#i feel like i'm knocking the pacific too much in this even when i like the pacific. i just like it much less

[mastersoftheair]

ok, so my own final (and very, very fresh) thoughts, bc i wanted to wait until i'd watched everything to make a sweeping opinion of the whole series, and it's quite opinionated. and long. probably too long. i write essays for fun (everyone point and laugh):

my personal (and very, very fresh) ranking of the hbo war shows (not including gen kill bc that's a different war, sorry) goes- band of brothers > masters of the air > the pacific (it's the same for my title score rankings. that hasn't changed yet)

my main points of contention with MotA are 1) the nine episodes, 2) the length of the episodes, and 3) certain editing choices. nine episodes, compared to the classic ten, isn't Nearly enough time to showcase all that they wanna showcase (especially when the episodes are as short as they are, once you get past the recap and "next on" parts). and they wanna showcase A Lot! there so much going on! i'd ask them to pace themselves, but they literally Can't!

i mean, the editing choices are a Whole Thing! practically gives me whiplash sometimes lol. i feel like the weaker episodes still have parts that are Really good, but like. Individually. they don't work together as a stronger whole, which is to the episode's detriment. rather than jumping around (as the show often did), they could've benefited a lot from focusing on the One Story instead of squeezing three more stories into there (i say that, but i think the 4-5-6 episode run (all with multiple stories per episode) did this very well while Still being very good episodes, so it's not like it Can't be done, it just didn't work for 7, 8 and (partly) 9). granted, i suspect a chunk of the weird editing can be blamed on, well, there being only nine (and not all that long) episodes and no one wanting to cough up enough money for a tenth. ugh! i'm blaming both hbo And appletv for this (and covid19 ig). it's just One More Episode, how much could it cost?? and on the subject of episodes, why no episode titles? you used to love episode titles! i could've brainstormed episode titles for them For Free!!

when it comes to the characters, the rankings remain the same: BoB > MotA > TP. it's not totally fair tho, since BoB followed the exact same (and large-ish) group of guys from beginning to end, so you're Gonna know who they all are and get attached. this wasn't the case (for me!) when watching TP, since, unlike BoB, they jump around from group to group. i never felt like i got to know them all that well, outside of the main characters. i think MotA almost hits that sweet spot, especially knowing they had those two main things going against it: large cast And jumping from group to group. there's a case to be made for bias here (i Was the blog blogging about everything MotA for like. years.), but i still think they found a good enough balance of fleshing out the main characters while Also helping the audience get to know about a bunch of minor characters, of which there are a shitton (and their personalities, motivations, backgrounds, quirks).

there's also the representation of women. actual angel renée lemaire is and will always be a cut above the rest (bastogne is just That Good, argue with the wall). she's written so well that it almost makes me forget about how a bunch of women are portrayed in carentan. i have...issues with how women are portrayed in TP (even tho i love lena), so there's that. MotA falls in the middle (again) bc there's Way more women on-screen, but the writing can be questionable. balanced (as all things should be?) captain l'sandra wing-westgate is a character of all time, but episode 7 birthed the craziest discourse known to man (the hbo war fandom), but it wasn't all that unwarranted. manon and michou were sooo cool, but we didn't see nearly enough of them (another victim of the 'editing too many stories into one episode' problem. why not a whole resistance episode? or at least as the only b-plot?). paulina was interesting, but fulfilled one of those 'attractive foreign woman gives sage advice during/after sex' tropes (there's probably a tvtropes page for that idk). so many red cross girls, but none of the in-depth payoff :/ epic highs (multiple women!!) + epic lows (writing women??) = pretty tolerable. not great, not terrible. it was aight. i trust the fandom to build on this tho.

narrative is the big one tho. it's the whole "doing so much with so little" thing they've got going on (i'm ignoring their big budget here lol, could've been bigger). rather than having one main story with many connecting side stories (like BoB), it does the TP thing where there's many semi-connecting side stories set in the same general area. it helps that there's crosby's narration (i enjoy narration, sue me!), and he helps everything connect, sorta. but there's still other side stories that have Nothing to do with him (sandra's side gigs (revealing what she did takes away the mystery of what she Might be doing), the tuskegee airmen, quinn and bailey's eurotrip). would it have helped if there were two narrators (say, someone like rosie)? idk. gonna sit with that one. if there's a through-line, it's not super obvious like in the other two shows. which is insanely funny to me bc i literally like TP less, but that show's got an Extremely tight through-line all the way down. i can't lie and say it doesn't!

back to budget- i've seen people criticize this show for being called "masters of the air" when there's not much of "the air". ig that's fair, but there's the money issue, again. also, it'd get very repetitive if they were always in "the air". there was enough confusion about identifying who was who with the masks on, so imagine if that was Every Episode. out of All the issues the show has, this is the least issue-y. again, that's just my opinion, and it could change.

another budget thing (i think??)- idk enough about costuming and hair for period pieces so i can't comment on that with my 0 background in it, all i Can say is that i knoooooow people were clowning on marjorie cleven's hair in episode 1 (and i could see why, no such thing as 1940s beach waves). but from what i could understand- that actress' addition was a last-minute thing (bc i had No idea who the hell she was and i already found someone cast for marjorie all the way back in 2021). maybe there's something to say about the quality of rush jobs, but i really do think it was the most last-minute thing bc it came out of Nowhere, and timeline-wise, it looks like that bit was done long after everything else had been filmed. outside looking in, it seems something probably went wrong/didn't work out with who or what they already had and there wasn't enough wiggle room (time and money) to fix it. this isn't me being an apologist (lol), but i feel like a theorist at a big board bc nothing adds up! and i wanna know what happened! i'm just speculating! speculating on this blog is All i did for like Years lmaooo.

this is more of a side thing, but some of the lines in MotA feel really on-the-nose, almost corny. and that was Gonna be a knock against it, but there's some equally Extremely on-the-nose lines in both BoB and TP (Especially in BoB), so if i give MotA shit for it, i'd have to give all three shows shit for it lol. none of them are free of cheese.

another silly aside- no peaches, no main gingers, no main eugenes! we can't have 'em all, but c'mon!

there Is some good tho lol. one thing that MotA really has going for it, that i think the other shows have less of, is- and GOD it feels so weird to call this "world-building" when it's actual goddamn history, but- it's got world-building. maybe that isn't the best word for it. but i like how much Bigger ww2 feels in this show. BoB is one stop, then the next stop, then the next stop, which is, admittedly, good from a narrative-perspective (easy to follow), but not as good when you want a scale of how devastating the war is (in fairness, it was filmed in 2000). even TP feels pretty "enclosed" in a way. there's island-hopping, yeah, but all the damn islands look the same (not including australia lol). it's a theatre of the war we otherwise don't really get to see, but there still isn't all that much to see. it's water and sand and rock and dirt. which is the point, but Whatever! would've been cool if we saw sledge and co. in china, but moving on. MotA's able to really show the scale of it, both in the air and on the ground (that scene in germany during episode 6 was both harrowing and fantastic, also the inclusion of the actual children forced to fight nearer to the war's end in the finale). idk i just liked how it was able to zoom in and zoom out (and in and out again) in a way that the other shows weren't.

another thing it's got that the other shows don't is Really driving home how young everyone is (not "child soldier" young, but damn young). the cast is full of baby faces (rip babyface). a lot of ww2 shows/movies don't bother casting to reflect this, but i think overlooking that takes away from the overall impact. you browse through some old newspaper articles or photos of soldiers during ww2 enough and you're gonna Regularly get hit with the face of someone who looks like they could've sat in the desk next to you during a high school lit class. a lot of those b&w grinning faces look like kids bc they pretty much were (more so if they lied about their age). you don't really get that in BoB or TP (it's Crazy when the real life pics of the soldiers portrayed in those shows look younger than the actors).

i'm mixed about the tuskegee airmen. what we have, i love (thank you, dee rees). unfortunately, my biggest irk is that it leaves me wanting more of them, which i won't ever get. speaking as a black person (not speaking for All black people, just how i personally feel about it), having them included feels like a catch-22. if they weren't included in any capacity (all while knowing there were whole tuskegee airmen in stalag iii with the white main characters), there'd be a problem. however, including them (all while having these time constraints and not enough focus on them) leads to the feeling of having them "tokenized" (which i can see). there's no world where there'd be 50/50 split (even a 70/30 split) bc, at that point, just give them a show of their own. but there'd still be a general annoyance that big budget ww2 shows are only ever white. on the other hand, hanks and spielberg and orloff and miller and all the directors (except dee rees) are white, and how good of a story about black people are you really gonna get from the perspective of nonblack people? that in mind, i personally don't feel put-off by having the three tuskegee airmen in the posters/trailers/promos, bc i just Know there'd be a whole nother problem if they weren't included in them at all despite being in the show for however long (it'd be even worse if they made their pictures smaller). like i don't work in advertising, but i don't know if a "sweet spot" even exists for something like this. people would be pissed off no matter what imo (i'm also speaking with a bias here bc i had to browse through sooooo many comments written by white guys whining and crying and pissing and shitting themselves once they learned that the tuskegee airmen were gonna be in the show in Any capacity, so i'm just cool knowing they're in shambles rn (and josiah cross- he played richard macon- always goes Wild seeing his face in the promos, and his joy is pretty contagious).

i give it somewhere like a 7.5-8/10. 3.75 stars out of 5. not perfect, subject to change, gotta marinate, but i'm overall happy with it! MotA's best episodes are better than many other individual hbo war episodes. should i be grading it using the overall sum of its parts, not just the different parts? idk, i'm not being paid to grade lol.

#i feel like i'm knocking the pacific too much in this even when i like the pacific. i just like it much less #i've talked my sister's ear off enough about it (she adores the pacific the way i do band of brothers) #and like i've got plenty of issues with band of brothers but it just does it for me. idk. i'm complicated by avril lavigne #this is an essay. my GOD is this an essay #but better to vomit it all out now so i can look over it later and see how my opinion changes over time. i want to archive my fresh thought #masters of the air #hbo war #masters of the air spoilers #mota spoilers #band of brothers #the pacific #for once i'm not spam-tagging those. i talk about them a decent amount in here. sorry for the people who don't go here tho #long post

[moosemonstrous]

So much has built up in the last few days since I started writing this bit that there are parts I'll need to change, but I'm being very brave and not doing proper edits or it will never get posted 😂

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - Beastie Riders

(insert The Distance by All Good Things. Or Cake. Pick your favourite version!)

Robbie doesn't want to be having fun.

He's still beat from training earlier in the day - Brooks seems convinced he's found a way to cheat his systems and had him repeat every course, twice. The muscles in his legs still shake a little every time he stops moving for longer than a few seconds. That isn't much of an issue, though, because the music in the arena thrums through his body like the relay gel through suit circuitry. Between that, the UV lights revealing the intricate paint and tattoos over everyone's skin - there is a lot more exposed skin here than he's used to - and the sheer amount of people, he doesn't know what to pay attention to. He feels like a kid in a toy shop. He definitely can't afford anything on sale, but--

He's about to watch demons tear each other apart for sport. It shouldn't be exciting.

You don't unclench even for a second, huh.

It's much easier to ignore the voice in all this noise. Cho grins at him - or at least he hopes that's Cho, his face lit up in green strokes he can't follow for very long without getting a bit dizzy. His arms are glowing, too, even though he didn't put any paint on them - he didn't strike Robbie as someone who would get tattoos. Shows what he knows. Cho says something Robbie can't hear over the music and pulls him by the arm through the crowd, closer to the edge of the viewing platform. People who don't want to make way get elbowed aside. It's honestly a minor miracle nobody knocks his teeth out.

Cho has his phone out, and what looks like a bank app open. No, it's betting. There's an app to bet on the fight, because of course there is. Cho points to the edge of the square space below, still talking.

"I can't--" Robbie sighs, and lets himself be pulled down to a talk-into-ear level.

"I said we're really damn lucky!" Cho shouts. "It's Sister Grimm versus Ghost Rider!"

Robbie has no idea what either of those names mean, but judging by the numbers ticking up on the app, they're pretty popular. Racing never brought in this much money. It could be something to look into, when the whole jaeger business inevitably blows up in his face. Provided Robbie doesn't blow up right along with it, that is.

He listens out, but the voice either doesn't have a comment, or is too quiet to make out in the growing racket in the arena. Suddenly, all the lights go out, leaving only the glow of the tattoos and a single red beam pointing to the stage in the middle of the arena.

A projection of a tall man in a white suit appears to the general approval of the crowd. He speaks in Cantonese, so Robbie has no clue what he's actually saying, but he can pick it up from context - the fight is about to begin.

"That's Sister Grimm!" Cho elbows him to look to stage left, where a young Asian woman wearing mostly just paint strikes a pose to the beat of the music. She blows a kiss to the man in the white suit, who mimes fainting before picking up his mic to introduce the other fighter.

Some of Robbie’s unease returns at the sight of the Ghost Rider. He's wearing what seems to be a heavily modified drivesuit - it's covered in all manner of studs and spikes, the spinal clasp made to look like it's partially ripped out. What's visible of his skin is painted black to better contrast the skull-like tattoos across his face, like the bones are breaking through to the surface. He has enough metal in his face to build a tank out of, and when the cameras zoom in, Robbie spots a series of painful-looking subdermal implants along his cheekbones.

"He's big back home!" Cho tells him. "I didn't know he even left the continent!"

Wait a second. Not too quiet, then. Wait a goddamn second, it can't be--

Both riders step closer to the fighting pit. The crowd quiets down, and so does the music. The white suit dissolves into a cloud of sparkles. The riders' respective teams are a flurry of well-rehearsed chaos behind them, their gear looking nearly as complicated as anything on the LOCCENT bridge back at the base.

He hears the growl first. It's low, the reverberation standing up every hair on Robbie’s neck. Not quite like facing a Cat 4 - he doesn't think anything quite compares to having The Charger's head locked in the jaws of a monster the size of a skyscraper - but the primal fear it evokes is familiar. The dark shape slithering out from under Sister Grimm's stage reminds him of a bird stuck in an oil spill, its long arms connected to its body with leathery membranes. It drags itself to the middle of the ring and gives out a guttural roar.

The response to the call is instantaneous - the other demon rips into the pit like it was clawing at the gate to be let out and stands on two of it's six legs to scream. It's a chilingly human sound. It looks skeletal and thoroughly alien, like no animal Robbie has ever seen, and he can't tell whether the orange glow on it's hide is paint or something natural.

"He hasn't lost a fight in four years!" Cho yells into his ear. Robbie can believe that. As the demons circle each other in the ring, Sister Grimm looks determined, focused. Ghost Rider seems to barely be paying attention. His demon is similarly distracted, eyeing the crowd above it like it's planning out its dinner.

No, it's the fucking Corinthian Maneuver! The voice groans. He's even doing that stupid half-turn-- What are those idiots in the academy even teaching you?

Robbie really, really hates it when the voice says something he has no way of knowing about. Corinthian sounds vaguely biblical, though, so maybe it's--

Hydra. Hydra Corinthian. It used to run point on... The voice sighs like Robbie is it's single greatest disappointment. Never-fucking-mind, watch the fight.

Sister Grimm attacks first, the monster's claws swiping out with deadly speed, but despite the appearances Ghost Rider is ready - his demon dodges out of the way and up the wall, bouncing off it to land a heavy hit on its opponent's trunk. It doesn't follow up - it backs up and waits for the bird to right itself. At first, Robbie thinks it's some weird sort of sportsmanship, a way to prolong the fight. He's right on the latter, but it quickly becomes obvious sportsmanship has nothing to do with this fight.

Sister Grimm barely manages to get a hit in - Ghost Rider is too fast, slinking under the wing-like arms and taking nips out of the oily hide like he isn't even interested in making them count. He's playing with his food.

Robbie doesn't know how to feel about that. Logically, he recognises he's watching a mostly-illegal pit brawl in the shadiest part of the Bone Slums. It's probably rigged. He's probably the only person in the whole arena not to know how the fight will end, and the combined unfairness of it all starts to simmer low in his chest. When he looks at Cho, though, he's practically hanging over the railing of the platform to get a better view at where Sister Grimm just manages to snag a claw between Ghost Rider's bony ribs. He looks to Robbie with a huge grin on his face before pulling him down to shout: "They're using jaeger tactics! Can you imagine Ivanov's face if he hears about it?!"

And, well, that is a pretty good image to tuck away for the next time the Colonel has an opinion on The Charger's deployment position. Not that he ever will hear about it - not from Robbie, at the very least.

Down in the pit, Sister Grimm has Ghost Rider in a headlock. Both beasts are bleeding from shallow wounds, the black substance oozing out and down onto the concrete. Lesser demons don't excrete corruption like their larger counterparts, but the sight still makes him back away from the barrier.

Don't be a fucking baby, the voice chides. Even the nerd has more balls than you.

The nerd doesn't get sprayed with it on the regular, Robbie thinks sullenly.

Neither do you. Your pod is like a goddamn armored egg now, back in the day we had sea water coming through the vents--oooh, look at that!

Sister Grimm swiped the legs out from under the Ghost Rider with it's wing, and has the beast pinned. The bird creature's beak opens so wide it almost unhinges, and the other monster appears to have given up. Everyone seems to hold their breath at once, but when Robbie looks to its master, the man is smiling, his orange teeth-tattoos stretching with it in a very unsettling manner.

