lifts your hips onto his cock once more. You feel a rush of pleasure drawing a languid moan from your lips. This is what hurt before? No no- it must have been something else that was hurting. This- this is too profound to hurt.

You start to bounce on his cock, pulling him in and out fully the way your body knows he likes. It feels so good.

“You’re a fucking idiot do you know that?” he through pants as he ferociously fucks you. “Thinking you would ever be my ‘Dark Consort’, thinking I would let you in on the glory? Please.”

His voice sounds like a symphony.

“I knew from the moment I met you, you were just a desperate, stupid slut. Just needed some coaxing out by my hand.” he continues, “Say you’re nothing but a desperate slut and nothing without me inside you.”

Again, you have the feeling he is expecting a response from you but you don’t quite know what to say. You feel so good wrapped around his cock. Everything is so perfect.

He slaps you across the face and puts his hand around your neck.

The heat of the hit goes straight to your cunt. Waves of pleasure rush over your mind. It feels. So. Damn. Good. You’re on the cusp of the biggest orgasm of your undead life.

He enters your mind with a command, “I said, say you’re nothing but a desperate slut and nothing without me inside you.”

“Ah- I-I’m a desperate slut!” you try to use your voice between moans, “a-and I’m n-nothing without you i-inside me-e!”

You don’t even know what you’re saying, you’re so fucking close.

“Gods…“ Astarion is on the edge of coming inside you. “Fucking-“

He enters your mind. “Come when I say. I need to feel you clench around my cock as I have you spilling with me.”

“Three…”

Your body starts to prepare for the hit of chemicals your brain is about to receive.

“Two…”

You’re so fucking close, you’re under his thumb. He just needs to lift it ever so slightly and you’re riding this wave together.

“One. Come for me”

Your body obeys. Your scream could easily be mistaken for him killing you if this routine wasn’t so practiced. You convulse and clench around his member inside of you, milking his spend for all you can. You lay in a pleasurable bliss. A numbness like no other, with your master’s spend leaking from your cunt. Fucked beyond measure.

***

The pink fog of your vision lifts for the most part. The fog is still clouding your thoughts, it usually does until master is gone for a long while.

After a brief respite, Astarion begins to put his clothes back on. Gazing at his reflection to ensure there’s no imperfections in his appearance.

He turns on his heels to face you and clasps his hands together. “Well my love, I’m afraid I need to head out.” he explained with an exaggerated frown. “I have a very very important meeting out of town I need to attend.”

“Again? But you just came back from a trip��” you pout.

“Darling,” his eyes glow slightly in your gaze, “that was 2 weeks ago!”

You scrunch your face. Has it been that long? You concentrate on remembering the past two weeks.

He places a hand on your forehead to check for a fever. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Think… Oh! How could you have forgotten? You helped to decide the warpath of where to expand the empire you two have built. Yes, yes. How could you forget? Time does fly when you have fun.

You lay naked on the bed, watching as your master makes his way to leave your shared chambers to go on yet another important trip. You love that your master is such an important man, that is what he always wanted and what he deserves. But, selfishly, you hate that he always needs to go away. Oh well. You should be grateful you had such an eventful two weeks with him.

He knocks 3 times on the chamber door with no handles. Did that always have no door knob? You can’t bring yourself to recall, your mind and body spent beyond their limit.

Master’s assistant- whose name is lost on you- opens the door for him. As he is beginning to make his way out the door, you call out to him.

“Wait master!”

He turns to you. “Hm? Yes, pet?”

“Where is your business trip located? I forgot to ask, I like to know so I can imagine us going there together one day.”

He tilts his head in endearment and smiles at you.

“Neverwinter, my lovely. I must be going, the carriage is waiting. Now, you know the routine by now? Think of me while I’m gone.”

The images he wants you to imagine flow into your mind like a tidal wave. You hear him in your mind telling you not to touch yourself and that you can’t climax without permission.

“Of course, master. I will behave myself”

“Good girl. I will see you before you know it, my pet”

“I love you, master”

“Yes, I know. And I you.” he says as the door is shut

***

“Sire, just to ensure I’m not mistaken,” Astarion’s assistant asks shortly after the door to the vault is locked shut as she walks beside him down the hall, “your soonest business meeting is six months from now? In Waterdeep?”

“You would be correct. If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”

“Of course, sire.”

***

You are sitting in the lavish master chamber of the ornate palace you call home. Gazing into your reflection in the vanity mirror combing your unnaturally long black hair, getting lost in thought. It’s really all there is to do when Master Astarion is away on extended business trips like this.

It does help, too, that before he left he told you to think of him while he was gone. It was a command. So you obey. And you think.

The End

I hope you enjoyed my very first time writing fanfiction!! If you like my style and have any ideas or suggestions, let me know! This was so much fun to write and I can't wait to write more!

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marta-bee · 1 year

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Let’s talk about good and evil, Good Omens-style.

Pressing on with reading the book, I’m maybe two-thirds or three-quarters through the first chapter. Still not through! But War has made her first appearance, Aziraphale and Crowley are finally sobered p and decided to be god-parents, and I think I’m ready for another mental break. It’s hilarious. It’s harrowing. I am marveling at the sheer genius of the writing. And feeling for Aziraphale being stuck in his own goodness. He’s a cheeky bastard what with the bible-proof pages and all, but still so hemmed in by what he’s defined himself to be.

Mostly I think I need to take a break, because there’s some really interesting philosophy going on here and I need to unpack it a bit to really feel his weight.

Last week I’d stopped with Crowley and the Spanish Inquisition. Still feeling the *oomph* of that passage; but this week starts out with its flip-side, which had such an aura of hope to it, for me.

And just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course. It was a bugger.

That’s one of my favorite things about humanity, how we’re capable of what my human-bound sense of morality connects with goodness. We’re both. We’re potential. And I think for Crowley, that potential is almost more important than what we potentialize into. Maybe it’s that humans have creativity and a spark that lets them do things stolid heaven and decrepit hell just can’t conceive of. But there’s something very attractive to Crowley about this ability change, to make a choice and not just do or be what they’re predestined to do or be, that’s very attractive to Crowley. If anything connects to what I think of as morality in this world, I think that ability for growth is it. A capacity to surprise and spersede your programming, for lack of a better term.

There’s actually a really delightful exchange I’d forgotten about, on the concept of free will, leading up to that snippet I quoted earlier:

Aziraphale had tried to explain it to him once. The whole point, he'd said-this was somewhere around 1020, when they'd first reached their little Arrangement-the whole point was that when a human was good or bad it was because they wanted to be. Whereas people like Crowley and, of course, himself, were set in their ways right from the start. People couldn't become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked.

Crowley had thought about this for some time and, around 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can't start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle.

Ah, Aziraphale had said, that's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That's lunatic.

No, said Aziraphale, it's ineffable.

Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.

Crowley reached down and picked up the car phone.

Being a demon, of course, was supposed to mean you had no free will. But you couldn't hang around humans for very long without learning a thing or two.

Angels and demons can’t change; except of course they can. That’s the whole point of Satan, as Crowley points out later:

"What will happen to the child if it doesn't get a Satanic upbringing, though?" said Aziraphale. "Probably nothing. It'll never know."

"But genetics-"

"Don't tell me from genetics. What've they got to do with it?" said Crowley. "Look at Satan. Created as an angel, grows up to be the Great Adversary. Hey, if you're going to go on about genetics, you might as well say the kid will grow up to be an angel. After all, his father was really big in Heaven in the old days. Saying he'll grow up to be a demon just because his dad became one is like saying a mouse with its tail cut off will give birth to tailless mice. No. Upbringing is everything. Take it from me."

"And without unopposed Satanic influences – "

"Well, at worst Hell will have to start all over again. And the Earth gets at least another eleven years. That's got to be worth something, hasn't it?"

Now Aziraphale was looking thoughtful again.

"You're saying the child isn't evil of itself?" he said slowly.

"Potentially evil. Potentially good, too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality, waiting to be shaped," said Crowley. He shrugged. "Anyway, why're we talking about this good and evil? They're just names for sides. We know that."

"I suppose it's got to be worth a try," said the angel.

Satan can change. Satan did change. And Crowley, too, in the first passage; he decided to make a choice when that’s supposed to be very much a human thing. Even Aziraphale shows a real capacity to, not change his mind perhaps, but let himself be swayed, certainly That whole conversation between Aziraphale and Crowley over what to do about the antichrist reeks of motivated reasoning on his part.

"That's it, then," said Crowley, with a gleam of triumph. He knew Aziraphale's weak spot all right. "No more compact discs. No more Albert Hall. No more Proms. No more Glyndbourne. Just celestial harmonies all day long."

"Ineffable," Aziraphale murmured.

"Like eggs without salt, you said. Which reminds me. No salt, no eggs. No gravlax with dill sauce. No fascinating little restaurants where they know you. No Daily Telegraph crossword. No small antique shops. No bookshops, either. No interesting old editions. No" – Crowley scraped the bottom of Aziraphale's barrel of interests-"Regency silver snuffboxes . . . "

"But after we win life will be better!" croaked the angel.

"But it won't be as interesting. Look, you know I'm right. You'd be as happy with a harp as I'd be with a pitchfork."

He’s supposed to want good. He’s with heaven, that’s the definition of being heaven-aligned, to want good; and taking better as a synonym... yeah, probably if the win the Apocalypse (which they probably would), life would be more good. And that thought makes Aziraphale desperate; he’s croaking the words there, see? He’s torn between what he’s supposed to want and what he actually wants, and it’s all coming to a head.

Then Crowley said it won’t be as interesting, something else entirely, from the heaven- or hell-aligned, and that’s when he starts to crack. It’s a rebellion, or at least a falling (sauntering vaguely downward, if you prefer); because he’s choosing something here too outside what he’s supposed to be working toward: not better, but more interesting. And thank Someone for that.

Let’s go back to that first exchange, though, where Aziraphale and Crowley are discussing free will. Because Crowley makes a really interesting point, both narratively and in terms of real-world philosophy.

Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can't start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle.

Ah, Aziraphale had said, that's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That's lunatic.

Aziraphale’s line is one I heard often enough from the Protestant-Christian side of my upbringing. Blessed are those who suffer for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. And Crowley’s right: it’s nonsense to think people who are fighting all day every day to survive will ever be able to do as well at this free choice sanctification scheme as people who have the luxury of a bit of breathing space. Free will, for one thing, is meaningless if you don’t actually have two options to choose from; and the space (mental and otherwise) to actually make a decision.

Personally this isn’t the interpretation of Christianity I’ve found most useful, or consistent with the way I read the (Christian) Bible. It’s not that suffering gives you more opportunities for growth; there’s a sense of to-whom-much-has-been-given-much-will-be-expected shot through so many of Christ’s parables (the Five Talents, for instance), and of course there’s the line that it’s easier for a rich man to pass through the Eye of the Needle than to get into heaven; if you know your Biblical archaeology, that’s essentially saying you have to be stripped free of your baggage, which is the one thing rich people won’t be able to do.

Put another way: those who suffer, those who are poor and week, are blessed not because their suffering lets them achieve more heaven-points, but because they don’t need them precisely because they’re small. Whereas those given more resources, more is expected of them. I don’t think Crowley would approve of that kind of valorizing of smallness, but intellectually at least it makes more sense than what Crowley’s been twisted to think is correct.

I’m more a fan of the Aristotelian approach, myself. There are virtues that ought to motivate actions, but at the same time it’s all tied up in what’s possible for an individual. So a person who’s, say, OCD and deals with excessive anxiety might show more genuine courage in crossing the street than someone without that psychology would need to run into a burning building. Of course there’s certain maladies that make it impossible to exercise true virtue and we should feel pity for those people even if we don’t think of them as virtuous. But at least within certain limits, courage isn’t just about doing the most extreme thing, even necessarily what the situation demands, because courage is being guided by fear in the right way so we behave courageously; and if you’ve got more fear to navigate you need better courage than most to do the navigating.

That’s a much better way of thinking about things to me. Afflicted people aren’t better than those with a better starting out point because they get more heaven-points (whatever form that takes) or reach some better external state than people with a more favorable starting point; it’s that to even get to the same result as other people, they need more oomph, more grace, more whatever, because of all they’re pushing back against. It’s not fair, but it seems at least a more generous interpretation of the reality we’re all trying to struggle through.

