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saltsicklover · 16 hours

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To Love, To Die, and Everything In Between

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She runs, trips and pitches down the stairs, holding her letter. She follows the letter down, down... Blackout. A clatter. Strange sounds—xylophones, brass bands, sounds of falling, sounds of vertigo. Sounds of breathing.

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

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

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

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

The shame of being seen consumes me.

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

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

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

Maybe it wasn't.

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

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

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

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

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

To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I write my own deliverance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a question. What a loaded fucking question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death frees us from the torment of parting.

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

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QUOTE CREDIT

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

"She runs, trips and pitches down the stairs, holding her letter. She follows the letter down, down... Blackout. A clatter. Strange sounds—xylophones, brass bands, sounds of falling, sounds of vertigo. Sounds of breathing." ― Sarah Ruhl,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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outlying-hyppocrate · 1 month

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i started this year off wanting to change myself in a way that would hurt me but now i realize that was a shitty thing to do. but i want to do it. again.

#random thoughts #self-destructive tendencies for the win!! on and off since 2022!!#i've been trying to convince myself i am diseased when really i am not. there is nothing wrong with me.#because it is not severe. i have not been close to death. it's fine. in fact i often do the opposite of what i want #and fail myself every single day. but i want to make myself ill on purpose because without illness what am i.#saying there is nothing wrong with you because there is nothing wrong with you does not mean there is nothing wrong with you.#there is something very wrong with me. but i always want to fix it. but i don't. so i fix it. but it's not fixing.#it's making me better and worse.#might as well project some of this onto my favorite oc clemens because. he's just like me now. languages boy. with a strange childhood #my parents weren't surgeons. my parents got divorced like kristian's. but we haven't moved to a new country because of it yet.#i say yet because it will happen. but this is unrelated to my previous complications.#I WANT TO GET BETTER.#but i really. really don't. because if i do then nobody will believe me.#i wish i could just tell someone. but then they will think i am lying to them.#for now i shall sit in my bed and stare at the ceiling #and stare at the forever closed window and close my eyes as well #and when i open them it will be 12 days later and i will be purified #i love you marina abramović

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47-protons · 7 months

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many thoughts head full yet so devastatingly empty (< my brain is going about a billion miles per hour and i cannot slow it down enough to put any of the thoughts into any type of coherent statement) ((it is flicking wildly back and forth between q/smp and usmp. like if you took a metronome and set it to like a billion BPM.))

I have never frantically edited a post faster to put a slash between four letters

#hi i'm listening to winter's come and gone and i'm being Normal about it #''little black bird on my wire line. dark as troubles in this heart of mine.''#and my brain is shoving Winter's Come and Gone. The Blackest Crow. and Foreign Lander. it's shoving all of them in a blender and i am havin #am having MANY thouhgts. absolutely brain rattlers.#the blackest crow that ever did flew would surely turn to white if ever i prove false to you bright day would turn to night #bright day would turn to night my love the elements would mourn if ever i proved false to you the seas would rage and burn #i lie awake out in the night. i see the shining stars. i wonder if you see them too wherever you are.#i'm normal. :+1:#i wish my breast were made of glass wherein you might behold upon my heart your name lies wrote in letters made of gold #in letters made of gold my love believe me when i say you are the darling of my heart. until my dying day.#Goes into Flick's character playlist. whacks apocalypse lullaby in there at mach 4 #my brain is Rattling with everything from sp/iderbit to phil to forever to flick and usmp s2 brainrot (< again)#i am Extremely abnormal about the end of s2 #more accurately. i am going through my playlist of chill folk/bluegrass tunes bc i have been having Feelings about. smth I will probably #never say out loud. i like the russian girl thing on like. tiktok and instagram. it is interesting and neat #to learn about other people's cultures- even if specifically it's about them feeling disconnected from theirs.#there is a rotting in my chest. there is no culture here. i don't think the US as a whole can go ''aha this is the american culture'' what #work until you die. never get healthcare. have every other country hate you. that's fair.#i am sitting with the bluegrass songs my grandma would sing me to sleep with when i was a baby and i am being normal #it took me two years before i could listen to Ashoken Farewell without bawling. they played that at her funeral. specifically my cousin #got up and played it. I'm normal. i'm so normal about this. culture can be school shootings and rampant capitalism but it can also be. banj #banjo and fiddle. i want to go to the bluegrass festival this year. i think it will be good for me.#america on the whole. probably does not have a unified cultural identity. and i guess that's okay #i'll align myself out towards the oklahoman panhandle and all the goatheads i got as a kid. i never saw the problem with quacki/ty's bedroo #i liked the rock walls. it reminded me of my grandma's house. she had a dugout. i miss it (< lost it in a wildfire a year after she died)#it wasn't like. a sod house. it was entirely underground though for Years until they had my uncle aaron and needed an extra room so then th #they got a Single upstairs room. The stairs were back by the cellar. i miss it. my mom would tell stories of the bus dropping her off and #classmates telling her ''there's a cow on your roof''#i miss it. i should go to sleep i think #i don't think i've ever felt 'american' but i sure have felt 'kansan' and that's. okay enough for me i think

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taikanyohou · 1 year

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ughhhh if only discovering new music could be classed as a professional hobby 😔.

#its one of my faaaave hobbies to indulge in if only i could talk about it and make it sound all professional like 'yeah i have an entire #blog dedicated to sounds i love and like and wish to encapsulate and store in one place that then becomes my happy go to place #and says so much about my personality and what i listen to and the energy it gives me and how discovering new music #has made me listen to so much of different cultures and countries and languages #that i couldnt ever do so before and even within my OWN cultures (indian and pakistani) ive LEARNT SO MUCH!!!#such as how sound changes overtime throughout history but some elements stay the same #how good folk music can be if you just pay attention to it and are willing to give it a try #how the east mix elements of the west into their music but still keep it sounding eastern #but v modern too so that its a relatable listen for a westerner but still firm to its eastern roots #how multilingual songs have become! how much that says about an artist trying to express themselves and their identities!#how stories are told how concepts are explored how religion is used as a way to devote something to someone close to you #how much you learn just by opening up yourself to new music and sounds!!!! how you can build entire playlists around fictional media #and characters based on the songs you hear and how you can make the two things crossover and overlap.#how that enhances your experience of consuming media!!! and makes the song and piece of media even more symbolic to you.'#ughhhhhhhh 😔😔😔😔😔.#faiza talks

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kimtaegis · 1 year

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finished about 80% of a comp of this run bts special but you know what. no lol

#I’m so full of rage tonight I could really feel it build up over the last few hours #triggered by this – forgive my language – stupid ass fandom #the love I have for those boys is really being tested over and over again #and I don’t know how much longer it’ll hold against the absolute stupidity of a (way too) big part of this fandom #the utter bullshit I have to read makes me want to constantly bang my head against a wall #maybe then I’d be able to nod along and still have a good time #cause boy that has been tough #from hating on every other group over harassing people who dare to say one critical thing about bts to wanting #to ‘boycott’ sk because of the enlistment news #are you actually hearing yourself?#like who do you think you are?#this superiority complex mixed with that utter hate and negativity many armys spread makes me SICK #do you think bts would be proud of you for looking down and hating on everybody #for only supoorting their country and its industry #not because you genuinely like/ enjoy it but because you follow them like cult members that tell you what to do?#for turning them into these untouchable beings that are only allowed to like each other and everyone else is below their standard #and shouldn't even dare come near them. what a lonely life you wish these men istg #suddenly you're all spokespersons for grown adults you don't know shit about #or you're playing polticians who know excatly what's going on behind the scenes cause you read a tweet about it #I genuinely wonder how these people go through their life? are you defending your actual loved ones like that too?#are you capable of not throwing a fit when someone else has a different opinion than you or criticises you. actually YOU. not some band?#how can one abandon every bit of critical thinking like that? I just don't get it #what's wrong with just being sad about them leaving for a while #WITHOUT being the most ignorant arrogant hateful assholes #never in my life have I encountered this much spite and toxicity #just...chill. just listen to their music make cute edits watch their videos but please for the love of god. just shut up for once #I could go on and on but. also no #could already kick myself for even being this affected that I had to write it down #contributing to this senseless discourse and putting my own negativity out there #I feel at least a little bit lighter now

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diospirando · 8 months

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Tagged by: @faith-orise @yeahthatswhatimtolkienabout Thank you <3

rules: spell your url with song titles and tag as many people as there are letters

Tagging: @jackofacetrades @knightgoldy @teaerrors @lololunacy @justabackroundcharacter @johnnycorkscrew And anyone who wants to do it :] No pressure!