Just as the beak is about to snap shut on his beast's neck, its middle legs--pop out of sockets. The suddenly elongated limbs wrap around the bird's neck and twist, and Sister Grimm screams in agony as her demon drops down, dead. The crowd explodes, people all around Robbie yelling and stomping their feet as once again the music rises to it's previous levels.

"How--!" Robbie has to hold onto Cho's shirt before he topples over the barrier. "Did you see that?!"

Ghost Rider whoops, turning to high-five one of his techs while his beast heaves the corpse off of itself and runs a victorious lap around the ring. It scales its walls nearly to the barrier, snapping at the audience's outstretched hands.

Fucking show-off, the voice grumbles, and Robbie can't help but snort in laughter. Showing off seems well deserved at this point. The man in the white suit reappears on the Rider’s side of the stage, lifting up his arm in victory. He's saying something, but Cho is already dragging Robbie away and down the rickety stairs to pit level.

"Wait, where--?" Robbie doesn't have to resist very hard for Cho to have to pause in his attempted kidnapping. He looks over his shoulder, betrayed. "Where are you going?"

Cho nearly jumps up and down in place, impatient. "Are you kidding me we're going to have a look at that beastie if I have to break into it's paddock!" he exclaims and sprints off, and-- God damn it. This is exactly why Robbie has been reluctant to come.

#Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU #Is this anything or am I just desperate to not be writing this bit anymore 😂 #Also feel bad for making it Nico it will need to be changed later #Unless Robbie meets her at her day job later or something idk #robbie reyes #Amadeus Cho #Eli Morrow #Johnny Blaze #Hey Robbie I'm trying to write you having fun can you bloody cooperate

[celestiarambles]

Hitmen Have Feelings Too

Hii this is my contribution to JoMarina Week 2024! I'm posting this now because it's actually January 6 here in my country xD

Just a disclaimer, I have never been to a bar nor to India, so what happens in this one-shot may or may not be accurate

I apologize for any mistakes in the chapter. I hope you enjoy! (I actually enjoyed writing this lmao)

JoMarina Week 2024 Day 6 - Bonds

Summary: When Carmen takes some of the Bureau members out for a much-needed break after the disasters in India, Marina and Jonah drunkenly bond with each other, making Marina realize that Jonah wasn’t as bad as she thought he’d be.

Also cross-posted on Ao3: Hitmen Have Feelings Too - celestiamirasol - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Marina knows how beautiful she is. Her coworkers tell her that everyday, and men would immediately tell her how smitten they are with her even when they just met.

However whenever she looks at the huge scar on her neck caused by the assassination attempt she survived years ago, she would constantly think otherwise.

It’s the only thing that catches her attention whenever she would look at herself in the mirror. No kind of concealer could even cover it up. Screw it. Once she finishes up her makeup, she grabs one of her scarves on her dresser and wraps it around her neck, adjusting every fold to make sure no inch of the scar could be seen.

“Marina!” Carmen knocks on her door. “You ready to go?”

“Just a second!”

After solving a murder in Bollywood, India, Carmen and Athena invited the Bureau for some drinks for them to finally relax after the previous events that transpired recently, but only her, Angela, and Jonah decided to come along with them. Jack wanted to hang out with Lars (even though Lars was busy with his book, The Flashing Light), Ingrid declined due to work, Ripley just simply didn’t want to and Dupont was trying to learn how to play cricket. Elliot wanted to come along, but Carmen didn’t allow him to since he was underage.

When they arrived at a bar in Mumbai (whose people were able to quickly pick themselves up due to the recent flooding), the place was decently packed with people, with performers playing Bollywood music, making its nightlife alive even though the sun was only about to set.

Occasions like this are rare for the Bureau due to the demands of their job, so Marina rarely gets to drink. She doesn’t like drinking on the job, for it makes her even more stressed. But once she gets the chance to, she immediately seizes it. 

“We deserve this, guys.” Athena says as she comes back with Carmen, both setting down various bottles of alcohol on the table. “When I was still a cop in Pacific Bay, we would usually go out and bond with drinks after a major case.”

“I guess we just don’t do it after what happened with the chief back then in Spain…” Carmen sighed, pouring a drink. She then slides it over to Angela. “So Angela, what’s the deal with Lars and that book? Has he finally found that spiritual enlightenment?”

Angela accepts the shot glass. The golden wedding ring shimmering in her finger caught Marina’s attention. “I don’t know, I still haven’t been able to talk any sense into him. Ever since he started reading that book, he’s been raving about the flashing light. At first, I just thought that he meant the bulb in his lab was broken. But then I realized it was the name of the guru’s book!” She quickly downs the shot. “It’s like he’s been indoctrinated!”

Being the psychologist of the team, Marina would usually help and offer advice to her teammates as a friend. However, she couldn’t think of any sensible advice to give somehow. There’s a reason why she chose to specialize in criminal psychology instead of marriage counseling, after all. All she could say was, “Maybe it’s his way of coping after his near death experience?”

“Oh. definitely.”

As the coroner continued to rant about her husband (with the agents trying to butt in with some advice along the way), she noticed how Jonah, the only guy in the group, was only simply intently listening. Or he was probably trying to. His ice cold eyes stared off at the distance, swirling the liquor in his glass before downing it, then would occasionally pour himself another one. He probably doesn’t understand the topic at hand. Why would he? Marina thought. Based on her psychoanalysis back then, hitmen like him aren’t capable of basic human empathy. Would he even be able to understand the concept of love? To her, they’re all psychopaths.

“Well, maybe we can leave early and you and Lars could have a date night together. We have the night off, after all.” Carmen suggested, smiling at her.

 To Marina’s surprise, Jonah suddenly spoke up after being silent the whole time. “Yeah… maybe this time, you can properly communicate your feelings with him. It’s best for you two to open up to each other as a married couple, after all.”

“Well, I understand that the recent occurrences were traumatic to both of us… but I’ve tried my best to communicate with him. He’s been only focusing on that book he’s been reading. He wouldn’t even look at me.” Angela downed another shot. “I just want him to at least talk to me, tell me how he’s feeling…”

“We were all so busy with the recent disasters here in India, he probably hasn't fully understood what he’s feeling, so like what Marina said, turning to the guru is his way of trying to process things. At least try to understand that, and Lars should understand that you’re trying to reach out to him. Understanding’s the key to forgiveness, after all.`` Somehow, Marina could feel that Jonah’s gaze has shifted to her for a different reason. And whatever reason it may be, she didn’t like it.

“Wow Jonah, are you drunk already?” Athena laughed. “I didn’t know you could get so philosophical like that.”

“He has a side like that.” Carmen smirked, taking a sip of her drink.

She didn’t know that Jonah’s presence could annoy her even more. Why the hell did this blockhead decide to even come with us? She downed her drink and grimaced at how the liquor permeated in her throat.

After a few shots with the group, Marina decides that she had enough of Jonah’s existence and separates from them, heading straight to the bar. She called the bartender over, unconsciously twirling her hair. “Could you give me… a drink that could best describe how you think of me?”

During the rare occasions that they get to visit bars, this was Marina’s favorite game to play. She was enthralled by the raw, authentic atmosphere in bars, especially on how people wear their heart on their sleeves after getting drunk, in which they begin to show their real selves. She believes that everyone hides in a facade. And she was interested to know what bartenders would think of her so-called facade.

With a blush on his face, the bartender agreed and got to work, with Marina watching. After mixing and shaking the contents, he then poured a colorful liquid onto a shot glass, then he grabbed a lighter and set the alcohol aflame. “Sweet and feisty, just like you. And with a hint of vodka, too.”

Amused, Marina took a spoon to diffuse the flame. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your Russian accent? Definitely. It makes you hotter, may I add.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Oldest trick in the book. Once the flame was smothered, she downed the drink. She could taste the heat in her mouth, but there was definitely a hint of sweetness to it.

“How is it?” “Do we have a problem, buddy?” Like a menacing guard dog, Jonah approached the bar and glared at the bartender, holding a bottle of whiskey. Intimidated by his rugged look, the bartender immediately scurried over to the next customer.

Great. The psychologist frowned as the weapons expert sat next to her. She looked away from him, refusing any contact with him as possible.

But he insisted. “Hey.”

“Otyebis.” She muttered in Russian.

“So uh… why did you leave us?” His intimidating aura somehow dissipated, like this time he’s the one intimidated by Marina.

“Because I hate your face.” Jonah frowned and set down the bottle of whiskey on the bar counter.  “Well, you never accepted the amulet I tried to give you…”

“That’s because an amulet won’t fix anything.”

“Well… could a drink at least fix something?” He grabbed Marina’s shot glass and filled it with liquor.

“Most definitely not.” She rolled her eyes. “You could’ve poisoned that.”

“Why would I even do that?” “You tried to do it once, maybe you’re here in the Bureau because you’re still out to get me!”

He chuckled in response. “You have quite the creative imagination, sweetheart. I shoot my targets, I don’t poison them. And I told you, I never miss a shot.”

“I remember that. And I also remember you telling me you purposely missed because you thought I was beautiful. What, were your previous targets hideous?”

“I-it’s not that, I swear!” Jonah blushed. “Normally, my targets are ordered to be killed because they’re threats. A danger to society. Take Omar Bahir for example, if I hadn’t killed him, Carmen and Athena would’ve been the ones dead. But you Marina… from the moment I saw you, I had a feeling you didn’t deserve to die. And I was right. You shouldn’t be the one to pay for exposing their crimes.” Unconsciously, Marina picked up the glass of whiskey and took a swig, the memory of her assassination attempt still fresh in her mind. How the bullet flew in the air in less than a second, giving her no time to dodge, and the color of the wintry blue sky in Russia as she laid helpless and bleeding on the Russian snow, too weak to call out for help.

As a psychologist and a criminal profiler, she would know whether a suspect was lying or not, the inner machinations of her mind, and a higher level of understanding and empathy. The Bureau only hires the best, and she is deemed the best in their eyes. But Jonah… she couldn’t see through him. Or maybe it’s because she refuses to.

Are hitmen really capable of having human empathy?

The funky and exotic Bollywood music overpowered the silence of the two as they took turns pouring and drinking their glasses of whiskey. Both of them didn’t know what to say, nor what to do.

Feeling awkward, Jonah scratched his neck. “I know sorry won’t fix what’s done… but I truly am sorry, Marina. I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

Then as if the alcohol began to take complete control of her body, Marina grabbed Jonah’s shot glass and she almost overflowed it with whiskey as she poured it. “You can start by taking a shot for me.”

“What?”

Her lips formed a playful smirk. “Hit or miss.” Jonah shook his head and downed it, some of the liquid spilling on his shirt. “Is that… all you want me to do?” His words were slurring.

“Ha!” The psychologist laughed loudly. “You’re already drunk!” “So are you.” He chuckled lightly to himself.

Suddenly, the alcohol made Marina forget her previous animosity towards Jonah. She didn’t know how long they stayed chatting drunkenly in the bar, but she was surprised at how similar they actually were.

“You actually took Psychology too?!” She was shocked, but her drooping eyes prevented her from expressing it.

Jonah nodded. “I actually planned to go to med school, but then I got enlisted in the army and then my focus just shifted. It actually comes in handy during hostage situations, I was glad I was at least able to finish it.”

Another conversation then opened up once Marina offered to check out the amulet that Jonah wanted to give her so badly. “So this thing symbolizes forgiveness?”

“Uh yeah, just like what that Dupont said.” She smiled. “I’m actually quite interested in cultural trinkets like these. It’s one of the things that I look forward to whenever we go to different places for missions.” “So… does that mean you forgive me?”

The amulet glimmered in her hands as Marina contemplated his question. “...Not until we dance first.” “Wha - hey!” Jonah had little time to process what the psychologist said as she pulled him to the dance floor of the club. She then broke away to shimmy along to the smooth tunes of the trumpets and drums. “C’mon… don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance?”

A smile slowly spread across his face as he awkwardly stepped side to side and bobbed his head to the beat, watching Marina drunkenly dance. Catching his lack of dance moves, Marina shook her head and took his hand once again. “That’s not how you dance…”

She attempted to spin him. Jonah twirled regardless of their height difference, laughing at Marina’s enthusiasm. “...that’s how you dance!” She yelled.

The two then laughed, jumped and swayed along to the music, their playful dance moves drastically clashing with the dramatic and funky mood of the music. Jonah then pulled Marina closer to him. 

While the blood orange sun sunk on the horizon, the air became hot yet invigorating at the same time. Something seemingly put them on a high they can’t back down, and it wasn’t the alcohol.

Then like a magnet touching a metal surface, the two kissed.

It was like they were the only ones there at the bar. Marina closed her eyes, lost in the moment, while Jonah placed his hand on her shoulder, longing to get closer to her. But by accident, he made her scarf slip and her huge scar was now then exposed to the world. To Jonah.

Feeling the hot air turn chilly and breezy, Marina then pulled away to see her scarf on the floor. It made her snap out of the drunken trance she was in.. 

Jonah’s eyes widened at the huge scar, realizing where she got it. “Marina…”

“Get away from me!” She picked up her scarf and then ran away, stumbling a bit. Jonah didn’t know whether to chase after her or not, but he still did, worried that something might happen to her if she got away from his sight.

“Marina, I’m sorry!” “No!” Marina ran outside, where she accidentally bumped into Athena, whose phone was in her ear, looking a bit confused.

Athena lowered her phone and ended the call. “Marina, I was trying to call you -” “Marina, please, I didn’t mean to -” “NO!” Marina grabbed Athena’s hand. “Stay away from me, and never talk to me again!” He then turned to Athena for help, who just sighed. “Carmen and Angela headed out earlier, Angela wanted to try and talk some sense into Lars again… I suggest you sit in the front of the cab later, Jonah.”

Once they were able to haul a cab, Marina was the first to go inside the back seat, trying to distance herself from Jonah as far as possible inside a small cab. Frowning, Jonah did what Athena said and sat in front. 

“So… what did Jonah do?” Athena asked once she was sure that the weapons expert was asleep after a few minutes.

Staring out the window, Marina contemplated how to respond. Both of them were drunk, so she didn’t know whether both of them mutually consented to that kiss or not. She didn’t know (or maybe remember) if they actually enjoyed the kiss. Marina wanted to hate it, but the foggy memories of the things Jonah told her about him, his interests, the guilt in his eyes when he saw her scar…

Is there really something more to Jonah than assassinations and murder?

For a whole week, she’d been thinking about it. Ever since the kiss, Jonah never attempted to approach her again. He would avoid her gaze whenever they’re both in the breakroom while Marina reaches for a bag of tea. He wouldn’t look at her during briefings or emergency meetings with the Bureau either. Whatever eagerness was first there trying to make up with her before was now replaced with hesitance and fright.

A cup of tea in her hand, Marina sighed once again while thinking about Jonah. It felt embarrassing for her to admit he has been on her mind ever since they kissed.

She knew she wasn’t overreacting, so she didn’t need to apologize. Any person would react like that if they ever survived an assassination attempt before. She’d even think it was Stockholm Syndrome given that he held her captive before, but no, she wasn’t like that… 

Her previous animosity towards him turned into curiosity. The previous psychological analysis she conducted towards him was on her desk. It indicated her perception towards him as an aggressive, dangerous individual with volatile instability… previously, she’d immediately thought he wasn’t to be trusted. Her instincts were never wrong, after all… 

However, he refused to kill her. He had principles, he wasn’t easily blinded by the money nor the task at hand. He could’ve chosen to kill her without any further questions, but he chose not to. And somehow, he brought along the guilt of almost killing her all this time.

Maybe there’s a chance I was wrong about him.

Knock, knock. Marina turned to her office door. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Athena. It made Marina a bit disappointed, hoping it was Jonah. “Hey, Lars is inviting us to the monastery since he’s going to renew his vows with Angela there. Wanna come?”

“Uh, sure, definitely.” Maybe it’d help her take her mind off of Jonah for a bit.

But it didn’t. As the Bureau watched the happy couple kiss amidst the orange rays of the sunset, it only reminded Marina of their own kiss. And why she chose criminal psychology instead of marriage counseling.

“I am so happy that Angela and Lars have made it through all these hard times, Athena…” She whispered to the agent beside her.

“Definitely. I hope their marriage will keep staying strong.”

“Me too…” She heard Jonah say, who was on Athena’s other side. “Marriage is hard work. It takes guts to forgive…”

“Speaking of forgiveness…” Marina spoke up and turned to Jonah’s direction. This time, there was no alcohol influencing her. It’s simply her own conscience. “Jonah, I've had time to think... about how you disobeyed your orders to kill me… Maybe I should get a better understanding of your side of the story... over some tea?”

“Tea? With me?” Jonah’s eyes widened, the blush evident in his face. “Uh, sure! Just say when.”

She laughed in response, hoping to bond with Jonah, their hearts finally on their sleeves. Without any liquor. “...When.”

#criminal case #criminal case game #criminal case save the world #jomarina week 2024

[goblininawig]

Red Dwarfcember: Winter

This is the last of my Red Dwarfcember fics. Thanks for hosting this event @red-dwarfer ; this has been a rough month and this has been some much-needed escapism. :)

Happy Holidays everyone!

Summary: A young Dave Lister comes up with a plan to move to Fiji.

Prompt: Winter

Words: 562

Rating: T (no warnings)

A03 link or keep reading below.