Getting back to the book, though, I find it really interesting that Aziraphale and Crowley think of good and evil in these terms. It’s a sign of the headspace Heaven and Hell drive them toward, I think; to the point Crowley says they’re just labels for our side, those words don’t actually mean anything.

But he’s still shaken by Barcelona. He’s still begging with Aziraphale- test them, sure, but not to destruction. He doesn’t want humanity to be ended, and it’s not for the more self-centered reasons that drive Aziraphale here, those lovely little bits of life on earth he finds so enjoyable. There’s a sense that he shouldn’t allow that to happen. There’s a should, an ought, a moral imperative still, even for a demon who’s been trying to tempt humanity toward his side for six millennia here. And while I don’t want to indulge on simple moralizing, there’s something at his core that won’t let him just let history do its thing. It may not neatly align with what heaven or hell is pointing for, that’s really the point, but there’s still an ought in play that’s somehow independent of all that.

Frankly, I find all that fascinating, not to mention a damned compelling narrative.

And War’s up next, I see. I need a readerly break, but when I get back, I think things are about to get fun.

#good omens #book good omens #marta read #marta rereads good omens #marta blathers

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tatyanafederovna · 1 year

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what is your profile picture lol

I may remember you saying you were a 5e hater of cos, what about it do you hate?

it's solas from dragon age inquisition skfkgfds it's from this post

and yeah there's a lot of things about 5e that i don't like.

first of all i've talked about some things here like how tracy hickman considers himself the academic authority on vampires despite there being no set vampire canon. it is also apparent from his foreword that he considers himself to be the authority on polidori's work the vampyre / his relationship with lord byron. in saying that, he seems to have a weird fixation on lord byron as if the man somehow came back from the dead and has personally gone to his home and fucked his wife. and i know he's used public perceptions (i say public because byron was considered one of the first celebrities of his time) and not academic literature of lord byron to influence 5e strahd.

5e is the first time strahd is introduced as canonically bisexual, however as i talk about in this post he fits the depraved bisexual trope which is not good. it makes him fucking suck as a character.

5e continues to be racist. the way the module treats the vistani continues to be incredibly regressive. van richten and his racist tiger. the vistani continue to emulate racist romani stereotypes. while the revamped version has fixed some of the alignment issues (originally vistani were mostly of evil alignment, and now they are neutral), the module says if you have random vistani npcs, you are encouraged to use the bandit statblock. for barovians, it is the noble statblock. ravenloft has had a long history of racism when it comes to the vistani, but somehow it finds new ways to be racist and dehumanise them. not to mention, tracy hickman on his own website still refers to the vistani with the g slur.

5e nerfed the shit out of ireena. in the original ravenloft, she was a very capable fighter and her stats were better than ismark's. in 5th edition, not so much.

the dusk elves. dusk elves were introduced in 4e. i posted about their 4e information here and made a note about how their appearance now differs in 2016 curse of strahd. which is a nice idea. however i am suspicious about why they are suddenly being annihilated in 5e and if there was any malicious intent behind certain changes considering tracy hickman makes no secret of his religion being reflected in his writing.

i personally don't like the amber temple lmao. i'm just a player but i know a lot of DMs feel the same way. it's a very controversial change from older editions but for me it's just silly. i don't like the idea of the dark powers or these 'dark gods' being something tangible that you can find in a physical place. i want something incomprehensible that comes to you when you're at your weakest point and breaks you even further.

5e strahd just doesn't fit the monster narrative for me. i want a good monster. a compelling monster. a monster that serves as a warning. 5e strahd is not that.

5e cos just isn't gothic horror to me. i want fear and haunting. i want to feel the claustrophobic past and a decaying present. i want terror and dread. if i wanted torture and mass murder and human rights violations i'd play a different campaign lmao

there's probably more but that's all i can think of right now!

#ask #theoscout #thanks for the ask btw!!!#the question about my icon made me laugh so hard skfgkdsf #cos

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hekate1308 · 6 months

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Are You With Me?

Prompt: Are You With me

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands

Crowley hated the fourteenth century. He had quickly and definitely decided that once he had relied what the Spanish Inquisition was about, and don’t get him started ion the Plague.

The plague.

He could for the life of him not understand what the point of all this suffering was. You could make the argument that there were just a lot of people around these days, but really, why not leave them be? Earth was certainly big enough for all of them, and a few more, so really... why all of this? He didn’t think anyone could take a valuable lesson from this.

Right now, he was at an orphanage – the one woman who had stayed behind to look after the children had already died, and most of them were sick as well, but by God, he wouldn’t –

“Crowley? What are you doing?”

“Trying to fix some things, angel” he replied without turning around.

“But you are trying to heal – “

But for once, he had no intention of discussing things. “So what am I supposed to do?” he asked hotly. He might have liked to pretend there was an evil plan behind everything he did, but this was not the time. People, children, were dying left and right, and he was not going to stand for it. If Hell wanted to come after him after that, fine by him. He’d been in their bad books before (really, just their books, since they did not have any others) and he’d always managed to claw his way back up… or at least back to earth, and that was what counted. “I’m not going to let this happen, period. And you, angel, can either leave and let me be or help me. So I am just asking one simple question. Are you with me?”

Now, here was the thing: he knew that Aziraphale wasn’t. Crowley himself might only go as far along with Hell as he liked, but Aziraphale still believed, believed that Heaven had a plan and that they were trying to do their best, and so he would hardly be –

Then Aziraphale asked, just like that, “What do you need me to do?”

He looked at him. Blinked. Managed to say, very eloquently, “Ngk”.

Then, the child whimpered and he remembered there were more important things to deal with than their strange and forbidden alliance, and so he leaned down. “Now, little human, don’t worry, you will feel better soon…”

“Are there others?” Aziraphale asked and he quickly told him about upstairs. The angel moved away and Crowley went back to caring for the little girl, not even bothering to pretend to himself that he was doing something evil in any shape, way or form. After all, if Aziraphale could get over all of his problems to help them out, then he could just admit that he was doing something good and worthwhile for one.

It did take quite a bit of power to ensure the girl would survive, but he didn’t care in the least. Of course someone would be able to tell that a miracle had been performed – miracles, he was ready to bet Aziraphale was doing whatever he could upstairs – but really, let them. Both angels and demons (in the later case, rather ironically) usually stayed away from the human suffering they caused, unless they could show up at the end for a big gesture, like with Job.

The thing was, he didn’t know what her life would turn out to be like now. The caretaker of the orphanage was dead, and humans had a sad habit not to care about people they were not related to. On the other hand, there were good people too, so he could only hope for the best.

Sadly, he knew from experience that this meant not trusting in God. She herself had been silent for so long now he would probably have doubted that she had ever been there at all, if not for remembering the angels singing as the constellations came to be…

“Let me tell you about the stars” he muttered, leaning down once more, hoping to calm her to sleep so she would get well even sooner.

She listened as her eyes slowly closed and she fell asleep.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief, even though it was not necessary, of course, not as a demon. But sometimes, it helped to do things humans did.

He felt a presence behind him – the presence that he had known better than anyone else in the last few millennia – and turned to find Aziraphale looking at them.

Then, quietly, he said, “They will be fine”.

He nodded. “Thank you, angel.”

They stayed silent for a moment or two, and then Aziraphale said, “we should find another caretaker for them.”

“Lets go then” he enthusiastically agreed.

#fictober23 #my writings #good omens #ineffable husbands #aj crowley #aziraphale

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katar-1-na · 1 year

Text

hello im gonna post my poetry here and then i am not gonna take it down because deep down i am proud of it and i think it sounds beautiful.

i would love to hear feedback about any of them. positive or negative.

evangelical:

how i long for that burgundy padded pew

every sunday

mrs.conner beating on those ivory keys

the sun spilling through those cheap plastic blinds

sitting quietly listening to the word

deep breaths in and out when something didnt feel right

wiping the tears from the alter while i was still on my tippy toes

that’s just how my daddy raised me

there was comfort within those four walls

a community stronger than anything else i was ever apart of

hands up, praising

humming until the chandeliers shook

reading the bible, feeling safe

secure in death and all

a certain stillness to it

that’s just how my mama raised me

that was before i messed everything up

eight years old and crying out

begging for god to pull him off of me

to possess him with some goodness

turn him away

away from that burgundy padded pew

taking deep breaths in and put because in that moment, nothing felt right

and i told mama

and she said, “child he would never he’s a man of god.”

and i told daddy

and he said, “ accusations like that can cost someone everything. go to your room an ask forgiveness for the lies you have told”

after that, daddy said a great malice had grown in my heart, reflected it’s evil in my eyes.

so every day for two years i scrubbed my whole body down with a bar of lye soap

trying desperately to wash him off

was out the malice too

praying to god to make that impurity leave

“what did i do wrong”

i knew that it had happened

my dress must’ve been far too short that easter

taking deep breaths in and out over and over and over and over

i sat on the edge of my grandmothers quilt

squeaking back and forth

i sang for forgiveness until i fell asleep

come thou fount of every blessing

tune my heart to sing thy grace

streams of mercy never ceasing

call for songs of loudest praise

i was hanging onto that cross for dear life

it wasn’t one day, it wasn’t some snap of the fingers

no.

it was a long descent, one i still haven’t found the finish line to.

does it end in the worms having their way? i would be fine with that

ultimate peace as the grass sways above me

the gift of not knowing

or does it end in some pearly gate?

that’s good too

seeing the people that i miss so desperately

how i long for that burgundy padded pew, the way it was before.

warmth:

my body longs for the warmth of summer;

my body longs for the warmth of another,

this makes the lonely winter treacherous my skin prickles at the feeling of the cold air against my skin,

instead of the dew that should cause it.

summer is safe.

i guarantee myself life just to know i can live another summer;

a summer in which i live with another.

that is my reassurance.

peaches:

men laugh at peaches.

their vulgar minds picturing reproductive organs and nothing more.

but this comparison to women and peaches is not invalid.

peach pits are poisonous.

girlhood is growing fruit around cyanide.

this is very difficult for men to swallow.

critical differences:

There is a difference between you and I.

I travel in a pack, even to the bathroom.

You think it’s weird.

I never wear shorts in public.

You think I’m a prude.

I don’t touch a bottle. It opens a gateway of blame.

Well she was drunk, what was she expecting?

You don’t glance twice when you grab for yours. If anything it’ll excuse your actions.

He couldn’t help it, he was drunk!

I ask a question. It is assumed I know nothing or that I’m nosy.

Ignorant.

You ask a question and are praised for your curiosity or your attention to detail.

Inquisitive

I raise my voice because from birth my cries have not been heard.

Please, just listen to me!

You raise your voice because someone dares to not obey your every command.

Please, just listen to me!

I cry sometimes when I’m sad. That makes me crazy.

You never cry, it’s not allowed. Instead, you break your knuckles. That’s more normal.

I mourn that for you, maybe you could’ve been good…

I like primping, my nails, my hair, my outfit. I am so selfish. Or maybe I’m another whore.

You do not worry about ridicule, dressed up or not. Neither will cause a ripple in your workplace.

I walk faster in the dark.

Yea, just stay on the phone with me until I get back to my car.

You get offended that I suggest my reality exists.

She thinks she’s gonna get raped walking back to her car. These goddamn feminazis.

My friends and I talk about our terrifying encounters. Cry about it in unison.

You suggest that your friend “must’ve liked it” You all laugh at him.

I know the difference between Yes and No.

You think that those lines can be blurred.

Well, she didn’t say no…

Do you see the difference?

I am every woman. Even if they are hiding behind some facade. Even then it is them attempting to protect themselves from you.

You are a piece of trash.

We should change our rhetoric from

“No boy will want you if you continue spouting that feminist bullshit” to “No girl will want you if you keep being a misogynistic asshole.”

Stop policing women’s reality to make men more comfortable.

#original poetry

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colorisbyshe · 1 year

Note

If you don't mind me asking, why are you an atheist?

Oh, lots of reasons I guess.

I was never raised very religious to begin with, which didn't help. I was brought to church every Sunday my mom felt like going but when I was about... 10, I told her I'd rather sleep in than go to church and she let me. Just to get the ~vibe of how I was raised. I was already a skeptic and fairly atheist-ic even then.

But well... beyond that it's a combination of a lot of things.

I was also a very inquisitive and skeptical person, even as a child. I constantly asked questions, constantly felt comfortable correcting adults and pushing back when I felt like they were full of shit (I was also a very vulgar child and would USE phrases like 'full of shit'), and would get very, very frustrated when I felt adults were lying to me.

