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saberlight1 · 4 months

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lost signals & tunes — coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, angst, mentions of violence, injustice in the districts, possessive!snow, trauma, kinda mean!snow, talks of a breakup, arguments, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: i’m back for round 3!!! i’m so happy that you all like this series so far as much as i do. here are the links to part 1 & 2, if you missed them. this one is sad and angsty, i’m sorry. the song y/n sings is by frank santra! anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! much love.

masterlist

Since your last real conversation with Coriolanus, he had been acting different. He was colder, and you didn’t know if you were simply going crazy, or if he just going out of his way to ignore you.

But regardless, you were hurt. When you tried to speak to him, he would say he had somewhere to be. And maybe he did, but you just wished he’d spend time with you.

You missed him, really.

Lucy Gray frowned as she watched you from across the room. You and the Covey were all getting ready backstage at the Hob where you were set to perform shortly. Even if you were cousins, you and Lucy Gray were brought up as sisters and knew the other probably better than you knew yourselves.

She watched you as you were deep in thought, and she knew something was troubling you. She walked over, and with a click of her tongue she gained your attention.

With a raise of her eyebrows you already knew what she was thinking. “Lucy Gray, please. Not right now,”

She raised her hands up in surrender, sitting down next to you on the couch. “I was just gonna ask what was wrong,”

“I’m sorry,” You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I’m stressed out,”

“Talk to me,” She softly smiled, her hand coming up to comfortably rub your shoulder.

“Coriolanus has just been acting weird, and I don’t know why. I think.. I think when we were at the lake I said something that he didn’t like, or something.” You vented. “Just ever since we got back, he’s been off. Or maybe I’m just delusional.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Christ, Gray, I’m loosin’ it.”

She giggled. “You got a bad case of the love blues, it sounds to me, Y/N.” She repeated the same thing your mothers used to say all the time when talking about past relationships.

A small smile blessed your features. “I think you may be on to somethin’.” You sighed, again. “I just wish he’d at least talk to me, y’know? Let me know whatever I’ve done, so I can fix it, or if he wants to break up just fuckin’ tell me. I hate when shit just lingers.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “Listen, if he doesn’t realize how damn good he’s got it, then he ain’t worth it. You know better. And I know you two got history and what not, but if he stressin’ you out so bad you can’t even enjoy a performance, I’d say ya need to talk to the boy.” She explained, shrugging. “Or leave his ass. You deserve better,”

You chuckled. “Only you, Lucy Gray, could manage to make me laugh while talking about my relationship problems.” You shook your head, playfully.

A smile came back to her face. “You know it, now, c’mon we got a show to play.” She stood up, holding her hand out for you to take.

She brought you over to the rest of the Covey, Issac immediately bringing you into a side hug.

“Aye, sis, you want me to kick that boy’s ass?” He asked, smiling goofy.

You laughed. “No, please.”

“Alright, alright.“ He shook his head. “Let’s go, folks!”

Once you all were out on stage, all of the struggles and worries wrestling around your mind faded, and a smile brightly displayed on your face as you sang along with your family. You didn’t even realize how fast it was going by because you were enjoying yourself.

Until you saw his smirk in that crowd.

You were scanning the crowd as normal, loving to see all of different people coming to together to enjoy music when you saw him. He was in the back of the room, alone, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked at you.

His gaze almost made you feel uneasy, his sharp eyes boring into yours. Lucy Gray wrapped up one of her songs, turning on her heel and winking at you, her signal to let you know it was your turn on the mic.

You sighed before standing up, grabbing your guitar and walking up to the mic.

“Hey, twelve,” You smiled, looking at the crowd. “How y’all doin’ tonight, huh?” They all cheered in return, making your smile grow bigger. “That’s what I like to hear! Alright, here’s the song.”

Over and over, I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

You began, singing deeply and sharply into the mic, staring into Coriolanus’ eyes.

Once when you walked beside me,

That inconceivable, that unbelievable world we knew,

When we two were in love.

Your eyes burned into his as the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only you and him as you sang to him. He knew it was about him, most of your songs were.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took turned into gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

Your voice boomed across the pub, the couples holding each other and the singles downing their shots in misery. You touched all their hearts with the song, somehow. His eyebrows furrowed as he truly listened to the lyrics, seeing how you wrote about your love and pain, and he wondered if it was still about him.

I mean, he hadn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t think him ignoring you for a week or two would push you this far.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me.

Issac and Cece took over for the music break, as you turned to blink away the tears that threatened to spill.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took, it turned into the gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

The tears only got closer to dropping from your eyes as you kept singing, just trying to get through the song. You tried focusing on the beautiful music the Covey produced behind you and put your all into your singing.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me,

Over and over I keep goin’ over that world we knew.

You finished with one last strum of your guitar, and the melodies of Lucy Gray and Maudie Ivory next to you. The crowd erupted in cheers and claps.

“Thank you!” You smiled as the rest of your family joined you, bowing. After saying your goodbyes, you stalked off stage as fast as you could, ignoring the concerned gaze from Coriolanus.

“Your singing was beautiful, I love that song.” Lucy Gray said as she walked beside you. “But I do want to give that boy a stern talkin’ to for makin’ you feel that way.”

You grabbed her wrist. “No, Lucy. Let me talk to him.” She looked at you with raised brows, the pair of you exchanging words with your eyes. Eventually she nodded, stepping forward and letting you walk.

You walked through the corridor that led back out to the dance floor, your eyes looking for that familiar face. But it seemed to be that he found you before you could find him, the man already walking towards you.

You crossed your arms, turning on your heel to walk deeper into the corridor so no one would be around. You knew he’d follow, so you leaned against the wall, popping the gum in your mouth.

“There you are,” He called as he turned the corner, seeing you standing there. He walked over to stand in front of you. “Y/N, that song—”

“Cut the shit,” You cut him off. “What’s been goin’ on with you, Coriolanus?”

His eyebrows furrowed at your forwardness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you avoidin’ me. You been actin’ weird since the lake, Coryo.” You sighed, pushing yourself off the wall to get eye to eye with the man before you. “If this is about what I said about runnin’ away..”

He rubbed his temple, staying silent.

“Coriolanus, do you expect me to enjoy life here? Watchin’ people get hung every other day, scared for my own damn life? My families lives?” You threw your arms out, scoffing. “Why would I want to stay?”

“Because of me!” He cut off your rant with a whisper yell. “I wanted you to want to stay, with me. Or.. come with me to the Capitol.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“I know. And I wish I could change that.” He stepped forward a bit. “Because I don’t want to be away from you, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened. “Coryo, I don’t want to be away from you either. Hell, I’ve been thinkin’ about you for weeks just because you didn’t talk to me,” You bitterly laughed at your own foolishness. “But, look, if this is gon’ cause a problem between us, then maybe we should just call it off here, ‘cause even if it’ll hurt like hell, if we don’t got trust in each other then we got dirt.” You shrugged, even though the words you spoke felt like a dagger to the heart.

“No.” He shook his head immediately, his hands reaching out to grip your hips, almost seeming to make sure you wouldn’t run. “I’m not letting you go, no. Definitely not over this.”

“Then what do you want from me?” You asked, your eyes flickering between his. “You iced me out for 2 weeks because of what I said, then when I give you a solution, you say no?”

“Because that solution is us not being together.” He said, firmly. “That is the last thing I want. This whole thing started because I’m afraid of being away from you, Y/N.” He finally admitted.

You sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me that? We could’ve worked this out together.”

His hands slid up your body to cradle your face. “I was afraid. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean to hurt you,”

You looked down. “You scared me, you asshole. I thought you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

He frowned, tapping softly on your cheek to get your attention back onto him. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, I always want to be with you. We will figure this out, I promise you that. I.. I’m just not good with talking about things with people, y’know…”

A soft smile spread over your face. “Yeah, I know. Just.. talk to me next time, okay? I hate when we don’t talk.” You said, walking into his arms.

He sighed happily at the contact, nuzzling his face his your hair to inhale your scent. “I will, my love.” He sighed, pulling back and licking his lips. “That song, though, it was beautiful. What is it called?”

You continued to smile. “You didn’t figure it out? It’s called ‘The World We Knew’ and, before you even ask, yes, it’s about you.”

His smiled slowly faded. “I made you feel that way?”

You swallowed, your smile gone as well. “Coryo.. these past two weeks, I thought it was over between us. When I wrote that, I was trying to come to terms with it.”

“Well, now you know that we’ll forever be in that world we apparently knew.” He joked, making you giggle.

He leaned forward to place a loving kiss on your lips, causing you to moan against his lips. He pulled back at the noise, looking at you with a smirk. “I have just the idea to make it up to you,”

You laughed when you saw that glint in his eye, kissing him again. “Show me what you got, big boy.”

#coriolanus my bae #coriolanus angst #coryo x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbsoas #coryolanus snow #coriolanus snow fluff #corio snow #coriolanus imagine

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pathetic-gamer · 1 year

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Fashion in Fódlan: a very long, non-comprehensive, and entirely unsolicited analysis

The fe3h writers did a pretty solid job of creating three nations with clear social, economic, and political differences. The fashion stands out to me as doing exceptionally well at expressing those differences, and, just like in the real world, it works as a sort of socioeconomic barometer that helps tell Fódlan's story.

In this post, I'll break down the key clothing trends in the three regions and provide some light interpretations, largely related to $$

Please note that I'm NOT using this post to discuss historical inspirations. Also, not everyone from every region is included. In particular, anyone whose outfit is too much of just a riff on a class uniform (like the Ashen Wolves or the various minsters in the empire) is left out.

There's a part 2 now lol (church of seiros time); part 3 as well!

1. Holy Kingdom of Faerghus: function IS fashion, baby!!

Fearghus, beloved land of ice and snow and spooky folktales about watering your fields with blood and ghosts living under the ground - you did not come to fuck around. You're here to protect the commoners and go back home to a stew that may, if you're lucky, actually have some meat in it. In this kingdom, you're going to dress warm and you're going to like it. Oh, you have some extra money? Gonna spend it on something for yourself? Better be using it for something useful, like keeping your plate armor in good condition. (Please note: Catherine, though being Faeghan, is excluded because she wears the uniform of the Knights of Seiros, not her own clothes.)

Trends:

High collars, long skirts - generally as little exposed skin as possible. (There is exactly one pair of bare hands in the entire kingdom. Mercie is getting a little bold 👀)

Fur cloaks/capes/gloves, or just fur around the cuffs and collars if they don't have a full fur cloak.

Armor - every single man is dressed in armor, as is Ingrid. Most of the men have full suits of plate armor, but Felix, Rodrigue, and Ashe are wearing only gambesons (note the quilting in Felix's sleeve - that's what gives it away, imo). The folks in plate armor would have gambesons on as well (you can see Ingrid's underneath her breastplate), acting as padding for the plate armor. I think Gilbert is wearing plate armor with a tunic over it (a realistic historical practice).