Smeg and the Heads, better known as Gazza, Dobbin, and Dave, pick their way down the slushy, ice-patched sidewalks. They just left another sparsely-attended open mic, having failed to sell any merch that would’ve bought them dinner. Dave’s arms are filled with parts from Dobbin’s drum kit, and his otherwise-empty stomach sloshes with beers he charmed some bourgeoisie babes into buying for him. 

The colorful Christmas displays they shuffle past seem to exist only to highlight the horrible weather and his gnawing hunger. Dave feels the low, dull ache of resentment he always endures this time of year, flaring up into white, hot anger. He trips over a plastic candy cane, knocked loose from its stake beside the sidewalk, nearly losing his balance, and his purchase on the kit.

“Smegging crypto-fascist Christmas crap!” he shouts as he finds his feet again.

Gazza and Dobbin stop to watch as Dave kicks the offending decoration all the way down to the grown, and then does the same to each of its fellows.

Back at the abandoned house the band is squatting in, Dave starts a fire, using rubbish and pieces of a broken chair. He and the others crowd together around the fireplace, thawing their tingling extremities. 

“Christmas tomorrow,” Dobbin observes, “should be a right treat of a meal at the shelters.”

Gazza shakes his head mournfully. “Awful innit? That the masses need some story about some baby that never existed to justify acting generously towards their fellow citizens.”

“Christmas is just another manufactured crypto-fascist holiday,” Dave asserts. 

“And religion is just a smoke screen. It’s all about controlling people when the winter gets fierce and food is scarce, so there won’t be an uprising,” Gazza adds.

“In fact,” Dave says, warming to the topic, “if I had my way, I would live somewhere that didn’t give a smeg about Christmas. A place where no one ever even seens a pine tree, and you can grow food all long.”

“Oh, ey?” Dobbin brushes the hair out of his face to raise a skeptical eyebrow. “And where’s that then?”

“I don’t know,” Dave blusters, scrambling for an answer, and spitting out the first island in the Pacific he can think of. “Someplace like – like Fiji!”

“Fiji?” Dobbin echoes doubtfully. “What would a Scouser do in Fiji?”

Warmed now by the fire, and drunk enough to feel certain that this is an absolutely brilliant plan, Dave replies: “I'm going to buy meself a little farm, right? Then I’ll never have to worry about going hungry. And I'll get a sheep and a cow…and breed horses.”

“You can’t breed horses with cows,” Gazza points out.

“No, no, no; I’d breed the horses with other horses,” Dave says. “Obviously.”

“But you don’t know nothing about farming or taking care of animals neither,” Dobbin retorts.

“Well, I don’t have to know anything about it now, do I?” Dave replies, crossing his arms defensively. “I’ve loads of time to figure all that out when I’m older. Unless, of course, the band goes big.” He grins. “Then we’ll be too busy touring to do anything else.”

“Hmm, s’pose so,” Gazza agrees.

“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Dobbin shrugs.

“Like when you said that going to an open mic on Christmas Eve was a good idea?” Dave teases him.

Dobbin shrugs again. “Hey, at least you got some free drinks out of it.”

#red dwarf #reddwarfcember #red dwarf fic #dave lister #smeg and the heads #goblininawig

[boxwinebaddie]

cfpom fight tier list GO!

HELP SDHLKSKHS BESTIE!!!! this made me laugh so much more than it should have oh my gooooood ( also the fact that y'all are also calling stan gang the cfpom like i do in pep is so cute to me i love u )

but ohhhhhh yes...this is my moment. i'm so ready, my friend. *cracks knuckles* i was born ready.

s

ok kenny is s tier obviously. like he has been swinging in these streets since he was six. like yeah...he's kind of malnourished, keeps fkn dying/coming back and isn't that bulky, but he has that survivor's strength, i would not fucks with kenny!!! he is STRONG! also he riles people up and gets into fights for fun. i feel like a kid was like "haha mccormick hows it feel to be poor and have no money" and kenny just punches him dead in the face and is like "idk how does it feel to be ugly and have a broken nose" sihdladl !!!!! king! he will leave u lying bloody in the street and go fuck ur mom ur dad and ur sister

a

ok i guess kyle is a...but he totally could be s. like if it's specifically involving cartman ( like half of kyles fights ) regards protecting the honor of sweet stanley marsh ( the other half of kyles fights ) or is rage boosted for some reason kyle is s. i feel like the only reason he would be a is he might need his inhaler and can't run that fast. BUT HE CAN PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY DESTROY YOU! the emotional devastation part is so powerful omg. ALSO HES GIGANTIC HOLY SHIT THAT ALONE IS TERRIFYING.

like 100% drunk kenny and rage boosted kyle as a team are both s. if i could pick the entire us army or k2 i would choose k2. like kenny will put you in the regular hospital and kyle will put u in the psychiatric hospital oof like....if i saw kenny and kyle and i didnt know how to run...ID LEARN HOW TO RUN REALLY FAST HELP

b-c

ok hear me out here me out....marjorine is b or c. like i know she is a sweet sugar pea but she is like 5'11. i think she sports a lot of 'ladies dont start fights -- but they do end them" :) <3

like lives on the side of pacifism most of the time but...if u randomly grab her ass i know she is knocking ur ass out with her purse. if u say something rude to her or her friends ur getting cracked so hard across the face ull need ur jaw rewired...like omg if someone said something to kenny i just knoooo hed be like marj just let it go its cool and shes like Kenneth Hold My Earrings :) absolutely DECIMATED! i swear she put that little rat man on her back and has never looked back

d

cartman is d....i guess. i hate you fartman. like he definitely built to be able to deliver and withstand blows like he is a fucking unit. but hes such a big spoiled baby. all bark no bite. he would definetely get his shit rocked in a fight. like he could get poked once and he'd start crying and running home to mommy ( me too...hey miss liane ;) ) but...but...unfortunately he is a better option in a fight then...

f

stan. god bless him. my sugar sweet pacifist crunchy granola boy angel. that entire exchange in chapter four where tolkien tells stan to hit him and he...literally cant. like it goes against everything he stands for. he is a nonviolence king, he cant hurt people im so!! AAAAA

also that part where when he tries to work up the nerve to punch tolkien he forms his fist wrong and puts his thumb inside so if he were to punch it would totally break his thumb upon impact...thats how little baby boy is fighting. the only things he's fighting are his demons, bisexuality and thinking unclean thoughts abt his bestie.

on the bright side...the entire cfpom would ride and die for stan and roll up on any motherfucker that fucked with stanley marsh. even cartman i feel like hes gotta rep the crew, u know? but like specifically kyle if you said something that hurt stans feelings OOOOOOOOOOOOOOF I WOULD START RUNNING BITCH! TELL UR MOM U LOVE HER BC IT WILL B THE LAST TIME!!!

it could be over stupid shit too bc stan is a cry baby like some diner employee just tells stan theres a stain on his shirt to be helpful and stans like :( this guy told me there was a stain on my shirt :( im so embarrassed :( i should go home i feel stupid n ugly and kyle stands on the booth like ALRIGHT COCKSUCKERS WHO TOLD STAN THERE WAS A STAIN ON HIS SHIRT HES FUCKING CRYING YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I SET THIS WHOLE PLACE ON FIRE and stan is like no no no kyle its fine he was just being nice and hes like HE CAN BE NICE IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM

tadaaaaa~ this is it...this is the right answer. this ask was so real thank u oh my god haha

-uncle nina

#this was so funny pls #out of pocket #i love talking abt the whole squad they are so funny #but yeah kenny s #kyle a #but drunk bar fight kenny and rage boosted probably stan related kyle as a duo are s and are HORRIFYING #b-c marj bc shes all af #d fartman i hate u cry to mommy #f stan...sorry pacifist king jus say behind kyle pookie he'll protect u #he can kill em with kindness tho and is really charming so that helps #cfpom

[quinn-styx]

Okay, okay, so, idea- it is angsty so feel free to pass if you're uncomfortable writing content for...I guess reader death? and I'll try to think of something more neutral. I won't hassle you for a specific character since I'm not sure which creators you watch for 3L/LL, but I'm a sucker for characters avenging a pacifistic reader's death (someone who just tried to help others, no matter how many lives they were on), like completely seeing red or holding them as they die/disappear (not really sure how the fandom perceives death in Minecraft haha.) I'm not ashamed to say I've watched every perspective for 3L and LL so go wild and choose whoever you feel like writing for! Reader can have any gender identity or romantic orientation, it's not important to me <3

Sorry this took so long! There will be a part two because I got a bit carried away and want it to be more drawn out <3 anyway! Here's part one :)

Warnings: Reader death, violent thoughts/blood lust, this is mostly just angst honestly, out of character 3rd life characters (I'm working on that)

Summary: You just got kicked out of the renchanting crew on suspicion of being a spy, so you go to the desert people for refuge.

Your alliance didn’t form immediately. It took time to plant itself and slowly bloom into a precious saguaro flower, rather than the black dahlias and orange toned lilies that used to surround you in the mountains of renchanting. You tried not to think about it too much, but it was hard when there was so much quiet in the sandy biome surrounding you in the late night as you walked to the house atop monopoly mountain. The argument played on repeat in your head, the accusations echoing a bit louder than the rest.

The other people of dogwarts called you irrational, a liar, a cheat, but most of all they accused you of being a spy. You had done nothing but help them in their times of need, brewing the best potions and even helping people outside of the faction when their red lives would befall them, even when you swore yourself to pacifism after finding yourself on your yellow life. Or at least as close as you could get to it in a death game. People you once knew had died in your arms, people who had no relation to the factions, people shot down with the enchanted bows made in the very settlement you found yourself in.

You had been cast away for defending the sand people. While it was simple enough, the impact hit a lot harder than you ever could have expected. You were all friends before this. And you especially were friends with Scar. You met on hermitcraft, and you grew close rather quickly. He was kind, he always had a positive spin on the issues that arose, but most of all, he made you laugh. And, with no fail, when you laughed he would smile that same accomplished smirk that always seems to show itself whenever he does something he set his heart on. Now being so far from each other felt almost painful, and him being dubbed an enemy to your faction of dogwarts certainly didn’t help. 

You rotated the thoughts in your mind, you knew that they wouldn’t like it, but this felt so extreme. Being kicked out so suddenly was bad, the fact they made you leave right at sundown was considerably worse. You trudged forward regardless, slowly going up the stairs and finally reaching the door. You were met with music, a disc of some sort must be on, meaning they were hopefully still awake. 

With a heavy breath you knocked three times on the door. The disc stopped and you heard muttering inside, though it was nothing you could make out directly. After what felt like forever, the door opened. You looked up, trying to find the right words only to be met with your eyes starting to gloss over slightly.

“Y/N? What happened?” Grian asked as you were ushered through the door, he quietly muttered for you to come in as led to a small sitting area. You were pretty sure this was your first time to not just admire the house from afar.

“They kicked me out,” You stated, while you had thought about everything that happened, what you would say when you got here barely crossed your mind. “Where’s Scar?” was the next thing you had said.

“He went out on a walk, I was prepping some early breakfast.” He looked at the boots you had on, they seemed more worn than the last time he’d seen you. “How long were you walking? It’s nearly morning,” Concern laced his voice. Before you could respond the door opened again revealing Scar as he held up a small bouquet of flowers. 

“Grian! I got more flowers for the rooms,” He walked to the kitchen area before coming back out and looking around, “Y/N!” He walks over almost immediately and you get up and open your arms, in which he holds you in one of those bone crushing hugs he always does. He pulls away before lightly cupping one side of your face and noticing the small cuts from accidentally running into a few more branches than you’d like to admit on the walk over. “What brought you here?”

A sad smile graces your face as you tell him how you just wanted things to calm down, and how much it backfired a hit you right back just a few hours early. He smiles and pulls his hand away, the cold of the desert attacking just as it had before. “Well you’ll always be welcome here, do you have a bed? We can get you set up in the room,” He held your hand as he led you away and Grian followed, this would only be the beginning of the better half of these god forsaken death games.

It took only a few weeks for Dogwarts to go completely off the rails. Threats made left and right as the Red army’s possible intentions settled themself deep in your uneasy heart. You loved living on monopoly mountain, but as you had a mob death dropping you to a red life you felt afraid. And over time this fear led to a deep paranoia. You barely left the desert, sheltering yourself in what made you feel safest. You relied much more on the others, and tried to push away that blood lust that crept in in the middle of the night as you lay in bed tossing and turning. Nobody told you it would be this hard. You knew just how much you had to lose now.

Your hands shook lightly as you layed in bed, it was always so cold now. You heard a knock come to the front door, Grian and Scar had already left to go do something, leaving you with the job of looking after the desert for the time being. You get up, wobbling slightly as you steady yourself before another knock comes to the door. “I’ll be there in a sec!” You shout, trying to not hurry yourself too much as not to put pressure on the scars that still burn from the creeper explosion that landed you here. 

You walked quickly to the door and opened it, finding yourself face to face with Martyn. A mountain of apologies spilled from his mouth as it mixed together with something or other about orders and requirements. You saw a shining sword in his scabbard that was brandished in enchantments, the thoughts you pushed to the back of your mind ran forward, etching themselves into the very crevices of your brain. Everything began blurring together as you saw him reach for the sword. You grabbed the closest thing to the door, an iron hoe that was left sitting in the entryway and blocked as the sword swung down atop you.

“We could have stayed friends, Y/N,” Martyn said as you swung the tool forward, he threw himself back as he saw the deep red in your eyes. “We could have,” You retorted, progressing forward as he continued to try and swing his sword. “But that's not how it worked out, is it?” 

Before you could even think, he hit the iron tool out of your hand and you fell into an embrace, the sword pierced your stomach as you heard a melancholy “Sorry, Y/N.” fall from his lips. He pulled away as you fell to the ground, he left without another word. Your thoughts were racing, unsure of which would be the last. A message was sent out on the communicators in the server chat. 

<InTheLittleWood> Desert boys you might wanna go check on Y/N

#tw death #tw violent thoughts #tw violence #tw character death #tw reader death #third life smp #trafficblr #3rd life fanart #3rd life x reader #mcyt #3rd life smp #trafficshipping #x reader #x y/n #x you #reader insert #one beta who only got to read half because I'm stubborn we die like reader did <3 #gtws x reader #goodtimeswithscar #goodtimeswithscar x reader #desert duo x reader #not poly

[feverinfeveroutfic]

flowers for alexander | chapter twenty-three

”Our passion for learning ... is our tool for survival.” -carl sagan

Though it was still very much autumn, the tapestry of night over Las Vegas remained somewhat warm, although not enough to warrant Florence and Francine stripping down for the heat like a couple of showgirls. As long as rain met them when they made their way up to Reno followed by Northern California and the Pacific Northwest, then Florence knew she could relax and enjoy the shows on the airships for the time being.

The little blues session with the boys from Death Angel helped ease her mind as well, and she could perhaps launch into a conversation with Eric somewhere along the way. She stood out on the curb next to Francine, who had tucked her sunglasses upon the crown of her head and a glass of celery juice in one hand: she offered Florence a sip, with the reassurance that it was healthy to drink for her, but she turned it down. She rested a hand on her belly and gazed on at the glimmering skyline that was the Strip.

Something about the vibe of Las Vegas, the fact that they could strike up a gamble as well as have a fine time with a woman of the streets, the fact that the singular column of light from the roof of the Luxor combined with the red from Planet Hollywood made Florence think of a woman with devil horns adorned upon her head.

Perhaps she was that woman. The woman who sank her teeth into two boys and made them into young men with her venom, and this was an act of coming full circle of sorts. The way that Eric snuck up on her with those large brown eyes and welcomed her with that soft silken light olive skin. The way that Alex seemed to knock her out without even trying or thinking twice about it. Eric, as soft and comforting as the earth underneath her feet, and Alex, as silent and soulful as the scorpion or the tortoise out there in the scorched sands, came to her as if they were offering water to their empress.

And yet, she had her hold over the two of them. She had her grip over them like the way that the heat had its grip over the entire Las Vegas metropolitan area.

Francine ran her fingers through her hair and sipped on her celery juice.

“I feel like I've seen god with Exodus,” she finally confessed.

“It helps that they're called 'Exodus', too,” Florence added as she gave her belly a massage. Across the street, a woman in a shabby low cut red dress and high heels strolled along the sidewalk: her stilettos shone bright under the golden streetlights around the block, such that Florence thought of knives under her feet. Her body was tight and her hair stood upon her head like a crown of curls, and she hoped that she could have her body as tight as ever like that once her baby was born. She thought about getting down with Eric, with high heels like that as well as a snug little black dress of velvet, just for one night, a night alone once the baby had fallen asleep.

“When did they stop nuclear testing up north?” Francine asked her, such that the sound of her voice caught Florence off guard.

“Long time ago. And... seeing the column of steam where that hooker is, I'm guessing the steam's not too far off.” Indeed, the two of them spotted a slight column of feathery white steam as it rose from the storm drain underneath the sidewalk: the woman strolled along as if nothing happened and she bowed into the red lights from the tail end of the Strip.

“Speaking of steam, I'd like to blow off some,” Francine confessed.

“Oh, really?” Florence cracked her a smile. “And how would you go about with that?”

“I... really cannot stop thinking about Alex,” she said with a shake of her head. “I just close my eyes and I see him. He's a really beautiful boy.”