My taste is all over the place, but I tried to make this somewhat cohesive (in themes, if not sound)?

The playlist:

Daffodil – Florence + The Machine (Dance Fever) I, Carrion (Icarian) – Hozier (Unreal Unearth) The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace – The Amazing Devil (Ruin) Sacred The Thread – Greta van Fleet (Starcatcher) Peace Frog – The Doors (Morrison Hotel) IN NOME DEL PADRE – Måneskin (Teatro d'ira) Red Right Hand – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds (Let Love In) ADORO BOLOS – Conan Osiris New Perspective – Noah Kahan (Stick Season) Dead of Night – Orville Peck (Pony) O Namorico do André – Fado Bicha

This is too much fun not to continue with honorable mentions...

Dreamland – Glass Animals In The Lap Of The Gods – Queen (Sheer Heart Attack) Sweet Transvestite – Tim Curry (The Rocky Horror Picture Show) Sisyphus – Andrew Bird (My Finest Work Yet) Purple Haze – The Jimi Hendrix Experience (Are You Experienced) Icarus – Bastille (Bad Blood) Raboita Sta. Catarina – Dino d'Santiago (Mundu Nôbu) AmarElo – Emicida, Majur, Pabllo Vittar NAFÉ – Branko, ÉLLÀH (OBG) Dionysus – BTS (MAP OF THE SOUL : PERSONA) Шум – Go_A

I promise I know how to spell; there was a shortage of good Os.

#btw Fado Bicha are the best thing to come out of my country and I love them so much #Fado = the traditional/folk music genre in Portugal #Bicha = Faggot #do I need to say more #I do #the queer and trans visibility and rep #the activism #the FUCK YOU to conservatives #the BEAUTIFUL songs #ugh #plus they're so nice in person #on that note: I wish everyone could understand portuguese just for Conan Osiris' lyrics #cause they're simultaneously so poetic and ridiculous #also DEVASTATED I didn't manage to include Filipe Sambado #all of them the real national treasures #but I digress #doing this while hyperfixating on Hozier's new album was a challenge to include him only once #oh and Шум transliterates to SHUM so it counts!#OK ramble in the tags: over #(just realized one of my mutuals was deactivated </3 R.I.P.)

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cerealbishh · 1 year

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"I saw today how much it bothers Jake to see us talking. It's- it's over the line. Yeah, you and- and me, while you're seeing Jake... It's over the line."

"Oh... you don't wanna see me at all?"

#cbs fire country #fire country 01x06 #fire country spoilers #gabriela perez #bode donovan #stephanie arcila #max thieriot #god she was so willing to support him however he needs her to and he decides to start pulling away i-#good on him for respecting jake's wishes #but poor gabriela just lost a friend #my heart broke when she said 'got it' and hung up as quickly as she could #like... i don't even know how i'd respond if i were in her shoes #it took him so long to say something back i just-#i do think he tried to tell her how he felt that his feelings are crossing that thin line between friendship and love #she just needs time to figure out her feelings #i have soooo many feelings #wanted to add that bode trying to get a rise out of jake during that phone call made me laugh BUT it's kind of a dick move sir #rip the look on his face when she asked him if he doesn't wanna see her anymore #otp: i will if you do #gabriela x bode

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quenthel · 2 years

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Like ugh.... Sorry for venting this much but part the reason I'm not rushing to figure out my gender stuff that i simply don't think anyone in my country would understand me if i talked about it....or anyone in my life more specifically.... And it low-key sucks

#quenthel special #ok last vent post fr fr now!#but like i met only one nb person in my country so far but unfortunately they were insufferable for other reasons kfkfkfk #also i love love my bestie so much but i feel like even he cant understand this part of me and i could not open up about it...#like ots just easier to say im cis bc im feminine and i have literally no issues w being gendered like that n bery little dysphoria....#i just wish things were easier....

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absentlyabbie · 10 months

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i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

#long post #cats #indoor cats #outdoor cats #keep your cats inside

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roeverthemoon · 1 year

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random thoughts, bday edition👇🏻

#it my bday #bf asking me where we should vacation this summer #he sweetie pie #i drew him a rose bath earlier cause men deserve cute romantic gestures too #i want to visit east coast canada but he said another time #1-germany 2-italy 3-japan 4-s.korea 5-switzerland 6-scotland #idk exactly #i love islands #pr is awesome but we can't go this year #i mainly want to go out of country this year tho if possible #if not. 1-back to Bar Harbor my love 2-pennsylvanian cities road-trip 3-chicago 4-cali 5-back to the florida home again #i'm just so grateful for these experiences n being so loved n supported #what i want more than a vacation is a new place to live and a pet to live in it LOL #kinda unreasonable in NY esp when i don't have an income but yanno #i wish i cld just work normally but mh says no #annnd i might be a lazy coddled baby idk. i don't think so #but would that be so bad? to just be alive and do what i can without pushing my mental health?#i could do more if i needed to to survive #and... i want to do more so i can be more content with life but i'm not pushing my limits before i feel ready if i don't have to #my body is getting healthier rn so i should be somewhere different in life by the end of this year. if not that's okay but i'm optimistic #maybe 23 will be my year? who knows. or the worst? not trying to jinx it #maybe.... both?#lots of loss approaching any year now but also lots of good things to come #manifesting writing career in my future #manifesting love over fear #manifesting dolphins win the superbowl 2024 #manifesting two dogs and two cats #manifesting the determination and accessibility to go vegan without changing my mind #manifesting moving out of country to somewhere with low violent crime rates #roe post;

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smileysuh · 24 days

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devil's girl

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader I ft. Mingyu & Wonwoo

🔮 preview. “Three hundred years ago, one of your ancestors promised me a descendant as my prophesied betrothed. A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of heaven or hell. A witch who would be identified by the mark of the Devil, drawn through with three lines.”

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, oral (f receiving), Cheol is low-key pussy obsessed, overstimulation, 5-inch long demon tongue, invisible demon bondage magic, the demon magic can also vibrate her clit a little, bdsm themes, slight choking, squirting, wet kink, massive cock cheol, pussy stretching, impreg/breeding/cum kink, dirty talk, service dom Cheol, consent is a must, begging, multiple reader orgasms, unprotected sex, hand job, dream/incubi threesome with Mingyu & Wonwoo, double fingering, degradation, dacryphilia, etc… I pet names: (hers) little/my sweet, pretty girl, good girl, whore/slut (1), baby, little love, etc. (his) sir, daddy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.2k

🍭 aus. king of hell!Cheol, witch descendant!y/n, prophesy, arranged marriage, yandere/possessive themes, slight kidnapping, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I feel like I need the men I write about every time, but when I tell you I need this man biblically, when I tell you I need him to kidnap me and make me the Queen of Hell and knock me up with demon hybrid babies asap-

Prologue:

It was not a fate that she would have ever wished upon any of her descendants, but there was a price to pay for power, a price to pay for life and a line continued. The old crone signed the contract, bound in blood, with the King of Hell, promising one of her own line as his future intended.