I asked a lot of questions in Bible school and didn't get a lot of answers. Beyond a lot of things not making sense to me logistically, a lot of things didn't make sense to me morally.

And then... my childhood was like... very full of tragedy very early on. Dead dad. Witnessed domestic violence. Related to that, my best friend was put into foster care and I was there when the cops came. Etc etc.

And so, I can to the conclusion, fairly young, that a god could not be all powerful, all knowing, AND benevolent. Because like... sure, free will can explain some evil in the world, but my dad couldn't free will outside of dying young. I was very socially conscious as well (shout out to growing up during hte bush years lol) and a lot of the injustice I saw in the world on a larger scale didn't make sense if you believe in a kind God. 9/11. Racism. Homophobia. Rent existing for single mothers, like my mom.

And, frankly, to me, a god who is not all powerful or all knowing.. isn't really a god. And I didn't want to believe in a god that wasn't benevolent. I wasn't going to fear someone who seemed like such a fucking royal cunt. SO I didn't.

I did get dragged into White Man's Atheism (you know the type) in my preteen years but focused all of my anger and "I can prove your religion is a logical fallacy" energy at Christianity, which I was mostly angry at. Watched shit like The God Who Wasn't There, read some Dawkins (yikes, not proud of that). And just.. felt very angry and hurt. But also correct.

And felt a lot of that anger and hurt continue as I watched people use religion to justify a lot of awful shit.

I've since lost that anger (or at least, I learned to focus it ONLY on the people using religion for bad and not all Christians) but the root of my belief is the same. The world, as it exists, could not be the creation of a kind or involved god. Theoretically, a god who isn't kind or involved could exist, but then... I don't need to believe in them. They have nothing to do with my life, so why spend time believing in them?

The world is a beautiful place to me because it is random. Because we can CHOOSE to be good even when it's hard, even when we aren't rewarded for it. We make our own lives. And when our lives end, there is only the peace of non-existence. That is wonderful to me. That is affirming to me. I don't need anything else to fill that gap.

Things like heaven seem miserable to me. Reincarnation seems fucking miserbale me. I don't need or want a moral code from some abstract fear or desire for reward. I envy some religious communities and think many have created beautiful, powerful things but don't TRULY want that type of community for myself.

I've participated in some religious ceremonies, I've been invited to UU church and had a decent time, celebrated some Jewish holidays and thought they were lovely, but like... it's not something that enriches my life the awy I crave enrichment. Always feel honored to be invited and welcomed into something so sacred but not something I desire on my own.

Even if I believed, I would be a-religious. I am not spiritual in any way. I don't even really believe i the more fun stuff. I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe aliens are among us or have ever visited Earth. "Cryptids" don't intrigue me.

I'm a very fact based person and the beauty I see in the world often stems from the tangible--love from people around me, love in nature, love in random chance. I don't need that form anywhere else.

I don't begrudge anyone their belief so long as they don't wield it against anyone else. I think many religions have lots of good to offer. But for... other people. Not me.

Also, if I did believe, I wouldn't know what God to believe in. Not the Christian God but... there's hundreds more besides. I wouldn't know where to begin. And it's like... who the fuck am I to say "Yes to this god, no to this one?" If there is a God, idk if I'm the one to decide which traits and history belong to them.

#i'm an agnostic atheist to be clear #i believe i could be wrong #god could exist #but i dont believe in them regardless #i don't need to #lots of things COULD exist but i dont believe in them #squirrels COULD be living in my walsl rn but i dont believe they are

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gaming-thoughts-by-an-idiot · 2 years

Text

Dragon age origins: Human Warrior

"I've never had this many evil choices during dialog... being human is terrible"

[Return to ostagar DLC]

"I was thinking 'why haven't I played this last time' and then I remembered this is a dlc"

"I hate that I cant log online on origins"

"Stop showing me flashbacks to the battle, I was there ish"

"I wish we could've found Duncan, and burned him too :( "

"What the fuck do you mean you 'disagree', Morrigan? Da heck is wrong with you"

"Omg the deserter prisoner is still in his cage"

[DLC done]

"Why was there just a drake wandering out here?"

"Oh my god, stopped again? Ugh"

"Yeeesss bleed out"

"Does all these spider webs remind me of the hobbit or Harry Potter? Both? Both."

"Killed the werewolves, got a random thing for a dalish woman put hunting for random werewolves... alright then"

"I want to tattoo the Grand Oak on me, with the stupid rhyming tree joke"

"I love him so much, ugh"

"I read a letter to the king from Arl Eamon, and he said that Anora was like 30 and getting too old for having kids, and that he should find a new wife to have kids with like- yooo wtf"

"Having Shale and Sten in the same party is so weird"

"dWARVEN CRAFT- buy dwARVEN CRAFT- direct from Orzammar... you wont find better"

"Meeting Alistair's sister, let's goo"

"Save first, always save first"

"Fun fact, his mom is actually an elf, was a warden, got cured, and then we meet her in Inquisition"

"UM?? ALISTAIR IS JUST LIKE, HES GONNA ASK ME SOMETHING WHAT"

"NERVOUS???? SIR WHAT??? AAAAA, YOOO IM MAKING HIM LIKE, UNABLE TO EXIST CUZ IM SO PRETTY OMG"

"Oh wow, the options are so good:

1. Oh? Thanks a lot.

2. Pull yourself together, will you?

3. That's very sweet.

4 I feel the same way

Like??? What's up with these replies??? Being human SUCKS"

"Nr 4"

"I'm such a catch- AAA HE LOVES ME SO MUCH, IM DYING"

"-but you're gonna be king :( - she says, as if that's not the end goal"

"I DO NOT WANT TO BREAK UP, BABY NO-"

"Saving saving saving, and then talk to him again"

"I've played 34 hours, damn"

"I named my human warrior for Anna, cuz it sounds like a royal name"

"??? ANOTHER SERIOUS CONVO??? SIR-"

"A HAJAHXGAKNAJAJAJSHSHAHHAHAKSKAKALA????? I FUCK I HI AHDBAKAHAHDKAB OKAY OKAY OKAY SIR ALRIGHTY MAN ALRIGHT HEY SO HM"

"Okay, okay, I'm calming downnnnnnnnnnn... okay phew ok, so, I was like '??excuse I am just a friend' but then the fucker dropped 'and I... love you' BITCH, SIR, MY HEARRRTTT"

"HE WENT FROM "your wish is my command" TYPE OF GREETING, AND NOW??? WE ARE FUCKING GOOD, HE JUST SAID 'SOMETHING YOU NEED, MY DEAR' HE CALLED ME DEAR, BITCH ITS LIKE WE'RE MARRIED AAAA LOVE THISSS"

"Kissing him<3"

"I'm not saying I don't love Zevran, but like 🥺"

"Saving saving, in case I say something bad"

Anna: Where do u see this going between us?

Alistair: Idk, but maybe if I'm king? Maybe we have to stop :( but I dont wanna think about it

Anna: I'll never let u go, bitch

Alistair: I sure fucking hope not

"More or less what happened"

"Let's go to bed, bby"

"Sten gets all of Cailan's armour"

Anna: its either YOU or ME, and it isnt gonna be me!

*whenever we approach danger*

Anna: my warden senses are tingling

"Being human is so weird"

"Remember to pickpocket your targets before killing them, that's how you get coin"

"Omg, I stabbed him in the throat, it went through, whoa"

"I asked Sten to knock someone out and he started to evil laugh, wtff"

Anna, fighting a thug: is it just me, or do you really think you have a chance?

"Damn, who is she"

"I accept all jobs, I dont care who or what I do, give me money"

"Wait, I'm of high ups blood, I should behave..... moneiiii"

"I just threatened the dude who stole Sten's sword, basically just 'break his bones' like damn"

"Doing the mage quest last"

#gaming #funny #relatable gaming thoughts #dragon age #dragon age origins

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princeofgod-2021 · 9 months

Text

LIGHT OF LIFE 382

John 1:4

UNDERSTANDING PROPHETIC MANDATES 16: SECRETS THINGS 16

Amo 3:7 CERTAINLY, THE ALMIGHTY LORD DOESN'T DO ANYTHING UNLESS HE FIRST REVEALS HIS SECRET TO HIS SERVANTS THE PROPHETS. GW

This is the last subtopic on Secret Things: There are also divine secrets that God reveals only to individuals.

He has a special secret [only] between you and Himself, and then between Him and any other chosen vessel.

Gen 18:16-17 Then the men left and went to a place where they could look down at Sodom, and Abraham went with them to send them on their way. AND THE LORD SAID TO HIMSELF, "I WILL NOT HIDE FROM ABRAHAM WHAT I AM GOING TO DO. GNB

Abraham had performed his hospitality duties and was seeing them off. God just decided to let him in on a Secret.

These are the kind of secrets that are shared between friends, you know.

Isa 41:8 But as for you, Israel, my servant, and you, Jacob, whom I have taken for myself, THE SEED OF ABRAHAM MY FRIEND: BBE

But then, that would sound like gossip really; Friends share gossips and one would wonder if God had time for gossips.

There was a reason God had to share that piece of info with Abraham.

Gen 18:18-19 His descendants will become a great and mighty nation, and through him I will bless all the nations. I HAVE CHOSEN HIM IN ORDER THAT HE MAY COMMAND HIS SONS AND HIS DESCENDANTS TO OBEY ME AND TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT AND JUST. IF THEY DO, I WILL DO EVERYTHING FOR HIM THAT I HAVE PROMISED." GNB

Nations were about to be destroyed, and it becomes imperative to let the man who is chosen to represent God’s own nation, to learn a lesson about Judgment on those who disobey Him.

Gen 18:20-21 SO THE LORD SAID, “THE OUTCRY AGAINST SODOM AND GOMORRAH IS SO GREAT AND THEIR SIN SO BLATANT THAT I MUST go down and see if they are as wicked as the outcry suggests. If not, I want to know.” NET

Very Naturally - knowing man to be inquisitive and curious - every man will attempt to do something about the information they have received.

So, you see God, holding on to listen to what Abraham had to say about it.

Gen 18:22-23 The men turned and started toward Sodom. BUT THE LORD STAYED WITH ABRAHAM, who asked, "LORD, when you destroy the evil people, ARE YOU ALSO GOING TO DESTROY THOSE WHO ARE GOOD? CEV

All that information and its relevance, lasted only about 12hrs or thereabout. By early morning, Sodom, Gomorrah and other cities, had been razed by fire and made History of.

Relish every info God releases to you with respect. It may be futuristic or Transient, debatable or received with docility.

Just know that God revealed it to you in friendly confidence. Never disregard that truth.

Num 12:6-8 He said, "Listen to my words: WHEN THERE ARE PROPHETS of the LORD among you, I make myself known to them in visions or speak to them in dreams. BUT THIS IS NOT THE WAY I TREAT MY SERVANT MOSES. He is the most faithful person in my household. I SPEAK WITH HIM FACE TO FACE, PLAINLY AND NOT IN RIDDLES. He even sees the form of the LORD. Why weren't you afraid to criticize my servant Moses?" GW

We may not have realized it, but God treats Moses beyond just any Prophet.

So He said: “…when you have prophets among you..” as though they had none yet.

See how God classifies Moses.

Exo 7:1 And Jehovah said to Moses, SEE, I HAVE MADE YOU A god TO PHARAOH. And AARON YOUR BROTHER SHALL BE YOUR PROPHET. MKJV

That’s why Moses was able to ask for revelations of God, and he was given as much as he could handle.

Have you ever wondered why John was chosen to receive Revelations for us all?

Joh 13:23-25 THE DISCIPLE THAT JESUS DEARLY LOVED was at the right of him at the table AND WAS LEANING HIS HEAD ON JESUS. PETER GESTURED TO THIS DISCIPLE TO ASK JESUS who it was he was referring to. THEN THE DEARLY LOVED DISCIPLE LEANED INTO JESUS’ CHEST AND WHISPERED, “Master, who is it?” TPT

Anyone close to God’s heart receives deeper things that those far away.

You can come into that circle if you cultivate a healthy relationship with Him.

Listen to what Moses said about Jesus.

Deu 18:15 Instead, HE WILL CHOOSE ONE OF YOUR OWN PEOPLE TO BE A PROPHET JUST LIKE ME, and you must do what that prophet says. CEV

Indeed, Jesus was very unusual, just like Moses. He was a Prophet & King, dear to God’s heart.