“He really is,” Florence assured her. “He's fun to be with, too. Even though he's still really young, he's so intelligent and well read. He's like an encyclopedia of sorts. He makes being a brainiac really sexy.”

“I'm a little envious, actually,” Francine said.

“Why is that?”

“You got to be with him first. Got to see what he's like first hand.” Francine sipped on her juice some more, and then she leaned in closer to Florence. “What's he like?” she asked her in a loud enough voice to hear over the noise of the street.

“What's he like?”

“Yeah. Like... is he a beast? Is he a little lamb?”

“He's like... really tender and sweet. Very sensual, too. Very sensual. I remember him always wanting to put his hands on me and wanting to touch me. It can be a little much if you're not used to it. He's a little bit reserved, too, like I remember actively trying to coax him out of his shell a few times before. But, just assure him that he's safe and that he's in good hands and that you're both just here for a fine time, and he'll slowly but surely show himself to you. He really, really likes to be touched, like touch him in the right spot and he'll be like putty in your hands. I remember holding him close a few times and it was like snuggling with a little teddy bear.”

Francine peered back towards the airships, where the boys were already helping themselves to bottles of sarsaparilla and beer.

“Do you think they'll know?” she asked Florence in a hushed voice.

“Know what? And who, too?”

“Exodus. Do you think they'll know that I'm curious about Alex?”

“I wouldn't put too much stock into what they all think about you,” Florence advised her. “They're all wild and crazy boys, anyway, but especially Exodus. They probably won't notice unless you actually come right out and talk about it.”

Francine sighed through her nose and gazed on at the Strip before them. The glimmering golden lights shone a rich, deep glow on the blackness of night overhead; Florence thought about putting on another little show for them as they prepared to perform their sets for the next night. She thought about Death Angel and what they would do given their ship imploded. She also thought about whether or not the ships would hold up for the long trek up along the nuclear spine of Nevada up to Reno. She hoped that they would be able to go around that whole entire area north of the valley given she had no idea as to how the monitors and the sirens would fare up there.

“There's a part of me that wants to strip down and shake my boobs in front of them,” Florence then confessed out of the blue, to which Francine flashed her tongue at her.

“Really, Flo?”

“Yeah, really, Frankie! I've got these pregnant boobs, too. They won't know what'll hit them.” She then gestured for Francine to lean in closer to her again. “I should probably tell you that Alex is a leg man,” she confessed in a low voice.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I actually caught him... a couple of times, looking at my legs after Eric and I got together. Remember those little pedal pushers I used to have that Mom gave me?”

“I do, yeah. They were—dark blue?”

“They were as dark blue as dark blue could be, and they hugged my hips and my thighs. It was so cute, though: he'd look at me right in the face while we were talking and he'd take a glimpse down at my legs. He is so sneaky about it, too, like he'll make it look as though he's just thinking about what to say given how off the cuff he is. But I remember how he would ogle me from clear across the room. Every encyclopedia does have that one section that's not afraid to think about the nether regions, after all.”

Francine chuckled at that as she brought a hand up to her mouth. Florence then felt a hand on her shoulder, and she peered behind her to find Chuck with a big beaming smile on that handsome Native American face.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him.

“What's going on over here?” he asked them with a twinkle in his eye.

“We're just chatting,” she replied with a shrug. “Girl stuff.”

“Heh, girly stuff. I came over here 'cause I was wondering if the two of you wanted to help us pick out dinner for tonight and tomorrow.”

“I could help with that,” Francine volunteered.

“Why, 'cause I have weird cravings and whatnot?” Florence teased her, and Chuck snickered at that.

“Nah, I just wanna help out with that,” she said with a shrug and a straight face. “There is the possibility of triggering cravings, though.”

And the three of them laughed at that. Francine doubled back towards the parked airships to fetch one of the guys back there, which in turn left Florence alone with Chuck.

“How are you doing, by the way? I haven't been able to really see you lately.”

“I'm good,” she replied, and she immediately regretted saying that to him. She rested her hand on her belly, and he nodded his head at that.

“I heard,” he decreed. “Congrats to you and Eric.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile and a blush to her face.

“Boy or girl?”

“We don't know yet. We're hoping it's a girl so we can name her Nathalie.”

He patted her on the shoulder. “Good kids, both of you.”

“I have a question,” Florence began.

“Go ahead,” Chuck insisted.

“When we leave here in a couple of days, are we going to fly over Death Valley or Yucca Flat?”

Chuck shook his head. “I don't really know, to be honest,” he admitted to her. “It's all desert to me.”

“Well, I ask because of the radiation alarms that went off while we're were flying into the valley earlier,” she explained in a single breath. “Yucca Flat, Frenchman Flat, all of it about sixty miles due north of here, it's all a site of nuclear testing.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” He gaped at her. “I completely forgot about that.”

“Yeah, especially in my condition,” she noted with another caress of her belly.

“Yeah, I hope we can fly over Death Valley instead because... you know, that'd be awful for you. I'll go check really quick.” He gently patted her shoulder again before he jogged over to Testament's airship parked at the front of the pack. Out before Exodus' airship, Francine chatted with Zetro as well as Mark, the latter of whom showed her a sweet little smile: that smile that she was all too familiar with, given she saw that with Alex when they were together, and one that she saw with Eric whenever he was in the mood with her.

When she realized that she hadn't seen Alex and Eric in quite some time, she craned her neck for a better look at the small congregation before the airships. Nowhere did she see that little indicative plume of gray or that soft, smooth inky black hair in there, and nowhere did she see Chuck, either. It was as if those three men in particular had disappeared from that small crowd of boys with their stage hands and the assistants from the ships themselves.

Florence set a hand on her belly and she walked along the sidewalk with her eye on the ships. She rounded the corner by the street with the light of the Strip at her back and her eyes fixated on that little lot. Nowhere in the warm lights from the street or from the ships did she see those two men.

But she did recognize Alex's hearty laughter at the far end of the block, however. She turned her head to find his wiry silhouette under the light outside the front of a dark building.

A strip joint.

All smart boys had a dark side.

Curious, she took a glance over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching her. The hot desert wind made her hair twirl about at the side of her head while the distinctive smell of hot metal tickled her nose. She turned her head to see the column of steam there up the street at an angle, and she hoped that there wouldn't be another explosion with the shooting of superheated water to knock her over again.

“Come on, baby girl,” she aloud with her head bowed towards her belly. She ambled up to the crosswalk and pressed the button. Down the street, she caught the sight of lights low in the sky, and then she remembered that they were right near the airport. All she could hope for right then was that no one would notice that she had gone missing from the lot behind her until she fetched Alex and Eric.

The light turned green and she padded along the street to the other side. She nudged a lock of hair behind her ear once she reached the sidewalk, and it was right then she noticed more lights in the sky behind her.

Airplanes and airships, she figured as more wisps of steam wafted up from the storm drain next to her.

“I had no idea the steam had invaded Sin City,” she admitted aloud. Indeed, Florence scurried past a few bookstores there on the side of the street, one was a standard shop, the neighboring one dedicated to science, and the third one an adult shop. She stopped before the front window to the science bookstore, and she eyed the one on astronomy. It was a thick tome with a heavy black cover decorated with little silver stars around the corners, and she hoped that she would be able to carry it back with her to the airship when the time came. She had a hunch that Nathalie was going to grow up musical like Eric and scientific like her. The best of both worlds to remain fickle.

Florence dropped her gaze to the book on display before her: all about nuclear biology and chemistry. There were so many books that she hadn't read yet, and she hoped that Nathalie would have the innate curiosity within her to seek them out for herself.

She sighed through her nose and decided to return to the bookstore in the future: she made a mental note that it was the second one on the side of the street at the intersection of the main drag and the airport, just prior to entering the Strip. She continued on past the adult bookstore, whereby she hoped to pay a visit in there sometime once Nathalie had fallen asleep and Eric was in a mood of sorts; past a few nondescript buildings, followed by a shabby cafe that looked as though it hadn't had any service in several years, an empty lot, and then the dark building there at the end.

It was without question a strip joint.

She recognized that gray streak through the shaded glass of the front door. She opened the door and peered into the club, which smelled of pot, alcohol, and human flesh ready for the taking. She gazed on at the neon shaded stages and the accompanying poles: how she wished she had something like this back in Santa Barbara when she danced for those two boys. There was no one else in there except for her and the two of them over there on the other side of the room.

Though the darkness of the club acted as her protection, she still ducked down to ensure they wouldn't see her.

She recognized Alex's hearty laughter again, followed by Eric's soft voice as she came in closer to them. She heard a third male voice that she didn't recognize, however, and her heart skipped a few beats.

When she reached the middle of the stage, she raised her head up for a peek out at them there at that doorway. They had their backs to her but they were talking to a male stripper, who still had his robe on.

She swallowed and ducked down again. There was a nagging feeling inside of her as she closed her eyes and tried to think about Eric in her arms. She then thought about Alex in her arms.

Those two men, like putty in her palm, now stood at the other side of the room with a stripper. But then she heard silence after that.

She opened her eyes and peeked back over the edge of the stage to find that they had gone into the next room with him: she spotted the swinging salon doors in their wake. Her heart raced in her chest as she made her way over there on the pads of her feet.

She pushed open the doors, only to find the two of them laying there on a California king bed with their pants down and their hands tied behind their backs in preparation of a threesome with a male dancer. She gasped at them, especially since the room was warmly lit with a series of candles on the far side there rather than that disorienting neon from the stages behind her.

“Oh, my god!” Alex shouted right then.

“Oh, my god!” she echoed him, and Eric shook his bound hands at her.

“It's not what it looks like,” he sputtered. “Promise! It's not what it looks like!” Florence shook her head and staggered back away from him. She could feel the tears rushing in all the while. She bolted out from there and back towards the front door.

Tears fell as she burst out of there and into the warm night, where she was met with even more lights in the sky, as if they were experiencing an invasion.

“Florence!” Eric shouted after her.

“Florence!” Alex echoed him.

She didn't stop, especially once she reached the crosswalk again and pressed the button a number of times.

“Florence!” Eric called after her as he jogged up to her. “Florence, wait!”

“No! No! No!” she shrieked. She shuddered as she struggled to breathe. Alex stumbled up behind him with his pants still undone, and that was all it took for her. This was what Eric hid from her.

“You guys are—are—” She could hardly talk. Eric swallowed: through the dim light and her own tears, she could see the same in his own.

“After you saved me from the steam column,” she wept. “After I believed that you were with a woman—after everything—every last little goddamn thing—after the fact that I am carrying your baby, Eric—you do this. You do this! And to me! You do this TO ME!” She cradled her face in her hands and bawled. She didn't want to hear about it as she turned away from him and towards the curb. The bookstores were closing for the night but that was least of her problems.

“Holy shit, look!” Alex declared, and she knew he was referring to the lights in the sky.

“What's going on?” Eric asked him.

“I don't know! It looks like we're getting captured by the star fleet.”

But the lights in the sky made no difference to her whatsoever. She sat down there on the edge of the curb with her face buried in her hands, and she hoped that the ships would fly over Death Valley instead so she could lay down let the heat overtake her.

#flowers for alexander #flowers for alexander fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 23 #testament #testament band #testament fanfic #alex skolnick #eric peterson #chuck billy #oc tag #also on ao3 #writing #text

[miss-celestial-being]

𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗

➾ 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖔:

name — bee (moots can call me belle)

age — 15 (surprising, right?)

pronouns — she/they (tho you can call me whatever you like)

sexual orientation — i..... idfk anymore

country — america

time zone — pacific standard time (pst california)

➾ 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊:

white, natural wavy/curly brunette (tho i dye my hair every now and then)

aesthetic is all over the place but i tend to stick with boxy graphic/band tees or really big sweatshirts, mostly muted colors with a small pop of bright color

plus sized, tall, faint freckles and moles, lots of acne bc ✨teenager✨, a bunch of stretch marks and cellulite

➾ 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞:

hogwarts house — slytherin (tho i got ravenclaw once)

three big signs — gemini sun, sagittarius moon, libra rising

personality type — istp-t

➾ 𝖒𝖞 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌:

i dont have any separate blog for shitposts and rants or interaction with friends so expect that all here. i like to think i'm a pretty friendly person (at least online) so feel free to talk to me anytime!

i write for many fandoms, including, harry potter, stranger things, the 100, and bridgerton. expect more to be added as i get invested in more and more shows and movies.

original ideas are hard, i get that completely. and sometimes you don't remember exactly where you got the idea from, which is completely fine. i do not expect any credit to be given if i inspire your writing, that's just part of the process. as long as you're not blatantly stealing anything, we don't have any problems.

if you would like to translate my work or post it somewhere else, please message me. i'm pretty chill so don't feel threatened or anything. if you find my work good or interesting and would like it to reach others, just make sure to get my WRITTEN permission and CREDIT ME!! if you don't, you will be reported and blocked. i may be chill but i DO NOT tolerate plagiarism, it is ILLEGAL!!

if you have any complaints or concerns, please feel free to message me or send me an ask as long as you're not rude about it. i'm always looking for ways i can improve, whether that be in my writing or as a person. i love getting feedback, it really helps me learn and grow

i will never be one of those blogs that block people if they spam like bc i understand that there are blogs that don't wanna have any posts on their blog or they're ashamed they're reading fanfiction or it just doesn't match what they talk about on their blog. and i do appreciate likes because it shows me what y'all like and if i should continue making something or writing about a certain character. i also appreciate the few reblogs i do get because it really helps with the algorithm, so thank you <3

➾ 𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒/𝖋𝖚𝖓 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖘:

i hate the feeling of velvet and felt, i feel physically sick when touching it. its basically like nails on a chalkboard.

i have a cat named oreo, who i am convinced is a velociraptor in disguise (velociraptors can open doors, that's why). She likes to open my door with her mind powers and/or knock on it and scream at me till i open it.

i love frogs and rats so so much, i really want them as pets (which is kinda hard with a cat so im probably gonna get them when i move out).

i have an "irrational" fear of spiders. every time i see one i either scream for someone to kill it, hyperventilate, or cry. my mom gets pissed at me for asking her to kill them

i've been biting my nails since before i even had a developed memory. my therapist thinks its from past anxiety that's become a habit.

i have a depression and anxiety, i also have a hard time paying attention and tend to fidget with things (usually cracking my knuckles)

i have issues with confrontation, most likely caused by ptsd (according to my therapist). i usually cry when someone yells at me or looks like they're gonna hit me (unless i started the fight and it's with someone that's either younger than me or shorter than me)

i have a tendency to focus on my insecurities for too long and begin to think i'm unloveable, which is no one's fault, i'm just a dumbass.

i love every single one of you to the moon and back, nothing will change my mind.

#this literally took me an hour 😭😭 #for nav #for navigation #about me #abt me #pls ignore

[returntosaturn271995]

September 30th: 5 K (the prequel)

Rainy days have a folksy ambiance to them in beach towns. The sky is a bright grey with slivers of white gold sun bouncing off the ocean.

They also happen to be my favorite days to run as I hit a completely doable 5 K today, exactly a week before the race. I cried staring into the ocean that was so hauntingly beautiful it looked like the setting of a lesbian period piece. You know, if there weren't so many stoner surfers bobbing around with their stupid waterproof watches.

Two days ago I was only able to get to 2.6 miles, with stops, due to my shin splints. I was worried I wouldn't even be able to run next week and have to admit that I couldn't hit a pretty reasonable goal.

Today I went non-stop at a faster pace.

I promised myself it would be an easy run, and on my body it was. My head wouldn't shut up. That's what I'm working with and against.

Holy hell if that hasn't been a metaphor for everything lately.

I thought I was going too slow at multiple points, sure that I was going at a 12-minute pace when I was actually going 9. Going 9 felt really slow. It still required effort and conscious relaxation. It required fortitude, love, and a sense of humor.

It did not, nor will it ever, require "PUSH PUSH, GRIND YOU LITTLE BITCH, KEEP GOING, KEEP GRINDING".

I do not grind. I flow. Too much screaming and I want to sit poutily and light a cigarette (and I don't even smoke).

Instead, a voice that didn't belong to a mean P.E. coach (or let's be real, my dad), pulled me forward instead of pushing. "You can absolutely do this, just keep breathing and moving through it. Relax your shoulders, breathe into your stomach, you can jog, just keep going. If you go slow, that just means you ran for longer."

Is 3.1 miles in 25-30 minutes a big deal? No. But it's a huge fucking deal to me. My royal blue "Pacific Beach 5 K and half marathon" tank top and placard came in the mail and they're mine. I'm just a regular running chick. That's exciting.

I also hit 39.1 (because the .1 counts more than you'll ever know) miles this month. 63 K. Over 6 hours of running. I'm going to be proud of that. I have to let myself be proud of that or what's the point?

At 23, I would have taken a knock and cried in bed, hurting and hating myself. At 28, I stretch and exercise before crying and then pay for my own Outback Steakhouse LIKE A WOMAN.

My mind keeps circling back to my therapy challenge for this month. Why do I feel like a certain level of self-compassion is self-delusion? 23-year-old me deserved to be held and told she could handle things in smaller steps, and that it's human to feel overwhelmed and unworthy. She needed the voice to pull her forward into little tasks and goals instead of the scary coach making everything into a race that felt impossible to win.