She could not foresee when the prophesied witch would be born, all she could promise The Dark King was that the descendant would bear the mark of the Devil. Somewhere in the world, there would be a girl born with a pentagram birthmark, run through with three lines, and that girl, would bear the task of giving children to the King of Hell himself.

The crone did this to solidify her line would survive the witch trials ravaging the country, the contract would ensure demonic protection from death- none of the King��s loyal followers would allow harm to fall upon any woman who could possibly birth the next Queen of Hell.

As the trials continued, not one of the crone’s daughters were harmed. Years went by, with the crone checking every new grandaughter and great-granddaughter for marks. When it became clear that the prophesied girl would not be born in her time on Earth, she urged all her descendants to be fruitful and multiply, in the hopes that, with a large family line, the Demon King would have a harder time finding the contracted child.

Upon her death, the old crone’s family took her words to heart. Not only did the daughters multiply after the witch trials had ended, but they split. Some became nomadic, others found places to settle down and have whole swaths of children. Many of these descendants took upon new names, as women always took the last name of their husbands.

In this way, the old crone hoped to cheat the devil himself, and for a very long time, she was successful in her evasion of him.

one

“This better be important,” Seungcheol groans, shifting on his throne to assess the two low level demons in front of him.

The incubi exchange looks, and finally one steps forward. “Sir, we found her.”

“You found her?” the King repeats. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“The witch,” the second demon says, fumbling as he also moves forward to address Seungcheol. “The one from the prophecy, with the mark.”

The Demon King feels a twitch of something electric, it makes his finger tips jolt, and he begins to strum them along the dark marble arm of his throne. “What are your names?”

“I’m Wonwoo,” says the first incubi, “and this is Mingyu.”

“Well, Wonwoo, Mingyu, the two of you better not be wrong.” Seungcheol stands up. “Where is she?”

“We can give you the details, only…” Mingyu casts an anxious look toward Wonwoo, “we’re pretty sure she was wearing a high level demon ward.”

“What?” The word comes out as a growl, and in the lava fields of hell that stretch as far as the eye can see behind him, there’s a tremor that betrays the King’s rage.

“A demon ward,” Wonwoo repeats. “An heirloom. It’s a necklace. We tried to get her to take it off, but even while dreaming, she was pretty protective over it.”

Seungcheol can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s been over three hundred years since he’d made a contract with the old crone. Three hundred years of waiting for the ability to sire a line with a witch who would be able to withstand the process. He’d almost given up the hope of ever finding his betrothed, only for two sinful incubi to find her in the dream state. The fact that she’s warded is the cherry on top of this whole fucking thing.

“That bitch,” Seungcheol groans. “The old crone has done everything in her power to make sure our contract would never be fulfilled, and she’s even left warding jewlery.”

If the witch wasn’t in heaven, Seungcheol would pay a visit to her himself to enact his revenge for this final piece of treachery.

You do a service to save an entire line of witches, and this is how they intend to pay back your kindness.

“It’s not the end though,” Wonwoo offers helpfully. “We just have to convince her to take the necklace off, that will break the ward, and you can summon yourself into her room as soon as it’s off.”

“If the two of you do this for me,” Seungcheol notes, “you will be rewarded.”

“We’re just happy we found her for you,” Mingyu says, voice shaky. “It’s been a very long time.”

Too long, in fact.

two

You’re lost in a dreamy haze. Two pairs of lips are on your throat, one man pressed to your front, the other at your back. Hands caress your form, and nothing has felt this real. You’re moaning, eager for the fiery touches.

“We need you to do something for us,” the man in front of you whispers, licking past the shell of your ear and making you shiver.

“Anything,” you blurt out, already reaching for his cock.

A hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. When you meet the stern man’s gaze, you note the darkness in his eyes.

“This is a pretty necklace,” he muses, as the person at your back nips at the chain that encircles your throat.

“It’s a-” you swallow back your lust, trying to form words, “an heirloom.”

“How badly do you want to be fucked, naughty girl?”

“So bad,” you whimper, pressing your thighs together in the hope that you can quench some of your sexual appetite.

“Then you need to promise us that when you wake up, you’ll take this pretty necklace off, only for a while.”

“Huh?” You’re confused, and the man behind you immediately brings his hand to your core, stroking you through your nightie. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel like they’ve asked you to do this before- but your memory is as fuzzy as the vision in front of you, and the men are more than distracting.

“You can do this for us, right?” he presses. “Please?”

“Why do you need me to take my necklace off?” you ask. It had been a parting gift from your mother before you were put up for adoption, and in her note, she’d warned you never to take it off. You can already feel yourself becoming restless at the turn of this dream, what had started so sweet and sexual has turned darker than you’d been ready for.

“It looks like it needs a little… TLC, don’t you think, baby?” One large finger slips into your core, and at the same time, the man in front of you tugs down your dress to access your breast, flicking at the nipple.

“Tell us you’ll do this,” murmurs the one with his mouth on your chest.

Your fingers tangle through his dark curls, keeping him on your breast while he begins to suck on your sensitive bud. It’s practically impossible to say no to them.

“Okay,” you whisper finally, voice shaky. “Just for a little.”

“There’s our good girl,” the one in front growls, adding a hand to his friend’s so he can slip his own finger into your dripping core. They both begin to work you open, and you can’t help the gasps of pleasure that begin to escape you, your grip flying to broad shoulders to keep yourself standing between the two large men. “Now we all get our reward.”

three

You wake up feeling relaxed but needy. You remember ghosted touches as you head for a morning shower, washing your body and remembering strong hands trailing along the same path.

As you do your usual skin routine, your necklace catches your eye in the bathroom mirror, and you’re reminded of the promise you’d made in your dream. Upon inspection, you do think the necklace could use a little refurbishment- you’ve been wearing the chain since childhood, where your commitment to never taking it off had been like life and death.

If you’d had a dream about removing it, if even for a little while, maybe that was your subconscious telling you it’s time to let go of the hold your mother has on you. After all, she gave you up- what do you owe her? What’s the point in still wearing this around?

With a sigh, you reach behind yourself, fiddling with the clasp. There have been a few times you’ve been required to take the necklace off, at hospitals, or the dentist, certain airports- it won’t kill you to remove it for a little while today.

You don’t think much of it as you set the heirloom onto your bathroom counter, in fact, you’re already planning out breakfast. You go to the kitchen, humming to yourself while you open the fridge to look at the contents inside.

As you reach for the orange juice, the hairs on the back of your neck begin to raise, and you feel a powerful energy, as if you’re being watched.

“Goodmorning, sweet girl.”

The sudden voice makes you jump, heart lurching into your throat as you whip around.

There’s a man standing in your kitchen. He’s dressed in all black, with a long silky jacket over top of dress pants and a matching charcoal shirt. His hair is dark too, and he has a smirk on his handsome face.

It only takes you a moment to assess ‘oh, he’s hot’ and one more to decide to throw your juice directly at him.

The man quickly lifts his hand, flicking two fingers. It’s as if the container of orange juice hits some invisible barrier, and it goes flying directly into your sink.