Fastening is accomplished with clasps and lacing, and there are relatively few buttons or adornments to be seen on the main garments - Annette is an exception, which will be addressed later.

Brief analysis:

Notice the economical use of fabric - their clothing tends to lie flat, with fabric being layered for warmth rather than pleated, gathered, or puffed. The folks in plate armor may spice it up a little with a sash of some kind if they aren't already wearing a cloak or cape. I'm assuming Gilbert's ~stylish tunic~ is keeping him warm well enough to not need a cloak or larger scarf. (Mercedes has a ruffles and puffier sleeves, plus a fuller skirt, but it's worth noting that she is currently part of a merchant house, and merchants tend to be wealthier and actually occupy a unique social class between nobles and commoners.)

Note the colors, too. Greens, browns, and yellows are the cheapest and easiest dyes to make and use. That bright sort of tawny color that Gilbert, Annette, and Jeralt all have is easy and cheap. Gilbert's grey tunic could feasibly just be undyed wool. A true blue is difficult, but you'll note that the blue the people wear up here leans towards grey and green - could be that the dye is faded, or that it was never very blue to begin with. The only true blue is on Dimitri.

All of this reinforces the idea that Faerghus is not a rich nation, and the nobility don't live too far off from the common folk. The vast majority of the cost we see is actually their armor (worn by Dimitri, Dedue, Sylvain, Gilbert, Jeralt, Matthias, Ingrid, and also if we're getting all the way into it, Gwendal, Miklan, Lonato, and Baron Dominic as well), which is would have been pretty expensive. You'll notice they mostly wear grey armor with very little extra decoration, keeping the costs low. Ingrid, the poorest of the nobles in armor, also has the least actual plate. Felix and Rodrigue both have full cloaks, which most other people don't have (just Dimitri), but they also aren't wearing plate, so clearly that's a calculated choice.

That being said, even within these more economical fashions, we can still see clear differences between classes. Most noticeably, Felix (rich) and Ashe (not rich) have very similar outfits, but Felix's tunic/gambeson is lined with fur, while Ashe's is not.

BTW I'm of the opinion that the Fraldariuses are the richest people in the kingdom other than the royal family, and I believe that specifically of their fancy cloaks lol

so luxurious~

2. Adrestian Empire: look at my money bitch

Ah, the land of beauty and excess! I love to live in the capital and visit the cultural icon that is the opera and pretend that I'm not in Wealth Inequality Central. (Please note: Petra is not included, since she dresses according to Brigid's fashions. Also note: I fuck w these styles so hard, dude.)

Trends:

Short skirts (above the knee - Dorothea has a draped over-skirt thing, but her main skirt is shorter, and Manuela has leg slits instead of a short hem), low or square necklines, open backs. In general, we're looking at a lot of exposed skin. Forgot to include Cornelia in the pics, but she has this too.

Tailored jackets with just SO many buttons. Hanneman fits into the tailored jacket category, but isn't included in the highlights by virtue of Not Enough Buttons. (Some concept art is included here to drive the point home.)

Finally, there's this specific very specific double-breasted neckline thing (baby edelgard is separate bc i forgot to include her when i made the first image shhhh)

Brief analysis:

Adrestian fashion is all about displaying status and wealth, in this case through ornamentation, rich colors, uniforms denoting class/role, and also a fair amount of excess fabric.

Historically, fabric itself was one of the major indicators of wealth - in fact, certain historical styles very explicitly showed off just who was rich enough to afford, for example, a whole gown made from the same length of fabric, or even just an entire skirt panel with no piecing. In the Adrestian Empire, We've got excess fabric galore, tucked away into all those beautiful ruffles and bell sleeves, layered skirts, unnecessary capes, double collars, and puffy pants - and it's all in much more luxurious colors, too. In fact, I'm pretty sure the largest single piece of fabric on anyone in the game is Edelgard's cape, which is then also adorned with dozens of buttons and extra bits of fabric. It's almost definitely fully silk, both the outer layer and the lining. (And it's badass.)

Look at all that fluff! Dimitri's cloak probably rivals hers in the size of the actual fabric itself, but his is likely a heavy wool (unlined, maybe?), plus has a lot of fur.

"Oh, but pg, there are capes in Faerghus, too!" yes, but in Faerghus, they live in the arctic /hj. Note the vast expanses of exposed skin down here in the empire - clearly, cold is not an issue. You'll also note that the cloaks in Faerghus were heavy and lined with fur; that's not the case here. Given the prevalence of tailored jackets and the dual colors on Ferdinand's cape, I'm guessing they're either a comparatively lightweight wool with a silk lining (typical for tailored suit jackets, nothing particularly noteworthy about that), or just fully silk. (Bernie's shawl is just cotton though, prove me wrong...) Hanneman and Manuela are exceptions, since they both have fur, but they live at Garreg Mach, not in Enbarr.

The jackets themselves, by the way, could be silk OR wool. Ferdinand's in particular (especially thropes) reminds me of early 18th c. waistcoats, which would have been full silk.

We also have much richer colors down here in the land of art and song. Red, purple, and black were all very difficult colors to maintain, and very expensive. The most expensive colors, in fact. Not gonna lie, as far as price per yardage goes, I think Hubert's outfit might rival Edelgard’s in expense.

A notable exception to the excess fabric bit is Bernadetta. However, her dress is in what is arguably the most expensive color, and is heavily decorated, so that's a reasonable trade-off, and I don't blame her. I, too, would go for a smaller amount of pretty purple silk embroidered with bright, beautiful gold and yellow instead of a bigger, more impressive-looking option. It's about the little things.

I do want to take look at Caspar, in particular. He's unique in that he's dressed in a full suit of armor. But, given that he's the second son and not set to inherit anything, unlike all his waistcoat-wearing friends, he isn't being held to some particular uniform, and even if he were, it's the ministry of military affairs. Of course they wear real armor. What's interesting is that his armor is a sort of rosy grey/brass, rather than silver, and he has a lot more decoration and flair than the folks with full armor in Faerghus, in both his throuses and thropes outfits.

Worth noting, btw, that we have exactly zero examples of actual commoners in Adrestia, other than generic NPCs. Dorothea belongs to that peculiar niche that is opera and acting, so she is expected to dress and act like a noble, despite not having a title or property of any sort.

Adrestia - and Enbarr in particular - leads the slow march of fashion across Fódlan, given that it's a cultural hub and is so much wealthier, while Fearghus slowly picks things up over time. Thus, we have Annette, who lives closer to the empire and has disposable income, having some decorative buttons and tassels and a mock low neckline.

It's not nearly as much as the actual Adrestians, but she's picking it up!

3. Leicester Alliance: the beeeest of both worlds~

Oh, Alliance, you messy bitch. What we see here is a mix of everything, where some of them are influenced by Faerghus, and others by Adrestia (just like how some of them have kingdom-style names and some have empire-style names), and a few fit neither camp. There are clear reasons for similarities where they exist, though, so let's take a look! (Please note: Claude is not included, since his clothes are heavily influenced by Almyra.)

Hilda and Lysithea have the frills, puffy sleeves/skirt, short hems, low/square necklines, and expensive colors of the empire (plus, Lysithea gets a decorative veil in dark purple. How ~fancy~). This reinforces the idea that Adrestia sets the standards for fashion: Hilda cares about fashion and keeps up with the times. Lysithea lives on the border and was briefly under the control of the empire, and thus is influenced by it. Mostly, though, I think it's about how she tries to seem older and tends to see Hilda as a model of maturity (lol), so she's following that example.

Holst's armor is quite decorative, similar to Caspar's, but what stands out to me is the fringe in particular. We see the exact same fringe on Caspar, Hubert, and Edelgard, but not anywhere else.

Lorenz and Erwin are a bit of a border case, tbh! They both wear practical, full plate armor with little in the way of extra decor (other than Lorenz's rose and Erwin's little cape thing), but Jesus christ how much does it cost to keep it all so purple like that??? That's a blatant display of wealth that would impress any empire noble.

Marianne, on the other hand, would fit right in in Faerghus, with the old fashioned long skirt, high collar, capelet, and lack of extra decoration other than some pretty trim. Makes sense, since her territory is so close to the kingdom and she's clearly not interested in trying to stay fashionable.

Judith is dressed very practically, has some fun puffy sleeves and bright but inexpensive colors, has a short cape and gambeson (a short vest one, though). I want to say leans toward Faerghus, which makes sense since it's on the border and the house did at one point split off, with part going back to the kingdom.

Now we get to the only real, honest-to-god, never-owned-land-or-property, born-as-and-remain-now peasants/commoners: Leonie and Cyril. (Raphael was born into the merchant class and was able to support himself and Maya by selling his estate, so while we can consider him a real commoner at this point, it's not nearly to the same degree.)

Their economic status is obvious from their outfits: both have very practical clothes with no extra decoration, in cheap and easily accessible colors. Leonie's cloak wrapped around her waist is purely functional - she can use it when the weather calls for it, but it's out of the way of her arrows when she doesn't need it - and looks to be pretty soft, so likely is lightweight. She has a hint of some light protective wear (note the quilted sleeve) and the same front clasps as Felix and Ashe, so i think she's also meant to be wearing a gambeson, but it's shorter and less protective. Cyril doesn't seem to have any armor at all except for the shoulder protection - we can tell from the lack of center-front closures on his shirt and the shape of the cuffs of the sleeves that he's actually just wearing a tunic (or rather, two tunics on top of each other).

Raphael also has a very practical outfit, but notice that his is so much more protective, probably because he has a little more money than the other two. He has very limited, sparsely placed plate armor, but he is covered head-to-toe in quilted cloth armor. He's ready to get some punching done, baby!

Our real outlier, however, is Ignatz... But you bet your bottom dollar I've got an explanation for that one, too!!!!! Mans is an artist and he has rich(?) merchant parents, he can do whatever he wants.

Absurdly unnecessary lengths of (probably not very expensive) cloth? Sure. Fancy feathers that literally no one else gets? Why not! A billion buttons, half of which arent even keeping anything closed? Curly and intricate cloak fasteners probably made of some kind of cording? Sashes and tassels and a decorative sword??? Fuck it, we ball. I love this so much, it's easily my favorite outfit in the entire game and I would ABSOLUTELY wear it irl. I already have the right haircut and glasses and boots, I'm ready

4. In conclusion

These designs really are Fódlan in a nutshell. From the quiet wealth and functionality in Felix's fur-lined gambeson to the audacious luxury of Ferdinand's waistcoat to the unrepentant anarchism of Ignatz's entire vibe, we can see the history - and future - of the continent outlined right before our eyes:

Faerghus is cold, practical, focused on survival, and probably has the most even distribution of wealth. Leicester is a mix of remnants of the empire and kingdom, with clear wealth disparity but also a relatively high amount of social mobility and communal support systems. Adrestia has significantly wealth disparity, with nobles very disconnected from their people and instead busy politicking about.