Standing under the gorgeous pier with actual tears in my eyes, I saw a family of four, two little girls, taking photos. Passing the condos I saw a truly iconic MILF in her late 40s sipping red wine with a tasteful taupe poncho off a tanned shoulder, sitting at a marble table with long nails and blown-out hair.

The showers where I normally wash the sand off my toes were broken so I held my Asics in my right hand and walked bare-foot and red-faced up the pier. Were men staring at my abs or judging me for being barefoot? What's delulu and what's trulu? (If you're reading this in the future that's a super trendy joke FYI. I am a woman of the times.)

Either way, fuck 'em.

Then it started raining. It cleaned off my feet and ruined an already pretty-fucked up ponytail. I didn't care. It was warm rain, the kind that sprinkles you with kisses and hides the occasional tear.

I felt like I had done something right. And often oh god I feel so wrong.

Of course that was therapy question number 2.

Who would you be if you didn't believe something was wrong with you?

[snowbabys]

Gardening Club ⋆ part 1

(Disclaimer: i do not condone this behavior, nor think the idol acts like this in any way. this is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.)

Series masterlist

Pairing: yandere!yang jungwon x gender neutral!reader (ft. niki, jay and heeseung)

TW/Trigger warning: mentions of food and eating.

Warning/notes: everyone's the same age for plot sake, there's one swear word, Injang is here too (but as a succulent), small mention of R.A.S (if you get it, you get it).

Author's note: good day everyone! so here it is, our first part :) the yandere thingy isn't shown (yet) cause this part is to present to you the morons who will be accompanying you/reader. ngl i'm a bit insecure with this since it turned out bigger than my usual works, but yeah, hope you guys like it! as i mentioned before, taglist is always open, send in an ask to be added :) thanks for reading, see you in part 2 ♡

Word count: 1,735

“So what we’re thinking?” Niki analyzed the list of clubs your school had hanging on one of many murals around the corridors. While other students were already going to their chosen clubs, you both tried to make your minds up, considering the options available. Your first thought was the music club, but many arrogant popular kids had this same interest, so it seemed torturous to be in a room with them after the regular classes for the whole year. You then suggested Niki the acting club, but seeing the list of names of the participants made you both shudder (some bullies in there, a big no).

“Gardening club?” he asks you, pointing to the list of members. The club didn’t seem that popular, so it looked like a safe option, plus, the names on it indicated pretty chill and pacific people, most of those you knew as quiet nerds. “Jay recently joined it, he said it’s peaceful there.”

“We should give it a try” you respond while looking for the room number of the gardening club.

Following your friend to the end of the hallway, you shrink inside while squeezing your backpack strap. The need of joining a club made you feel insecure, both you and Niki weren’t that sociable when it came to school colleagues, being nobodys pretty much your whole school life, occasionally avoiding the bullies or popular kids to stay out of drama.

“4B, gardening…” Niki checks the name of the club on a paper glued to the room’s door, making sure you were entering the right place. Seeing your nervous state, he holds one of your hands in his, sending a reassuring smile your way, which you tried to reciprocate. “Don’t worry, we’re together on this. If anything, we run to the baking club.” He points to the 5B room, right across 4B, which, as you turn your head to, some student wearing an apron over the school’s uniform comes out with freshly baked cookies on a plate, immediately looking to you both and offering some of the warm sweet.

The student was none other than Lee Heeseung, one semi-popular kid, part of Jay’s list of friends and classmates, who has a nervous expression.

“Mind being research subjects?” You giggle at that, moving to carefully pick a cookie that seemed delicious with a lot more chocolate drops than the others. Niki also got one for himself, but it was gone in a mere second. He munches while reaching for another one, and you slap his hand.

“Have you even savored it?” He tried to respond with his mouth full of the first cookie but coughed in the process, Heeseung may have laughed at that. “That’s so gross, Niki.”

You finally try your cookie, the taste doesn’t disappoint and you make sure to express that to the sweating and expectant guy holding the plate.

“It’s heavenly,” a small smirk to accompany the compliment.

“Thank you.” He smiles warmly at you before going to knock on the gardening club door. What seems to be the coordinator of the club opens it, and when Heeseung is allowed in, you and Niki follow suit, making good use of the attention the students inside are giving Heeseung and the cookies.

The coordinator of the club, you’re now sure about her position thanks to her badge, goes to you, giving forms to fill in. Niki tried to avoid messing the paper with his dirty chocolate fingers but resorted to you to write his info. He did not care one bit about you calling his attention when he distanced himself to get another cookie. You could just roll your eyes and mumble to yourself, all while the coordinator left a ‘kids’ and went to friendly kick Heeseung out, not before receiving a ton of complaints from hungry and in need of sugar students.

After giving the forms back, you see small groups of friends gathered around the room, and do not lose time, hesitantly getting close to Niki who talks to Jay, the only person you both know in the club. You slowly pop up beside your friend, so Jay could, hopefully silently, notice you there. Which he did, but not as you expected.

“... and then he… Oh, hey there, y/n! How are you?” Jay’s voice got louder, drawing a group of boys’ attention. Two of them roll their eyes and keep talking, the last one gets close to your group, beside Jay and across you. You could swear he was familiar, but couldn’t really put your finger on it. “Finally you guys came, I was starting to grow tired of Jungwon.” Jay put his arms around that new guy you suppose is Jungwon. Yeah, he was familiar, you heard of him from Niki many times, them being neighbors.

“Ah, thank you very much,” the Jungwon guy softly punches Jay’s chest, the latest giving an eye smile in return. “Don’t ask for my help when the next project comes.” Jay tries to debate, but Niki interrupts when he opens his mouth.

“Why did you join?” You were about to ask the same question. Not that you were close with Jay, not at all, he was just one of Niki’s friends that you talked to every once in a while, but your curiosity made you consider the small talk.

“Well…” Jay hugs Jungwon tighter, now locking his eyes with the other boy. “Wonie coaxed me to. I was in the baking club with Heeseung, but Jungwon told me he was feeling lonely here.”

During Jay’s explanation, Jungwon’s eyes fell on you, curiosity written all over his face. You keep eye contact, a curious trance taking over you. You never talked to him, only ever seeing him when he and Niki walked together to school and you were waiting for your friend at the gates. It only now got to you that you never bothered to say ‘hi’. Maybe because he never really paid attention to you, and vice versa, or because he was in a different classroom, so he didn’t see the point of interacting. And you wouldn’t blame him for that.

“Wouldn’t Heeseung be lonely, then?” Niki’s voice came in through your thoughts, stealing your attention away from Jungwon’s form and back into Jay.

“Nah, he got his girlfriend there.”

Whilst the talkative boys discussed if Heeseung’s girlfriend was a distraction or actually a motivation at the club, you went to Jungwon’s side, giving him a shy smile and a wave.

“Hey, I’m y/n.” His eyes study you, up and down, expression blank when he hums. Not sparing you another glance, the boy gets free from Jay’s embrace and goes to the windows, where you notice most small succulents are. He carefully looks at them, moments later softly touching and studying their forms.

Uhm, okay, you think while turning to Niki, seeing his initial discussion with Jay is over. They’re now talking about the differences between vanilla and chocolate cakes.

“No, but chocolate ice cream icing is superior, you won’t change my mind.” Jay crosses his arms, meanwhile, Niki shooks his head, clearly unsettled.

“Does that shit even exist?”

“Okay guys, focus on me.” The coordinator speaks in a loud tone calling everyone’s attention. And like that, start your first day at the gardening club.

Students were asked to freely form groups, and, of course, Niki grabbed your hand first, then ran to Jay who was already stealing Jungwon from the group he was before. Was created, then, the group Jay called “R.A.S”. You were supposed to work together for the week, choose one of the club’s plants, and take care of it. When the time to get the plant came, everyone in the group looked at Jungwon, the one obviously familiar with the diverse species. He asked if anyone had any preference to work with, soon accepting that none of you were actual enthusiasts of plants.

“Succulent it is,” he says while reaching for one of the small plants he was examining before. “It’s easier to take care, least likely to get killed by you.”

“I’m not that bad of a father myself,” Jay contests. The silence that comes with his affirmation, plus everyone eyeing each other except for Jay, makes him sigh. “Okay, maybe not with flowers…”

“Definitely not with flowers,” Jungwon adds, you and Niki exchange glances.

“It was not my fault!” Jay raises his pointer finger.

“What we’re talking about?” You interrupt their soon-to-be discussion.

“There was this one time…” Jay started to explain but got cut short by Jungwon.

“Nothing. Let’s plan how we’re taking care of Injang.” You resist the need to put your hand on your chest and pretend to be offended.

“Oh, it has a name!” Niki exclaims, his right hand gripping your forearm with excitement. You notice Jungwon shortly staring at Niki’s hand, it doesn’t last long as Jay tries to steal Injang from his hold.

“So Jungwon takes care of it on Monday and Friday, me on Tuesday, Niki gets Wednesday and Saturday, and y/n can have Thursday and Sunday. How does that sound?”

“It’s a bit unfair, but I’m happy Injang won’t have more than one day with you.” Jungwon rapidly retorts.

“I’m happy both parties agree on this.” Jay’s eye smile is his answer once again.

Jungwon starts explaining how to take care of the succulent to you and Niki, all while Jay tries to touch Injang without being slapped by the one holding it. You loved the way Niki squealed and made soundless claps with every new information learned, a smile on your face during the whole time.

When it was time to gather your things, Jay quickly informs that he would be staying longer. He leaves you all after you cross the exit, and walks in the opposite direction, not before yelling a ‘bye-bye’. At the school’s gates, Niki pokes your forehead and grins.

“Careful on the way back,” he waves at you to receive a smile in return, then looks at Jungwon, who is a few steps behind the two of you.

“It was nice meeting you, Jungwon,” you reach your hand out for him to shake. His head perks up, and as he did before in the club, he just hums to you and walks beside Niki, their distance from you growing quickly while you’re confused with his behavior towards you. Did I do anything to him? is all you think.

part 1 | part 2

#enhypen yandere #yang jungwon #yandere jungwon #yandere enha #yandere au #enhypen series #yandere enhypen series #jungwon x reader #yandere!jungwon x reader #enhypen au #enhypen yandere au #enhypen scenarios #niki #nishimura riki #jay #park jay #park jongseong #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen

[jademakean]

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

𝑷𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔.

｡･:*:･ﾟ

  Drizzles of water began coating your body as you rushed to your best friend's porch, hurriedly knocking on the wooden door.

The extra holiday break from school allowed you to spend more time with Pauline, meaning: chaotic sleepovers

“Hello?”

You looked up meeting a pair of green eyes you hadn't seen in a long while. “Timothée?”

Once the slender figure came to the realization of who was waiting at his front step, his mouth went agape mirroring yours.

You both had been close since you were little. You became friends with Pauline in middle school and met Timothée through her. From then on you were a trio and would do everything together, but that all changed.

Him, being three years older than you meant that he'd go to college first and in the end, there would simply not be any time for you both to be together. You did try to hang out once every two weeks but his college was way too far and he needed to spend his time focussing on his studies. It ended in a bad note, with many hurtful words shared.

Before you knew it, Timothée had you in bone-crushing embrace  “I haven't seen you in months, more than a year maybe! God, I missed you.”

“Why didn't you tell me you came back?” you couldn't hide the slight disappointment of him not thinking about letting you know. “I wanted to but I switched phone numbers and my sister wanted me to surprise you instead. I just didn't know I was going to see you this soon.”

Though you both shared your relief in seeing each, there was some strange tension in the air.

“I gotta visit my aunt right now but we should celebrate tomorrow or something.” He suggested, breaking the silence.

“Yeah totally. I'm sleeping over anyways so we'll probably see each other after dinner. Just be careful, the weather seems to be getting worse.”

“Oh yeah of course. If you need some clothes you can get some from my room, they're in a box on my bed. I know that Pauline's clothes are too small for any human being to wear.”

You giggled at his over-exaggeration nodding “Thanks. Stay safe.”

Once the door shut you felt your mood change. It's not like you weren't happy to see him, you were, but not being able to have the same connection you once had made your heartache.

“DJ Paulina in the house mother fuckers!”

You jumped at your best friend's sudden outburst but laughed nevertheless.

“Holy shit, you're wetter than the pacific ocean!”

You roller your eyes “Really? Damn, I wonder why. It's alright though, Timothée allowed me to borrow one of his shirts.”

“Wait you already saw Timothée?”

“Yeah, he just left.”

Paulina grimaced slightly knowing how hard it might've been for two introverts to reunite after a long period of time, let alone after they had a fight last time they were together. She quickly changed the subject not wanting to upset you.

That didn't mean she wouldn't plan on rebuilding your bond.

۵

The snaps of thunder kept you awake and the heavy drops of rain overtook your mind.

As the time pasted you began wondering what would happen if there was a monster under your bed, if a ghost yanked you by your leg, or if the shadow of the hanging coat was actually a person.

Full-on scaring yourself.

And Pauline's sleep talking was not helping the situation.

Both of you spent the day baking, eating and watching movies. Though it's not how most teenagers take up the opportunity of an empty house, it was more than enough for you two.

What was irritating you at this precise moment was the fact that you were exhausted during the day and still are, except you, can't bring yourself to actually fall asleep.

Creaking sounds were heard throughout the room as your feet made contact with the wooden floor.

You grumbled making your way to the kitchen for a cup of fresh cold water.

The bright electronic clock on the stove displayed the time. 2:23 A.M.

You were so dazed and distracted by the clock that before you could fill your glass with water, the cup fell on the counter.

You felt your heart stop the second the loud sound emitted throughout the quiet space, fearing you'd break your best friend's parent's glass. But once you realized that everything was still stable, you proceeded to finish your plan.

“What are you doing still awake?”

Your body jumped at those words. You turned to see Timothée with hooded eyes and slumped figure, clearly more than half asleep.

“Sorry, I'm a light sleeper and the thunder was keeping me awake.”

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

He smiled softly with a droopy gaze

Not gonna lie, initially some inappropriate thoughts crossed your mind, but vanished once you remembered how every time you had trouble falling asleep, you'd get in his bed and he'd make conversation until you fell asleep.

“Sure.”

Timothée was probably too out of it to understand why it had taken you so look to answer, which you were grateful for.

He lazily intertwined your fingers and led you to his room.

It looked the same as before, maybe some items we're missing so he'd be able to decorate his new apartment, but other than that, still the same.

You hesitantly laid down turning your body away from the curly-headed boy. You felt yourself heating up as last time you shared a bed you were a quite innocent 15-year-old, and to be fair you've always seen him as a bother figure.

But two years have passed and he was now 20, it felt like being with a stranger even though he wasn't.

“You alright?”

He mumbled quietly

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” You chewed your lip anxiously. You've never been good at confronting people.

“Is there a reason why you got mad at me when you left. All I remember was you telling me how we couldn't be friends because of all the work you had and how you couldn't handle too many things at the same time. But in the end, you suddenly got mad at me and it ended in a huge fight.”

You could tell that Timothée was now fully awake, definitely not expecting you to mention the topic at this time of night.

“Well, in all honestly I knew you wouldn't want to give up on our friendship. I've always seen you as a loyal strong friend and I didn't want to disappoint you by continuously bailing out on our plans.”

Thought his solution was a stupid one, you understood what he meant. You would most definitely get let down many times and eventually get mad at him, even if it wasn't fully his fault.

“I understand. Just-- Just don't do that again. I'd rather have a relationship with you even if we rarely saw each other, instead of not seeing you at all. I miss being with you.”

Timothée's heavy arm hugged you closer to him. So close you could feel his gentle heartbeat against your back.

“I'm not as much of a mess I was back in the first year of college. I have more spare time, even if college is too far we can face time and meet once a month.”

It was nice to witness his change in attitude regarding the situation, he's now more open-minded and optimistic.

“Is that why you seemed so tense when you saw me today?”

You suddenly felt yourself redden from slight embarrassment “I mean yeah. I kinda overreact a lot, but you know that. I didn't even recognize you, you've changed and I didn't know how to feel.”

You felt chest shake from a deep chuckle as you played with his fingers “Is that a good thing?”

He was making you flustered and he knew it.

“I mean, yeah. You look mature for a 20-year-old. When you were 18 you still had your baby face- it's not a bad thing at all, but now you, um, okay I'm just going to stop talking.”

Once again, Timothée's body shook slightly from his laughter which eventually died down.

There was silence once again, the downpour was hitting the window aggressively but managed to make you feel calm. The heat that radiated from the man's body was wrapping you in a warm blanket, his cold breath tickling your neck.

“How do you see me?

The silence was halted by your simple question “What do you mean?” his raspy voice asked, not understanding the question very well.

“Before you said that you saw me as a loyal friend. How do you see me now?”

Timothée turned your body to face him “Well, you've changed as well. You don't look like a little kid anymore.”

You hummed in response staring into his eyes. The moonlight was shining through the window behind Timothée, illuminating his hair, making it look as though he was wearing a halo around his head.

“Has anything interesting happened while I was gone? House renovations, dead grandma, boyfriends..?”

You had to cover your mouth from bursting out laughing “How the hell do you go from dead grandma to boyfriends?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders waiting for an answer “I had a boyfriend for a little while but it didn't work out.”

Timothée nodded for you to keep going

“He treated me differently when we were around his friends, kinda like he didn't want me. We would get into a lot of arguments and I just wasn't happy. So I ended it.”