“Don’t be like that,” he tuts, clicking his tongue. “Is that any way to greet a man like me?”

“Who are you?” you ask, mouth going dry as you cower back against the fridge, feeling suddenly very naked in your tiny shorts and crop top.

“An angel,” the man says simply, but the all black outfit is a dead give away that he’s lying.

“Yeah?” you let out a small laugh. “What’s your name then, mister Angel?”

He stares at you for a moment, something dark flashing over his features. When he smiles this time, you notice sharp canines. “Satan.”

Your entire body runs cold. “I don’t…” You lick your lips. “I don’t see any devil horns, or a tail-”

“Would you like to see them?”

“No?”

The man takes a step toward you. “You’re reacting better than I expected, Devil’s girl.”

“Devil’s girl?” you repeat, pressing your back tighter to the fridge in an effort to get away from him as he approaches closer and closer.

“That’s you,” he nods. “That’s what you are. It’s who you were destined to be.”

“I don’t know much about destiny-”

“Why would you?” he shrugs. “It’s been three hundred years since your family agreed to the dept they owe me. In that time, you witches have made it extra hard for me to keep track of all of you. I’m not surprised you don’t know anything about the prophecy, although, I will admit I’m a little disappointed you clearly haven’t stepped into your powers yet. Part of me had been hoping for a bit of a fight.”

“I can still fight you-” you insist, reaching out to grab a weapon from the knife block, brandishing it at the intruder.

He simply laughs, and with the flick of his fingers the knife goes flying out of your hand, landing in the sink next to the juice. “Silly little girl,” he grins. “Power reacts only to power, and though I can see you have power in your veins, it’s clear that no one has unlocked it for you. Don’t worry, I’ll help you get there.”

“Why would I want your help?” You cower back against the fridge, unable to move from where you’re standing. It feels like your feet are weighed down, and you wonder if this is another one of his magic tricks.

The devil puts his hand on the surface next to your head, blocking you into your fate. “Because, silly girl, at the moment, I’m your fiance, and soon, I’ll be your husband.”

“What?” The word comes out as a croak, your heart going a mile a minute in your chest.

“Three hundred years ago, one of your ancestors promised me a descendant as my prophesied betrothed. A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of Heaven or Hell. A witch who would be identified by the mark of the Devil, drawn through with three lines.”

Realization washes over you. The mark on your ass- the peculiar birthmark, the mark you’ve always been insecure about-

“How…” you swallow thickly. “Why now? How did you find me?”

“I had help. Two incubi found you in your dreams. You were wearing an heirloom with a ward against me, but lucky for us, they convinced you to take off the silly little crone necklace. I couldn’t touch you while you had it on, couldn’t be in the same room as you, but now… I can be here with you, and…” he reaches out a hand, dragging a finger along your collarbone, “I can touch you.”

“And if I say no to all of this?” you ask. “If I say no to marrying a man who’s literally Satan?”

“Then I’ll convince you,” the demon leans close, his hot breath ghosting over your throat. “I can be awfully convincing… also, if it makes you feel better, don’t call me Satan.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Seungcheol.” There’s a softening in his tone when he says this new name, and as you stare at his handsome face, you realize that is suits him. “And what should I call you, my sweet?”

You whisper your name and Seungcheol repeats it. You can tell he’s enjoying the taste of it on his tongue, and as you share this close proximity with the man who claims you’re his betrothed, you realize your innate attraction to him, despite the circumstance.

“So…” you lick your lips. “What now?”

“Now, little sweet, I take you back to my Kingdom.”

“You mean Hell.”

He grins, and you once again get a view of those sharp teeth. You wonder what they’ll feel like against your skin, and the thought has your body tingling with lust and shame.

“What if I don’t go with you.”

“Like I said, I’m awfully convincing, but on this one, you don’t have a choice.” He lets out a sigh, playing with a strand of your hair. “There are many religions in this world, little sweet, and in many of them, the King of Hell gets his Persephone. Although, in this case, you have no Demeter to protect you. The witch who promised you to me is long since dead, and your family line got muddled and convoluted in the hopes that it would hide you from me. Unfortunately for them, I’m here to collect, and there’s no one in the world who can stop me.”

“But, I mean-” you search for any way to get out of this. “I have a job-”

“Yeah? Tell me about this job.”

You can’t believe he’s humouring you, a slight appearance of interest appearing in his features. “I’m a full time baby sitter, an au pair, the girls are expecting me-”

Seungcheol lets out a low growl from deep in his chest. “So you’re good with children.”

Your mind goes back to what he’d said not minutes ago: ‘A girl of her bloodline who would bear my hybrid offspring, children with the power of demons and witches, bodies unrestricted by the laws of Heaven or Hell.’

Of course the King of Hell has an impreg kink and is turned on by your job as a nanny.

“I can’t go with you,” you insist.

His hand wraps around your throat, thumb teasing your jaw. “It’s not your choice.”

His eyes flare a fiery red colour, and it feels as if the air is sucked out of your lungs. Your hair ruffles, as if you’re in a wind tunnel, and a moment later, you’re no longer standing in your kitchen.

Seungcheol releases your neck, gesturing to the room you’re now in. “This is your new home,” he announces, giving you a moment to take in the black marble floors, scarce furniture, and large bed in the center of the space. There’s a floor to ceiling window that encompasses a whole wall, and through it, you see what can only be decribed as a literal Hellscape.

You can’t help it, you approach the window, mind going blank as you stare out at the fire fields.

Seungcheol is silent as he comes up behind you, pressing two hands to the windowed wall and blocking you in with your back to his chest. You can feel his breath along your throat. “Welcome to Hell, sweet thing. This is all yours now, although, I doubt I’ll let you leave this room too often, not until I know I can trust you.”

It’s funny to hear Satan talking about his ability to trust you- a girl who’s done her best to be good her whole life.

Seungcheol’s lips brush by your ear. “Should we get started, then?”

“Started on what?”

“You know what.” He presses a shockingly soft kiss to your throat, nose nuzzling by your jaw.

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

“I’ll be honest with you, little one, I’m not a nice man. But… I’ll be good to you, if you’re good for me.” One of his hands slips down from the window to grab at your hip, tugging your back flush to his chest. “The way you were good for Mingyu and Wonwoo in your dreams last night.”

The names mean nothing to you, as the men in your wet dream had never given them, although, they must be the incubi he was talking about earlier. The fact that Seungcheol knows about your sinful nightly escapades with two other demons has you feeling shy, your skin heating at his words.

“Even so, demons need consent to enter human bodies,” the King of Hell explains. “Which means, if you withdraw your consent, I’ll be forced to stop. Although… something tells me you’ll consent.”

His hand glides from your hip to your exposed abdomen, and he teases you on what path he’s going to take- up to your breasts, or down to your aching core.

“What…” you swallow back a moan, “What makes you so sure?”

“I can smell your arousal, sweet girl, and there are signs I can see too.” His hand smooths up to your breast, and he squeezes your sensitive flesh, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. “I think you’re well aware that I’m going to fuck you, in a way you’ve never even dreamed of being fucked before.”

Your breath catches, and you bite at your lower lip to stop a whimper from slipping out of you. Your back arches, pushing your chest more into his large palm.

Seungcheol grins against your throat. “I can see how much you want this, little sweet. Do you want to see how much I want you?”

He grinds his front against your ass, and you can feel his hard cock- fuck, he feels big. You shiver at the realization that your betrothed is packing, and Seungcheol laughs at your reaction.

“Tell me you want this,” he commands.

“I-” You bite your tongue.

His hand wraps around your throat, lips moving to your ear. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you admit weakly.