Joh 3:34-35 “The One whom God has sent to represent him will speak the words of God, for God has poured out upon him the fullness of the Holy Spirit without limitation. The Father loves his Son so much that all things have been given into his hands. TPT

May God grant us all a place within his heart and purpose, IN JESUS NAME.

Join us on Monday, for another insightful and enlightening Sub-Subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, July 21, 2023

08055125517; 08023904307

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eponymoussquared · 2 years

Text

Part 2

Blessed silence filled the cave for a moment before the thing spoke again. “My name is Hope. What's yours?” Hope. A fittingly ironic name for a creature of evil, she supposed. “Pandora, not that you’d care, monster.” A gasp from the jar. “I’m no monster-I’m a god! Well..kind of. Sort of. Not really. I’m a very small god.” Pandora snorted, more out of condescension than humor. “You, a god? I’ve met the gods. Only a blind man could mistake you for one.” She said, venom in her voice. “You don’t like them. Why?” It asked, curiosity the only thing in its tone. “One, I never said that, two, it's not your business.” She snapped. Why was this ‘Hope’ so inquisitive? Was this another strategy to trick her? “And don’t try to say you hate them too-I’m not letting you out.” Silence returned, but of course Hope broke it once more. “I can help you, you know.” Pandora actually laughed at that-simply from the pure absurdity of the statement. “Help me? Oh, that’s rich. Are you the god of jokes too? Tell me, little monster. How would you help me? Would you put all those other horrible creatures back in that jar with you? Would you get the Olympians themselves to do something about it?”It-Pandora did not care what it said, that thing did not deserve to be referred to like a human-didn’t seem to have an answer. “I thought so.” Pandora said triumphantly. “Why are you so happy about not being able to fix this?” Hope asked. There was no accusation in its voice, only curiosity, but Pandora flinched all the same. There was something in that simple, contemplative tone that reverberated in her mind, sounding all too familiar. “I’m not. I’m…” She paused, unsure what to say, before snarling. “I don’t have to explain that to you.” There was another brief moment of silence, before Hope spoke again. “I know how to get them back in.” Pandora didn’t laugh this time. Instead, she grabbed the jar and shook it. “Would you stop lying? No matter how desperate I am, I DON’T need your help!” She hissed through clenched teeth. Hope continued undeterred, saying “Buuut jusssst geet shooooes tooo heeeeeeelp.” Atleast, that's what it sounded like-being shaken can make one's ability to speak drop somewhat. Pandora stopped shaking the jar, a quizzical look on her face. “What was that now?” The damn thing had piqued her curiosity. “I said, just ask Zeus to help. He put us in here, he can probably do it again.” For a moment, a surge of joy rushed through Pandora. Of course! Zeus, the god of the heavens and justice! He’d fix this-he wouldn’t want these things running around. After all, he’d given Pandora orders not to open it…and…she did. She’d disobeyed a direct order from Zeus, king of the gods.

#not typing spoilers is hard #writing #Pandora

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fruity-phrog · 2 years

Text

GAY.

It takes me a couple of minutes to realise I’m not alone - a few feet beneath my crossed legs is a shock of red hair. The boy looks up, and grins as he catches my eye.

“Hey, golden boy.” Nitro says, “What you up to?”

I descend to his level, leaning against the railing blocking us from a thousand-foot drop. “Just…thinking. So much has happened in the last few days.”

“Shite, you said it.” Nitro doesn’t face me, but stares out over the glittering lights of the city. A smile plays on his lips, but it’s not the sneer Dante and Draven save for me when they’ve run out of glares. No, this is a smile of kindness. Of genuinity. No one has given me one of those since…well, in a long time. He catches me staring and I look away, flustered.

“Yeah, no, my thoughts are racing a mile a minute.” I chuckle.

“No way, you?” Nitro grins wider, “Nah mate, I’d assumed your thought speed topped at one a minute.”

I look at my hands, “Yeah, a lot of people think I’m slow. I think it’s because of how much control my dad has over me.” I sigh, “That’s the thing, isn’t it? I mean, being Quake’s brother you’ll understand, but people always see me so much differently to how I am. Because of what my dad does and doesn’t say, what he does and doesn’t do. It’s like…”

“Like you’re a painting.” Nitro says, all joviality dispersed, “Something painted by someone else’s shadow. And you can’t escape what the painting shows you as.”

“Exactly.”

I’m struck by how bang-on Nitro got it. I’ve always felt trapped, even when I thought I was fighting on the right side. But a villain perfectly capturing years worth of feelings…it’s quite something.

We remain silent for a while, lost in our own thoughts, before Nitro strikes up the conversation once more.

“Listen, mate,” he says, “I know you’ve known me for a few days, but I’m not a wanker, all right? I can’t exactly relate, but I can imagine finding out your dad is evil isn’t a simple task.” He leans in closer as he speaks, eyes slightly furrowed in his need to transmit his message. And even though a week ago I would have shot him on sigh, I 100% believe him.

But then shit we’re very close.

“Uh, yeah, thanks…” I say suddenly, breaking the bond between us. I hope the light from the city below isn’t enough to show how red my face is. But it doesn’t matter - my face burns like a traffic light as Nitro grabs my hand. He stands up straight, still not quite reaching my height but significantly undoing my hard work of increasing the distance between us.

“Riley.” he says, “I’m serious. I’m here for you.”

“Okay.” I whisper, staring into his eyes. I hadn’t noticed before, but they are a brilliant emerald green. I drink in his face - his smattering of freckles that significantly downgrade the whole “villain” look, his clean-shaven cheeks with sharply protruding cheekbones, his slightly parted lips tainted dark red by lipstick or lighting or genetics. I don’t know. Do Brits have better lips? Would that make them better kissers?

Oh my God. I was thinking about that from a strictly inquisitive view, but now my heart is beating way faster than it was a second ago. Which is saying something, since there’s a very small gap between our faces. And as I take in the almost non-existent distance between us, I see it would be practically no issue to simply close that gap. Did Nitro make that by design? No one stands this close platonically, right?

Well, shit, no one stands this close to someone else platonically for this long. I’ve been staring for a good fifteen seconds by now, and he hasn’t moved.

Fuck it.

I meet his lips with mine in a rush, surprising both of us. Nitro stiffens for a split second before almost immediately relaxing, wrapping his arms around my neck. He pulls me closer, and I snake my hands around his waist, following suit. For a villian with one of the highest bounties ever placed on his head, he’s surprisingly thin. I can feel his heart beating against my own.

His mouth is soft, with a slight minty taste. Not what I’d expect a villain to be like. But I don’t comprehend that - or anything else - as Nitro’s lips press against mine. He raises himself onto his tiptoes as I place a hand against his cheek, cupping his face.

I feel a light tug and realise my feet are slowly leaving the ground. In fact, I’m about a full thirty centimetres away from the dewy grass beneath me, and neither of us seem to have noticed before now. But now Nitro does, too, and it wakes us both from this dream-like state. He pulls away and we stare at each other for half a moment, frozen in place. I don’t know if it’s his power, the flickering street lights or something else, but flames dance in Nitro’s irises.

And then we break away, flustered and nervous. I’d seen Kenna so naturally kiss Draven without warning - not in a creepy way - and exactly no awkwardness ensued. I’ve known that girl most of my life, and I know that she is not smooth. So how did she act so cool while the prestigious heir to the Hero kingdom and the brother of the world’s most notorious villain are both refusing to look at each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d like to look at him, but God I’m way too embarrassed.

“Damn,” Nitro says, “Okay then.” “Listen, I’m sorry,” I reply, trying to keep my voice at a regular pace, “I dunno what came over me. I must have made you feel super awkward.”

“Nah mate, not super awkward. Villain awkward.” I frown, and Nitro laughs with a tinge of embarrassment, “A-ha, a joke.”

I stay silent.

“Bruv, you really think I wasn’t okay with what just went down?” I shrug and Nitro laughs again, his eyes crinkling with that same kindness, “I didn’t exactly reject you, did I?”

“I guess not.” I say.

“You’re just so stunned from kissing such a hot, elusive villain your mind can’t process it.” Nitro flicks his hair and I punch him on the arm.

“Don’t get cocky,” I warn him, “I’d put your looks at a solid 7/10.”

He flicks the back of his hand against his forehead and sighs, “Oh, how could you have hurt me in this way? The humanity!” I laugh.

“No, but all jokes aside, mate, you’re a much better kisser than I expected you to be.” he assures me, and I frown, a smile on my lips,

“I’m sorry, you’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss me?” I ask.

Nitro sticks out his tongue, “Don’t twist my words around, golden boy.” “I twisted nothing, villain scum.”

He leans against the railing once more. “Well, since your brain can’t comprehend that I kissed you-”

“I actually kissed you.”

“-wanna do it again? Just to make sure it actually happened.”

I can’t answer before Nitro places a hand on my shoulder and brings his lips to mine. This one’s quick and light, as he presses his lips against my mouth for a brief second before leaning back, but it leaves me dizzy. Probably because it actually did what Nitro promised, which is to prove to myself that the first kiss happened. I feel like a kid.

Nitro grins, “Ah, you’re cute, Riley.”

“Likewise, Nitro.”

And just at that second, lovely Jeremy decides to need our assistance. And I’m not saying I replayed the first kiss in my head over and over instead of listening to his instructions, but I definitely messed a few things up. In all fairness, so did Nitro, so there’s that.

OK fine, here’s some backstory.

Riley is the son of the President of all superheroes. A few days ago, he found out that superheroes torture villains.

Nitro is the brother of Quake, the villain with the highest bounty (placed by Riley’s dad) on his head. Nitro has a pretty big bounty himself, and has known heroes were evil for a very long time.

Except for the people in this scene, plus Kenna and Draven and two other characters not in this fanfic, villains and heroes hate each other.

#fanfic #queer book characters

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kobakova · 3 years

Text

Dragon Age and how it addresses oppression

ok so disclaimer this is not the rewrite of the Elven pantheon (the thing I keep promising I know I’m terrible) however it is an introduction to it and basically the reason why I feel the need to rewrite it in the first place! It’s a bit wordy, but I hope you take the time to read through it, as it took a lot of time and effort and I would super appreciate it! Today I stumbled upon a tik tok that was discussing how DA handles oppression and it motivated me to create a post about how I believe the way DA handles it is problematic at its core. I am not going to link the tik tok, as the creator has asked not to be put on blast, though I am including a word for word transcription of what the creator has said to avoid altering or skewing their message. I want to add that this is not an attack on the creator and what they said, more importantly it is an analysis of how other players perceive the oppression addressed within the game and how that proves that there is a serious problem with how DA handles it.

It is evident to me the message Dragon Age is trying to express is that oppression HAS to happen and that there is a reason to oppress. There are many examples within the game that prove this statement, though I want to focus mainly on how oppression impacts the mages and the Dalish, and how you as the main character can choose to perpetuate that oppression. To begin, here is the transcription of the tik tok below, which addresses oppression through the treatment of the mages.

“When it comes to mages, dragon age gives us a very clear picture that yes, these are people, they have hopes they have dreams they want to do better for themselves, they want to help others, we see this very clearly especially in DA2 where the whole plot revolves around mages rebelling. However, we also see very clearly in DA2 what can happen when a mage is left unchecked. Abominations, blood magic, the ability to force ones will onto somebody is a real threat with mages. Whether they succumbed to blood magic, whether they succumbed to the temptations of demons. These are unique challenges that face mages. And whether or not they should have freedom is true. And the game even gives us an amazing depiction of what could happen through Tevinter mages. What happens if mages are truly released, they have freedom. They might turn out like the Tevinters. Mages can become the ones solely on top oppressing other groups. A situation of the minority suppressing the majority. Whereas all the other lands of Thedas it’s the majority oppressing the minority. We have to grapple with these choices, whether not you kill a blood mage or you let them live. Or whether not you side with the mage rebellion or you side with the templars in DA2. It doesn’t pretend like it’s easy, and it doesn’t pretend to be something that it’s not. It doesn’t pretend to be real life. It gives unique challenges and unique decisions.”