Side note I know I said I wouldn't go into the historical inspirations, BUT I do think it's interesting that the men's clothing in Adrestia - particularly the tailoring - is similar to much later styles than the men's clothing in Faerghus, and the reverse is true of the women's sleeves and necklines.

Okay that's all, thanks for reading!

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h analysis #holy kingdom of faerghus #adrestian empire #leicester alliance #golden deer #black eagles #blue lions #fodlan's fashion icons #(not actually part of the series but it's topical ok)#this is why i cant do cosplay btw #i see an outfit i like and i immediately am like ok how do you make that irl? get me seven yards of cotton muslin we're doing a mockup #like why would i make Felix’s outfit if I'm not going all in on actual quilted armor yk?#i dont want Ignatz's pants if theyre going to just hang lazily and bunch at the ankle it needs BODY it needs STRUCTURE #yk?#anyway its super late im going to bed now bye #fashion in fodlan

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

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Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Part 1

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

#masters of the air #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan #John Egan x oc #mota fanfic #bucky egan #dear john

129 notes · View notes

rivetingrosie4 · 16 days

Text

Sweet Love (Morgan & Family: A Fluff Dump, Pt. 3)

credit to @foundynnel i believe for the edit above

𑁦𐂂𑁦

Summary: Part of a modern au (and post gang) fluff dump work. Arthur & reader visit the doctor’s office to see their baby for the first time. Some thoughtless rudeness threatens to derail their happy day. a/n: It’s just imaginary. It’s not real.

Tags: fluff without plot, fluff & angst, romantic fluff, hurt/comfort, protective Arthur, parenthood, mentions of sex, romantic teasing

Word count: 4,250

The paper underneath you rustles as you swing and bounce both feet at the edge of the exam bed by your ankles; but you can’t help it. Never in your wildest dreams did you actually think you’d ever get here.

Yet here you are, with Arthur by your side, filled past the brim with the most effervescent sparkles of nerves and anticipation. To actually see your baby. Your baby. Yours and Arthur’s. No one else’s. The product of your deep and steadfast love. After so very many, many years of so deeply pining, watching almost everyone around you know the precious gifts of their own children and parenthood, it’s finally your turn. Finally. It’s almost too much to hope for and be grateful for, all at once. You never thought you’d ever get here.

Where you lie waiting in the sterile obstetrics room, you glance to look at Arthur. He’s clad in a blue and green plaid lumberjack’s soft flannel. And he’s filled with just as high a mound of bubbly nerves as you—some of the same, but some of a different kind. Anxiety and excitement, longing and terror, all stirred to the beautiful hue of Arthur Morgan’s heart, the only one you know so well. You can tell by the way he labors to silently breathe in, holds it a beat, and purses his lips to produce protruding cheeks as he silently releases, so you might not hear it. By the way he shoves his fingers back through his honey-chestnut locks. By the way he taps the sole of his black leather boot—the pair with the classic western flourish above the toe that you love so much—against the floor’s shining white tile.

You bite your lip against a growing grin and reach to slip your fingers into the natural pocket created by the web of his relaxed hand.

At the contact, he glances to you, and his face immediately relaxes into a knowing smile, eased by familiarity, love, and the renewed comfort you gift to him. His large hand clasps around yours, and his thumb brushes your skin. You join him in a growing smile as you hold onto him right back.

Suddenly there's a knock on the exam room door, and as it opens, all at once the resting butterflies in your belly are spurred to fluttery life again.

You look to the door and sit upright, taking a shallow breath and gently holding it as the doctor walks in. He’s a somewhat older gentleman with graying brown hair.

“Here we are. Good m—” He tilts his wrist and glances at his silver watch. “Well I guess it’s not morning anymore. Sorry to keep you folks waiting.” He sits on a round stool with a black cushion, and its wheels sound out across the tile as he rolls it closer. “I’m Doctor Kellerman. Good to meet you.” He takes your hand by only the fingers and shakes it, then shakes Arthur’s. In the next moment, he’s glancing down to the paperwork on his clipboard. “How we feeling today?”

It takes you a split moment to put into practice the knowledge that you’re the reason everyone in the room is here.

“Oh! I’m feeling fine,” you smile at his downcast face, since he hasn’t looked up from your chart. Your hand instinctively slides forward to rest on your belly, though it doesn’t look much bigger than usual, with the flab you store there. “Fit as I’ve ever been,” you airily chuckle. Looking to Arthur at your side, you smirk. “We’ve been staying as active as we ever were, or maybe even more so.”

“Yeah, it’s been more,” Arthur quietly mumbles with a chuckle in confirmation.

“Getting outside, and eating all the leafy greens, and…takin’ naps when I need to,” you chuckle as if you’ve made a fine joke. “I even got him to do stretches with me every morning!”

The doctor glances up with a genuine smile. “That’s great to hear.” Just as soon, his eyes return to your chart. “I see your last period was…”

“January thirty-first,” you finish for him.

“Ahhh… Valentine’s baby, eh?”

You fight not to warm as you steal a glance at Arthur with a pinched smile. “Guess so.”

“You’ve been trying many years?”

“Just about a year and a half.”

“Thirteen weeks…” he says as he flips a page back and forth, then looks up at you. “You’re in a little later than we usually like.”

As he glances back down, you clarify, “Yes, this was the very soonest they could get us in for our first appointment.”

“I see…” he mumbles.

“But we cleared our schedules for whatever they could give us, the very soonest,” you add, looking to Arthur for a nod, then back to the doctor. “We’re takin’ this baby very seriously. Doin’ everything we can to keep ‘em healthy and happy.”

“That’s great,” he responds with a smile as he finally claps the chart closed and returns it to the counter. “Seems like you’ve got the right mentality,” he says as he turns to wash his hands at the sink. “Keeping yourself as healthy as you can be is a great place to start.”

“Oh yes,” you smile. “I’ve been reading up on everything I can, researching, even watching YouTube videos.” You suddenly gasp a little in excitement. “I saw this one lady on there, she’s always been an avid hiker—and, well, we love to hike too,” you glance to Arthur, whose smirk gradually grows to a grin in conjunction with your eager babbling, though it’s unknown to you after you’ve returned your gaze to the doctor. “And she captures these beautiful videos of her hikes. And now she’s seven months pregnant and still hiking! I could hardly believe it. Of course, she doesn’t manage the big, tasking hikes. And she never ever goes alone!” you assure the doctor. “But because she’s been taking it slow and steady, she’s still hiking! At seven months!”

You grin as you finish your story, though the doctor’s back is still turned to you. “I just think it’s so wonderful. I’d love to be able to do that. Do you think I’ll be able to do that, doctor? Take gentle hikes at seven months?”

“Uh… Maybe ten years ago. But with a geriatric first-time pregnancy?” He tips his head as he switches on the ultrasound machine. “Probably not.”

Just like that, you feel as icy as the vast and empty planes of snow you had experienced with the gang in Colter, some years ago now. The high, craggy ridgelines you’d squinted at from above your wool-lined collar, their peaks untouched by anything but the flakes that fell and gathered in the tors and the winds that yowled and whistled.

Your smile from moments ago softly falters, and your brows slowly pinch up tight. But you fight hard to keep your staggered smile as the tears rush to your eyes.

What was there you could have ever done? How had it ever been a circumstance you’d had any power over, whatsoever? How had it ever been a gift you could manufacture from nothing? If it had been, you would have seized it years ago. How many years had you ached, your hope dwindling as your age grew? And did all those years now mean nothing? How often, how continuously, how deeply had you longed for love of your very own with a partner and children of your own; had longed for just one chance to jump at? Just one single chance? But hadn’t life kept it all far away from you, so far, for so very long?

It was life, nothing but life—this thing that has always simultaneously coursed through you and encased you in its cruel, clamp-like vise. Like a vital coffin.

As Arthur watches you, he recognizes the graciousness and understanding of your trying to maintain a smile through your depth of feeling and hurt, not wanting to be as fragile as you think yourself to be. He knows you to be strong.

It’s why he has to reel back his fury for a few moments, containing it to the single, elongated exhale from his nostrils as he leans toward you across the armrest of your exam bed and gently takes your hands.

Reaching for a box of gloves on the wall, the doctor asks, “You don’t have any allergies to latex or any cosmetic ingredients that you know of, do you?”

You quietly splutter and gulp as you shake your head and muster a calm, normally-toned, “No.”

Another knock on the door.

“Come on in,” the doctor says.

The nurse who brought you back to the room enters.

“They’re wanting to know if or when they need to set her up with an appointment for a future ultrasound,” she says directly to the doctor.

“Oh sure,” the doctor says, beginning to flip a big calendar on his desk as he waves the nurse closer. He murmurs to her in very quiet tones: “It’s advanced maternal age with high risk, elderly primigravida, so we’re gonna wanna do another in about three months.”

You have no recourse but to silently, slowly breathe through an open mouth and swallow repeatedly past the lump in your throat, as your smile finally disappears in full. But Arthur couldn’t be more spellbound or enchanted as he watches the tears remain clung to your eyes, not one trickling down your beautiful cheeks.

“Possibly one additional,” the doctor continues his discussion with the nurse, completely oblivious to the inner struggle to prevail that he’s spurred in you, that no one but Arthur knows you’re conquering. “But we’ll wait to see how the next ultrasound goes, and if both are healthy, she won’t need another.” He points to a square on the calendar. “Barring other appointments, why don’t we do this day?”

The nurse nods and retreats through the door, closing it behind her.

“We’ll have to do abdominal, rather than vaginal, since you’re further along than usual for the first ultrasound,” the doctor says. “All right,” he sighs as he turns to you with a grin. “Ready to get started?”

He’s greeted with your puffy, red eyes that look everywhere else and Arthur’s white-hot, enraged glare, trained dead-center on his forehead. And his smile slides off his face.

The legs of Arthur’s chair squeak against the tile as he abruptly stands. He can’t even be bothered to attempt a kindly mask to hide his fury.

“Doc,” he begins, managing an easy and lighthearted tone for the address that somehow seems more menacing when combined with his fatal expression as he turns him and walks him toward the door. “Why don’t you and I have a little chat.” The terse word is tart and clipped on his tongue. “Out in the hall.”

You watch Arthur’s tall, broad form disappear when he pulls the door closed behind him.

You sit alone in the exam room, waiting.

A few unintelligible words, low and quiet—Arthur’s voice, muffled.

Then the wall is hit hard with something and rattles. Before it can finish shaking, there’s a new acerbic sharpness in Arthur’s raised, growly tone.

You must’ve gasped and jumped a little, and your damp eyelashes still blink with the sudden shock. You might’ve even made out the sound of a panicked, huffed grunt in the midst of whatever happened on the other side of the wall.

After a moment, the image comes to you, very vividly: Arthur suddenly taking the doctor by the collar of his white coat and ramming him up against the wall with a few deadly words, a stern snarl to his lip, and a feral look in his eye.