“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol growls. His hand raises from you neck, fingers finding your jaw again. He prompts you to turn your head, meeting his gaze as he leans over your shoulder, looking down at you with a dark expression.

You know what’s coming, and you can’t help yourself as he draws your lips to his own. Your eyes flutter shut, mind going blank as you enjoy the feeling of him. He’s warm, but you suppose you should expect that from the King of Hell.

The kiss deepens all too quickly, and you find yourself turning in his embrace, grabbing at his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Seungcheol lets out a growl when your breasts press against his chest, and he leans down, grabbing at the back of your thighs so he can lift you off the marble floor. He presses you back against the window, tongue tasting your own and dominating you as he kisses you like a man who’s waited a hundred years for this- or, strike that, a man who’s waited three hundred years.

There’s a rage in the way he kisses you, rage in the fact that he was forced to wait so long, but behind the rage is something like desperation. His fingers dig into your thighs, his mouth unrelenting against your own.

You’re not sure how long the kiss lasts, but soon, he’s carrying you to the bed. He sets you onto the lavish mattress, tearing at your clothes until you’re naked before him. He towers over you, staring down at your body while you catch your breath.

“Beautiful,” he muses, reaching down to massage your breast, which sends sparks of delight through your entire form. “You were made for me. My sweet. My little queen. My lost witch.”

When he says it like this, something about it feels right.

Something about him feels right, as if your soul has accepted him, even after such a short amount of time.

Then, in the most shocking twist of events, the King of Hell himself gets onto his knees for you. “Come here, my sweet,” Seungcheol says softly, grabbing at your thighs to tug you down the silk sheets toward his face. “It’s time for me to have a taste.”

He leans toward your core, taking in a lewd breath before letting it fan across your skin. Your core throbs at the proximity. Seungcheol grins at your reaction, tongue moving to prod his own fang- which is when you realize, his tongue is like his cock: monstrous.

You suck in a choked gasp, eyes widening. You’d thought he was going easy on you by giving you his mouth first, come to find out his tongue alone is probably as large as most men’s cocks- this must be a Devil thing, but before you can think too hard about it, Seungcheol is licking your slit and your mind goes silent.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching, core pushing closer to his face. Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, his large hands finding your abdomen to pin you in place. “Stay still and take it, pretty girl,” he warns. “Or there will be… consequences.”

He licks at you again, flicking your clit with as skilled a tongue as you’ve ever had. Your pussy is already throbbing with need, and it takes everything inside of you not to buck toward his face again.

You can feel him watching you when you throw your head back, whimpering at the way he circles your clit. Then he drags his tongue down, dipping it into your wet heat. Your body tenses at the intrusion, mind short cirucuiting as inch after inch of tongue invades you, licking at your walls while Seungcheol groans at your taste.

Fuck- a five inch tongue is definitely a demon thing, but you can’t bring yourself to hate it as he begins to literally tongue fuck you stupid.

Not only does Cheol have the largest tongue you’ve experienced, and a willingness to use it, he’s got an eagerness in the way he eats you out. It’s as if he’s trying to devour you, holding nothing back as he growls and groans his way through working you up to your orgasm.

The feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach is hot and all consuming, your muscles tensing with effort as you get closer and closer to your peak.

“Fuck- Cheol-” you whimper, unable to hold it in any longer as your hips push toward his face, one of your hands moving down to grab at his hair-

It’s as if hot, invisible handcuffs wrap around your wrists, tugging them up and over your head, pinning you to the bed while you squirm with confusion and lust.

“What did I say about consequences if you didn’t behave yourself?” Seungcheol asks, pulling away from your core and licking his wet lips with that tongue of his.

“I-” you push at the invisible binds on your wrists. “I’m sorry- I was just so close-”

“So close that you lost your manners?” He taps his fingers along your abdomen. “That’s not very queenly of you, my sweet.”

“I’m sorry-” you say again, tears begin to form in your eyes as you feel your orgasm dissipating. “Please-”

“Please, what?”

“Your tongue- I was so close-”

“Do you really deserve it?”

“Yes!”

“You’ll be good for me?”

“Of course, I’ll be so good-”

“If you’re not good for me,” he warns, “you don’t get to cum, remember that.”

“Yes, okay, I understand-” you fight the urge to thrash in his embrace, and it feels like forever that he assesses you before finally bringing his face between your thighs again.

Just as his tongue is about to lap at your pussy, he stops. “Actually, I want to hear you beg for this. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You’re practically delirious, muscles still tight in preparation for your orgasm, and you’ll do anything he says right now. “Please, please, Sir- please let me cum!”

Seungcheol lets out a satisfied growl. “Sir, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll take that for now, but pretty soon, you’ll be calling me daddy.”

You whimper at his words, core dripping with spit and arousal. “Please-”

He buries his face in your pussy again, holding nothing back. His hands move down to your thighs, squeezing and adding a slight pain that has your entire body tingling. Gasps escape you, escalating in pitch as he drags you closer and closer to your orgasm again-

“Cumming,” you whisper, as the most intense orgasm of your life slams into you.

You do your best not to thrash around, but as Seungcheol obscenely tongue fucks you through your high, it’s the most you can do to stay as still as possible. You push up against the invisible binds on your wrists, gasping and whimpering-

“Fuck, my clit- it’s too sensitive-” you try to tell him, only for Seungcheol to focus more on the sensitive bud.

Your toes curl, a strangled sob escaping you at the stimulus. All you can do is lay there and take the pleasure he’s giving you- you’d thought he was being nice when he’d decided to eat you out, but you see now that maybe there was a bit of sadism in it. He’s clearly enjoying making you cum so hard that you’re beginning to cry, your muscles screaming at you from how tense you are-

“Please, please, please-”

With one final flick at your clit that has you letting out a high pitched squeal, Seungcheol pulls away from your pussy. He blows hot air on your core and you twitch, thighs closing, body shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Look at you, crying and I haven’t even given you my cock yet,” Seungcheol muses, standing up and staring down at your body.

He pulls off his shirt, and even through your tears, you take a good look at his chiseled form.

Fuck, he’s even more gorgeous with his skin showing. His shoulders are broad, arms all beefy and strong- he’s an absolute unit, but you guess you shouldn’t have expected anything less from the King of Hell.

Then he goes for his pants, pushing them down to reveal the largest cock you’ve ever seen in person.

Your mouth begins to water, fuzzy mind trying to figure out just how many inches this man is about to bury into your wet, twitching pussy.

“Think you can take it, pretty girl?” he asks, wrapping a hand around the base and pumping his hard length.

“Something tells me you’ll make it fit,” you whisper, your core throbbing at the idea.

Seungcheol grins. “We just met, and you already know me so well. Guess that’s part of the whole destined to be together thing. Makes shit easier.”

Instead of getting on top of you, Seungcheol tugs you closer to the foot of the mattress, then, with one twitch of his fingers, the entire bed raises, positioning you exactly where he needs you to be in order for him to fuck you while standing up.

He grabs at your breast, teasing your nipple while you mewl. Your own hand reaches out for his cock, and he allows you to grab him. You wipe your thumb across the angry red tip, smearing precum along his shaft to add lubrication, making it easier to pump his cock slowly while he continues to tease your nipples.

His hand begins to decend, and he teases two fingers along your pussy lips. “I guess I can be nice and stretch you out,” he sighs, slipping the digits into your core.

It’s a kindness you’re not sure you expected from him, and it prompts you to squeeze his cock tighter in your palm while he begins to finger fuck you open, scissoring his digits and testing your inner walls.