My problem with DA is that you make choices through the role of an oppressor, which is very clear within Dragon Age: Inquisition as your rise to power then gives you the choice to oppress. The transcription above proves that a player has to make their decisions through the lens of an oppressor because you can determine the freedom or oppression of other people, in this case, the mages. Oppression cannot be a tool used for good because it is inherently bad, it only belittles others and is used to gain power. This could be a valuable lesson on how once power is gained so then is the ability to oppress, and how with the responsibility of power you should make choices based on what is best for the people who are oppressed. However, Bioware fails to follow through with this message for the sake of keeping their game morally grey. Instead, Bioware creates reasons and excuses for certain groups to be oppressed, thus making it okay for the player to make a decision that oppresses because either within their history something bad happened or there are certain people within the group that have done bad things. For example, all blood mages are considered evil due to some mages using blood magic in order to oppress and harm. However, we see in the game that not all blood mages are evil, and use blood magic to help. Despite this, all who use blood magic are deemed evil and if used, even if it means they are trying to escape an oppressive system, they will become Tranquil. When addressing Tevinter mages it’s evident that they have gained power, however they have chosen to oppress with this power. Being born with the ability to use magic is having the ability to gain power over another, but it is up to the individual to use that power to oppress or to use it to assist others. The ability to use magic itself is not an oppressive tool, because it has the ability to do good, it is the decisions of the individual that make it oppressive if the person decides to be an oppressor. If Bioware wasn’t so adamant about keeping the game morally grey, then they would’ve had an opportunity to create really interesting and important lessons on power and oppression that would better reflect our political landscape.

Now I want to move onto the Dalish, because I have a serious issue with how Bioware addresses the oppression they face and I believe it is important to mention. As stated above, Bioware chooses to ignore the dismantling of oppression, and instead creates reasons in order to excuse the oppression of a group simply due to the fact that no group is perfect and they all have their issues. This is evident within the Trespasser DLC when discovering the true nature of the elven gods, which I will paste below:

!! Warning: spoilers ahead !!

“Following the initial events of the Exalted Council, the Inquisitor uncovers the reality that the Elven Gods were in fact phenomenally powerful mages who rose in prominence after the end of an unknown war. Solas implies that the Evanuris started out as generals during the war, then respected elders, and finally were revered as gods. They started out as heroes of the famed war eventually becoming corrupt tyrants in order to hoard and maintain their own power. The Evanuris institutionalized a system of slavery using Vallaslin as a brand, with only Fen'Harel (and more subtly, Mythal) challenging their tyranny. Most of the gods were arrogant in their ways, their power and attitudes more akin to the Tevinter Magisters. Eventually, the other Evanuris plotted against Mythal and killed her, prompting Fen'Harel to lead a rebellion against them and later creating the Veil to banish them into the Beyond,”

(https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Elven_pantheon).

From what I’ve seen, little is known about the Elven Pantheon before Dragon Age: Inquisition and the discovery that the elven gods are actually powerful mages is only represented within the Trespasser DLC. Though I have learned later that this was always the plan for the Elven Pantheon, which was to expose the gods for being tyrants who enslaved their own kind. It is clear that Bioware took inspiration from Native tribes to then create the Dalish elves (even within the name, since there is the Salish Kootenai tribe and Bioware literally just switched the first letter) and this is why I have a major issue with how they chose to handle the oppression that the Dalish are impacted by. Throughout the Dragon Age games, we see the torment that the Dalish suffer through from name calling to the complete erasure of the elven race; Bioware even goes as far as to take significant historical events like the Trail of Tears and write them into the elven history. This is why the Trespasser DLC angers me, because after all you learn about the Dalish and what is done to oppress them, it almost seems brushed off after it is exposed that the elven gods were similar to Tevinter mages. This type of message has real world implications, and can impact how people perceive Native people. Within my own experience as a Native person, I’ve had people argue to me that the oppression Native people face has reason because we have also owned slaves which is COMPLETELY untrue. I was shocked to see this exact reason be integrated into the Trespasser DLC, and it worries me because some players will see that and find it perfectly rational to think that because of the Dalish’s history it is then okay that they were oppressed. Throughout history, America and other countries that have oppressed Native and Indigeous people have created excuses and reasons to oppress them (from excuses like we are s*vages that need to be educated, to reasons like the Manifest Destiny). Therefore, it is incredibly harmful that Bioware would use the same type of reasoning not only for the Dalish but for the mages and the Qunari as well. Finding a reason to oppress a group does not create progressive change, it only divides us and keeps the oppressed groups oppressed and keeps the oppressors in power. Bioware needs to change how they approach oppression, and instead actually teach players the tools needed in order to dismantle oppression.

I hope to be able to change how the Dalish are perceived, and show through my rewrite of the elven pantheon and also rewrites of missions involving the Dalish how to dismantle oppression through the choices and involvement of the inquisitor. I thank you all for taking the time to read and if there are any questions please don’t be afraid to ask!

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #bioware critical #bioware #dalish #dalish elves #dragon age mage #blood mages #dragon age critical #ok why does the formatting tools on tumblr not actually work #tumblr do better

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esmealux · 3 years

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Bloody Hell

Part: 1 / 2

Setting: After 5a

Word count: 3K

Rating: T

Summary: Lucifer’s first period.

The elevator dings as Lucifer reaches the penthouse. ‘And the Devil’s back! I found your breakfast burritos and now a guy owes me a favour, so all in all, a successful trip,’ he tells her as he takes off his jacket and places it on the bar. With Chloe’s breakfast in hand, he turns towards his sofa to grin at her, only to discover she isn’t lying there, closer to ‘naked’ than ‘dressed’, like she was when he left to fetch her some food.

‘Detective?’ he calls out, walking up the steps to his bedroom. The bed is empty apart from the crumbled black silk sheets and her bra. His heart starts drumming a little faster against his ribcage.

‘Detective, where are you?’ His voice is rough and squeaky, the words almost resonating off the walls in the silent penthouse. Much too silent.

He starts searching the entire place, looking for signs of struggle and clues that’ll show him which one of his wretched siblings has kidnapped her this time. After investigating the living room and balcony thoroughly, turning every piece of furniture, looking behind every curtain, he goes back to his bedroom to check if she’s miraculously popped up. When she (still) isn’t under the bed, he’s inflamed, his annoyance and anxiety building into infernal heat, spreading through his body like a wildfire. ‘Detective, I swear to you, I will punish whoever-’

‘Lucifer, calm down,’ he suddenly hears her say, her voice muffled. The sound has relief washing over him, calming down his blazing body. ‘I’m in here.’

As he realises she’s in the bathroom, he hurriedly strides down the hall, presses his body to the door, and yanks down the handle. It’s locked. Panic still hot in his throat, he clenches his hand around the gold, ready to break in when she snaps at him from behind the door. ‘Jesus, Lucifer, what have I told you about privacy?!’

He wants to comment on her choice of exclamation, but something in her voice stops him. ‘Right. Sorry, Detective.’ He puts a hand on the door, tenderly. ‘I just- Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she assures him, still a little peeved. ‘Could you just do something for me, please?’

‘Anything your heart desires,’ he says with a grin, the last embers of fear now put out by the sound of her slightly annoyed (and thus natural) voice.

‘Well, I really desire that you find my purse and bring it to me. I think I put it on the bar.’

He frowns, thinking. ‘Uhm, no. You didn’t. In fact, it’s not anywhere in the penthouse, I’m afraid.’

‘Wha- You already looked?’ she asks, surprised.

‘Well, technically, yes.’

He hears her mutter something along the lines of ‘what does that even mean?’ before she, quite sceptically, asks, ‘Are you sure? Lucifer, I’m not in the mood for pranks right now.’

When are you ever? he thinks, still disappointed she didn’t appreciate his creativity last time he tried to lighten the mood. But he’s not looking to rouse her now, so he tells her the truth, hoping it will allay her annoyance, inexplicable as he finds it. ‘If you really must know, I spent five full minutes searching the entire place for signs that you’d been hurt by one of my pathetic relatives, so yes, Detective, I am pretty damn sure your little too big and quite mum-ish bag isn’t here,’ he tells her. He hears her grunt a profanity he’s only ever heard her moan ecstatically in the throes of passion; now it’s laced with frustration and despair. Something is going on with her, and he needs to figure out what it is before she ruins more of his favourite words.

‘Why on Earth do you need your rucksack in my bathroom anyway?’

‘It’s not a rucksack,’ she tells him.

‘Ah, nice try! But I will not let you deflect my truly relevant question. What is it you need, Detective?’ He tries again, more inquisitively this time.

No answer.

His brow creases with worry and the slightest hint of an ache settles in his chest. ‘What’s going on?’

Several heart beats pass. He tries to remain patient but after seven seconds, his hands are banging on the door and yanking down the antique French handle aggressively. ‘Detective, let me in please! Did you use the razor Maze made you? I told you not to do that! Are you hurt? Did you trip? Do you have a nosebleed? Dearie me, did you get yourself poisoned again? I- Just please tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, I want to help,’ he says, his voice going softer towards the end. With anyone else, he’s not easily alarmed, but the Devil’s girlfriend does tend to get herself into danger a little more often than the average person.

He hears her sigh, short and sharply. ‘If you want to help me, you need to calm down,’ she tells him in the same slow and placid voice she uses on people who are bold enough to point a gun at her. ‘I’m fine.’

He takes a deep, shaky breath, her words easing his nerves a little.

‘Then why are you acting so… strange? And why in Dad’s name are you hiding in my bathroom? I mean, bloody hell, Detective, I was mere seconds from filing an MPR!’

She snorts, murmuring something about a drama queen. Then silence. A deep breath.

‘Well,’ she finally says, still an annoyed edge to her tone. ‘‘Bloody hell’ is not that far off, actually.’

He knits his brow. ‘Excuse me?’

She sighs deeply behind the door. ‘It’s just, uhm, you know… lady stuff.’

He blinks, dumbfounded.

‘Oh,’ is what he replies.

He would tease her about the euphemism, pretend he doesn’t understand, but he understands. He understands everything. Thinking back to the night before, he remembers her acting a little oddly then as well - giggly and gleeful one moment, fractious and bitter the next. He’d blamed it on her tipsiness, but now that he thinks about it, and does the math, she did take him hostage on a similar emotional rollercoaster ride, one, two, three, circa four weeks ago. And, yes, four weeks before that, too. The first time, he’d thought it was the stress from having her mother stay over for the urchin’s birthday. The second time, he’d indicted the particularly troubling case they’d been working. But it hadn’t (solely) been Penelope Decker nor a frustrating and possibly record-breaking number of dead ends that had made the Detective chaotically jump around the emotional spectrum to the point he’d worried she was suffering from a light personality disorder. No, apparently, it was the tiny rascals known to humans as ‘hormones’ who’d been wreaking havoc in her brain, manipulating her emotions – then and now.

He hasn’t uttered anything apart from the one (cleverly phrased) syllable since the revelation, and she must interpret his silence as lack of comprehension, because she begins to explain the bloody thing: ‘You know, when a woman-’

‘Yes, thank you, Detective, I am familiar with the concept of menstruation. Quite popular method of torture in Hell, actually,’ he informs her, cutting her biology lesson short.

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Well, surprisingly, it’s mostly-’

‘That was a rhetorical- Never mind.’

He hears more than just annoyance in her voice now; she’s in pain. His chest aches again. ‘Is something wrong? I mean, I have met a lot of women whose deepest desires were to be knocked out cold during Aunt Flo’s monthly visit, but at least we know for certain there isn’t a mini-Satan inside you, ravaging your uterus,’ he points out in an attempt to cheer her up. It’s mostly a joke, because it shouldn’t be possible—isn’t possible—and yet a part of him is still exceedingly relieved that she, after three weeks of thoroughly unprotected (and sinfully delectable) sex with him, isn’t carrying, well, the Devil’s spawn.

‘Kinda feels like someone’s ravaging my uterus,’ she says with a groan. His heart starts pounding, hard and deafening. Dark spots appear before his eyes as blood leaves his head.

‘I- that’s not- what?’

‘No, Lucifer. Relax. I’m not pregnant.’ She tries to sound mild and calm, but he can tell she’s aggravated, and horribly pained. ‘It’s just cramps.’

‘Oh, right,’ he mumbles, a full-blown panic attack officially averted. Still, something in her voice makes his teeth grit and his eyes flare red. He wants to punish whatever in her body is putting her through such… torture, wants to torture it back. Or, since he can’t really do that, just have a quick chat with his father and whoever assisted him in designing the inhumanly excruciating menstrual cramps. (And humans think the Devil is the one who’s truly evil.) But he realises a family discussion might not actually help his suffering Detective right now, so instead he wills his voice to sound calm and asks her, ‘Is there anything I can do?’