A prickly, chilled mingling of emotions washes over you—amazement, disbelief, even a bit of near-horrified abashment, and worry that Arthur will receive unfavorable legal repercussions. But there are a few emotions that stand above the others, though you’d initially struggled to decipher their shape and quality. The wondrous stirrings of the deepest love. The warm and enveloping sensations of being protected and cared for. Even desire.

The tiniest twitch of a smile flicks onto one corner of your mouth.

There are several minutes more of quiet—during which your thoughts start to return to the horrendous notion that Arthur could be apprehended for assaulting the doctor—before the door finally reopens and Arthur reappears.

His caustic expression from minutes ago is wiped away. His smile is easy. Relaxed, even. Void of a hint of tenseness or concern.

“Hey, babe,” he says. “Sorry we took a while.”

At the sight of him, and knowing at least part of what he’s done, your mouth quirks and tightens into the kind of little smile you know you shouldn’t be wearing.

As he walks towards you, a slight lean to the side gives you the vantage point to see none other than a completely different, female doctor towing behind him.

Her grin is bright, buoyant, and—somehow, given the circumstances—even completely authentic and natural. Uncoerced.

As Arthur settles in close beside you again, you mumble very quietly from the side of your mouth, “I sincerely hope there won’t be any arrests today…?”

“Nothin’ to worry about, just take it easy and look at the screen,” he mumbles between his teeth in a light, wry tone.

You stifle a chortle behind your nose, imagining what possible kinds of threats Arthur could’ve employed, how dreadfully terrified to his core the doctor must’ve been to not only allow a switch of caregivers, but to willingly and practically forget the whole incident.

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Mahajan,” she says warmly, extending a hand. Her handshake is full and comforting in its grasp. “I’ll be conducting your ultrasound today. And before we get started, I want to let you know that, should you remain healthy and well into your third trimester, and should you feel up to it, there’s no reason you couldn’t enjoy healthy activities such as gentle outdoor hikes.”

Like a kid who’s just opened up a new toy, your grin widens as you look at Arthur. His knowing grin is better than a snuggly blanket as he gazes at you and nods once with a wink.

“Always accompanied, of course,” the doctor smiles with a gesture towards Arthur. When she looks back to you, your gaze is pulled to hers in an effort to give polite attention. “You’ve got a good one here, Mrs. Morgan.”

You immediately turn back to Arthur with a warm, enamored, affectionate smile.

Noting the enraptured, desirous way you both gaze at each other right there in the middle of the exam room, the doctor is reminded of something.

“Oh, and um,” she begins, bringing a finger to her lips as if in thought, “another healthy activity during pregnancy is lovemaking.”

You immediately turn to look at her with and inward breath, your smile momentarily wiped away. As an airy laugh comes to you, the others are given reign to chuckle. Chancing a glance at Arthur, you try to hide the smile appearing on your mouth by curling your lips inward and pinching down on them tightly with your teeth.

Arthur is leaned back casually in his chair, his forearm resting over his thigh. When you catch sight of the look on his face—a subtle mixture of gratification and mischievousness all veiled by an attempt at nonchalance—a thought crosses your mind. But it’s too silly to be real.

Then when he meets your eye and fails to prevent the rising smirk at the corner of his lips, you outright gasp.

“You didn’t tell her to say that.”

When he wheezes, you swat him, and he sits up with a snicker.

The doctor chuckles pleasantly. “He may’ve asked me to remind you, but it doesn’t change the truth of it.” While you’re busy continuing to playfully swat him and listening to his snickering that you adore, the doctor continues, “It increases blood flow, stimulates activity inside the womb, lowers blood pressure…” she rattles off, “and keeps you two close, which’ll be very important during such a big life change.”

“There now. Did you hear the good doctor?” Arthur says, trying to force the mirth on his face to smooth. “I’ve got a bonafide prescription to sex you up.”

Though you can’t help but giggle, you keep it murmured low and quiet, like simmering, scratch-made strawberry jam in the base of your throat. “Shh-shh,” you try to quietly scold him.

“I’ve reviewed your chart, so let’s get started, shall we?”

“Oh yes, please!” you return your attention to the doctor.

After gloving up, Doctor Mahajan flips on the ultrasound computer to your right. She asks you to lift your blouse and unbutton your jeans, and she squirts a chilly gel to your belly. You watch as she gently presses the transducer into the gel on your belly, turning and rolling it over your skin.

Your and Arthur’s gazes are transfixed to the screen as fuzzy, meaningless blotches of black and white suddenly play across it. You both simultaneously scramble to reach for each other’s hands, clasping tightly to each other as Arthur takes a full breath and slowly releases it.

The moment you have been waiting for your whole life. Now somehow finally, suddenly here.

The smudgy noise on the screen clears, and there’s your baby. Curled and caressed inside you. Precious and brilliant and beautiful.

Your breath is whisked away. Speechless and taken completely by incredulousness, you turn to look at Arthur with drawn brows. He tries to chuckle to play off his awe, but his breath is caught too.

“There we are,” the doctor quietly says. “Baby Morgan.”

Your gaze is arrested by your baby on the screen. The swooping slope of the curve of their head, ending in a little button for a nose. Arms and legs and feet.

“This fluttery bit here,” the doctor gestures to a point flapping swiftly in the midst of their chest, visually different from everything else. “Baby’s heart.”

Your bottom lip drapes wistfully open, and your eyes are glued as you take in every moment.

“Oh, see, they’re turning on their side, turning back,” the doctor smiles as baby’s limbs disappear for a moment and reappear. “It’s a little too early to tell the baby’s sex, but we should be able to see at your next appointment.”

She takes multiple measurements from head to rump on the screen, to verify your baby’s age and due date.

When the baby appears to give a few little kicks, the three of you quietly chuckle.

“Baby’s brain and sensory input are developing, so this is just a way for them to become more aware of their own body and their environment,” she explains. “It’s a little early now, but you’ll be feeling that before you know it.”

Reaching for a button on the keypad, she says with a reassuring nod, “I’m going to give you about ten seconds of audible heart rate, just to limit the amount of waves baby’s exposed to this early.”

When you both nod, she presses the button. A loud, quick wub-wub fills the room.

You take a breath and whisper, “Oh my God,” looking to Arthur with a faint smile.

Arthur is mystified. A single breathy laugh escapes him, but his expression is totally awestruck.

“Baby’s heart is very robust and healthy,” the doctor smiles.

And yet, Arthur’s is weak. Trembling with trepidation like stalks of overgrown sweet grass swept by ferociously rolling fetches. They have their anchor of earth to cling to. What does he have?

He gazes at the screen, into his baby’s current world of warm womb and peaceful, pocketed embrace. He watches his baby wiggle and kick, each movement so vibrantly charged. He lets his gaze trace his baby’s perfectly precious outline, the slope of their forehead and nose, the flutter of their strong heart. And he is a goner.

It doesn’t matter that he’s petrified his baby could be torn from him again. It doesn’t matter that he’s nervous he’ll screw everything up. He’ll go to the ends of the earth to make sure neither happens. He’ll do whatever needs to be done. He’s ready to dive headfirst into the risk of pain and heartache. Because in an instant, he’s been filled—overwhelmed and overtaken—with enrapturing love. Too big to grasp, too deep and beautiful and mysterious to have edges. A love that calls to attention and demands eager and ardent self-sacrifice. A love that somehow carries with it equal measures of unbridled, airy giddiness and heavy weight. A love that somehow nails to the beams of a parent’s life both an assured unworthiness and a boundless, indescribable gratefulness.

Because he is already so desperately, limitlessly in love with his child. Your child. Together.

You turn to the screen again and watch your baby move and bow and kick.

Your baby. Yours and Arthur’s. You’re not watching a video of someone else’s baby. You’re not dreaming and imagining. This is your baby. Your. Baby.

In these few instants that seem like hours, the face of your whole world and life and being have eclipsed and shifted. You’re completely overwhelmed. With love and joy—not at all more than what you have for Arthur, but different. It fills and quickens and overtakes you. So much that it almost hurts. So deep and resounding that it propels a new purpose and a new drive within you. So sweet and so precious that if you’d been standing, it undoubtedly would’ve brought you all the way to your knees.

“Baby.” You breathe it as you reach out and touch the flat surface of the screen, swiping your fingertips over the outlines and substance of your child’s precious form.

The culmination of your life’s dearest, deepest hopes and dreams and desperate longings. The manifestation of your and Arthur’s love. There, on the screen. But not on the screen.

“Oh-” You chuckle at yourself and sniffle as you bring your hand to your belly, above where the transducer meets your skin. For the screen only shows you what you can’t see inside.

Inside you.

Of all people, you. Finally you. Finally, your very own baby.

Arthur can almost read your thoughts as he watches your eyes redden and your face crumple like newspaper, sift like sand. And now, there are your tears. Overflowing and pouring down your cheeks in flooded streams. Not one allowed for the asinine doctor; whole oceans given for your child.

God, how he loves you. Didn’t think he could possibly love you any more, and yet, here it is. You are his anchor. He doesn’t need any other. And he is yours.

Wordless, you gasp and sputter and hiccup as the tears flow down both sides of your face in rivulets, dripping one after the other from your jaw.

Arthur thumbs the back of your hand, not offering you a tissue or requiring you to stop or hide your tears. He understands.

It’s another few minutes of enjoying your baby’s tumbling movements on the screen, before your tears finally slow and dry.

When you approach the jeep in the parking lot, you’re still awed and glowing with it, and almost wracked to fatigue by its powerfully engulfing wave—this love.

As you slip your hand into the jeep’s door handle, your thoughts turn to the man you love just as much, if not more. You couldn’t have thought it possible, but somehow your heart has expanded to accommodate all this added and immeasurable love.

Arthur bought the hunter green jeep as soon as he’d found out you were pregnant. ‘More of a family car,’ he’d said. Of course, that was nine weeks ago, and the jeep has already seen plenty of proper use—the splashes of dark mud above its tires from rugged, off-road terrain a clear sign of that.

You both climb up into your seats and fall into a natural rhythm of quiet breath after the jingle of the keys when Arthur leaves them in the ignition.

He looks over at you and watches your stunning face as you gaze forward, contentedly and placidly lost in your thoughts. To him, you’re made even more pricelessly, sweetly beautiful by the person you are.

“‘M proud of you,” he quietly muses.

You look back at him and start to smile. Out of all the things he could say first, that’s what he’s chosen.

“That was our baby,” he says, the low gravel in his voice now silken. “Just…”

“Amazing,” you say together.

You nod with a misty smile and gaze down at your belly before gazing forward through the windshield again.

He reaches for your hand and brings it to his mouth. “I’m gonna take you home and make sweet,” he presses a kiss to the segments of your fingers, “sweet,” another kiss to your fingers, “sweet love to you.” With that, he kisses the back of your hand. “Mama.”

You simply turn to look at him with a growing, winsome smile. His eyes flit up to yours in the midst of a kiss. It’s the very first time in your life anyone has ever called you that.