“I can’t fucking wait to ruin your perfect little pussy,” Seungcheol groans, fucking you even harder. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking well, gonna be a good girl and squeeze my cock even better.”

“Yes, Sir,” you whimper, abdominal muscles tensing as he begins to stroke your gspot.

“Should I give you one more before I give you my cock?” Seungcheol asks, thumb finding your clit and making you cry out. “You’re already wet, baby, but I want you dripping when I finally fuck you stupid.”

You pump is cock faster as he pistons his fingers into your gspot, his thumb unrelenting on your sensitive bud. He works you up to another orgasm with deadly precision, your entire body tensing with pleasure before falling over the edge.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol growls, fingers fucking you through your high. “That’s a good girl, squirting all over my fucking hand-”

No man has ever made you squirt before, and the feeling is intense. You’re gasping, crying from how good it feels, like an overwhelming sense of relief washing over you, a warmth spreading out from your core.

The sound of your squirt is obscene too, gushy, spongy noises filling the room with each pump of Seungcheol’s fingers.

“Sir,” you whimper, “need your cock-”

“Yeah? Is my good girl finally ready to please her King?”

You can only nod, letting go of his cock in favor of grabbing the sheets, needing an anchor for what’s about to come next.

“You know what this means, right?” Seungcheol asks, teasing his tip along your wet pussy lips. “You know I’m going to cum so fucking deep inside of you that you’re going to be dripping for days.”

You nod again, whimpering at the idea.

“You want to be bred though, don’t you, pretty girl? You’re practically begging for it now. What happened to the girl who threw juice at me this morning? All it took was a little cock and you’re dick whipped for you King.”

“All it took was a big cock,” you correct him, skin flushing at the words that have just slipped out of him.

Seungcheol laughs, his canines sparkling in the low light of the room. “Biggest cock you’ve ever had,” he agrees. “Biggest cock you ever will have. After this, you’re mine. Completely. Body and soul.”

In past relationships, you’ve toyed with the idea of forever. It’s been a thought that strikes fear in your heart, but for some reason, looking up at the King of Hell, forever doesn’t scare you anymore.

Something tells you he’s going to take care of you, in a way no one ever has.

It’s clear he’s very protective over you. He believes in soulmates, in destiny, in prophecy- you’re his perfect match, and he’s fully bought into that idea… maybe you’ll buy into it someday too.

“I’m yours,” you agree finally, staring up at the beautiful devil.

He bends over you, pressing his lips to your own. With one hand, he cups your cheek, keeping you close, and with the other, he guides his cock to your pussy again, slowly pushing in.

You gasp against his mouth at the immediate stretch of his cockhead in your tight core, your hands flying to his shoulders.

“I know,” he coos, “I know, but it will feel good in a second, I promise.”

You’re happy he made you squirt, because the wetness coating your pussy makes it easy for him to slowly slide inch after inch into your core. He thrusts shallowly, and the movement helps your body become adjusted to his massive size.

You’re shocked at how big he is- it was one thing to see it, and another thing entirely to feel him- to feel the vein running along the underside of his cock while it drags against your sensitive walls.

Seungcheol’s mouth is hot against your own, his tongue seemingly back to a normal size as he licks at your lips. You think he must be trying to distract you from the intense feeling of being stretched out on his cock, and it’s another kindness you’d never expected from him.

When he’s fully sheathed in your core, you both let out groans of pleasure.

The King of Hell straightens again, looking down at you while his hands graze your form. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod, licking your lips. “Yes, please.”

He grabs your hips, holding you steady so he can begin to rut into you.

Your view of him is insane. How is his body so perfect? He’s chiseled in the best of ways, his chest looks downright biteable, his biceps bulging as he holds you down, his abdominal muscles clenching with each thrust-

You’re absolutely delirious for him, your own hands finding your chest to tease your nipples.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifts to where you’re touching yourself, and a smirk appears on his face. “Fuck, baby, that good, huh?”

You can only nod and let out a needy mewling sound, pinching at your nipples and making your back arch while he rails your pussy.

Each drag of his cock along your sensitive inner walls has you seeing stars, and when his hand flattens over your abdomen, you nearly loose it.

“This is how deep I am,” he tells you. “Bet having-” he groans, “Bet having your guts rearranged by the King of Hell wasn’t on your bingo card this year, was it, little love?”

“No, sir,” you shake your head, whimpering at the feeling of pressure on your stomach from his hand. God- why does this feel so good? You can feel him everywhere, he’s all consuming, and that familiar feeling of an oncoming orgasm is building yet again.

“I can feel you tensing up,” Seungcheol notes with a laugh, his thumb moving down to find your clit. “Gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl, the title feeling more than natural on your lips.

Seungcheol’s grip on your hip tightens at the word, his thumb applying more pressure to your clit while he fucks you even harder, impaling you on his massive cock with each rough thrust.

“Beg for daddy to let you cum.”

“Please- please, daddy, fuck- I wanna cum so bad, wanna make you feel good-”

“I’m not cumming with you, not yet,” he warns. “As much as I love this position, there’s only one way I want you when I’m filling you with my seed, and that’s on your hands and knees, face buried in the pillows, crying like my good little whore.”

His words have your pussy fluttering around his cock, and it makes his grin widen.

“You like that, huh? Like the idea of being my perfect little cock slut?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Made for me,” he grunts, pinching your clit and making you cry out. “You were fucking made for me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me you deserve it.”

You can’t even fight the command, your body short circuiting, muscles clenching as you follow through with what he wants. Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, pussy clamping down on Seungcheol’s large cock.

He doesn’t stop, he only fucks you harder as you squeal and thrash against the bed- when you reach out to grab his arms, the invisible binds appear again, pinning your hands above you.

Seungcheol laughs, but there’s a groan in the sound too, and you know you’re probably squeezing him like a fucking vice.

“Good girl,” he growls, and it only makes your pussy flutter harder.

The squelching sound returns, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be shy about the way your body is reacting to him, you’re too overwhelmed by the euphoria surging through your being to think cohesively.

“You’re crying again,” Seungcheol notes. “How cute.” His pace slows, and suddenly he’s grabbing at your jaw, hauling you into a sitting position, your face just inches from his own.

His eyes are dark as he looks at you, then his long tongue is lolling out of his mouth, licking away your tears while you struggle and shiver, his cock buried so deep inside of you that you think you might faint.

“Tell me you’re ready for me to breed you,” Seungcheol growls.

“I’m ready for you to breed me,” you say meekly, core throbbing again at the idea.

The King of Hell presses his lips against your own, kissing your breath away while you claw at his shoulders. Then, as suddenly as he’d kissed you, he pulls away, cock slipping from your core and making you whine.

“Onto all fours,” he instructs.

The bed slowly lowers to an acceptable height while you fumble on shaky legs to get into doggy position.

“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol praises you, the bed dipping as he joins you on his knees behind you. His large hands find your body, skimming along your sides.

Then he grabs the back of your neck, shoving your face down into the mattress.

“Part of me wants to thank you for making this so easy,” he says. “But another part of me thinks you should be the one thanking me for giving you the opportunity to carry the children of the King of Hell.”

“Thank you,” you murmur.

Seungcheol scoffs. “You can thank me when my cum is dripping out of your used hole and you’re still begging for more.”

He slams his cock back into you, and a cry escapes your lips. God, in this position, he feels even deeper- if that’s possible.

Your toes curl at the sensation, and with every rough thrust, his balls clap against your clit, making you dizzy with pleasure.

