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jazzfordshire · 11 months

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Oooooh, that paladin/new god post... for a SuperCorp AU, which would be which? My first inclination is divine Lena and paladin Kara, but I think an argument can be made for the other way around.

I think either could totally argued, but Paladin Kara is too good for me not to kind of spiral and write Lena as the goddess of Death so!!!! This isn’t much like the original post prompt but it’s where my brain went 🤷‍♀️

As one cursed with eternal life, it was only a matter of time before Death tried to come for Kara.

She sees the goddess for the first time as she’s sitting on a fallen tree, trying to dig a knife out of her back. She’d intervened in a roadside robbery out of pure instinct more than anything else – she prefers to keep to herself, for the most part, and has done so for years beyond counting – and she hadn’t been expecting this band of brigands to have a fourth member hidden in the woods. He’d caught her by surprise. Leading to her current predicament. She hadn’t even noticed the blade sticking out from between her shoulders until after she’d sent the thieves running and the victims on their merry way, and now it’s stubbornly lodged in a place she can’t reach.

Death stands in the shadows. Her dress is (unsurprisingly) black, her long dark hair framing a face Kara can’t quite see. She reminds Kara of the night. A foreign concept, here - the sun of this world never moves from the centre of the sky. Always beaming straight down. It focuses on this half of the planet, leaving the other half dark and dead rather than simply deigning to set for half the day to share its light. It leaves the world’s denizens thinking the globe is flat. A ridiculous notion.

The god of the sun had been benevolent on Kara’s world. Not here.

“I’ve been watching you,” the goddess says. Her voice echoes, clouds around Kara’s senses like a flock of ravens. “You’ve walked this earth for 120 years and haven’t aged a day. You should be dead. Why is your name not on my list?”

“I’m not of this earth,” Kara says distractedly. The voice should send shivers down her spine, but as her spine is currently being scraped by sharp iron she has bigger fish to fry at the moment.

“That much I do know,” Death says coldly. “Your gods are dead.”

The reminder makes Kara’s chest ache. An echo of her dead planet, more dead even than the darkened half of this one. Reduced to rubble. But she smiles through it.

“They are.”

“That shouldn’t mean you can evade death. In any realm.”

“Evade is a funny word for being kept from something,” Kara says, gritting her teeth as her fingers brush the knife’s handle without grasping it. Every time she twists her arm to do it, it sends a shot of pure pain through her. “Could you maybe help me with this?”

“You want to die?” Death asks. Her voice is changed, now – the smoky effect drops, as if it was an affectation interrupted by her shock.

“Would love to, actually.”

“So, how -”

“Ask your brother,” Kara says cheerfully. She knows the pantheon of this world almost as well as her own, now. Learned that hard lesson when she arrived here alone, on this world where the sun never sets. She knows the familial ties that bind the gods. There were many once, one for every little thing one might need to pray for, but now there are but two. Lex, the sun god who provides life, and his unnamed sister the goddess of Death.

Death scoffs. “What does my brother have to do with this?”

“He cursed me,” Kara says, finally turning in her frustration to a nearby tree. Bracing for pain she rubs her back against it, strafing until bark hits blade and the pressure slides the knife free. The wave of pain eases into relief as soon as it’s gone, and in moments the wound has stitched itself up. “With eternal life. Cursed never to see my dead family in the afterlife. Clever, right?”

“That’s not possible,” Death says slowly. “He can’t supersede my domain.”

“Well, he has,” Kara says, nodding her head half-respectfully in Death’s direction before gathering up her things and heading back to the road. She has nowhere in particular to be, but walking gives her a sense of purpose even so. “So take it up with him.”

The goddess disappears in a dramatic wave of black smoke. And that, Kara thinks, is the end of that.

Kara meets the goddess of death again 3 years later. She’s busy putting out a house fire, one that might have overtaken the entire village if left to grow – she’s the only one braving the flames when everyone else has run to safety. The fire sears her palms, leaves shiny red welts that disappear the moment they see the rays of the sun, but it hardly registers as pain anymore. She’s grown used to it in the last few years.

Saving people in need means a lot of injury.

When the flames are dampened and she’s left pouring water on the cinders, she moves a crooked pile of rubble to find the dark goddess sitting with graceful poise on the charred remains of a wooden table. Even in the eternal sunshine, darkness sits around her like a heavy cloak.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Kara says. She brushes the ash from her hands, gesturing at her soot-stained face. “Sorry about the mess.”

“He shouldn’t be able to do this,” Death says. Kara can detect none of the echoing dramatics her voice held during their last meeting – now her tone is clear and sharp. Low and a little raspy, maybe, but not in an unpleasant way. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Shouldn’t, but did,” Kara says, shrugging and moving to pass around the table. “If you’ll excuse me?”

The goddess holds out a hand, and Kara’s way is blocked by a dark cloud of energy. Kara sighs.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do,” Kara says, with a little more steel to her voice. “I’d love to help you out and go into the great unknown or whatever it is that you do, but I can’t die. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Why did he curse you?” Death asks.