He took your hand caressing it carefully with his thumb. You knew he was trying to make you feel better though you weren't actually sad about the breakup. You decided not to say anything against it since his action-filled your heart with butterflies.

“He's an asshole for doing that.”

“Yeah well, most of them are.”

There was a small pause in the air before Timothée spoke up again

“I wouldn't do that to you.”

You were taken aback from his sudden confession. You expected him to joke around about some dumb stereotypes.

“If you were my boyfriend, or just in general?” you asked genuinely curious to which he answered:

“Both.”

You being the anxious human being you are, decided to play it off as a joke. Like always.

“Yeah right, you would never date me, you might as well be one of those extra frat boys that-”

“Why would you assume I wouldn't date you.”

You were becoming more and more agitated, not fully grasping the meaning of his words, and why he was now saying it.

“I've always adored you. The reason why I never said anything is because I'm three years older than you and didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why are you saying this now?” You shuttered out as he moved closer to your body.

“I didn't realize how much I loved you until we separated. Now I'm realizing how much time I wasted.”

Timothée began breathing heavily, his eyes focusing on the different features your face held.

“Would you date me now?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. “Even if we wouldn't see each other often?”

He nodded once again, this time speaking “I haven't seen you in two years and I still have feelings for you, they won't go away even if I tried.”

Timothée let his fingers gently brush against your lips studying them thoroughly making your mind hazy.

You were so focussed on each other that the background noise was now muffled.

Your mouths were agape wanting one thing and one thing only.

“Can I kiss you?”

He whispered breathlessly. If he wasn't studying you so closely he would have missed your little nod.

But he didn't miss it.

The second the small gesture was caught, was the second his lips made contact with yours.

The kiss was heated and desperate, your eyebrows furrowed hopelessly from the connection. Tongues soon intertwining as Timothée held himself on top of you for better control of the situation. Not giving you room to escape.

You sighed through your nose not being able to break from the kiss, not wanting to break from the kiss.

His front pressed flush against yours, allowing his hands to travel all over your body with no hesitation.

You mumbled Timothée's name against his lips before you broke apart. “Did I go too far?”

You smiled at his worried state “No, I loved every second of it.”

He copied your smile resting his forehead on yours “Sorry, I could help myself.”

He laid on his back before you cuddled to his side, leg wrapped with his and head resting on his shoulder.

Timothée observed your crimson cheeks and swollen lips. He wanted to tease you about it but he knew damn well that he looked the exact same.

Sleep eventually took over you. The soothing sound of the storm was the last thing you heard, and the motion of Timothée's chest calmly rising and falling was the last thing you felt.

#timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee angst #timothee fluff #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet

[tessiete]

hi ive read like all your stuff about korkie is a kenobi in the span of about three days and i'm so EMOTIONAL?? it makes such narrative sense - star wars is a story about fathers and sons and what happens when mothers are lost and in eternal spring, when obi wan doesn't reject korkie, and korkie doesn't reject obi wan, and they love each other and accept each other despite the gaping hole that satine left in their relationship it like heals and breaks that cycle of little blonde boys being 1/

of little blonde boys being left in the desert without their mothers and with father figures who don't quite accept the responsibility of being a father to all of their detriments! it lets padme live, and it lets luke escape, and it lets everyone who wants to heal and work towards a better future. anyway, this is some Good Fucking Food and thank u for writing it. if you're still open to prompts i would really like to see some kryze-kenobi family bonding. just the three of them happy and together 

AH! This has been sitting so beautifully, and lovingly in my inbox for ages now, and I do apologise, but I just - I saw fluff and I panicked. I PANICKED!!!

And, as you can probably see, wrote reams of whump and h/c instead. But I tried.

Anyway, there is so much I want to say about this - I’m going to have to bookmark this whole thing just so I can come back again and again to your generous words. Thank you! I do have such a fondness for Eternal Spring, and whether or not it began as a joke, I am SO attached to the idea of Korkie as a Kenobi, the idea that blood isn’t always bad, that healing can happen, that good people make mistakes, that forgiveness IS an option - and I love how that aligns with the Pacifism of Satine’s New Mandalorians. I wish we had more of it (that insistent, unrelenting kindness and compassion) in SW, and Korkie is my little effort at that.

RANTING ASIDE, I hope you find and enjoy this little bit of fluff for the Kenobi-Kryzes. MUCH LOVE.

AND BY THE HAND LED

It was not Life Day. It was not Holyrod week, and Belli’s birthday had been a full ten month ago. Yet still, on this day, Kirokicek Kryze woke with the sun, and raced to his window where he could see the Sundari dockyard in the distance. 

Personal shuttles buzzed to and fro. Docking tugs hauled heavy freighters into place. Long, thin vactrains hurtled passengers from one platform to the next, or further on into the heart of the city. A few large ferries which had found mooring overnight made their ponderous voyage upwards, headed for the small opening at the apex of the Sundari dome. They were bound for transports anchored in wet space, the people aboard away for deep space travel to distant stars. 

Korkie watched as one neared the aperture, then, with incredible steadiness of hand, cleared the narrow gap with ease. He let go his breath, but his eyes remained fixed upon the opening. He was not much concerned with the ships that left, but instead found great interest in those ferries which were currently arriving.

They took turns - one in, one out - and with every exchange, Korkie felt as though the city was making room for a very special guest. One who loomed larger than life in his young consciousness, and one who occupied more and more space in his heart the closer he came.

Bebu was coming home.

A knock at his door was not enough to tear his attention from the spectacle outside, but he shuffled over to make room for his mother beside him at the window.

“Good morning, cyar'ika,” she said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “And what has got you up so early?”

She still wore her nightclothes beneath a fine gown of pressed velvet. Korkie leaned back into her embrace, stroking the soft fabric, and letting the warm, sweet smell of sleep wash over him.

“I’m watching the dockyards,” he said. “Look! Do you think that one of them has Bebu on it?”

Satine let her chin rest on the crown of his head, and followed his gaze to the sky.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Are you excited for your Bebu to come home?”

Korkie turned, trying to get a glimpse of her expression which could only be as teasing as his own was incredulous. She smiled.

“Excited, Belli?” he asked. “I am so, so, superlatively excited!”

“My,” she said, her face transforming to one of awe. “That is quite a superlative word you have discovered. Is it new?”

Korkie nodded. “I am saving it for Bebu, for our collection. Do you think he shall like it?”

“I think he shall be quite impressed, dinui.”

“I have another, but I always say it wrong, so I think I shall write it down, instead.”

“That is very wise,” she said. “For then there is no chance of misunderstanding, and then your father can teach you to speak it correctly.”

Korkie grinned, and squeezed her hand, so glad to be in such perfect accord. 

“That was exactly my plan, Belli!”

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast,” she said, laughing. “Now come.”

“Are we going to the docks?”

“Not yet,” she said. “First meal first, I think, and then we shall see.”

She stood from her place behind Korkie, and smoothed her skirts. The early morning sun fell kindly over her face, so that it lit her eyes from behind, like the facet of some bright gem. She held out her hand to him.

“But Belli -!”

“Is that fussing I hear coming out of your mouth?” she asked, the perfect image of confusion.

“No,” he conceded, hanging his head in defeat.

“I thought not,” she said. “Not my Korkie. Besides, we must first ensure that we are properly fed, and tidied before we appear at the docks. We cannot have our tummies grumbling and complaining while we are at the height of a superlative joy, now can we?”

“That would be rather distracting,” he allowed.

“And what would your father think if you showed up all bleary eyed, and sleep tousled? He’d hardly recognise you!”

“That’s not true,” protested Korkie. “He’d think me a ‘devoted legislator’. He said so last time.”

Satine cocked her head, a smirk curling in the corner of her mouth, and pinned just there, until such a time as she could give it to the owner of those borrowed words. 

“Well, cyare, I cannot think he meant it as a compliment,” she said, wiggling her fingers temptingly. “Now come - to firsts.

In the kitchens, his mother suggested they arrange a menu, scrounged from the conservator and pantry, while the staff set about preparing for the rest of their day.

“No need to bother anyone too much when it’s just us, right?” She placed a stool in front of an out of the way countertop, and held his hand while Korkie made a great leap to stand atop it. “Now, what are we hungry for?”

“Isbeans, and egg!” he cried. “With fresh muja juice!”

“Muja juice!” she echoed in surprise. “My, but we’re feeling quite indulgent today!”

“Well, it is a special occasion!” he said.

“Of course, you’re right. Muja juice it is. Anything else, ad’ika?”

He thought for a moment, but knowing how easily she had acceded to his first request, he concluded it most reasonable to forward several more.

“Perhaps some toast,” he said. “And flatcakes. And melon squares with black fire jelly? And then some moof milk and summerberries because they’ll go bad if we don’t eat them. With sucre crystals on the top. And maybe - only because Bebu says it’s healthy - a cup of kava. But just one, or I’ll be up all night.”

She crouched down to meet him, mischief sparkling in her eyes and not a word of protest at his requests. Instead, her tone was conspiratorial, as though they were together in some great game of hide and hunt. 

“Let’s brew a whole pot,” she said. “So that we may share it.”

He laughed in delight. Satine pulled down a tin of weava flour, and let him sprinkle the surface while she portioned out another measure into a shallow bowl for flatcakes. Under her careful eye, he cracked a tip-yip egg, and tipped in some sucre. She worked the mixture into a sticky dough, and portioned out small spheres for Korkie to press out upon the counter. Cook A’den looked on skeptically, but when his stack of raw discs began to pile up, she stepped in with a sigh, and a fond smile and lifted him on her hip while she fried them over a nano-cooker. 

As he worked, Satine gathered the berries and the milk, and a little pot of sucre. Helping hands piled plates high with toast, and ulik butter. Isbeans and hard boiled eggs followed, kept warm beneath heated domes. A whole pitcher of ice cold muja juice was produced from the conservator, and a fresh pot of kava was left to steep with wide, green leaves still in it. There was so much food that, in the end, a small cart was required to bear the fruits of their labours, while Korkie added the final touch of perfectly browned flatcakes.

Normally, they would eat their firsts in the family dining hall, but Satine insisted that she could not possibly do so while still dressed in her nightclothes.

“And scandalise the whole parliament? I think not, my very shocking dinui. No, it’s best we take everything back to my rooms, and eat there where no one will think us as uncivilised as we appear.”

So with many thanks to A’den, and her workers, Korkie followed his mother down the glistening marbloid halls with their wide windows. The sun was nearly all the way up, and the traffic in the sky had only increased since Korkie last looked. He was hit with the sudden realisation that perhaps many ferries had come and gone in his absence, and any one of them might contain his father. He raced to the window to check.

“Come along, Korkie,” said Satine. “Soon. I promise.”

Torn between food and the possibility that his father was waiting for him even now, Korkie gave into the demands of his hunger, and followed his mother down the hall.

They stopped outside her door, the cart pushed just off to the side. Satine looked at him appraisingly, smoothing one hand over his determinedly erstwhile hair.

“Oh dear,” she said, straightening his synfleece robe, as he reached for the cart to steal a summerberry from the pile. “You do look a sight. But I suppose it cannot be helped.”

She gave him a fond caress, her thumb tracing the swell of his little cheek with such reverence, and care that Korkie nearly felt guilty for snatching the fruit. But she smiled as he swallowed, and he supposed it must just have been one of those strange things buirs did from time to time, where they mixed up joy and sorrow and said nothing about it.

“I shall comb my hair later, Belli,” he offered. That seemed to do the trick, for she laughed, and stood, and gave his hand a brief squeeze.

“I will remember you said that,” she said. “Now, be a good boy and get the door for your Belli, would you?”

She returned to the cart, as he wiped his hands down the length of his robe, and reached for the palmpad. The door chimed, and slid aside with the barest sigh of air. Inside, Korkie could see that the curtains had been pulled back, and the room was flooded blue and gold with the oncoming day. Playful shadows danced across the floor where hanging tassels toyed with the sun. The carpet glistened like thick grass, lush and crowned in dew. A small table with three chairs sat to one side, and an old cloak lay thrown across it. There were boots, too large for his mother to wear, a belt too wide to be hers, and there, in the bed, swaddled in silkweed sheets and haloed by the sun, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hovering on the edge of waking.

“Bebu!” Korkie shouted.

At his cry, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and smiled, catching his son as raced across the floor and leapt upon the bed in a single motion. 

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.”

“Bebu!” Korkie cried again, laughing and wriggling with joy. His father lifted him over his head, holding him aloft as he made his cursory examination.

“Korkicek!” he groaned, as his strength gave out and Korkie tumbled atop his father’s chest in a tangle of limbs and blankets. “You must be very much grown since I last saw you, for you are getting too heavy for me!”

“No, I’m not, Bebu,” he said. “I’ve only grown two centimeteres since you were gone, and Belli says that’s only because I’m on a spurt.”

“Only two centimeters?” Obi-Wan demands. “Dear me, that’s not very much at all. I shall expect more diligence in your efforts at stretching if we are to make any serious headway in this matter.”

Korkie giggled. “Don’t be silly, Bebu,” he said. “I cannot stretch myself bigger. It takes time.”

“And heavy reading,” Obi-Wan agreed gravely.

“And good eating,” Satine added from behind them. She’d set the table in their distraction. Obi-Wan’s cloak now hung respectably from a hook by the fresher blind, and three plates sat waiting to be filled. The isbeans steamed, their skin crackling and blackened. The flatcakes dripped with galek syrup and butter. The summerberries shone plump and delectable in their precarious pyramid. The black fire jellies jiggled, and the muja juice sparkled.

“Is that fresh kava I smell?” asked Obi-Wan. 

“It is!” said Korkie. “And all sorts of things which Belli and I made! I suppose it’s a lucky thing we made so much extra, for now you can share it with us.”

“A lucky thing, indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed. He looked at Satine with such adoration that the smirk she had pinned up earlier unfurled completely and crossed her face in a radiant smile. 

“Come, Bebu,” said Korkie, taking his father’s hand in his. “Enough lazing about in bed. Let’s eat, or the kava will get cold.”

“Quite right,” Obi-Wan agreed, standing as Korkie slid to his feet beside him, and tugged him over to where Satine was waiting. “We can’t have that.”

“And you may have my cup as well,” added Korkie, magnanimously, “As it is truly a rotten drink, even if you say it is healthy. But since it is such a special day, I don’t think I should be forced to have it, anyway.”

“He drives a hard bargain, your son,” said Obi-Wan, leaning in to beg a small kiss.

“Ah, but of course,” said Satine, quick to grant his request. “He gets that from you, cyare.”

--

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.” - Ah, my little terror! I was wondering when you might show up. It has been far too quiet without you.

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast” - The best mind agrees with itself. (read: Great minds think alike.)

ad’ika, dinui, cyare - little one, gift, beloved.

#my fic #prompt fill #korkie is a kenobi #korkie kryze #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #fluff #fic

[waywardfangirl]

I was incredibly fortunate to get to write for the wonderful @fight-surrender in the Carry On Secret Snowflake exchange, and she gave some of the best prompts I've seen. I ended up choosing to write a meet-cute (a meet-ugly, really) that takes place on the beach and centers around Simon's new fixation on the supposed dangers lurking below the waves.

I have to give a giant thank you to @foolofabookwyrm and @caitybuglove23 for being excellent betas, cheerleaders, and for helping me get the fic formatted and posted when my computer stopped working - you guys are the best! 💜💜💜

You can read the fic below, or on AO3!

Simon

 

I've always wanted to go to the beach. Growing up in care, I never had the opportunity to, but now that Penny and I are done with university and enjoying weekends without the threat of homework hanging over our heads, I finally can. Of course, we don't live close to the beach, so our day trip took some planning, but it gave me time to look up all the best places to eat, and it gave Penny time to watch every possible documentary about the ocean. I watched a lot of them with her, and while I know I probably won't see all of the tropical fish that swam across our TV screen, I'm still really excited to see the ocean. 

 

Unfortunately, I also happened to be in the room while Penny watched some show called “Predators from the Deep”, or something along those lines, so my excitement is also tinged with trepidation (or outright fear) of some of the things lurking under the waves.

“Sharks aren’t anything to worry about, Simon! They don’t want to attack you, and the likelihood of even seeing a shark here is extremely low.”

 

“It’s not the sharks I’m worried about, Pen! It’s all of the other stuff, all those little parasites, and the poisonous things, and the spiny ones.” The documentary was filled with shadowy shots of spiked balls and spotted tentacles just waiting to attack some unsuspecting wader.

 

“Don’t eat any of it then,” she replies, hardly even paying attention to me as she smooths out her blanket and sets up the umbrella.

 

“What?”

 

“You said you were worried about the poisonous things, so just don’t eat anything you find in the ocean.”

 

“They can hurt me even if I don’t eat them! What about that one octopus?”

 

“That was venomous, not poisonous, there’s a difference.” She squirts sunscreen into her palms and then slaps them lightly onto my cheeks, not allowing me time to squirm away.

 

“Whatever, venomous then, there are still things to be scared of in there!”

 

Penny ducks under the arm I have flung out to point at the ocean with, and grabs two waters from our cooler.

 

“You’ll be fine Simon, I promise.” She shoves a bottle into my hands. “Rub in your sun cream, and let’s walk by the edge of the water, alright? You’ll like it, we can find shells!” She starts off, picking her way through the sand and looking back only once to make sure that I’m following her.