His grip on the back of your neck increases, skilled fingers finding the arteries that flow to your brain- soon, you’re not only dizzy with pleasure, but dizzy from air being restricted too. It’s a beautiful, tingling feeling, and it has you clawing at the bed, arching your back as you moan like a desperate whore for him.

You feel something on your clit, but both of Seungcheol’s hands are still occupied, one on your hip, one on your neck-

That’s when you realize that whatever invisible magic grip he’d used to pin you to the bed, he can use to pleasure you too-

Now, you truly feel him everywhere.

“Fuck, fuck-” you struggle against the mattress, another orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it, take it.”

“Are you close?” you ask, and from the silence that you’re met with, you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him off guard. “Please tell me you’re close- I want to be full so bad, want you to breed me, Cheol- please-”

He sucks in a shaky breath, gripping your hip so hard that you’re pretty sure you’re going to bruise. His hand moves away from your neck in favour of grabbing both sides of your waist. He roughly pulls your ass back to meet each hard thrust.

“Keep begging.”

“Please, daddy, please- fuck, this is what you wanted me for, right? This is what I owe you? Then give it to me- give me everything, breed me-”

“Cum for me first,” Seungcheol commands. “Cum on my cock so I know you deserve it.”

The magic on your clit suddenly feels like a harsh vibration, and it’s enough to tip you over the edge. You grab at the bed sheets, letting out a primal sound of pleasure as your core clamps down on Seungcheol’s length for a second time.

He lets out his own groan, and a moment later you feel his cum shooting deep inside of you, filling you up in ways you never even imagined possible.

He fucks you through your highs, his grip unwavering on your hips. It feels amazing to be used like this, to feel rope upon rope of Seungcheol’s seed invading you and coating your walls.

And the sounds he’s making- rough grunts and groans- you’ve never heard anything like it. You’ve never been this head over heals for someone before, and the notion shocks you.

Maybe you really were meant for each other- it’s hard to say what’s real as you sacrifice yourself to be his little cum dump, taking every last drop until he stills behind you, cock still buried to the hilt.

He’s breathing heavily, his gasps teasing your back.

Neither of you say anything for a solid minute.

One of his hands leaves your hip, trailing along your spine. “Good girl.”

You can only whimper in response.

“I will admit, I’m still disappointed you’re not adept in the art of witchcraft, although, that’s hardly your own fault.” What a topic change. “I’ll find you someone to teach you, you’ll have lots of time to devote to the craft.”

His palm flattens against the small of your back, and he wordlessly prompts you to flatten onto your belly, pressing his own large chest against you like a blanket. His lips find your throat, and he peppers your skin in kisses.

“Your days will be spent learning how to be a Queen, and your nights will be spent like this, with me.” His nose nuzzles by your cheek. “And tomorrow, I’ll make you my bride, officially.”

“Tomorrow?” you squeak. “Isn’t that a little… too soon?”

“I’ve waited three hundred years for you, little love. At this point, there’s no such thing as too soon.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading!

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🔮 preview. “Trust me, little love, I haven’t cum in you for months, pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to help myself even if I tried.” With a grin, you allow Seungcheol to cup his fingers around the nape of your neck, dragging your lips to his. He kisses you as eagerly as he had the very first time, pushing you backward with his large form until you bump against the window. “I’ve got an idea,” your husband tells you, his mouth moving to your throat. “I wanna fuck you against this, want you to look at your kingdom while I pump our second heir deep into your perfect little pussy.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, impreg kink, cum kink, oral (f recieving), fingering, demon magic as a vibrator, fucking against a window, fucking while wearing a dress, quickie, biting/marking/blood licking, breast play, dirty talk, praise, begging, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby, little love, little sweet, etc… (his) daddy, sir.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!reader

bonus

Hell is no place to raise a child, and it’s not a place that is easily accessible to witches either- which is why, soon into your pregnancy, Seungcheol made it his mission to find you a safe haven on Earth that you could call home.

Nestled in a small valley, far from any towns or cities, Seungcheol crafted you a home. It’s a cottage, very different from the Hell palace you’d become accustomed to.

Your days are spent basking in the sunshine with your tutor, a witch of a strong family blood line who had long been acquainted with the King of Hell. Your teacher, a woman named Faeble, also acted as your midwife, ensuring your birth with your first child was as seamless as possible, with the aid of magic of course.

She tends to the wards, teaching you about the ways of the witches, and helps you raise your son- she’s become like the mother you never got to have, and your days are peaceful.

In the evenings, Seungcheol appears, whisking you and your son away to the safety of Hell. It’s a simple little life you’ve made for yourself, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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freshthoughts2020 · 1 month

Text

NARUTO series creator Masashi Kishimoto reacts to Toriyama's passing.

"I honestly don't know what to write about this sudden event.

But for now, I would like to share my thoughts and feelings that I had hoped for one day Mr. Toriyama would ask me about it.

I grew up with his manga, Dr. Slump in the lower grades of elementary school and Dragon Ball in the upper grades, and it was natural for me to have his manga as a part of my life.

Even when I was having a bad day, the weekly Dragon Ball made me forget about it. As a country boy with nothing, that was a relief to me.

I really enjoyed Dragon Ball too much!

I was a college student. Suddenly, Dragon Ball, which had been a part of my life for so many years, came to an end.

I felt a tremendous sense of loss and didn't know what to look forward to.

But at the same time, it was an opportunity for me to truly understand the greatness of the master who created Dragon Ball.

I wanted to create a work like his!

I wanted to be just like him!

And as I followed in his footsteps to become a manga artist, I began to feel less and less lost.

It was because I enjoyed making manga.

By following him, I was able to find new enjoyment.

Sensei was always my guide.

He was my admirer.

I may be annoying to him, but I am grateful to him.

For me, he was truly the God of salvation and the God of manga.

When I first met him, I was too nervous to say a single word.

But after meeting him many times at the Tezuka Award judging, I became able to talk.

I will never forget the slightly embarrassed smile on his face when he and Mr. Oda talked excitedly about how Dragon Ball was fun, as if they were children again and were engaged in a competition.

I just received the news of Sensei's passing.

I feel a tremendous sense of loss, more than when Dragon Ball ended...

I still don't know how to deal with this hole in my heart.

I can't even read Dragon Ball, which I love.

I don't even feel like I can write this message to Sensei properly.

Everyone in the world was still looking forward to your work.

If I could really have one Dragon Ball wish come true...I'm sorry...

That may be selfish of me, but I am sad, Sensei.

Akira Toriyama-sensei, thank you for 45 years of enjoyable works.

And thank you for your hard work.

I am sure that his family members are still deeply saddened by this loss.

Please take care of yourselves.

I pray that Akira Toriyama-sensei may rest in peace."

#toriyama #akira toriyama #kishimoto #masashi kishimoto

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eelhound · 5 months

Text

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

#ursula k. le guin #homer #quote #quotations #the iliad #trojan war #storytelling #fantasy #fiction writing #war #conflict #tragedy #john milton #paradise lost #greek mythology

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drvscarlett · 21 days

Text

Let him cook

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Got this idea because the masterchef trophy is similar to the Australian GP trophy. This is going to be a series

Charles_Leclerc posted a new photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, PierreGasly, and 365,000 others.

Charles_Leclerc Add professional chef to the list

User1 aint no way you cooked this

User2 nice try Charles but we all saw that pasta video

CarlosSainz55 mate drop the # of the private chef you hired, these look delicious

Charles_Leclerc I told you that I made this myself CarlosSainz55 Lies!!!!

PierreGasly since when did you learn how to make coq au vin???