“Because he is the great Lord of the sun on this world, and honouring Rao dishonours him,” Kara replies heavily, leaning against a very unsteady beam. It’s hot against the skin of her arm. “He took offence to worship being given to another when I first arrived here. Even a dead god.”

The goddess is quiet. Embers crackle and settle around them - the orange glow lights the angles in her face through her cloak of shadow, though the details are still obscured.

“Did you know that the sun moves on most worlds?” Kara says. The goddess doesn’t move. “Rao didn’t control the sun. He was the sun. He moved through the day to cover the whole planet. There’s no night-time, here.”

“Yes,” Death says softly. “My brother likes to be the centre of everyone’s sky.”

“Except the dark side of the planet.”

Death doesn’t answer for a time. Shadows curl around her, licking at the surface of the table like dark flames.

“Most would covet eternal life, you know,” Death finally says. Her voice is curious. “Most hate death as a very concept. Hate me.”

Kara folds her arms. She looks directly at Death, focused on where her eyes should be.

“I’m not most.”

After a beat the goddess disappears, leaving Kara alone in the ashes.

After that day, Kara can almost feel the goddess watching her every time she survives something that should kill a mortal. Every time she heals a fatal wound, or lets another birthday pass her by without a sign of age. But for years the goddess leaves her alone. It’s another 21 before Kara sees the goddess of death again.

This time, Kara is almost sure she’s finally managed it. She dove deep to pull someone from the remains of a shipwreck, and after sending them to the surface for rescue she stayed underwater. Letting her air run out slowly, feeling her lungs fill with seawater. Choking in the dark. Blackness creeping in, the world getting fuzzy, her family’s faces swimming before her eyes as she feels the first spark of hope she’s felt in over a century -

She wakes to hot sunlight, sand under her back, and the goddess of death looking down at her from a regal seat on a beached crate of supplies. Her dark hair is framed by midday sun, her pale skin luminescent and stubbornly resisting its rays. For the first time, Kara can see the details of her face. She’s as flawless as a goddess might be expected to be, each feature carved and tying together a picture worthy of worship. And her eyes. They waver back and forth in colour, once blue and now green, like shades of the ocean reflected by different skies.

She’s beautiful. And she’s looking at Kara like she’s a stubborn puzzle-box, refusing to give up its secrets.

“Damn,” Kara says, coughing up several mouthfuls of salty water and turning over to spit them into the sand. “I came close that time, didn’t I?”

“I don’t understand you.”

Kara flops back. Her lungs are burning, and she can already tell it’s going to be hell to get all this sand out of her clothes. “Yeah, I don’t understand me either.”

“You could be living a life of selfish pleasure. Endless pleasure,” Death says. There’s a crease between her brows that, in her drowning-induced delirium, Kara wants to smooth with a finger. The first hint of imperfection in her limestone face. “You could accrue wealth and fame and followers. You could live the life of a god on earth if you wanted, and yet you spend your time throwing yourself into danger for others.”

“Why not?” Kara says, sitting up and feeling each vertebrae pop back into place. “I can’t die. I can do things others can’t.”

“So instead you aim to eliminate names from my list.” The goddess doesn’t look angry. Just confused. “Today three names disappeared before I could get here.”

“I would say sorry, but I don’t like to lie,” Kara says. She brushes sand from her arms, grimacing at the knots the seawater has made in her hair.

The goddess’ lips twitch. Almost a smile. Her mouth downturns naturally - fitting, for a goddess of the saddest domain - but Kara thinks suddenly that her smile might just be life-giving. She wants to see it. It lights a fire in her she didn’t expect.

“No need to apologize,” Death says quietly. “I take no pleasure in the reaping of souls.”

Kara pauses partway through untangling her hair.

“Huh.”

“Is that surprising?” Death says. One perfect brow arches, and Kara traces its curve with her eyes.

“Well, that’s not how people speak of you.”

“Ah, yes. Death, the cruel thief of joy,” the goddess says, a thread of bitterness weaving into her words. “Waiting in the dark to snatch mortals away at the slightest provocation. Bringing woe and grief wherever she goes.”

The dark smoke that’s been mostly absent from their conversation appears again. It sweeps around Death, blurring her features like a stormcloud, and Kara leans back on her hands.

“I mean. The aesthetic isn’t exactly doing you any favours,” Kara notes.

The smoke parts. And this time, the goddess does smile. It’s almost incredulous, like she’s shocked at Kara’s gall, but Kara finds she was correct - that smile is like the first beam of moonlight after an eclipse. Something not of this world.

“No,” the goddess says, rising to her feet. The sand doesn’t touch her dress. “I suppose it isn’t.”

Her form starts to waver again. Black smoke takes over her features, sweeping across the beach. Kara scrambles to her feet. Sand sticks wetly to her back, making her hyper-aware of just how bedraggled she must look in comparison to the literal goddess she’s speaking to, but she calls out anyways.