 

It turns out that the water feels quite nice, even soothing. The sounds of the waves and the feel of cool water splashing my ankles combine to make me feel safe. They make me forget about the horrors lurking off-shore.

Penny has a handful of shells and has started handing me others to put in the pocket of my swim shorts. I’ve found a few shells of my own too, but I stopped paying such close attention to the ground about ten minutes ago, when I noticed a man about our own age playing in the waves with his younger siblings.

 

He has dark hair, originally falling around his face but now wet with seawater and slicked back to emphasize his widow’s peak. He’s still too far away for me to tell what color his eyes are, but as Penny and I walk closer I’m able to make out more of his facial expressions. He seems to be putting on sneers for show and occasionally gives bright smiles for the younger kids swarming him. He’s wearing one of those long-sleeved swim shirts, but it’s clinging tight to his body. He looks like he could be a footballer with all of the muscles I can see, even at this distance.

 

I’ve been trying not to stare too openly at him, but I can’t really help it - there’s just something about him that keeps drawing me in.It’s almost as if I’m under some sort of spell or thrall. Right now though, I’m extremely glad I’ve been so captivated by him, because I seem to be the only person on the beach who realizes the danger we’re all in.

 

Curling around the man’s left ankle are the tentacles of an octopus, surely about to stick its fangs into him and inject him with its venom (or whatever it is octopuses do to kill people).

 

"Octopus!" I yell. I’m at a loss for any other words, but I’m desperately trying to warn Penny as I sprint off to rescue him.

 

"Ooh, where?" She doesn't sound nearly concerned enough for the looming threat of death hanging over us all, but I'll talk to her about taking proper safety precautions later. Right now, I have to go save the life of the prettiest person I've ever seen.

 

"Octopus! Octopus!" I can't seem to make any other phrases come out of my mouth, but eventually the man looks up to see me barreling towards him, flailing my arms and yelling at the top of my lungs. He raises an eyebrow at me, staying far too calm considering the mortal peril he's in, and glances behind him to see who else I could possibly be talking to.

 

Unfortunately, that means he's not paying attention enough to sidestep me when the combination of my momentum and adrenalin send me toppling into him. We both splash down into the small waves lapping at the sand and I scramble to extricate myself from his long limbs as quickly as possible, crawling down to examine his ankles and prepared to risk my own life if I have to pull the octopus off of him.

 

"What are you doing? " His voice is lovely and posh, the vowels round and smooth and expensive.

 

"Saving your life, mate, you're welcome by the way," I grunt as I make another unsuccessful grab for the tentacles.

 

"From what? All you've done so far is endanger me, pushing me down and holding me in the water." He pauses. "If this is your attempt at murder by drowning, I think I pity you. First, you caused a scene by yelling the whole way down the beach before you assaulted me, and now you're not even bothering to hold my head under this truly pathetic amount of water. You're an absolute disaster."

 

"I told you—" (why are these tentacles so hard to grab,) "I'm not trying to kill you, I'm trying to save you."

 

"Save me from what, exactly?"

 

Ha! I've got you now, evil cephalopod!

 

"This!"

 

I hold the octopus up in triumph, feeling the water drip onto my sodden hair.

 

"From… a clump of seaweed?"

 

"What? No. No, it's an octopus."

 

Slowly, I lower the mass in my hand down to eye level, and immediately I feel my cheeks flame in embarrassment.

 

"Oh. Right. Sorry, then."

 

I try to push back from him and stand up, but my hand won't release the seaweed (it really did look like an octopus!). When I try to move a wave hits me, washing the sand out from under my foot and making me flounder for a few moments, only compounding my embarrassment. When I finally look up at the man I accidentally assaulted, he seems entirely unbothered by anything. He's lounging back on his elbows, somehow managing to look down his nose at me even though I'm sitting up fully now, and it's simply unfair how defined his abs are, even under his shirt.

 

"Do you make a habit of doing things like this?"

 

His eyes are too intense for me to look at any longer, they're a grey color that seems to be shifting to reflect the ocean behind me, and I have to busy myself with peeling the green fronds of seaweed away from my fingers.

 

"Like what?"

 

"Attacking strangers or playing the hero, take your pick."

 

"Sorry. I thought it was an octopus and I didn't want you to die," I mumble. This prick should be grateful, where does he get off being so smug anyway?

 

"Why on earth would I have died from an octopus touching me?"

 

"Because they're one of the most deadly creatures on earth!"

 

"What? No they're not. Not the ones around here, anyway. The blue ringed octopus is incredibly deadly, but it lives in the Pacific Ocean."

 

"But, couldn't they-"

 

He levels me with a look that could probably set me on fire.

 

"Mordelia!" One of the children comes running over from where they fled when I tackled their brother. She looks to be about twelve or thirteen, and while she isn't quite as dark and villainous looking as her brother she still has his same air of superiority. "Does this gentleman need to be worried about being attacked, maimed, or killed by any octopuses while swimming today?"

 

This kid - Mordelia, I guess - levels me with the most condescending look I have ever seen, and just scoffs . Actually scoffs at me, like I'm an imbecile. (Although, I still have seaweed stuck to me, so she may be onto something there.)

 

"No. Most accounts of cephalopod attacks can't be proven, and the few that have been entirely substantiated occurred in vastly different habitats or under circumstances that this beach couldn't support."

 

With that, she turns and runs back to the rest of her family, leaving me with only a parting eye roll.

 

"She's going through a marine biology phase."

 

It's the first thing the dark haired man has said to me in a casual manner, and I startle a bit. 

 

"Did you also have a marine biology phase?"

 

I think my question catches him off-guard, and I smirk.

 

"Perhaps," he answers after a beat. "But Mordelia's has been going on for three years now, so we think it may actually stick. Mine dried up after only a few months."

 

He smiles at me for the first time since I knocked him over, and it's almost painful how handsome he is, sprawled out elegantly on the beach like he's in an ad for expensive watches or cologne or something, and I can't believe I tackled him because of some stupid seaweed.

 

"I had a dinosaur phase," I confess, smiling back at him.

 

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I reach down to help him up, and I'm shocked at how cold his fingers are, and how much I want to warm them up in my own. It's too bad I made such a horrible first impression, I would otherwise be sorely tempted to ask him out on a date. "What's your name, by the way? You've already attacked me, had we been in cars we would have exchanged names and proofs of insurance by now."

 

I’m such a mess. I didn't even think to ask what his name was.

 

"Simon. I'm Simon."

 

I go to shake his hand, and then realize that we're still holding hands, and I feel my cheeks grow redder still.

 

"Hello Simon, I'm Baz. It's nice to meet you, although the next time we meet I sincerely hope you can refrain from throwing yourself quite so bodily at me before we've even said hello."

 

"Yeah, umm, I'm sorry, really, I-" My brain catches up with my mouth. "Wait, did you say next time? "

 

His mouth curls up into a grin, and he gives my hand a squeeze as I try to figure out how I messed up so badly and things still worked out so well.

 

"Of course. For our first date, perhaps we can go to the aquarium and you can see what an octopus really looks like."

#my fic #snowbaz #Down By The Sea #Secret Snowflake 2020 #fluff and silliness 😊

[inglourious-imagines]

Missing Piece (Andrew "Ack Ack" Haldane)

Requested by: @wardley10

Summary: The end of the war is here. You are waiting for your boyfriend Andrew but the knock on your door isn't him. The upcoming events are gonna take quite a turn.

Author's Note: I really don't know how I feel about this one... I apologise for the beginning but I think you can say already that I'm a sucker for angst. Also sorry for not posting lately, I was on a vacation but don't worry. Jules is back on her shit!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @floydtab @eugenesmorphine @real-fans @meteora-fc @not-john-watsons-blog @band-of-brothers-cz @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rarmiitage @hihosilvers @mavysnavy @easynix

.

.

.

"Those who escaped hell, however, never talk about it, and nothing much bothers them after that."

Y/N kept on visiting the train station for one week straight. Every single day, she was sitting on a wooden bench - from the early morning until the last train left - waiting for her fiancé who was supposed to come back to her from the hell in Pacific.

But no one came.

Soldiers who got off the trains seemed so unfamiliar, and it only added to her grief seeing them reunite with their friends, family, lovers.

Her Andy was still out there. Y/N refused to believe any other possible variants. But her hope and excitment from the end of the war quickly fell off. 

The engagement ring was shining in the light of the lamp as she was trying to read her favourite book. Across from her on the table there was a framed photo of her and her fiancé laughing together on a blanket in the middle of a poppy field. It was taken by their friend Eddie just a moment after she said 'yes' to Andy's proposal.

Y/N was left with painful memories.

She just flipped another paper of the book when a bell rang. Her heart skipped a beat. She threw the book on the couch and rushed to the front door. A vase fell behind her and crashed on the ground but she couldn't care less.

Y/N opened the door and in all his glory was standing not her fiancé but his best friend, Eddie Jones. 

Her heart sung even deeper and a single tear rolled down her cheek. It was too much for her to bear.

Edward smiled warmly at her and embraced her in a long tight hug that said more than a million of words could. Y/N was quietly sobbing into his shoulder not being able to move. 

•••

It's been another week from the first Eddie's visit and he's been stopping by to keep an eye on her ever since. Y/N was grateful that she had him by her side but every time she looked at the former soldier, her Andy was there. Edward reminded her of the prewar relationship she and Andrew shared so much, she had to excuse herself sometimes during their conversation. 

Eddie told her about the time how he got wounded and was taken to hospital where he stayed until the end of the war. When his friends from K Company, Eugene Sledge and Snafu Shelton, put him on a stretcher it was the last time he saw Andrew Haldane. He hadn't heard a word about him since then. Eddie's heart broke when he said those words to Y/N who already looked like a ghost. He would do anything to see her smile like she used to before the war. Little did he know that this grin was taken with Andy.

•••

Edward left Y/N's house half an hour ago and she was just baking a cake when she heard a car on the road and then how it stopped in front of her front door. Y/N glanced out of the window and saw two young men dressed in uniforms. She wasn't quite sure what to think of it.

"May I help you somehow, gentlemen?" Y/N asked once she walked out of the house while wiping her hands in an apron. Her voice was weak and her eyes empty.

The taller one approached her and blocked her view from the other soldier who was trying to do something in the car. "My name's Eugene Sledge, miss, and that guy back there is Merriel Shelton. Our captain Andrew Haldane ordered us to pay you a visit after the war."

No sooner had he said those words than the apron fell out of her hands. The red-headed soldier was grinning from ear to ear, it didn't look like he's missing his lost officer and a very dear friend. Y/N was confused and hurt beyond words. 

"Could you please do me a favour, miss?" Eugene asked looking at her with so much sympathy and kindness in his eyes.

Y/N nodded slowly not entirely sure about what's going on at the moment but she did as she was asked.

"Why is that pretty young lady standing there alone?" a way too familiar voice spoke up out of the blue and Y/N felt like she has a heart attack. In front of her, in his Marine uniform with scratches all over his body and a big grin on his face, was standing in the sunlight Andrew Haldane.

"Oh God," Y/N breathed out blinking a few times to make sure she's not hallucinating. He was really here.

"Do I get a kiss for coming back?" Andrew smiled sweetly spreading his arms for her. Y/N's eyes began to water and she ran to him hugging him tightly. 

"You scared me so damn much." she cried kissing him desperately. Tears were running down her cheeks but the sparkle that was missing came back. It was her again. Andrew Haldane completed her like no one else could.

Y/N placed little wet kisses all over his face while Andy was pulling her closer to him even though there was no place left.

"I'm sorry. They didn't want me to leave the hospital earlier." he explained taking her face in his hands gently to force her to look at him. At this point, a single tear rolled down his cheek but his face was lightened by his typical smile.

"I'm never letting you go, you hear me? I can't live without you." Y/N whispered as she kissed him one more time. She put everything she'd felt during the last two weeks - loss, grieve, pain, love, hope. They were together again.

#the pacific imagine #the pacific imagines #the pacific #andrew haldane imagine #andrew haldane x reader #andrew haldane #ack ack imagine #ack ack #ack ack haldane #andrew ack ack haldane #edward hillbilly jones #edward jones #hillbilly #eugene sledge #merriel snafu shelton #snafu #snafu shelton #hbo war #bill hoosier smith #hoosier #robert leckie #war #imagine #fanfic #bud conley #runner conley #sidney phillips #chuckler juergens

[traineecryptid]

fic tropes tier list

as tagged by @xcziel here

i don't go by tropes much when im writing other than to say...like knock out a few ala bingo cards for my own enjoyment of having like 10 common fic tropes but what if they were in SPACE (not that ive done it, i just thought about it extensively)

as for when i am reading...same? (tho i also dont go by writer like x does) the reason for "ohh shiny" activation varies so much.

(also these tags? #kinda want a writer challenge where they have to take a person's 'nope' tropes and write them something #that they will actually somehow like using knowledge of their most loved tropes - talk about tough audience INTRIGUING like a very dangerous game of office secret santa)

(uh tagging...idk i think the people i know are all ald tagged. but feel free to participate how ever much (or less) you like!)

anyways lets begin!

ranks within ranks: most loved to least loved, reading from left to right and top to bottom.

S tier: Shoes off, I'm dancing barefoot cuz that's how much I am enjoying this

1. Magic AU: the range on this is insane. can't love it anymore. also i love the imagery of people charged up like a lightbulb, hair floating up as they go into like god-mode.

2. Gen fic: underappreciated. looks bland but it is like rice. goes with anything. i love to explore things from angles that do not center on a character and their relationships with things. also im very much team small caring gestures>big romance. LOVE IS FOUND EVERYWHERE AND I USUALLY WALK AWAY LOVING LIFE A LITTLE MORE

3. A/B/O: gender fucks. end of story. i did a bit of unconventional a/b/o exploration a while ago and i still have quite a bit of the prompt lists to go and id love to get back on it.

A tier: Always down to boogie, classic go to-s

4. PWP: the range on this is also very good. also usually not very long. just a perfect length for me to chug a drink to.

5. Dark fic: this is a recent (re)discovery. apparently i like it when things go beyond normal levels of leveling. bring on the violations of morals, the tough decisions and off the charts reasoning. would rank higher but loses points for making me have Emotions sometimes.

6. Established relationship: it could go wrong...or it could get even better! this is also a recent discovery and i will credit it to "growing up". there is just inherent comfort in exploring what comes next after the happily-ever-getting together.

7. First kiss: emotionally charged. its nice. sometimes its about the nervous giggles, sometimes its about the relieved sigh. nice all around.

8. Canon divergence: canon hurted you? just say no thank you and reframe it. this may cause /more/ hurt. ye be warned.

9. Cross-over: re: range and potential; there are a few that are always le classique for me- pacific rim, his dark materials, sense8,detroit: become human, heaven official's blessing/tgcf. im sure there are more but i wont go into details, tho i will note that i prefer the more AU side of things over the fusion side of things.

10. Drunken confession: it is about the plausible deniability and perhaps the morning after regret (not necessarily needed)

11. Amnesia fic: it funny. i say, only because if i think too hard about the consequences of that, it hits a bit too close to home. will cry if this explores Emotions.

B tier: Boogie! Together!

12. Humor: love it, but best enjoyed when other people also find it funny. which is a think i worry about a lot. what if they don't find it funny!

13. Crack fic: i am a big fan of "crack taken seriously" because nothing is funnier than treating a Very Weird Situation earnestly. only ranked lower than humor because i am even more afraid of someone going "i don't get it" on these.

14. Pregnancy fic: i surprised myself putting this so high when i cant even think of a reason for it other than, it is a terrifying look into a person's most OP ability: creating life (cloning and other experimentation aside)

15. Sharing a bed: comfort. but also discomfort. limited range but i think the trope can and should be stretched a bit. also there is something about being in the dark, in bed with another person that is just.../different/ no matter the person or the circumstances. its a Quiet Moment.

16. Major character death: dramatics. also surprised this is so high up. A terrifying look into inevitable mortality. (and perhaps the subsequent consequences of immortality?)

17. Coffee shop AU: /shrugs/ its sweet. fuels my hot barista daydreams.

18. Bang or die: dramatics 2.0. with less Sad Emotions. (depending on the situation) and idk it creates strong bond and teasing material.

C tier: Can I have a slower boogie, please?

19. Sex pollen: good classic but few points off for not sparking any points for potential expansion of the trope. ranked lower than bang or die for lacking the die part. where is the risk!! the fear!! (tho they can always be combined O.O)

20. Missing scenes: this is for when canon leaves you hanging. reminds me of colouring books. its nice for having a more set framework to work within. loses points because I am an au fiend. and also i dont watch/read things closely enough to notice missing scenes.

21. Body swap: good classic but same as sex pollen, the lack of potential expansion gets to me.

22. Fluff: hot chocolate can only do so much until i go this is just chocolate water. or even worse, makes me want real chocolate especially when the stores are closed. /metaphor

23. Love triangle: live for the conflict and potential obliviousness shenanigans and also "i am better for them!" vs "I'm not good enough for them" rivalry. but the simple solution is to just share. points off for not sharing. i dont vibe with that.