“All day and all night. And you best just get used to it.” He gently returns your hand to the seat and starts the car.

Your smile brightens to radiant.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he says with the glint of a wink. “Doctor’s orders.”

105 notes · View notes

laundrybiscuits · 8 months

Text

(soulmates AU: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

“You never told me your folks were soulmates," he says out of the blue. He'd meant to wait until it came up naturally or something, but they're just standing in awkward silence outside what the kids insist on calling the M&M house, waiting for the stupid dragon game to wrap up on the Munson side. He doesn't even know he's going to say it until it's already out there, sitting between them.

Nancy says "Fuck," very quietly. Steve can't remember if she used to swear so much. He thinks not, but also, she was sixteen the last time he really felt like he knew her.

Steve’s tenth grade geometry teacher once told them: think about railroad tracks. That’s what parallel means, that there are two lines that never get closer together or farther away. No matter how long the railroad tracks get, there’s always exactly the same amount of space between them.

Now Steve thinks maybe that’s bullshit, that you can’t keep going separate from someone else and stay the same distance apart. If you’re not together, if you don’t cling as hard as you can, then the distance between you is going to grow faster and faster until you can’t even see the other person.

He thinks maybe he doesn’t know Nancy at all anymore.

Nancy smooths down her skirt in a nervous gesture he doesn’t recognize. “You’ve met my parents, Steve. Did you really think that’s what I want?”

It’s the kind of question where he knows the right answer from the way she’s saying it, but he doesn’t know why. Yeah, he’s met Ted and Karen. He always thought they seemed happy enough. They’ve got three kids, so they have to be happy, right?

But he’s starting to think that Nancy—the new Nancy, how she is now—might not want to be happy. Or at least that it might not be the most important thing to her, compared to everything else she always talked about. Now that he’s thinking about it for real, he can’t really see her stepping into her mom’s shoes, never really doing anything but chasing after kids and power-walking around the mall.

Shit, is he the Ted Wheeler in this scenario? Not that there’s anything wrong with Ted, but—wow, okay, he’s starting to understand Nancy’s reaction.

He hasn’t said anything for a little while, and Nancy sighs. “Steve, I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“It’s fine, Nance,” he says. He even thinks he means it, this time.

———

“Do you think she’s going to get a cover-up, like Eddie?”

Robin squints at him. “I think she’s the only one who can answer that.”

“Sure, okay, but I can’t ask her because I’ve decided I’m not gonna bring this shit up around her anymore. It’s called tact, Robin.”

“Fuck off, I’m a million times more tactful than you could ever be.” She chucks a roll of NEW RELEASE stickers at him, which he dodges with a little spin, just to show off.

“Are you kidding me? Who was it that got out of a parking ticket last week just by talking to the cop?”

“Uh, who was it that expertly finessed us both jobs at Family Video just by talking to Keith?”

“You gotta stop bringing that up,” Steve groans. “That was like a whole year ago. Get some new material, Buckley.”

“Get us a new job, Harrington! One that pays more than this shit!”

“Nah, I’m gonna be a trophy husband to some rich old lady. That’s my new plan, now that I’m totally unattached.” It comes out pretty steady, he thinks.

She sidles up to him, awkward in the way she gets sometimes, and bumps their shoulders together. “Hey, you know you could totally find someone else, right? It doesn’t have to be…” She trails off, gesturing helplessly.

He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights leave blurry ghosts on his eyelids when he blinks.

Robin Buckley is the best friend he’ll ever have and does sometimes actually know what tact is, so she just tips her head against his shoulder and stares at the ceiling with him in silence until the next customer comes in.

———

“You can never, ever tell Steve this.” Nancy’s voice is just barely audible from the front step, and Steve freezes. He snatches his hand back from where he’d been reaching for the doorbell.

“Cross my heart, et cetera, Wheeler.” Eddie sounds lazy, like he doesn’t even care.

“It’s crazy, but I used to feel really—happy. About the soulmark. I mean, it’s every girl’s dream, right? The cutest guy in school with her name on his wrist.”

“Can’t say I relate.”

Nancy lets out a strangled laugh and Steve silently shuffles as close as he dares, shutting his eyes like that’ll help him hear better or something.

“I know, Eddie, that’s why I’m…I don’t know what changed. I don’t know why that stopped being enough for me. I second-guess myself all the freaking time now, and I hate that! I remember the way it felt when it turned out Steve was actually really sweet, and sometimes I just want to—to crawl back inside that feeling, except it’s not real. I know it’s not real.”

“You sure about that? Doth the lady not protest too much?”

“I’m sure.”

She hadn’t even hesitated. Steve’s nails are cutting into his palms. He feels dizzy with how quick she’d answered; how calm she’d sounded.

It hits him, then, that it’s actually over, like for real. Maybe he really is an idiot, because it’s been years, and he thought he’d already known that. Turns out there’d been a stupid little corner of hope in him after all.

He tunes back in to hear Eddie say, “Okay, okay, you don’t gotta convince me, Wheeler. If you end up deciding to, y’know, take the plunge…yeah, I can hook you up. But no rush, okay?”

Steve turns around and walks down the drive, all the way around the corner to where he’s parked. Dustin’s stretched all the way across the seats, head poking out of the driver’s side window, squinting in the afternoon sun.

“Is Eddie coming to the arcade with us?” Dustin yells.

“He’s busy, leave him alone,” says Steve.

#not!soulmates AU #the unmarketable ridiculousness continues #I know the Doylist reason Eddie offers so much unsolicited advice in canon is his role as clunky plot mouthpiece #but I choose to interpret it as the extremely gay hobby of overflowing with advice on acquaintances’ personal lives #despite the highly dubious state of one's own #anyway. if/when this goes up on AO3 I'm gonna need to re-edit for Nancy's voice bc I do NOT have it rn

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imdeadinsidesiriuslydead · 27 days

Text

Must you be so cruel?

Cardan Greenbriar x fae!princess!reader

a/n: this concept was most requested so here you are. warnings: swearing, no smut (unless y’all want a part 2 with some😏lmk), not proofread I have like six more to write

As your steads stop for water, your mother approaches you.

“We are almost there.” She grins excitedly.

you roll your eyes as you fix your riding skirt.

“yay.” You say, unenthusiastically. Your mother had arranged a ball with the High Court, you suspected she was trying to marry your older sister off to one of the princes. But you dreaded seeing a particular prince with a stupid rat tail.

“Don’t take an attitude with me, y/n” your mother warned, “we need to be on our best behavior. We mustn’t insult the High King or Queen.”

Your mother made you changed once you made it to the Palace. Your dress was black as to not outshine your sisters. As you walked into the Throne room, you spotted the king and queen but no sign of that dreaded prince.

You make your way to the King and bow as your parents exchange pleasantries.

After your mother turns to you “Go grab your sister some wine.”

“Why? She has legs.” You said as you smooth down the ruffles of your skirt.

“She is talking to Prince Dain. I will not interfere with the makings of an engagement.” Your mother said sternly.

you sigh, “yes ma’am.”

As you make your way to the banquet table, you look around at the folk dancing. Trying to shield your eyes from the naked folk, you grab a glass and have a servant fill it with wine.

You look back and see your sister dancing with Prince Dain, and you smile to yourself. Even though your mother made you come here and has been driving you crazy, it��s nice to see your sister radiant smile light up the dance floor.

The glass being rather useless now that she’s dancing, you start to down the drink when someone clears there throat.

“It’s unlady like to chug wine 30 minutes into a ball.” Nicasia said sharply. “You filthy half breed.”

you turn dreading facing her. When you look, she’s wearing a body hugging blue dress and a face of pure disgust.

“Mermaid style dress? That’s a bit on the nose isn’t it?” You say continuing to sip from your glass.

“Why are you even here?” She spits, seemingly losing her patience even though she approached you.

“She was invited unfortunately.” A voice behind you called.

You freeze. God damn it. You turn around to find Cardan’s gold rimmed eyes staring back at yours.

“Cardan.” You acknowledge, turning back to watch your sister.

“Y/n. Is your mother trying to push your boring sister onto my brother?” He asked as Nicasia laughs moving to link arms with him.

“Must you be so cruel?” You ask, annoyed.

“Only to you.” He replied.

“I’m not completely sure of my mother’s intentions, I haven’t asked.” You say, finishing your glass. “Afraid of your reputation if you become related to a half mortal?” You ask, motioning for a servant to get you another glass.

“I’d be disgusted to be related to you.” He says as Nicasia laughs.

A grin spreads across you face as an idea comes to your head.

“Why?” You ask with an innocent grin.

“must there be a reason? That’s a reason enough.” He replied.

“Yes, I’m curious. Why would you be disgusted to be related to me?” You ask.

“Most far find the existence of half bloods disgusting.” He said brushing if off

“Yes most of the folk. What about you though? What’s your real reason for not wanting to be related to me?” You smirk.

His smirk momentarily drops before regaining his composure.

“My opinion of you.” He says before grabbing Nicasia’s hand and pulling her to dance. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving.”

you laugh to yourself as a servant puts the wine glass back in your hand.

—————————

Later that night as the ball is winding down, your Mother asks you to retrieve your sister.

You look around the dance floor to no avail, no sign of her.

Walking out of the hall, you make your way into hallway. Looking around and opening seemingly endless doors, grew tiresome.

As you give up and walk back to the banquet hall, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Your boring sister is in my brothers room.” A drunken voice called.

turning to see Cardan with the gold juice of fae fruit smeared on his lips while the smell of wine on his mouth. He looks at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“Oh.” You say, realizing you’ll have to explain to your mother that your sister is spending the night with the prince. But then you realize Cardan has not moved his hand from your shoulder.

Quickly pushing his hand off you, he stumbles grabbing ahold of your arm to stabilize himself.

“Cardan how much have you had to drink?” You asked annoyed.

“I lost count after 12 glasses.” He said as he focused back on your face. “And why’d you have to shove me?” He whined.

“Oh you’re such a baby.” You say, using your arm to support him as you guide him to walk.

“Where are we going?” He asked leaning on you.

“Your room, you need to be put to bed before you hurt yourself.” You say dragging him through the corridor.

“But I left my wine goblet.” He says trying to pull you back to the alcove he emerged from.

“If you go back for it, I’ll leave you there and you can pass out on the floor for all I care.” You say letting go of him.

“Fine.” He huffs.

As you reach his room you open the door and close it behind you. You push him onto the bed and he laughs looking up at you.

“That’s not how I imaged it.” He laughs, eyes glazed over.

“Imagined what?” You asked as you move to leave.

“You pushing me onto the bed.” He replied as if it was common knowledge.

You mule over the words in your head. He seems more honest when drunk. Before you can stop yourself, you find your self asking.

“Why would you hate it if we were related?”

“My thoughts of you would be considered inappropriate. The thoughts I don’t want to have.” He relied his eyes getting droopy.

“What do you think about me?” You ask.

“The thought of you in my arms.” He said as his eyes shut.