As he waits, quite impatiently, for her answer, he pulls out his phone and googles ‘what to do when your girlfriend’s surfing the crimson wave.’ He’s about to tap on the top hit when she replies, ‘Uhm, well, yes, there is, actually.’ Her words both surprise and delight him. He loves to feel needed.

‘Lovely! Whatever you need, I’m here to fix it as your very own PA.’ He puts his phone back, letting his hand stay in his pocket, and clarifies, ‘Period Assistant.’ As usual, she rudely ignores his clever play on words.

‘Okay, I just need to know if you have any… stuff? Like, maybe Eve had a stash somewhere?’

‘Stuff?’ he asks, beyond clueless as to what she’s hinting at.

‘Yeah, you know-’ she starts explaining when he interrupts her, suddenly remembering. ‘Well, come to think of it, Eve did indeed have a stash!’

‘She did?’ She sounds relieved, and it makes his heart flutter a little. ‘Do you know where? ‘Cause I searched all your cabinets, but I couldn’t find anything.’

‘Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s in my bookshelf,’ he says, already turning to go find it. ‘Would you prefer marijuana or molly?’

‘For God’s sake, Lucifer!’ she screams behind him, the door between them doing very little to lower the sound. ‘I don’t need freaking party drugs! This,’ she says, breathing angrily. A couple of seconds pass. ‘This is what I need.’

A tissue slides out under the door. With a raised eyebrow, he bends down to pick it up and sees that she’s scribbled some words on it with what appears to be an eyeliner. He doesn’t know what any of them mean. Well, ‘ibuprofen’ and ‘don’t be an ass’ he understands, but the rest are foreign to him.

‘Right, are these strippers’ names, or…? I think I’ve made a deal with an Always once, actual-’

‘They’re feminine hygiene products, Lucifer! I need feminine hygiene products! I want you to go buy me a whole lot I can leave in here, so I’ll never need to have this conversation ever again!’ she shouts, fuming all of a sudden. ‘So go out, and get me some tampons and pads—and that’s pads with wings! ‘Cause I swear to God, Lucifer, if you come back with pads that do not have wings, I might actually cut off your d-’

‘Yes, we get the picture, Detective!’ he cuts her off, chuckling nervously. It’s not that he hasn’t experienced his partner pissed before (he calls it Tuesday as a matter of fact), but she’s never threatened to mutilate him. ‘Whatever you need,’ he appeases her, his voice sweet and velvety. ‘Anything else?’ He reads the list she has given him, carefully paying attention to every request this time. ‘Right, ibuprofen for the- yes, your cramps. I’m afraid I’ve run out, but I’m sure I can get some wherever I’ll find,’—he squints his eyes to focus on the words — ‘Always ultra thin super long pads with flexie-wings and… Tampax pearl compak super. I mean, who the Hell names these things? Not that it matters, of course. If that’s what you need, that’s what you’ll get,’ he assures her.

As he studies her order closely one more time, his stomach growls and he realises that neither of them has eaten anything yet. He immediately offers to bring her breakfast to her; surely, her body needs alle the strength it can get to overcome whatever unpleasant side-effects other than dysmenorrhea his oh, so benevolent father has so generously granted the female population of the Earth.

‘Yes, please,’ she croaks meekly behind the door in response to his offer. ‘That would be nice.’

He goes to retrieve the burritos from atop the piano where he’d dropped them in the haste of his search. Once he’s back with them, he—gently—knocks on the door. After a couple of seconds, he hears the key turn before she opens the door just enough to reach out her arm through the crack. He’s about to give her the branded paper bag, when he thinks twice of it and instead takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers. Softly, he strokes the back of her hand and pulls it lightly, prompting her to come out. When she opens the door a little more, the sight that greets him stings his heart. Exhaustion has coloured the skin beneath her eyes purple and her usually ocean blue eyes a matte grey. Her posture is oddly sunken, like she wants to curl into a ball, and her chest heaves as she breathes heavily. She looks truly miserable, and yet she’s still a sight for sore eyes, as she stands there, wearing one of his white Prada shirts and…

‘Are those… my boxers?’ he asks her with a raised eyebrow and a pleased smile. She looks down to where his eyes have just landed. ‘Well, yeah, I couldn’t- my own underwear…,’ she trails off. ‘I’ve lined them with paper towels, just so I don’t, you know. I hope it’s okay.’ She looks strangely sheepish. He leans over to place a kiss on her forehead. ‘Oh, it’s more than okay. It’s sexy,’ he tells her with a grin. ‘And quite cute, to be frank.’

She chuckles, replacing the ache in his chest with a pleasant, buzzing warmth. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use the word “cute” before,’ she points out, looking up at him through her long eyelashes as she leans her forehead against his. He notices the hint of a smile on her lips, and his own smile grows wider. ‘Well, you’ve never worn my underwear before,’ he reminds her, nuzzling her nose. ‘Mmm, that is true.’ Her voice is nothing but a whisper as she leans just an inch forward to get a kiss from him, which he happily he gives her.

‘Why don’t you draw yourself a nice, hot bath,’ he proposes, booping her nose. Then an image from Jaws invades his mind, and warily, but with a glint in his eyes, he adds, ‘Unless that would make a true bloodbath.’ She pulls away from him, slowly but purposefully. Untangling their hands, she crosses her arms across her chest (he tries not to notice how it makes her cleavage deliciously peek out behind his hardly buttoned shirt). She glares at him with a look which, historically, means they will be communicating exclusively in scoffs, snorts, death stares and well, I am truly sorry for whatever it is I’ve done but can we please forget about it and go back to being a dynamic duo’s the rest of the day. With a short yet undoubtedly disapproving shake of her head, she snatches the breakfast bag from his hand before slamming the door in his face. ‘Detective, I-’ he stammers as the gush of air hits his front, possibly making his yet to be tamed bed hair look even more scandalous.

He hears the rustling and crinkling of paper as she takes out her breakfast. ‘List,’ she demands sharply with her mouth full—and not in the way that had him gripping the sheets till his knuckles turned white last night. By the sound of her voice, he’ll need to do right by her if he wishes to ever experience that again.

‘Yes, darling, I’ll do nothing but my best,’ he promises her, casting a last glance at the list in question before folding it neatly into his pocket. He starts walking down the hall when the sound of his name makes him turn on his heels to face the door. He senses another reprimand and braces himself, softly offering a simple ‘Detective?’ in response.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice is sweet and apologetic, all aggravation suddenly gone.

‘What on-’ he mumbles under his breath, completely bewildered by her emotional U-turn. He’s wise enough not to comment on it, however, smiles instead, glad he can be of use, and playfully, yet still in a tone that assures her he means no harm, says, ‘Well, it’s the least I can do for my menstruating partner.’

‘Please stop saying “menstruating”,’ she tells him between bites, sounding a little brassed off again. He considers asking her why but decides against it, responding with a simple ‘Noted’ instead.

He hears the shower start running and decides to depart, wanting to be back before she’s done. ‘Alright then, off I go on my quest!’ he sings out, hoping it’s loud enough for her to hear over the shower spray, but the water stops and she calls out a ‘what?’. She has probably already stepped into the shower cabin, adorning his bathroom with all her wet and naked glory. Oh, to be a marble tile on the wall, getting an unobstructed view of her exquisite br-

‘Did you say something, honey?’ she calls again when he hasn’t replied. It’s not the first time she uses the term of endearment, but it still makes warmth pool low in his stomach. He’s so smitten—not a cell in his body can deny that anymore. Especially not the part of his body that’s currently straining his tailored slacks.

He clears his throat and shamelessly adjusts himself.

‘Hm? No, I was just announcing my exit. Try not to bleed to death while I’m gone, will you?’

‘I can’t- That’s not possi-’ she stammers behind him as he makes his way to the elevator, grabbing his jacket as he walks past the bar. Before she can finish whatever protest she’s trying to enounce, he’s already in the elevator, sending a text to Linda:

What in the ever-living Hell does ‘pads with wings’ mean?

Read part 2, ‘Granniest Panties’, here

#deckerstar fanfiction #fluff #deckerstar fluff #lucifer x chloe #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #lucifer on netflix #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer's first period #post 5a #T #established #writing

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firebrands · 4 years

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Naaaaaadine! Please do Evil Exes for Bingo!

!!!!!!!!!!! I FINALLY DID IT

bad blood, T, 2.7k | stony bingo prompt fill “evil exes” | on ao3

Pepper chokes on her iced coffee when a tall, blond, beautiful man strides up to Tony and envelopes him in a hug.

“It’s been too long, Tony,” he says.

Tony has colored considerably, and looks a little disgruntled. Pepper tries to be as subtle as possible when she elbows him, waiting for an introduction.

“Pep, this is Steve. Steve, Pepper.”

Pepper composes herself and shakes Steve’s hand. This was Steve Rogers? The worst man Tony had ever met? Impossible. Steve Rogers was a common enough name, she thought. Tony must have meant someone else.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve says, grinning. “So what brings you to the gallery?”

Pepper blinks, still reeling from the introduction. “I told Tony that there was a new artist displaying his work,” she says. “And I guess… you’re him?”

Steve laughs. “Really?” He turns to Tony. “I’m so glad you came, Tony. I’ve missed you.”

Tony looks up from his phone, doing his best impression to look disinterested. “Pepper didn’t leave me much choice,” he says, which isn’t actually a lie. Pepper had pulled the best friend card and offered to pay for lunch, and Tony had only agreed when she had promised to stand up and protect him from his ex, whose art was being displayed.

Pepper takes a sip of her coffee as Steve tries to engage Tony in conversation. Tony had used words like awful, horrible, terrible when he had explained why he didn’t want to go. Worst of all, he’d never told Pepper (or Rhodey, or anyone) why they’d broken up. When Pepper had tried digging, Rhodey didn’t have any answers for her. Back in college, he said, they were the picture of a perfect couple. Then… they weren’t. Tony didn’t talk about it. Ever. Something about this was fishy, and Pepper was going to get to the bottom of it.

“How long are you in town for?” Pepper asks, smiling at Steve despite Tony very obviously stepping on her shoe.

“Just two weeks,” Steve says, still smiling and looking absolutely charming. “I have another exhibit in a different gallery, and I might hold a quick workshop.”

“That’s lovely,” Pepper says, sliding her toes from under Tony’s. “Maybe we can all grab dinner, if your schedule isn’t too full.”

Pepper doesn’t need to look at Tony to know that he’s frowning at her; she can feel his irritation come off in waves.

“Or not,” Tony says.

“I’ll make time,” Steve says. “But for now, I have to go—my curator’s been waving at me for the past minute and I don’t want to piss him off any more than I have.”

Pepper nods and smiles. “It was really nice meeting you, Steve.”

“You too! And it was great bumping into you, Tony.”

“Yup.”

“Well, here’s my card. Just let me know when and I’ll be there.”

“I will!”

“Or not!” And at that, Tony stomps away.

***

“Okay, tell me what happened,” Rhodey says, sighing as he sits down on Tony’s couch.

Tony’s pacing around the room, looking close to tearing out his hair, and Pepper is perched on the armrest beside Rhodey, sipping on a cup of tea.

“She—” Tony whirls around and points at Pepper. “Asked my ex to dinner.”

“He’s just so nice, Tony! I want to get to know him,” Pepper says. She has the good sense to look chastened, but Rhodey wonders how much of it is sincere.

“Whose side are you on, anyway!” Tony whirls around and points at Pepper as he speaks. “And you!” He turns to look at Rhodey.

Rhodey holds his hands up—a practiced gesture, as he’s used to these outbursts from either of them.

Pepper sighs. “It’d help if we just knew why you broke up, honestly.”

“Why does it matter?” Tony asks, deflating all of the sudden and sinking down to sit beside Rhodey. “Why can’t you just believe me?”

Rhodey slings an arm over Tony’s shoulders. “It’s not that, and you know it,” he says. “We’ve always got your back.”

Pepper sets her cup aside and wedges herself beside Tony. “I’m sorry,” she says, hugging Tony and kissing his cheek. “I was just curious.”

Tony nods, still looking a bit put out.

“It’s been five years, Tones,” Rhodey says, rubbing his shoulder. “Guess we figured you’d be over it.”