Charles_Leclerc not you too PierreGasly you should invite me sometimes so I can judge your cooking

Y/NCooks posted a photo

YNCooks last date night before i enter masterchef australia. credits to the boyfriend for the lovely photos

Friend1 Y/N i know this is your dream for a while now. I hope you win. We will cheer for you our next masterchef australia!

YNCooks awww stop! ur making me cry

User1 OMG she is finally competing, goodluck Y/N!

User2 Y/N always talk about how its her dream to enter masterchef, I'm gonna watch it everyday and hope she wins it!

User3 Goodluck Y/N! I hope you become the next masterchef australia!!!

Mystery Box challenge episode

There was a building reputation in the kitchen that you are one of the strong homecooks of the season. After winning the past 2 mystery challenges, you were extremely determined to do well and seek for a third streak. The mystery box today was all about italian cooking, a cuisine that you have been comfortable due to the close ties of your boyfriend being signed to an Italian team.

"And what do we have here with you today Miss Y/N" Matt Preston asked as he approached the work table together with George Colambris "You seem rather comfortable and in your own zone. Its like an ordinary Tuesday date night"

You gave a small chuckle with that mention "That's actually pretty on point of you to say as Tuesday is my date night with the boyfriend"

"Ah so maybe that's why you are so inspired because you are in love"George teased.

"Well I have to admit that there is a little pressure to do well in this challenge or my boyfriend's family will get mad at me"you quipped back a reply.

The judges suddenly leaned a little interested to learn more about your personal life, "So your boyfriend is italian?"

"He is not but he might as well be. He spends a lot of time there"

"It must be hard to not see him a lot since you are here competing" Matt says

"It's a price we are willing to pay. He has been supportive of my dream as I am with him" you gave an encouraging smile as you continue to chop the sweet potatoes.

"We hope to meet that boyfriend of yours because he is one lucky man because that dish looks delicious!" George says before they left the station.

Somewhere in Bahrain, Charles Leclerc is grinning upon watching the replay of the episode. He was beyond proud of what you have achieved as a contestant in MasterChef. He wished that he could do more to express his support towards you but you have an agreement with him to keep things lowkey for the meantime. It was a reasonable decision as he didn't want to overshadow your career but it was nice to know that you two are a private thing but never a secret.

He was so engrossed to repeating the boyfriend clip that he didn't notice that Carlos snuck up beside him.

"What are you watching there?" Carlos asked his teammate

"Oh its nothing" Charles says as he immediately exited the Youtube app "I didn't notice you there, you scared me"

"If you weren't too into your phone then you would have noticed me calling you" Carlos explained "What are you watching on your phone that got you smiling like that?"

"Nothing, I just saw an ad"

"Hmm sure an ad" Carlos was pretty sure that Charles was watching MasterChef but he couldn't care anymore to ask which country because there was too many so he decided to just let it go "Cmon Fred is asking for us, were late for a meeting"

"Carlos! Why didn't you start with that?"

Cake challenge

You were exhausted because you spent the early hours of the morning watching the Jeddah GP. It was a thrilling race to see Charles bag his first podium of the season so you can say that its worth it. Besides, you were able to talk to him after the race so it sweetens the deal even more.

Filming begun for MasterChef and the judges brought out balloons for the mystery box challenge.

"Your challenge today is to make the most imaginative and creative birthday cake that you ever had" Gary explained "The pantry is filled with all the cake flavors you can ever imagine so be creative and show us what you've got"

Baking has never been your strongest suit. It was all about precision and measurements as small increments can make a huge difference. Today, you were determined to do well and you wanted to use the podium finish of Charles for the cake.

It was a struggle to bake the cake, cool it, and pipe it in under 60 minutes. You felt the pressure getting under your nerves as your hands started shaking when you were piping the cake details with 10 minutes left. There was a sigh of relief when you finished just 5 seconds away from the judges calling the time.

There were plenty of beautiful cakes in the room so it was a shocker for you that the judges called you in front to present your cake.

"Judges what I have for you today is a three layer cake with the raspberry,almond, and pistachio with chocolate to seperate the layers and a lemon buttercream frosting."

"You told us you can't bake, that seems like a lie" George says as he cuts through the cake "Look at that layers"

"The layers are actually inspired by the italian flag, its an homage to the boyfriend. Its actually a cake that I made thinking about him" you explained.

"That is simply gorgeous. The cake is very moist and the balance with the flavors is that its not too sweet or nothing overpowering. Your boyfriend is a lucky lucky lucky man to be baked a cake like this" George complimented.

"Does your boyfriend cook?"Matt asked as he took a bite

"Oh God no. I have to cook or else the kitchen will be on fire"you laughed "But I can't drive so maybe that's his payback"

"You seem to show the beautiful dynamics of your relationship when you cook something inspired by him. I wish you two the best" Matt's genuine comment was a heartwarming moment.

Its unfortunate that you didn't win this challenge but you were able to showcase your support for your boyfriend.

Melbourne GP meets MasterChef

This was another challenge as you were elected as a team captain for the second team challenge. You were extremely nervous when you were transported with your team mates from the blue kitchen to an unknown location. It was even more nerve-wracking after you've realized where you are.

"Welcome to the Albert Park where the Australian Grand Prix is underway for this weekend" Matt introduced "Your challenge is to prepare two dishes: a pasta and a fish dish to be served to the talented drivers in Formula 2"

There was a little sigh of relief as you were dealing with the Formula 2 drivers. It was a lot of weight on the shoulder if you will be serving food to your boyfriend.

"The practice sessions will be starting in a few minutes. You have 90 minutes to prepare your dish and an hour to serve them"

All you know was that you started organizing the team to put them in charge of the dishes that you will be making today. You cross your fingers that the color red brings luck to your team today.

Meanwhile, the paddock was buzzing with cameras and Charles immediately noticed that there were some new film crews around the Formula 2 drivers. His eyes did a double take after he recognized the face of three familiar judges he often sees on MasterChef Australia.

"What's going on? Isn't that MasterChef Australia judges?" Charles quizzed

"That's MasterChef Australia, they have this team challenges and they will be feeding the Formula 2 drivers" Silvia answered as she was informed earlier that morning about the extra exposure in the paddock today.

"Why Formula 2? Why not us?" Charles whined

"If you want then you could go ask Ollie for food" Silvia suggested

That sets a lightbulb moment for Charles as he excused himself to talk to the young driver. He will not miss the opportunity to taste the cooking of his secret girlfriend and support her in doing her craft.

It puzzled Ollie Bearman to see that Charles has been looking for him once the practice session was over. He was even more confused by his request.

"So you want me to get you food?" Ollie asked "Doesn't Ferrari have a catering?"

"Its not just food, its the MasterChef Australia food" Charles explained without giving out too much information "I just love the show okay?"

"You can come along, I'm sure they don't mind" Even better.

So here is why you were genuinely surprised to see that Charles Leclerc is walking inside the MasterChef tent with a red and blue plate in his hand. He was grinning wildly as if he was a kid on a sugar rush.

"Ohmygod we are serving food to Charles Leclerc!" one of your teammates whispered.

"Hi goodafternoon! What's the dish for today?" he asked politely.

"Well we have a pan fried cod with a pea puree and then some green grapes some fennel over there and then for the pasta lemon ricotta and beet tortellini" you answered as the team captain "We hope that its up your liking"

Charles gave you that smile that seems to light up the whole room, "I look forward to it, thanks!"

Its moments like this that you wish that you could reach out for him but you understand that its not yet the time. Its nice to see the support that you have for each other even though its all in private and away from the eyes of the media.

"Goodluck on your race Charles!"

There was a smile on both of your faces as you both continued to go chase your dreams.

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

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