You stare there for a minute, processing this new information. You wait until you hear soft snoring before opening the door and turning to find your mother.

~~~~~~~

#carden greenbriar #holly black #the cruel prince #carden greenbriar x reader #Carden #the cruel prince x reader #cardan greenbriar x reader #cardan greenbriar

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absolutebl · 4 months

Note

hey, do you know of any BL-s similar to A boss and a Babe? I don't mean plot wise or setting but a bl with a similar uke (Cher). I feel like I haven't seen much or at all BL-s with an uke that's such a crackhead, so vital, positive, non dramatic, up for anything, vocal about feelings and love, the one who also kinda pursues when it's needed, that pushes boundaries etc etc

Huh, you mean like a GGG uke? (good giving game)

There are LOTS of crackheads... seek ye Japan. But that goes real fast into cringe, like Secret Crush On You.

The GGG part is where we fall down. This is a very new take on the archetype. Also non-dramatic, I mean it's a BL drama so dramatic is kinda the point.

I'll take a stab!

crackhead

vital & positive (sunshine)

pursues when it's needed (switchy)

non dramatic (good)

vocal about feelings and love (giving)

up for anything, pushes boundaries (game)

Fits all 6 criteria (but in their own countries' style):

All the Liquors (Korea)

Mr Heart (Korea)

Ocean Likes Me (Korea)

Be Loved In House I Do (Taiwan)

Love Sick (Thailand - bet you didn't see that one coming)

And now some that do their best satisfying 4 ore more of the above requirements.

Thailand

Everyone is just really dramatic in Thai BL.

Coffee Melody (sides 1,2,4,5,6)

Ghost Host, Ghost House (2,3,4,5,6)

Great Men Academy (if you count it 2,2,3,6)

Ingredients (2,3,4,5,6)

KinnPorsche (1,2,3,5,6)

Love By Chance 2 (1,2,5,6)

Love In the Air (PayuRain 1,2,5,6)

Love in Translation (2,3,5,6)

Make A Wish (1,2,3,5,6)

My School President (2,3,5,6)

My Tee (1,2,3,5,6)

Secret Crush On You (1,2,3,5,6)

Why R U? (2nd couple 1,2,3,5,6)

Taiwan

Seme/uke is always weak, queerness is more authentic so roles less prescribed and campy

DNA Says Love You (sides 1,2,3,6)

Kiseki Dear to Me (sides 1,2,3,6)

Stay By My Side (1,2,35,6)

Korea

Seme/uke is pretty weak, little to no crackhead, and everything will be more reserved and muted.

Some More (2,3,4,5,6)

The Eighth Sense (2,3,4,5,6)

Behind Cut (2,4,6)

Jun & Jun (2,4,5,6)

Long Time No See (2,3,4,5,6) but also LIES

Our Boarding House (2,3,4,6)

Oh My Assistant (1,2,3,6)

Tasty Florida (2,3,4,5,6)

The Lover (2,3,4,6)

Tinted With You (2,3,4,6)

Unintentional Love Story (2,3,4,5,6)

Why R U? (2nd couple 1,2,5,6)

Japan

But the ones it does have it REALLY leans into.

Seven Days (2,3,4,5)

If It's With You (2,3,4,5,6)

Restart After Come Back Home (2,4,5,6)

Silhouette of Your Voice (1,2,4,6)

Takara & Amagi (1,2,3,5)

My Memory is shot but???

Like Love from China might work.

Most stuff from the Philippines first some if not all.

Vietnam's My Lascivious Boss and You Are My Boy satisfy soem criteria.

Might also be worth reading

List dated Mid Dec 2023, ongoing BLs not included. If it aired after that date you should add it to the comments or something.

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ghostofthemost141 · 5 months

Text

Pretty Pt. 2

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt.3

Art goes credit to @ave661 !! Check out their blog they do amazing work!!

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 1,523

Themes: Angst, Self Loathing, Little Fluff

About: Finding a far away refugee that has a cure for the zombie virus, you and Task Force 141 pack up your zombified boyfriend and head up North.

Notes: Some folks were asking for a part two of this so here it is! Will be making a part three as well. Hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @autumnleaves1991-blog @20rianwe @httpjiikook

“You know where I wanna go?”

“Where, love?”

“Up North.” I answer, craning my neck to look up at Simon.

“Well where up North?” Simon asked, feeling his fingers run through my hair.

“I don’t know. Maybe somewhere with mountains, I just want to see some snow. Play with it, make a snowman, hit you with a snowball.” I half joked, making Simon laugh.

“A snowball fight, aye?”

“Yes sir. I can take ya.” I taunted, leaning in close to him.

Simon’s blue pearly eyes were my favorite thing to get lost in. It was as if there was a whole galaxy in there.

“Can you though?”

“We will just have to see when we go up there.” I say, laying my head down on his soft, plushy chest.

“I’ll take ya up there, love. I promise. Once we go home from this mission, we will start planning for it.” Simon promised.

“I’ll hold you to that promise then.” I said.

Simon leaned down, his soft lips landing on my forehead and he wrapped his arm, the one with the tattoo sleeve, around me and squeezed me tight.

“I love ya, Dolly.”

“I love you too, Si.”

…

“Doolllyyyyyy..”

“I’m right here, Simon.” I called him through the incubator.

I pressed my hand up against the glass and he attempted to do the same.

“We are nearly there, Dolly.” Price called from up front.

“‘Kay.” I said.

We were about two hours into our trip and had about two more hours left. I didn’t even have to ask but Price would update me every once in a while on how much longer we had left and even though we were making progress, it felt like time was going slow. I just wanted my Simon back and I know they can’t go any faster that they are right now due to the falling snow, but I just wish we could get there sooner. Price and Gaz were in the front seats while Johnny and I were in the big trunk storage area of this military vehicle with Simon in the incubator.

“I wonder if you being in the room those many times helped him recognize ya.” Johnny commented.

“Maybe.” I reply, not taking my eyes off of Simon.

Even though he freaked out yesterday when Johnny and them busted into my room, he is now settled into doing low growls and moans anytime they speak. I can tell that the guys secretly wish Simon recognized them, but they wouldn’t say it outloud. I get it though, they have known and worked with Simon longer than I have so I understand. Especially Johnny. Even though Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, he and Johnny were the closest with each other ever since their mission to stop Hassan. That was before my time but you can tell they are good friends, even though making friends is something you want to avoid in this line of work due to anything happening at any given moment.

“Ghost is the toughest son of a bitch I have ever worked with.” Gaz commented from up front.

“Heh, you’re not wrong about that.” I said.

Simon once got shot in six different places and yet kept fighting until all of the enemies were down. I don’t know how he managed to do that but he did. I know that deep inside his mind it is him, I mean why else would he be saying my non-legal name that is said more than my real one? It makes sense, right? Simon then turned his head towards Johnny, his clouded eyes staring into his soul.

“And I thought his normal death glare was scary.” Johnny commented, half joking.

I humored him by laughing, even though I wasn’t in too much of a giggly mood.

“Jrrrrr…”

“That’s new.” Price said.

It sounded like he was making a ‘Jr’ kind of noise, which is odd. It immediately made me think he was trying to say Johnny’s name. Ghost then held his hand up weakly and pressed it up against the glass, staring directly into Johnny’s direction.

“Joohhnnnnyyyyyy..”

“Simon?” Johnny called to Simon, getting close to the incubator glass.

He really is still there. Oh God, Simon. Simon. It’s all coming back to me.

“Get that back area!!” Price shouted as more zombies flooded in from the back.

“Shit.” I mumbled, shooting them down.

It was nonstop flooding of zombies, as if they were infinitely spawning in. This was a bad spot to even be trying to scavenge supplies. I’m the one who suggested it in the first place.

“Dolly, stay close to me.” Simon told me.

I huddled close to him as we continued to take out more zombies. The five of us were all huddled close by as we slowly tried to make our way to the exit of the building but it was so hard with all of the zombies coming from every direction.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

“I’m out!” I heard my empty gun clicking.

“Take this.” Simon tried handing me an extra pistol.

“What about your shotgun? It will be more powerful.” I suggested.

“Dolly just please do as I damn say.”

I could tell he was getting irritated, so I just sucked it up. As I began shooting at the different zombies, it was taking more than five or six rounds at a time to take down a zombie and they were coming at us faster and faster. I needed something more powerful. Like Simon’s shotgun that was strapped on his back. I don’t want to disobey him, but we are nearly to the exit and we need this last bit of strong power in order to reach it.

Fuck it.

FUCK IT!!

“Dolly, what are you-”

*BAM*

…

..Dolly!!!

…

GET UP!!!

What? What? What’s happening? I can’t hear, I can’t see, what is happening?

“DOLLY!!”

Simon? Simon..SIMON!!

“Simon!” I called for him, despite not being able to see.

I felt two big arms grab me, lift me up to my feet, throw my arm on their shoulder, and drag me out.

“The place is going down!” I heard Gaz shout.

I couldn’t really hear anymore zombies growling but I could hear the place crumbling all around and then get very distant the more we ran.

“Stay with me, love, stay with me.” Simon’s gravelly voice told me.

“Simon..Simon..I’m sorry.” I croaked out.

“No, no Dolly. It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault. “ Simon reassured me, despite still feeling the immense guilt in my gut.

“Step up, Dolly.” Simon told me.

I lifted my leg up, and felt my foot land on the step of our transport truck, and take off. As we all settled down, and caught our breaths, I felt a cold fabric get placed on my forehead.

“It’s me, sweetie.”

Simon. I immediately held his hand that was holding the wet cloth, seeing my vision become clearer, slowly.

“Si, I’m sorry I just-”

“Dolly, please. You were doing only what you thought was right.” Simon reassured me, his bright blue eyes staring into mine.

His eyes were so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Just a month ago we were laying in bed together, waking up to us holding each other and those bright blue eyes being my first greeting of the day. And now here we are, comforting me in wake of my stupid mistake. I hated myself for this. Even though I wanted to keep staring into his eyes, something else caught my eye. Something that made my heart stop. It was a piercing red, sticking out like a sore thumb on his shoulder. No. No, it can’t be. There’s no way that’s..

“Simon.”

“What, love?”

“Your-”

“We’re here.”

The sudden screeching halt of the truck knocked me out of my flashback. I swear just a minute ago Price said we had two hours left of the trip and here we are, parked in front of a big huge metal automatic gate. There were guards on top of the pillars with guns. They weren’t aiming their guns at us, but they were most definitely on guard.

“He said he would be here.” Price mumbled.

“Who?” I asked.

“Outta my way, outta my way! I’m coming, I’m coming!!”

There was a man shouting from the other side of the gate, and the voice sounded so familiar. It can’t be..

“Let them in!!”

Without hesitation, the guards pulled a lever and the two big metal gates started slowly ascending open. Once it was opened enough, Price let go of the brakes and we slowly started pulling into the sanctuary. Once in, Price stopped and a man walked up to the driver’s side.

“Thanks for letting us come ‘ere.” Price thanked him.

I turned my head to get a better look as to who it was, the kind samaritan that allowed us to come here and get a cure for Simon.

“Friends help each other.”

He turned to look at me and gave me a beaming smile, a smile that reassured me that everything would be okay.

Alejandro?

TO BE CONTINUED…

#simon ghost riley #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #callofduty #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #ghostofthemost141

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dreamwinged · 3 months

Text

soooo hi everyone!!! today , the 24th (nevermind im posting this like HALF A DAY LATE but life got in the way yk... just pretend ok...) marks my one year anniversary with my f/o; 🔮, The Mystery Man u all know (and possibly?) love LOL <3 so i just wanted to talk about it and him a little bit 💗

to be honest it's pretty much impossible for me to say everything i want to say and express just how deeply i feel while still maintaining the level of anonymity that i'm comfortable with on here. but i did my best! <3 this character means quite a lot 2 me and i hope i described that properly even without details dhjfnsdjfnsdf. alright disclaimer over time to yap

warning this is SO LONG ❤️