24. Baby fic: cute but ive had enough of babies irl.

D tier: Don't think I can boogie anymore, so I will vibe at the sideline.

this part of the list isn't even ranked anymore because i just dont feel that strongly towards any of them, I will just separate them into groups of why so low!

uninterested: fairytale au, historical au, slow burn (/pours kerosene/ go faster pls), time loop

lack of potential: fake relationship, arranged marriage, huddle for warmth, royalty au, soulmate au, unhappy ending (ways leading to unhappiness are many, but they are always paved with guilt, regret and trying to get over /it/)

cannot relate: angst, hurt comfort, unrequited love

ive had enough of school: college au, high school au,

whats wrong with being friends?: enemies to lovers, friends to lovers

special little bois: fix-it fic (only if fixing it makes it worse), miscommunication (only if it causes problems, and they /fix/ that), mutual pining (only if there is an interesting reason for not saying anything other than "i am afraid it will be unrequited"),

#tier list #fanfic tier list #fanfic #cw long post

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Stark’s New Intern” Chapter 21

"I've seen things that I never should have seen Said too many things I didn't mean Hurt myself too many times to count I need to let it out, and just release Been lying to myself too long Been trying by myself too long I can't relax, I'm too distracted I can't hack it, hmm I'm needy, greedy Love me, feed me Let's be a family It'll take a village To make a man of me So why couldn't you love me? It's all I need

I just want time in a tree I need a place just for me Somewhere that I can be free Keep the faith and just be What you'll be…"

Raleigh Ritchie—"Time in a Tree"

Work.

From sun up until sundown.

Erik bought suits, shoes, and accessories that shouted to the world that he was in the big leagues. Tailor-made threads. A personal barber that came to the office to service him. He leased a silver Porshe and had gourmet meals delivered to him because there was no time to cook in Devika's condo.

By the time he dragged himself home after a fifteen-hour day with Stark and two hours on a crowded freeway, all Erik could do was heat up his fancy pre-cooked meal, eat it, shower, and fall into bed next to Devika.

Despite the hectic schedule, he was able to knock out some gym time during his lunch breaks, and he went through another growth spurt, putting on an additional twenty pounds that filled out his face, chest, and ass. He felt like his voice had changed too, sounding more manly to his ears. Even his dick felt different as if it had grown a bit too, feeling thicker when he was erect. His physical need for sex grew also, but Devika was unavailable to him when he was gallivanting around with Tony. It was torture moving in and out of Tony's office and seeing her at her desk but pretending that they didn't wake up together or go to sleep together in the same bed.

Their domestic arrangement was cute for about three months, but the shine was wearing off a bit when real-life commenced. He had a job. Responsibilities. Schedules to create and maintain. Pepper was still on his ass at times, and Tony was his usual unpredictable self. He brought that stress home with him and it took him a long time to release the outside world with his home life. Devika was a good sport about the lack of time they had together, but some nights he was so tired that he would fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Sometimes he could knock out a quickie in the morning, but only if he set an alarm to get up early. He was able to get home early one hectic Friday night because a client canceled a dinner meeting, but by the time he showered and put on fresh cologne for Devika, Tony called him up to tell him to pack for Hawaii. He sat in the living room waiting for Devika, and when she scurried in excited to have him home to herself before ten at night holding Thai take-out food, she saw his bags by the door and she totally deflated. He apologized as he kissed her, trying to smooth her ruffled feathers. Instead of languid love-making as he had promised, they ended up fucking hard and fast on the couch with Erik switching up positions as many times as he could.

When they were done and tangled up in each other's afterglow, Erik could tell that she wasn't happy.

"Go put on those heels, Ma," he told her, slapping her ass.

Her eyes were closed.

"C'mon, baby. I gotta leave soon. I wanna see you in them."

She dragged herself off the couch and walked her sexy ass to the bedroom. When she returned, she had on some black strappy seven-inch heels that he had never seen before.

"Damn, girl."

"I bought these for this weekend."

She twirled around and he stood up fast, fisting his brand new erection.

"Get down on the floor. You know what I want."

She took her time walking to him.

"Look how hard you got this dick."

She smiled then dropped down on the floor under beneath his spread legs, resting her back against the couch.

"Lick my balls."

Her tongue slathered saliva all around his sack. Her right hand reached up and stroked his dick and he kept his eyes on her legs that were bent at the knees. Leaning forward, he could see her heels.

"Baby, I like how you got my balls all in your mouth…fuck…Devika…suck on those nuts bitch…"

He watched her widen her thighs.

"I'ma fuck you in your ass before I leave."

She moaned and the vibration on her mouth coursed all around his nutsack.

"Goddamn Devika!"

Pre-cum laced the tip of his dick and fell down onto her stomach.

He broke away from her.

"Get on your hands and knees."

Devika crawled forward and Erik handed her a couch pillow for her knees. She placed herself in position with her perky ass in the air and Erik stroked himself.

"I know you're still upset I have to leave all last minute. But I'm about to get in that ass so you won't miss me too much."

He positioned himself behind her and used the copious amount of pre-cum dripping out of his slit to lubricate his erection.

"Get ready, Ma…oh shit…I like that…oh damn... Devika…oh shit….oh shit…."

He took his sweet time entering her, and she relaxed easily once he started pumping in and out of her asshole. In the three months he had been living with her, he learned that whenever she was upset with him for any little thing, fucking her in the ass calmed the bad attitude. When her body was fully accommodating, he gave her that length and girth.

"You still mad?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Not anymore. Keep fucking me in my ass!"

"You letting me get in there deep this time. Damn girl…deep…fucking this ass up!"

He jumped from doggy to froggy on her ass, letting his heavy balls smash against her ass and clit.

"You were ready to cuss my ass out when I told you I had to leave…ah shit…ass is fucking tight on my dick."

Devika adjusted her hands and arms to handle the weight he was putting on her. He sweated all over her back.

"Can I cum in your ass?"

"Yes…."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy. Cum in my ass."

"You forgive me for leaving?"

"Yes!"

"You gon' miss Daddy's dick?"

"Yes!"

Devika fell forward and leaned her weight onto her elbows.

Erik slang dick in her ass to put her to sleep.

"How you gon' greet me when I get back?"

"Erik!"

"Tell me!"

He slapped her ass cheek. He was close to ejaculating.

"I'll be at the door….on my knees…."

"What else?"

"Mouth open…"

"For what?"

"Daddy's dick."

"What will you wear?"

"A smile."

He laughed and slapped the side of her hip.

Shifting back to his knees again, he gripped her waist with both hands and rocked into her. So much sweat dripped off from her supple skin and he allowed the fingers of his left hand to slide up and down her spine to feel the warm wetness. Devika played with her clit as he handled her ass. She was so fucking beautiful and he felt so proud to have her for his own…to live with her…to wake up with her…

"I'm cumming….I'm cumming….fuck….I'm cumming hard….I'm cumming hard in this ass…Devika…I'm….shiiitttt!"

He pulled his dick back a few inches as he lost his voice. His eyes squeezed shut hard and he thought he could see hot flashes of white light behind his eyelids as a rush of fluid erupted from his loins. Staring down at himself he watched his dick jump and throb and pump a flood of hot semen into her ass. His balls seemed to jump too.

"Damn baby. That was fucking amazing!"

He slapped her ass again and pulled her body up against him to give her a big hug. Kissing all over her cheek he felt her pat his arm.

"You better go take a shower real quick. I'll call a Lyft for you."

He released her and sauntered to the bathroom letting her see his dick swinging as he walked. When he was done cleaning himself and changing into clothes, she was ready to say goodbye to him at the front door.

"Call me when you land," she said, clutching onto his arm. She was still naked.

"Hopefully we'll be back by Wednesday," he said.

"He has to be. He has several meetings scheduled later that afternoon that he can't get out of."

Her face looked a little strange when he reached for the handle of his bag.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just a lot is going on and you won't be here to help me decompress."

"You just make sure to be in position when I get back here Wednesday night."

He kissed her and regretted feeling her tongue in his mouth. He wanted to stay home and make love all weekend. His balls still felt heavy.

"Down on my knees. Mouth open," she whispered.

"Mmmhmmm. Make sure you suck my dick real good too."

"I will."

"I know you will. Have my pussy ready too. I'ma be digging in you deep." "Yeah?"

"You know it. Marinate in you all night. Take care of you right. Make up for all of this last-minute bullshit."

"That's part of the job Erik. Life with Tony is non-stop."

"But I have a life with you too."

Her eyes flickered away from his. He didn't like that.

"Call me," she said once more and kissed him again.

She had to shove him out the door to make him finally leave.

###

The private jet banked across the Pacific and Erik could see the lights of the Santa Monica pier before they ascended into the upper layers of a cloudy sky. Once they reached cruising altitude, he could see the moon and stars.

"I've rescheduled my Monaco trip," Tony said as he sat in a creamy gray leather seat with a touchpad in his right hand and a bourbon on the rocks in his left.

"When?" Erik asked.

"Early February."

Tony sipped and scrolled. Erik daydreamed looking out of the window.

Pepper sat across from Erik in the aisle, her fingers busy clickety-clacking on her laptop. Every now and then she would stop and sip on the can of Coke sitting on her seat tray next to her computer.

Happy and another security team member snoozed in the back. A private flight attendant offered Erik snacks and more soda, but he declined. His stomach was in knots. This was the sixth flight out of Los Angeles in four weeks and he barely had a chance to see Devika once he had returned from the last-minute Hawaii trip weeks ago. He was in and out of LAX so much that he didn't bother taking his suitcases home, and just left them packed and ready at the office.

He was learning a ton, and he was also getting access to how Tony's mind worked in regards to the industry he was in and his bottom line.

Money.

Tony Stark loved tech and innovation and being a showman, but he loved money more than anything. Even though he had enough to last several lifetimes, there was an unending need to have more. It was a theme Erik found among the crowd Tony ran with. Money was used to bend wills, control societies, and bludgeon politicians. It was a true addiction. A rabid one at that.

Erik also learned that people at those top one percent heights dehumanized everyone around them. The lower ninety-nine percent were the help. Simple cattle. Sheep to be herded sometimes. How many men from various countries in the last five months had Erik been around that made him want to choke the life out of them? A dozen? Two dozen? So many of them were sociopaths too, and not to mention those that made his guts crawl when they gave off pedo vibes or disgusting kinks that Erik had been privy too. A trip to Dubai found Erik sitting in a lavish home watching women flown in from America and Europe squatting over rich male faces and shitting feces into their mouths as Tony sat there trying to close an arms deal that would net him millions. Erik didn't know whether to laugh or vomit as dead-eyed twenty-somethings with augmented bodies performed kinks that shouldn't even exist. But Tony took it in stride. It was normal business to him.

The trips wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have the nagging suspicion that Devika was going to break up with him. He was already living in his own apartment away from her. He hoped that distance would make her heart grow fonder when she did see him at work, but the unpredictable hours put a dent in that. He saw her at least twice a week outside of work, and that time was only spent fucking before he was off to do Tony's bidding.

Before he left for the trip he was on now she had called him weeks before to say that her ex-fiancé had been reaching out to her and she wanted to talk to him. They left their relationship unfinished and she wanted closure.

Erik was upset. Angry.

They fought about it for weeks and stopped speaking to each other for days.

But he wanted her to handle her business. He thought it was the adult thing to do. She cried about it and the expression on her face pained him.

"I was with that man for five years, Erik. I loved him…I still love him. We were planning a life together. I can't just turn off all of that history like that."

He sat in her living room with a heated face and pressure in his chest. She still loved him?

"If you love him, then why fuck around with me? Am I your place holder or something?"

It was hard to hang onto his righteous anger when she was crying so hard. Seeing all that hurt in her face made him want to fix everything for her.

"Erik, you…I…I have feelings for you. Deep feelings. I really do. But—"

"I don't want to hear no 'buts' Devika…are you fucking him?"

"No—"

"Don't lie!"

"I'm not."

"So what do you want to do?"

He was so hot with rage that he could barely sit still. He wanted to punch in the wall. Break shit.

"I need to talk with him. Work this thing out. You don't know what it's like to share a life with someone—"

"What have I been doing with you? We lived together for almost four months—"

"Four months is not the same as five years."

"I fucking hate this shit, Devika!"

His voice thundered in the room and she covered her face with shaky hands. He was too angry to even try and comfort her.

He moved out soon after that. Gave her space and time to get herself together.

It crushed him.

He spent way too much time at the gym, doing his best not to go home to a lonely apartment. He threw himself into his work and was grateful for the long hours to keep his mind off of her.

There was an occasional check-in text, and he zoned out around her in Tony's office.

He couldn't believe how his relationship had turned to shit so fast. One minute he had a woman, and the next, he was waiting for her to make a decision because he knew that is what it came down to. Did she love Austin enough to get back with him? Get married?

Staring out of the jet window again, Erik tried to see it from Devika's point of view. She was twenty-six, had a career that provided her with a lucrative income, and Erik knew she wanted to have a family. Babies. A house in the suburbs. He was nineteen, and even though he had money in the bank thanks to card sharking for Tony and the life insurance left to him from his parents, he also had to consider his own life goal.

Revenge.

A deep sigh escaped his throat and Tony glanced up at him from his touchpad.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

"If you want to sleep, go take the bed in the back. I'm going to be up until we land."

"Okay."

Erik left his seat and wandered to the private sleeping quarters. Kicking off his dress shoes, he stretched out on the bed, his body still tense.

Devika wanted a regular life. He would never be able to give her that. No one really. He was just greedy for her affections, greedy for wanting to be needed by someone like her. He felt lonely, but he needed to do what she had originally told him to do: focus on his work and his dreams.

But his dreams were the replaying of nightmares in his life. She helped him forget so much.

Devika tried to give him a graceful out, one in which they could still have a friendly relationship, but he pushed her, clung to her, used her to make himself feel good.

The short trip to Atlanta went by fast, and before he knew it, Erik was driving his Porsche to Devika's condo. Her car was parked in her spot and he rode the elevator to her unit. Jamming his keys to her place into the doorknob he was ready to make peace. It had been a week since he had seen her and all he wanted to do was hug her and let her know that—

Austin stood in the kitchen drinking orange juice straight from the plastic bottle. Naked. Erik blinked his eyes rapidly.

Ain't this a bitch.

Austin turned to look at him and the smug expression on his face set Erik off.

"Devika!" Erik shouted.

He stormed over to the open bedroom and Devika ran out wearing a gray sports bra and black pajama bottoms.

"What are you doing here?"

Her eyes held surprise and the calmness in her voice made him antsy.

"I missed you. I wanted to see you—"

"Get the fuck out!"

Austin's voice startled Devika. He was at Erik's heels, his wide chest puffed out, the orange juice still his hand.

Devika's eyes looked so sad.

Erik knew what her final decision was. He didn't have to ask. She was never really his.

"I'ma leave," he said backing away from her.

Walking out of the condo, his brain whirling in his head with so many disconnected thoughts, Erik found his car and promptly dropped down to the curb and cried. Like a baby.

He cradled his face and let the tears fall as his chest rattled with deep choking sobs.

"Erik…"

Devika dropped down next to him and held him. Rocking him in her arms.

"I didn't sleep with him, Erik, I didn't sleep with him…"

He rested his face on her neck and she stroked his shoulders.

"We went out to eat and talked some things out. He was too drunk to drive, so I made him sleep on the couch."

"Devika…" he choked out.

Her watery eyes stared at him and when her tears fell, he cried even harder and clutched onto her shoulder. He dropped his head to her lap and she rubbed his back until he couldn't cry anymore. When his breathing stopped having shuddery stops and starts, he sat up and looked at her. Her face was a wet mess.

"You were right. About us. I want you, but I know I can't give you what you need. What you dream about. I'm barely twenty and this is my first job. I still have grad school, and there are things I have to get done. I wanted you to be something in my life that made me feel normal. But you want something that only Austin can give you. I was just trying to steal a little bit of it for myself. You are so smart and beautiful, Devika. You treated me with respect and you were always honest with me. I took advantage of that. I know I did. You should work things out with him if that's what you want. I won't stand in your way. I want you to be happy. I care about you so much…but I'll never be what you need."

"Shut up!"

She hugged him tight and her body shook.

"God, just shut up, Erik."

"I just need you to be my friend."

"I can do that."

He tried wiping away her tears, but she held onto his fingers. She pressed her forehead into his.

"I'm not getting back with Austin. Just so you know. Thank you for giving me the space to figure that out on my own."

"Why that nigga gotta be naked to drink some juice?"

Devika laughed loud and long and Erik joined her.

They were going to be alright. He felt it in his bones.

Chapter 22 HERE.

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes​​ @soufcakmistress​  @cherrystainedlipsbaby​   

@tclaybon  @thadelightfulone​

@allhailqueennel​ @bartierbakarimobisson  @cpwtwot​  @shookmcgookqueen​ @yoyolovesbucky​

@raysunshine78​ @the-illlestt​ @terrablaze514​  @l-auteuse​   @amirra88​ @jimizwidow​   @janelledarling​

@chaneajoyyy​ @sweetestdream92  @purple-apricots​   @blackpinup22​  @hennessystevens-udaku​

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade​ @bugngiz​ @stariamrry​  @honeytoffee​ @meilintheempressofdreams​

@tyees​  @eye-raq​  @writerbee-ffs​  @chocolatedream30​  @childishgambinaa​  @mygirlrenee​ @thewaysheis​—awkward

#Stark's New Intern #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fanfic #killmonger smut #tony stark #Black Panther Fanfiction