“Yeah. He just doesn’t seem all that bad.” Pepper rests her head on Tony’s shoulder, and Rhodey playfully tugs on her ponytail after she speaks. Don’t bring it back there. She disregards him and continues. “What did he do, anyway?”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans before burying his face in his hands. “Exist,” he says, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey man, if you really don’t want to go we won’t force you,” Rhodey says, gently pulling Tony back up. He gives Pepper a warning look over Tony’s head.

“I know.” Tony sighs.

Pepper purses her lips, trying to hide a smile. “So do you want to?” She asks, before pulling Tony into another hug.

“Shut up,” Tony whines, half-heartedly trying to get out of her grip. After a short tussle, Tony rights himself up and scoots closer to Rhodey. She looks close to pulling him back into a hug, but her phone beeps.

“Dammit, that’s me.” Pepper dusts herself off. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Rhodey says. Pepper leans down and kisses them each on the cheek before leaving.

Tony sighs. “That woman.”

“We just don’t understand,” Rhodey says, fiddling with one of the buttons on the couch. “But you don’t need to explain if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, draping himself over Rhodey. “I don’t either.”

Rhodey pets Tony’s hair and makes a small, inquisitive sound.

“Just.” Tony sighs again, long and deep. “Who gave him the right, you know?”

“Huh?”

“To look so good,” Tony murmurs.

Rhodey lets out a small laugh. “Well, Tones, you don’t look so bad yourself. At least, most of the time.”

Tony flips over and glares at Rhodey. “I resent that. I am the picture of perfection at all times.”

Rhodey nods sagely, and smooths down Tony’s hair. “Yes, always. My apologies.”

Rhodey tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, and he’s about to fall asleep when he hears Tony whisper, “I don’t trust myself around him.”

“Why?” Rhodey sits up and looks down at Tony. “What do you mean?”

“I just can’t, okay?” Tony covers his face with his hands again. “I can’t.”

Rhodey shifts and moves Tony to sit up so he can look at him properly. “You know, even back then he never seemed like a bad guy,” he says, trying to catch Tony’s gaze. He tilts Tony’s chin up and looks at him sternly. “But I swear to god if he hurt you—”

“No.” Tony ducks his chin and looks away. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay.” Rhodey leans back and pats his lap, and Tony lies back down. “But promise me that if he did hurt you, you’ll let me punch him.”

Tony laughs softly and closes his eyes. “Yes, I will, honeybear. Now it’s nap time.”

Rhodey sighs, settles in, and wonders what on earth Steve could have done all those years ago that Tony’s still affected.

***

Natasha knows that she has this power over people that make them spill their secrets. She uses it wisely, most of the time.

Tony slides into the booth with their drinks and says, “Please do not ask me about what happened with Pepper yesterday.”

Natasha takes a sip of her drink. “Okay.” Of course, Pepper had already filled her in over what had happened, but Natasha respected Tony’s boundaries and didn’t want to pry—it was unbecoming.

They’re silent for a moment, and Natasha’s just about to bite into the olive of her martini when Tony sighs very loudly and snaps.

“I just don’t understand why she’d ask him to dinner!”

Natasha chews, swallows, and dabs her lips with a tissue. “Who?”

“Steve!”

“Who is Steve?”

“My ex!”

“And we hate him, yes?”

“Yes, Nat, he is the fucking worst okay and we bumped into him at an exhibit and Pepper made googly eyes at him and said we should all catch up over dinner.” Tony takes a deep breath after his tirade, then deflates. He sips on his whisky sullenly.

“Did she really?” Natasha asks, leaning over the table. “Where are you going?”

“No she didn’t,” Tony mumbles. “I mean, I don’t know, she has his card or whatever, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

Natasha nods. “I agree. Especially after what he did.”

Tony looks up with a start. “You know what he did?”

“Well, no. But it must have been awful for you to still be so salty about it.”

Tony huffs. “Yeah.”

Natasha sips her drink and pops another olive into her mouth. Yes, she was curious, but she knew better than to push; Tony was more hyper-verbal than usual tonight, and she always liked being people’s sounding board.

“Well—” she starts.

“I can’t believe—”

They both stop, and Natasha laughs. “You can’t believe…?”

Tony sighs again, and downs his drink. “He asked me to marry him, it was awful, and I hate him.”

It’s a good thing Natasha decided against taking a sip, else she would have choked on it.

“What?”

Then Rhodey and Pepper arrive and Rhodey offers to buy a round and Natasha stares at Tony as he and Pepper talk about what to get for dinner.

***

Tony had gotten home so late last night that he still feels a little drunk when he wakes up. He downs a glass of water and crawls into the shower, the world still spinning when he steps out, and digs around his closet. He curses himself for forgetting to have his laundry done, and reaches into the recesses of the cabinet in the hopes of something decent to wear.

His fingers catch on something, and he pulls it out with a sigh of relief—only to yelp and drop the shirt when he sees it.

He stares at the hoodie on the floor, faded a little in the collar and at the cuffs, from how often he’d tug them. Tony squats down and picks it up, his heart clenching as memories come unbidden.

Even if he’s all alone, he can’t say why he hasn’t thrown out Steve’s favorite jacket. It didn’t even fit him properly, and stopped smelling like Steve years ago. He does remember—quite shamefully—that it’s the one thing of Steve’s he didn’t give back. After what had happened he’d packed up everything that reminded him of Steve and given it to him, except this.

And Steve, ever the considerate, kind, loving man that he was, never asked.

He remembers when Steve first leant it to him, months into their relationship. They’d gone out for a walk, and despite Tony’s own jacket he was shivering. The leaves had turned gold and red, and the breeze brought the reminder that winter was on its way.

Steve had slipped it off and given it to Tony, and after a token protest, Tony had put it on. He’ll never forget how brightly Steve smiled at him then—not that he ever wanted to.

The memory leaves a sour taste in Tony’s mouth. Even now, after all these years, he can’t fathom why he reacted the way he did. They’d talked about the future often enough, daydreamed about living together, about moving back to New York and starting a life.

They were good together. Great, even, now that Tony has had a fair share of relationships to be able to compare. Still, the years he spent with Steve were some of the happiest in his life, but the way they ended only served as proof that maybe the best things weren’t meant to last.

Tony sits down on the bed, still holding the hoodie. He was wearing it that day that Steve had upended everything.

He had just finished his dissertation defense, and Steve had invited him over for the weekend to celebrate. Steve had prepared a picnic for lunch, and the spring air was cool as they lazed on the blanket and ate sandwiches.

Tony remembers lying down and staring up at the trees, blinking as the sun peeked through the leaves.

“This is literally the happiest I’ve ever felt in my life,” he said.

“More than all the other times you’ve said that?” Steve teased, lying down beside him but propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at Tony.

Tony turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, definitely.” He pushed himself up a little and kissed Steve, his heart feeling so full it could burst.

“I love you,” he said.

Steve brushed Tony’s hair away from his face, smiling dopily at him. “Marry me,” he said.

Tony jumped up so quickly he ruined the artful arrangement of food in front of them.

“What?”

Steve sat up and looked just as panicked as Tony felt.

Then Tony ran.

Tony sighs, fiddling with the cuffs of the jacket. “God,” he says, and feels his voice echo around his apartment. The hours that followed Steve’s proposal were some of the worst in Tony’s memory, and he decides to make himself some food to get his mind off it.

Rhodey arrives a little before lunch, and looks surprised to see Tony awake.

“Well, that’s a look,” he says, setting down two cups of coffee.

“Thanks,” Tony says. He’s been in a dour mood since he’d stumbled upon Steve’s jacket. What’s worse is that he didn’t have anything else to wear, and he felt a little unhinged by virtue of his outfit: Steve’s hoodie and a pair of very old jorts, fraying at the hem.

“You making lunch for two?”

“Guess I am now.”

Rhodey stands beside him and watches as Tony sullenly pokes his omelet.

“We gonna talk about—”

“I had nothing else to wear, okay.”

“Okay.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Rhodey leaves to set the table.

“I guess Nat told you,” Tony says.

Rhodey freezes, the dinner plate in his hand hovering just above the table.

“I know it’s dumb.” Tony sighs and brings the dishes over. “At this point it’s just embarrassing.”

“Frankly, Tones, I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word.”

Tony swats Rhodey on the back of the head. “You’re welcome for lunch, asshole.”

Rhodey laughs, and for a while they’re quiet as they eat.

“So why’s it embarrassing?”

Tony frowns. “Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you want to psychoanalyze me?”

“Ugh, please. I’m not Natasha.”

This shocks a laugh out of him. “Okay, fine.” Tony takes another moment to gather his thoughts, scattered as they are. “I just kept saying he was awful because it was easier that way. I never wanted you to know why because well, it’s dumb and I know you liked us together.”

Rhodey levels him with a look. “I don’t care who you’re with, Tony. I don’t think anyone’s ever going to be good enough for you. But you were happy, so I was happy. Simple as that.”

Tony bites down on his lip, which feels dangerously close to wobbling. “Rhodey, you are honestly my favorite person in the whole world.”

“Well, don’t let Pep hear you say that,” Rhodey says, laughing a little.

They don’t talk anymore about Steve after that, instead recount the shenanigans they’d gotten into the night before. Rhodey leaves after helping clean after lunch, and before Tony realizes it, he’s alone again.

Under the carrying tray of the coffee Rhodey had bought is a slip of paper, and Tony picks it up. It’s Steve’s card.

Tony sighs. A few days ago, when they’d bumped into Steve, he’d felt a shame so deep that he couldn’t even face him. But Steve had looked so earnest and sincere, like there was no bad blood between them. If Tony’s being honest, it’s not like there ever was any, anyway—it was just easier to paint Steve as the bad guy rather than ever admit that maybe Tony was wrong. After all, he’d never met anyone quite like him, never met anyone who understood him the way Steve did.

Tony bit his lip and pulled out his phone. He typed in the number on the card and held his breath.

Maybe they could just try and be friends. Like Rhodey said, it’s been five years. Besides, he’s probably married already anyway, or at least dating someone; it’s unfathomable that no one would snap him up.

The line rings, and the automated trill is cut when it’s picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve, it’s Tony. You free tonight?”

---

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#stevetony #superhusands #stony #evil exes #tony stark #steve rogers #pepper potts #james rhodes #natasha romanoff #TONY'S FRIENDS CARE ABOUT HIM #BUT THEY'RE ALSO QUITE CONCERNED

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bebepac · 4 years

Text

The Pink Lady

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt# 42 “Let’s be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen” will appear in bold

Liam, Riley, Hana, and Maxwell all belong to Pixelberry. All other characters are my own creation to support our story.

This is the 7th Chapter of Fast Forward To catch up on Liam and Riley’s future Life please click

Fast Forward

I wasn’t kidding when I said this story keeps taking turns on me, and it did yet another one. I really can’t control this one. There are some mentions of some things if you are not following the Life of Riley or some of my wacky drabbles or one shots. Mentioned in this fic: Riley’s horrible driving, The Pink Lady Guitar, and Riley’s Accident. To get more back ground on them check out Ride with Me (my very first fic i posted) and Ghost Girl from the life of Riley, and January 18th Links are :

Ride With Me

Ghost Girl

January 18th

Song inspiration for this chapter: When I Was your Man by Bruno Mars.

https://youtu.be/ekzHIouo8Q4

I don’t own rights to any of the music or lyrics displayed.

Summary: Von stays at the palace per Riley’s request. Riley spends the day at the private beach with friends with Von. Von attends his first courtly event, as Riley’s guest and gives her a very special gift from her past.

Warnings: Profanity, depression, sadness, domestic violence, Angry Liam.... becomes Evil Liam. This just went dark. Sorry guys not my intent.

Word count: 2733

Tagging: @queenjilian @dcbbw @burnsoslow @loveellamae @lovemychoices @bbrandy2002 @nomadics-stuff @kimmiedoo5 @cordonianroyalty @cordonia-gothqueen @lodberg @aestheticartwriting @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @texaskitten30 @janezillow @atha68 @my0123456789universe @kaitycole @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @yukinagato2012 @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @hopefulmoonobject @sevenfuckslefttogive @ac27dj @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @mrsdrakewalkerblog @islandcrow @xpandabeardontcarex @axwalker @sanchita012 @queenwalton @flutistbyday2020 @gabesmommie1130 @mom2000aggie @queenaaliyah @jared2612

"Maybe you can fool her with that you are on vacation bullshit. Cut the crap. I saw your little interview. What do you really think you can accomplish by coming here now Donovan?"