🔮 is a character that i liked from the moment i saw him which is so corny but true im afraid . a little over a year ago there was a tiktok of him on my for you page out of the blue, and i was genuinely just like 😦 ... WHO IS THIS! .. i guess it's time i get into [insert media name]😁. i instantly felt a connection to him, before i even knew his name!!! it sounds SO SILLY but when i'm feeling particularly indulgent about the whole thing i imagine it was a sign from the universe ;3

although i was attached to 🔮 pretty much immediately, i started to really feel emotionally invested when i learned more about him as a character. the way he was written was so poignant to me, and i could sympathize with a lot of aspects of his personality . . . i Mustn't Speak too much here for the most part, but he became super special to me, and i just wanted to see him happy ya know :'3

from there on out, things were super cool!! i started collecting merch, got really into 🔮's source media and its community (i have him to thank for like. at least a dozen online friends... i was always "the [charactername] mutual" LMFAOO). he became a major part of my life, and was pretty much the only thing i thought about, happy or sad. and when i was feeling down, he was hands down my biggest solace. last year was really not great for me, yet thinking about him was like a reprieve from all the Terrible Shit. i'm still in disbelief at the level of comfort he brings me, it's honestly insane /pos and i never wanna live without it now . < 3

so yk of course a lot more has happened over the course of a year, but in general, i feel like i owe a lot to 🔮!!! i learned what selfshipping was through him, and as a result, have gained so many lovely friends and great experiences in this community. <3 he gives me so many extra reasons to be happy; i cant help but smile when i see things that remind me of him out in the world and stuff like that, nd like i never wouldve had that added joy if not for him yk? and even though he's not real , 🔮's given me something to care for, an escape from everything and somewhere safe to put all the Love I Have To Give. which can be really hard to find!!! i hope in some alternate universe i make him feel even half this happy LMAO ^__^

anyway that was sooo sappy and i edited it like a thousand times to try and make it less so because i am so very very uncomfortable expressing a single Emotion but like It Just Is What It Is. bottom line isss I Love My Wife so much, i've loved him for a year and will probably love him for a lot more years idk i cant tell the future but that's what it's lookin like folks. AND I LOVE ALL OF YOU TOOOOOO/p thank u 2 all my lovely mutuals 4 being my friend and stuff <3333 hugging u heart emoji

#THIS IS SO FUCKING LATE IM GONNA CRY . AIUHLSIFDJHGASFG #. 🔮. ⋆₊˚⊹♡#.gush #.anni #WASEHFAUSDHFASDGHH.... TEARS UP #. . . if You Know please dont look at this im so embarassed . /j #being vulnerable on the internet... scary... but my beautiful wife deserves it

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free-and-to-none-accountable · 2 years

Text

Posted on August 26, 2022 by Colin M

The IWW is a union for all workers. It only makes sense that a union that advocates for the abolition of the wage system would blaze a path different from other unions. Over the decades, that path has sometimes been rough, but it’s made us what we are today.

Here are 8 things you probably didn’t know about that separate the IWW from other unions in the US.

1) IWW membership is not just a part of holding a certain job.

For lots of folks these days, the experience of joining a union comes from accepting a unionized job. Some of these unions have built strong communities among coworkers, some not as much. When people leave those jobs, they leave the union too.

For IWW members, though, union membership is part of a commitment to our social vision. In this vision for a better future, labor is organized for the common good rather than for profit.

Being an IWW member also means connecting with a community that is united by our common struggle, outlook and tactics. We help one another learn how to organize for power on the job. We couch-surf for free with other members when we travel. We donate when one of our own is gravely sick or injured. We pay our respects to those who came before us, especially those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our union.

2) The IWW helped set the trend of organizing in fast food.

During the early 2000s, the IWW had campaigns to organize Starbucks and Jimmy Johns. Although these campaigns were not successful in terms of unionizing, the IWW gained very valuable lessons and experience.

Using some of those lessons, the workers at the Burgerville chain of restaurants, local to Oregon, organized with the IWW starting in 2015. Workers at Burgerville used tried-and-true direct action and solidarity union approaches to improve conditions drastically over the course of 7+ years and form the Burgerville Workers Union. The Portland-based BVWU is winning gains and looking forward to helping empower workers at Burgerville locations outside their area to get organized and united too.

Although workers at many other fast food chains have recently organized and won National Labor Relations Board ratification votes, notably Starbucks workers, none has forced their company to the NLRB bargaining table quite yet as of this writing. Many IWW members are eagerly looking forward to welcoming more fast food workers into organized labor.

3) The IWW regards the police as traitors to our class.

The institution of policing has a long history discussed in Our Enemies in Blue by Kristin Williams. Are they workers just like the rest of us? The IWW does not see it this way. Even if there are some alright people out there working as police officers, the massive historical inertia of policing as an institution that enforces class and race divisions pushes it into alignment with the interests of the exploiting class.

As police and their proponents sometimes remind us, they don’t make the laws, they just enforce them. Those making the laws are, of course, our bosses, their investors, and others beholden to them.

With laws like these, the work of “law enforcement” means violently enforcing dispossession. Rather than being a “thin blue line between civilization and chaos,” as some imagine, the police are better thought of as the thin blue line between workers and the wealth we produce.

Our corporate media engages in constant propaganda efforts, often under the pretense of entertainment, to get workers to sympathize with the police and portray them as competent guardians of public safety. However, police do not really solve as much crime in real life as they do on TV shows.

Policing and prison both masquerade as instruments of the common good, but their oppressive nature is well-known to those of us who’ve experienced their violence personally. With all this in mind, the IWW formally and concretely supports the abolition of police and prison. To this end…

4) The IWW supports strikes by people in prison, and has an active membership inside US prisons.

Amid an increasing trend of prison strikes, IWW members founded the Incarcerated Workers Organizing Committee (IWOC) in 2014. It still exists today, and has provided outside support for two national prisoner strikes as well as countless regional and single-facility strikes.

US prison slave-labor is increasingly being used to undermine wages globally for non-imprisoned workers. Jobs that were once outsourced to sweatshops in other countries are now being insourced to prisons where wages can be even closer to nothing. In prison, workers can also be controlled by throwing “insubordinate” ones in solitary confinement, rather than merely firing them.

As the corporate state invests more deeply in prison slave-labor, even while mass incarceration faces increasing public scrutiny, IWOC is positioned to play an essential role in helping the most exploited organize for justice.

5) The IWW is also one of the only unions that organizes workers in the sex industry, including the “underground” sex-trade.

A core IWW principle is that all workers can and should benefit from collective organizing. This includes those who work in the commercial sex industry, either above or below ground. Just as nobody is better positioned to enact positive change in (say) the restaurant industry than restaurant workers, the same is true for the sex industry.

Many sex workers already self-organize for mutual safety. It’s important for us to help people organize even when their line of work is illegal. Keeping industries illegal is just one more way that bosses and their state seek to keep workers divided. We won’t fall for it. We hope that someday, a revolutionary union of sex workers will help abolish capitalism and de-commodify sex along with everything else.

6) The IWW has no professional or paid organizers. Our members are our organizers.

For all of living memory, it has been common practice for unions to employ workers as professional organizers to unionize other workers. The IWW does things differently, and some might say more traditionally.

Before the legal institutionalization of unions in the US, the common practice was for every union member to take part in organizing. Nowadays that’s not as much the case. Why organize when they’re paying someone else to do that, right? One overall effect of this change has been for unions to be viewed as more like other social service organizations than working-class fighting formations.

In the view of IWW members, having “organizer” be a paid job alienates average workers from the role we must play in organizing. The Organizing Department handles logistics over wide geography. Our External Organizers program helps motivate and advise those who come to us seeking organizing assistance. Our organizer training program is superb and open to all workers. All this is accomplished with no more than determination, commitment and some very modest stipends for trainers.

7) Tom Morello and Noam Chomsky publicly support the IWW.

Tom Morello released a music video entitled “Hold the Line: Union Strong Edit” in 2021. Tom Morello has played many times at strikes and other members of Rage Against the Machine such as Zack de la Rocha are vocal about their support for international working-class solidarity.

Nevertheless, it seems there are always people who associate Rage Against the Machine with being “cool,” but have no idea about their not-at-all-hidden politics. Famously, when austerity hawk Paul Ryan became a candidate for Vice President in 2012 and cited Rage Against the Machine as his favorite band, Tom publicly replied in a now-famous Rolling Stone piece,“Paul Ryan is the embodiment of the machine our music rages against.”

10 years later, and it seems the number of people who know about Rage Against the Machine but not their explicit anti-capitalist politics is as high as ever.

Tom Morello and some friends also wrote the new Netflix original movie Metal Lords.

Noam Chomsky, for his part, is pretty much the predominant public intellectual in the US. Along with becoming one of the most respected professors in linguistics, Noam Chomsky also penned the hit non-fiction book Manufacturing Consent, which was also made into a documentary film, analyzing the US corporate media as propaganda.

Besides revolutionizing the field of linguistics and being one of the most prominent public critics of US imperialism from inside the US, Noam Chomsky has also won enough awards to sink a small boat and authored well over 100 books and articles from the 1950s to today.

Noam Chomsky is also probably the best left-wing star of YouTube despite not being a YouTuber. People have taken it upon themselves to make Chomsky channels for him, and videos featuring him regularly rack up views into the seven figures. Here’s Rage Against the Machine’s lead singer, Zack de la Rocha, interviewing professor Chomsky about NAFTA.

8) The IWW does not participate in electoral politics.

IWW members do not see being part of a political party machine as a proper role for a union. Political parties can and do sell workers out, but they also pursue policies that workers are divided on. Some IWW members still vote and even volunteer or work on political campaigns, but it is understood that it is not the role of the IWW to take sides in a political system that is rigged in favor of our exploiters.

Throughout history, change happens first economically, then politically. Supposedly favorable labor laws do not organize workers. Only fellow workers can do that. In reality, nearly all labor policies are meant to achieve what is termed “Labor Peace.” Labor Peace means work no longer being interrupted by upset workers. In other words, Labor Peace does not mean peace for workers, it means peace for bosses. The fact that policies aimed at securing Labor Peace involve concessions to workers is a result of organizing. Not only does government policy aim at Labor Peace, so do many union contracts. This is the purpose of “no-strike” and other “management’s rights” clauses in such contracts.

It’s natural for us, as workers, to want a better deal. However, we can pursue gains today without giving up the goal of a fully democratic, worker-run economy tomorrow. We won’t achieve that lofty goal by making political deals or passing new laws. We can only achieve it by organizing where we are exploited and acting directly to take power back from our exploiters.

The governments we have are designed to grant us “political freedoms” while restricting access to the wealth that our labor produces. As workers unite and reorganize the economy to abolish scarcity, more fair, free and equal political systems will also arise to settle disputes and look after the public interest.

If you are interested in organizing at work and working toward the abolition of the wage system, contact the IWW today.

Featured image is from the IWW Materials Preservation Project. 1992 Queer workers at the July 1992 picket of End-Up Bar in San Francisco.

#iw

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doumadono · 7 months

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TUMBLR SHADOWBAN

So, on the 30th of September, Tumblr hit me with the infamous shadowban out of the blue. They took a whopping 10 days to even respond to my initial email notifying them of the issue.

Their response was a real head-scratcher. Apparently, my account and one of my works had been reported multiple times in a ridiculously short span. As a result, they slapped my account with the ban and threw it into the "check and investigation for potential malicious activity" pit. My account got tagged as a potential harassment, hate speech source, and even suspected terrorism (seriously, what the heck?) Who knew I could be so potentially malicious, right? 😅

But here's the kicker – the most surprising twist in this tale came in the form of an e-mail I received yesterday, after the ban had been lifted. Tumblr had provided me with the identity of the individual responsible for this reporting spree. Drumroll, please... It was someone I was super close to, like 2 years ago. Well, I'm shocked but not surprised as I parted my ways with them in rather negative atmosphere. But man, seriously? Then, Tumblr did their Sherlock Holmes act, sifted through my account, and concluded that everything reported was a big ol' nothing-burger.

Now, here I am, still with a weird taste in my mouth over the whole ordeal. It's the first time something like this happened to me, and I've been around since 2016. So, a dear friend suggested I should have a backup account, and where else to start but the good ol' @thepaperpanda, where my writing journey first began. If you'd like to stay in touch or just show some love, consider giving that blog a follow - in case the shadowban monster rears its ugly head again, we'll find a way to stay connected.

And hey, this is the perfect moment to give a shoutout to those who've been my rock during this dark time. @crystalwolfblog - in my hour of need, she was the lucky first to field my frantic call regarding my account's unfortunate banishment. With unflinching dedication, she clung to the phone for hours on end, soothing my agitated nerves and embarking on a valiant quest to rescue my beleaguered digital presence ♥ @mrskokushibo - the second pillar of strength in my life, always ready to provide unwavering support and clever solutions to any problem. Her guidance proved invaluable, and I'm deeply appreciative of her enduring patience during those challenging days! ♥ @sanriokamabodo - her generous support and heartfelt words were like a soothing balm for my soul in the midst of this challenging period, and I can't help but feel privileged to have her as my friend ♥ @greenwitchsalem - oh boy, what can I say? His words have a way of working their magic on me, like a soothing balm to my soul. I find myself inexpressibly grateful for his presence during this challenging period, as well as for the abundant warmth, encouragement, and unwavering support he offers ♥ @serenesaku & @muzansfangs - I must say, your overwhelming support and warm welcome upon my return after the shadowban are truly appreciated! ♥ I'd like to extend a shout-out to all the incredible folks who reached out to me, even if you didn't make it into the list above. Just so you know, each and every one of you holds a cherished spot in my heart. The overwhelming wave of support I received, even during my temporary absence from this site, left me utterly speechless. I mean, we're talking a whopping 14+ messages in the DMs just yesterday! You all are simply amazing.

#tumblr shadowban #what happened to me #might delete later

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midnight-in-town · 8 months

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Orphanage of livestock

Alrighty, buckle up guys, time for another very cringy theory. :D Big thanks to my friend @dorkshadows for all our discussions about the current arc; this arc is really making us wrack our brain for ideas. xD

To start, here's a reminder as to where we stand vis à vis bizarre dolls:

UT first used to edit those corpses' cinematic records with fake memories he made during the Campania arc, but it quickly changed during the Weston arc to "longing for the future"...

...which are "incomplete fragments that the dead crave about the future they were to have had". Since UT didn't explain anything new ever since, it's likely that the records are still being edited with this method in the current arc.

Then, with the blue sect arc, we were introduced to the use of blood transfusions as "fuel" for the bizarre dolls' longevity...

...and our!Ciel's side set out to crash these collect operations in order to weaken the Undertaker and real!Ciel's side.

Mey Rin's investigation confirmed the existence of one blood collect site...

and so did Bard's:

However, in Finny and Snake's investigation, while the orphanage did sort the children into 4 groups too, the elder siblings pointed out that...

...not only have they never any blood drawn from them, but the orphanage is rather forcing them to attend classes, in order to develop their "aptitude" based on the tests they took when they arrived. Most importantly, when Ginny fledged, the chief of staff said...

...that "the aptitude honed there will make contributions to the world" (as a child with Corgi aptitudes, Ginny's classes were about physical activities "like gymnastics or horse riding").

Investigating Ginny having fledged, that's when Finny, Snake and the elder siblings discovered yet another lab (very similar to the one in Sphere music hall) with evidence of blood collection, but also of organ collection.

So, since this arc with Finny and Snake heavily parallels the circus arc, I was wondering if the purpose of dissecting these poor kids was similar to what Kelvin and the doc did with the kids they abducted:

In other words, whoever is behind this operation (UT is involved, but he might not be the only Shinigami deserter behind this) are maybe killing the kids to collect blood but also many different organs, so that they can probably upgrade their latest bizarre dolls (both in body and record).

Under read more for additional explanations/speculations:

1) the orphanage collects the children's organs to physically upgrade BDs ?

Most likely by grafting new organs or body parts (taken from the orphanage kids who fledged) on bizarre dolls who need them.

For example, considering the Polaris = Joker theory: back in the circus arc, Joker said:

and then Seb cut his second hand. Yet, when Polaris attacked Agni (who was quite strong), Agni noticed that...

...his opponent was very quick and strong. So if Polaris is indeed Joker, then it's likely BD!Joker has new strong arms.

Additionally, crack thought, but we witnessed both Doll and real!Ciel suddenly collapsing, which we automatically linked to needing more blood to keep on functioning, but if they really got new organs from those kids, then maybe...

...the issue we witnessed isn't anemia, but some sort of graft versus host disease? Or both lmao. (I'm totally reaching here)

2) the orphanage also collects the children's organs to gain more sponsors ?

Additionally to the Bizarre Dolls, these organs could be used to gain more sponsors, similarly to Bravat who used to provide blood transfusions to parliamentarians who suffered from kidney failure:

Only rich folks would have enough money to buy organs if they needed it, so they'd make good sponsors for this super expensive BD project.

Of course, the risk of graft v. host disease would be very high as well but, since Othello said "they learnt more than they ought to have" upon visiting the Sphere music hall's lab (ch125), maybe they figured out about how to make a successful graft, on top of blood types ? (Or, most likely, the ones running this clown show just don't care about their sponsors dying once they've gotten the money ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ exactly like Bravat who killed the parliamentarians)

3) the orphanage collects the children's organs for experimentation

This would explain why Finny finds a lot of similarities between this orphanage and the German lab by which he was experimented on for enhanced strength.

Additionally, this would explain Snake's weird comment on "orphanages being terrible places", if he too was also experimented on as a child (which is how and why he understands snakes) :

Lastly, back to the Polaris = Joker idea, Agni mentioned that Polaris had "unimaginable strength". As we know, Agni was one of the strongest characters, so for him to qualify his opponent as "unimaginably strong", it is likely that Polaris has some kind of enhanced strength.

So do they research about enhancing human (or bizarre doll) strength or longevity? Or is it research on cinematic records? Your guess is as good as mine but, as already proved with the circus arc, no one will miss these orphans...

...making this "the best recycling scheme" one can think of. T_T

4) the orphanage assigning orphans to classes based on aptitude tests is used to upgrade BD's records or lack of soul:

The kids are sorted into 4 groups based on the aptitude test they took. Literally quoting the manga:

Mastiff kids learn reading, writing and skills needed to be senior servants managing large manors

Corgi kids specialize in physical activities

Collie kids learn all the skills to make a living as a domestic servant and martial arts

Pomeranian kids (kids who scored the highest on the tests) study latin, maths and games

These orphans are told they are saved and then to envision their future based on their aptitude and what they're forced to learn in their respective classes. This is probably done so that they will develop very specific "longing for the future" which, again, are "incomplete fragments that the dead crave about the future they were to have had".

So, once they fledged and are killed, their "longing for the future" are probably extracted and used one way or another. Since the records are already edited, the goal behind this might be to create some sort of a soul substitute, as hinted by Jane in the Heathfield investigation arc:

and it sure would explain why the chief of staff said the aptitudes can contribute to the world:

That's why something like a change in the afternoon tea menu of the pomeranian kids (from lemon drizzle cake to lemon tart) would actually matter, because taste is probably one of the parameters that can influence the "shape of a soul" or something.

There are 4 groups in the orphanage; in the previous investigations that mostly meant 4 blood types, but this time it might mostly mean 4 star lords:

Mastiff kids for used for Polaris, who defines himself as a butler (he's not real!Ciel's butler tho++) (Joker?)

obviously Pomeranian kids are used for Sirius (real!Ciel)

For Canopus and Vega, it's a bit trickier, but I propose Corgi kids for Vega/Layla, despite her probably being high born, because she worked as a nurse helping veterans with rehabilitation, which looked like this :

This leaves Collie kids for Canopus...

even if Canopus' true identity is really the least obvious one right now. FYI, some Japanese speaking fans have discussed that Canopus is the maid Jane and she indeed worked as a maid and knew how to fight, so it fits (I personally have another theory in mind for Jane, but Canopus!Jane definitely has some basis). If not Jane (or Doll, like some fans keep saying), Canopus can still appear during Seb & Ciel's investigation, so we'll just keep these details about Collie kids in mind.

I'm sure the truth behind Snake & Finny's investigation, as well as the next one with Ciel and Seb, will provide us with more hints about how the bizarre dolls and, more specifically, the star lords are becoming more and more perfect. So far this post is what I can guess with what we were given.

TL;DR in many possible ways, the ones behind this arc (besides UT, I mean) are preying on these poor kids and making use of every parts of them (blood, organs and maybe even their longing for the future).

That's why giving them mistletoe when they reach fledging day is so ironic...