"I think the real question is, why are you so insecure with your relationship, that you are coming at me like this bro?"

"Because I feel something from you; the only reason you have come here is to try to take My Queen back with you. You do realize we have a family together right? Riley loves me and our children, and I love my wife."

"Then why is she not your equal? The way you overrule her and talk over her. I have seen you do it millions of times in press conferences. You even did it to her today. I asked Riley was she pregnant. I didn't ask you. You answered for her, like she was incapable of answering for herself. No wonder I've been hearing from her so much lately. I feel like all you want is a pretty faced, pretty shaped Queen to give you heirs. Riley is more than that. She is not a trophy. You treat her like she's property. Probably the only reason you want another baby is to show someone that she's yours."

"SHE IS MINE! You are sadly mistaken if you think you are gonna swoop in and …."

"Look who's up?" Riley walked back into the room holding Jaiden bouncing him on her hip. He rubbed his eyes. Liam gave him a kiss on the forehead. "My baby boy." Ellie and Adam followed behind her, looking inquisitively at the stranger standing before them.

Von gave them a tiny wave. Adam waved. Ellie looked right at her father. Von could have sworn he saw Liam slightly shake his head "No." Ellie did not wave back.

"Von, I'd like you to meet our children. Ellie, and Adam say hello."

Both children holding close to Riley's hips peer around her but only Adam said hello.

"Ellie where are your manners? Say hello to Mommy's friend."

Ellie said nothing but ran across the room to Liam.

He picked her up holding her in his arms.

"I'm sorry Von, she's usually not shy. I don't know what's gotten into her."

"No it's okay." He looked at Ellie. Of course he was training her to be just like him. She was the crown princess. They both had the same look in their eyes, staring at Von, anger.

"And this is Jaiden."

Von remembered everything Riley had ever told him about Jaiden. When Riley's memories came back she had told him about what happened with him that day during the accident.

"He would be so happy you named one of your sons after him."

"I think so too." Von softly touched Jaiden's cheek and he giggled. He grabbed Von's fingers holding them.

These two were definitely Riley's children, that Riley had the primary influence over them. Not Crown Princess A-hole that was looking down at him sneering just like her father.

"Von do you have a place to stay? We have plenty of room you could stay with us. We could get…"

Liam cut her off yet again. "I'm sure Donovan has made his own arrangements Riley, we shouldn't interfere. He said he is in fact on vacation, he probably has a plan."

Riley laughed out loud.

"Actually Liam not really. Riley, you know me so well. One of the things that is my fatal flaw that Riley loathed was my lack of planning. However, bucket list item #13 stay in a palace, so there you go!"

"We can get someone to bring in your stuff. I assume you rented a vehicle?"

"I did, my stuff is in the car.

"We can do something fun but low-key tomorrow because I'll have the kids. You don't mind that do you Von?"

"No not at all, it will be nice to get to know your kids."

"We will have a great time, I could even drive."

"NO!" Both Liam and Von screamed in unison.

"So she's never been able to drive, these are not recent events from just not driving much?"

"LIAM!!!!"

"And I was there when she took driver's ed….three times."

Liam laughed, shaking his head at Riley. "You're lucky, you're beautiful and charming."

"VON!!!! You gonna tell my business out on the street like that?"

"Mommy says snitches get stitches," Adam chimed in loudly.

"That's right, baby and Mommy's always right."

Von laughed out loud, "The New Yorker is strong in this one."

Von knew right then, if Riley ever left Liam, and he got another chance with Riley, he wouldn't have a problem loving adorable Jaiden and Adam as if they were his own kids. Liam would never let Riley take Ellie. She was too important to him. She was him.

Servants helped bring his items in but one box he wouldn't let out of his sight. He held it carefully. "It's a surprise," he said.

"Tomorrow we are having a small get together here in the ballroom. Please say you will attend as my guest."

He nodded to Riley.

The next morning after breakfast Riley security team took them to the beach. He noticed right away the way Riley's guard Nico was staring at her in her bathing suit. That's why Liam wanted another child. He's staking his claim on Riley. Liam was so transparent, at least in Von's eyes.

But how did Riley truly feel? he wondered.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you recommended this. I’ve never been so relaxed in my life. Who knew the thing I was missing from my life was a private beach.”

Riley laughed. “I feel the same way when I come here. I think about all the times we went to the Island to go to the beach. Do you remember?!? Shoulder to shoulder with people.”

Inviting her friends also built in babysitters so that he could talk to Riley. He had already noticed some things he was worried about.

He decided to just jump into it.

“Riley, is something bothering you?”

“I’m just fine.” She said smiling. A smile he saw didn’t reach Riley’s eyes. He saw sadness. He’d seen that type of sadness in her eyes before. Riley. Was. Not. Fine.

He watched Riley when she didn’t think she was being watched. She took a sip of her water and put it down. He noticed her hands were shaking.

Riley looked deep in thought.

**** 10 months ago *** “We’ve tried multiple times to turn the baby, but it’s just not working. The baby is still breech. Being so close to your due date Your Majesty. I think a C-section would be best.

“Both Ellie and Adam I had naturally. “Will there be scars?”

“We’ll do our best to make them as minimal as possible.”

“And there’s no chance the baby will turn so Riley can deliver naturally?”

“There’s always a chance King Liam, but it looks highly unlikely at this point. A C-section is the safest option for both mom and baby.”

Liam gently rubbed Riley’s large rounded stomach. “Yes, we want them both to be safe. Is there anything else Dr. Ramirez?”

“That’s all I can think of, we’ll have you back next week, as we’re going to start weekly visits from here on out.”

“I just had one more thing, Go ahead Liam I’ll be out in one second.”

He walked out the door. Riley waited until he closed it behind him.

She chuckled at Riley, “You would think it’s your first baby how nervous you look.”

“Well,” Riley tried to make her voice sound as nonchalant as possible,” Since we’re doing a c-section would it be possible to perform a tubal ligation while i’m open already?”

“Queen Riley, you have plenty of child bearing years left, if we do the procedure and you change your mind, we might not be able to reverse it.”

“I won’t be changing my mind, I want the procedure.”

“King Liam hasn’t mentioned anything of the sort.”

“It’s not King Liam’s body, It’s mine.”

Dr. Ramirez gave her a knowing look. “Is it though? I don’t feel comfortable performing such a procedure on the Queen of Cordonia without the King’s consent or knowledge. Is there anything else?”

“No, That about covers it,” Riley commented with a stiff smile, walking out the door.

He watched Riley looking down at herself. Her hand still shaking touched her stomach for a moment.

There were sad tears in Riley’s eyes. He remembered yesterday when he asked Riley was she pregnant and the mortified look that crossed her face for a second, that Liam didn’t even notice.

Realization hit Von like a ton of bricks.

“Riley. Two things.. First…. Why haven’t you told Liam you’re pregnant, and Second, why aren’t you happy about it?

"It wasn't always like this. I really think somewhere he loves me. He is a good father Von, but not so great a husband. Sometimes he's sweet, but Sometimes I feel like he forgets we're supposed to be ruling together and makes decisions for all of us like I don't matter. Ellie matters more to him than I do. He wanted more children, so I've given him more children. I've done and given him everything he asks of me, and at the end of the day, he doesn't take me seriously. I'm not enough. He's the ruling monarch with royal blood. No matter how much I give him it's never enough Von."

"You're enough for the right person Riley. You're enough for me."

Von took her hand in his. She quickly pulled away.

"Please stop. I can't take any more complications than I have right now."

On the way back they stopped with Maxwell to get Von a nice suit. Von saw immediately that Riley was his best friend by the way they talked. He liked Maxwell right away too. He reminded him a little of Daniel.

He sat at the dinner with Maxwell and Hana, they both were her best friends . They talked and laughed with him like they were old friends. He noticed Riley watching them from her dais as she sat next to Liam in their matching thrones.

She made her way over to him "Are you guys having fun?"

"Lots of fun Little Blossom, can we keep him?"

Von chuckled, "Maxwell you're hilarious. And how many stories does this guy have about peacocks?"

Riley let out a deep belly laugh, "He has millions. I've yet to hear the same peacock story twice."

"So Liam wanted me to ask you something, would you be willing to do a song for us, to open up the social part of the evening? I know you're on vacation."

Was this dude really this stupid? He was about to light a fire in this place, and in Riley.

"I'll do it for you, but I need to get something first."

He came back shortly with the same box he had been so protective over. He whispered something to Hana and she nodded. Riley introduced him when he was ready.

He stood up. "Thank you for that lovely welcome Queen Riley. We grew up together in New York. And she doesn't know that I spent the last 3 years looking for this, and just found it two weeks ago. This was part of the reason I'm here is to return it to its rightful owner. He opened the box revealing Riley's pink lady guitar. He walked closer so she could see it.

She jumped up out of her throne, gasping. Liam grabbed her arm. She slowly sat back down into her throne.

"I know what you're thinking. When I went to my fans to help me find it, I left one detail about The Pink Lady off the information. After a few false alarms, Someone messaged me about this one. I just asked them one simple question, was there anything unique about it? They told me yes, on the back there initials engraved in the wood RB and DJ."

Liam looked at the tears in her eyes in confusion.

"My Dad bought me that guitar. You know I lost almost everything I owned after the accident. I could never find it, I looked for it, every chance I got."

When he handed it over to her she quickly checked the back. She remembered her and Von engraving their initials after she played her first song she had ever written for him. She closed her eyes, also remembering walking around the store with her Dad, finding it for the first time. She opened her eyes again looking at Von.

He smiled. "You'll never guess where it was. In California. Thirty minutes from where I live."

"Hana if you would."

Hana sat at the piano playing for him. When he started the second verse, of the song, Von's eyes met Riley's, and they never left hers.

My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, oh And it haunts me every time I close my eyes

It all just sounds like ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh Mm, too young, too dumb to realize That I should have bought you flowers And held your hand Should have gave you all my hours When I had the chance Take you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby's dancing But she's dancing with another man

Although it hurts I'll be the first to say that I was wrong Oh, I know I'm probably much too late To try and apologize for my mistakes But I just want you to know

I hope he buys you flowers I hope he holds your hand Give you all his hours When he has the chance Take you to every party 'Cause I remember how much you loved to dance Do all the things I should have done When I was your man Do all the things I should have done When I was your man

The crowd roared in applause.

"Riley, play something for your people."

"That won't be necessary," Liam interjected.

Riley ignored him and had gotten up putting the strap over her shoulder.

"I'm a little rusty, so hopefully it will sound okay. This has always been my favorite song since the first time I heard it."

When Riley played the first few chords, Von knew what she was playing. She was playing their song. Playing it for him.

Liam recognized it right away too. She could feel Liam's anger radiating off him.

When the song was over everyone was cheering for Riley. Liam excused them. Von saw how he gripped Riley's arm as they walked out the ballroom, and he didn't like it. He followed them. As he got closer to the door. He heard Liam's voice full of anger. "HOW DARE YOU EMBARRASS ME LIKE THAT!"

Then he heard an unmistakable sound. He slapped Riley.

Von pushed the door open seeing Riley in tears holding her face.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING MAN?!? DID YOU JUST HIT HER?!?!?"

"Von please go," Riley pleaded. "You'll just make it worse."

"Riley you don't have to take this from him. Is this how you treat the mother of your children?!?!?"

"I will treat her however I please."

He yanked the guitar from Riley grip, holding it in the air.

"Please don't Liam. Please, I'm sorry Liam. PLEASE DON'T!!!!"

Liam ignored her. He slammed it hard to the ground, shattering it.

Riley fell to her knees bursting into tears. "This wasn't about him Liam, My father gave me this, and YOU RUINED IT!!!!!!! WHY?????"

"Maybe now you will think twice about sharing looks of lust for another man so blatantly in front of your King and His People."

He stood towering over them. Von's grip tightened around Riley as to protect her.

"Let's be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen."

He stared down at Riley on the floor crying, shaking. Von held her in his arms, her back against his chest. Von was staring at Liam in pure disgust.

"I'm sure you know you're not welcome in the royal chambers tonight, unless you're ready to do whatever your King desires you to do for you to be forgiven. Otherwise, find alternate sleeping arrangements."

Liam walked out the room, the door slamming behind him.

“

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