“Wait!”

The smoke stops.

“Do you have a name?” Kara asks, hardly daring to hope for an answer. She can feel Death looking at her even with her features obscured.

“I haven’t used it in a long time.”

“No time like the present,” Kara says. The smoke billows out, sweeping across Kara’s soggy boots. Almost like a laugh. After a long pause, she answers.

“It’s…it’s Lena.”

Kara smiles.

“I’m Kara. Since my name isn’t on your list.”

Lena disappears without an acknowledgement. But Kara clings to her name. She holds it in her mouth like a sweet, lets it melt over her tongue as the last hint of the goddess’ presence disappears in the bright sunshine.

“Until next time. Lena.”

Saving people in need becomes something of a pastime. With nothing much else to do with her endless days Kara keeps travelling, helping out where she can and learning how to fight to do so more effectively. And, she finds, she’s good at it. It comes as easily to her as anything.

But sometimes, even easy things go wrong.

It isn’t often that Kara fails. But her strength has limits, even with eternal life – when the man she’s caught mid-fall on a rocky cliff slips from her grasp, there’s little she can do but watch as he hits the ground. She even falls after him, pulling herself towards him on broken legs that snap themselves back into place within moments, but there’s nothing she can do to heal his broken body.

Lena appears in her periphery as she’s holding him. His wheezing breath is starting to leave him - he’s terrified, seizing at her clothes.

“Help,” he chokes. Lena moves just into Kara’s field of vision. Not circling, but making her presence known.

“I can’t,” Kara whispers. She lays him gently on the ground, prising his hands from her tunic and stepping away, and when she finally looks at Lena she sees not satisfaction but deep, unimaginable sadness.

The moment Lena takes Kara’s place, he knows.

“No,” he moans, trying to scramble away but failing as the strength leaves his body. “No, no, please, I – I have a family, you can’t – please don’t -”

“Be at peace,” Lena says softly. A pale hand comes to rest on his wound, a soft glow emanating from her palm. Her face is set in aching empathy. “Your suffering is over. No pain will follow you here.”

The man is not at peace. He’s still terrified, hardly hearing her comforting words, but Lena says them anyways; when his spirit fades and his body goes limp, Lena stands. She doesn’t look at Kara, not directly, but nor does she disappear as Kara takes a heavy seat on a flat rock.

After a moment, Kara calls out.

“Lena?”

Lena twitches. Her hand flexes, making a fist and then relaxing again. Kara wonders if she’s heard her name called a single time since their last meeting.

“Come talk to me,” Kara says softly. She pats the spot beside her, and Lena’s eyes flicker to the movement. “Please?”

Lena comes closer, but she doesn’t sit. Her eyes are downcast. Kara wishes she would look up, so that she could see the ever-changing colour of them. She’s been thinking about it for years, now. She’s just as starkly beautiful as she was the last time they saw each other.

“I’m sorry,” Lena says quietly. Kara shrugs, trying to put aside the guilt eating away at her insides.

“Can’t save everyone.”

“And yet you still try. Doesn’t it get tiresome?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Kara says. Lena finally looks up.

“My task is enforced on me,” Lena says, her hands coming together in something close to a fidget before she seems to remember herself and stop. Her eyes are grey, today. Like the choppy steel of a stormy sea. “You do this by choice. Have you made some kind of game out of erasing names from my list?”

“I guess you could say that,” Kara shrugs. She moves over, patting the open spot beside her again. “Or maybe I just enjoy your company.”

Lena scoffs. “That’s even more absurd than defying Death.”

“And yet, here I am. Doing both.”

Lena’s face is like stone as she assesses Kara’s words. But she sits.

“You don’t get to talk to people often, do you?” Kara says. Lena has left a great deal of space between them, perching on the very edge of the rock, and Kara takes in what she can of her side profile.

“Not unless I’m bringing them to the afterlife,” Lena says. Her hands twist together again. “And in those cases, as you saw, they tend to be…”

“Afraid.”

“Or angry. Or pleading. But yes. Mostly frightened,” Lena sighs. “Everyone fears the unknown. It doesn’t really matter what I say.”

“But you still try,” Kara says. It’s something she never would have expected from Death, this well of genuine empathy for the humans she reaps, but it seems to be a fundamental part of Lena just as much as her stormy eyes or her sharp tongue.

Lena nods. “Everyone deserves comfort in their final moments. Especially if they’re gripped by fear.”

Kara’s next words come in a whisper.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Lena looks at her sharply. Her brows are knitted with disbelief, and her hands stop their twisting and instead brace on the rock.

“My brother did this to you,” Lena says. Her voice is low, but urgent as she leans towards Kara as if to persuade her. “Keeps you from seeing your family. He is the source of your curse.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, you don’t seem to be your brother.”

Kara’s hand moves closer to where Lena’s rests. A few inches between them, perhaps, easily closed. Closer and closer Kara moves, towards Lena’s pale fingers, reaching –

The swirling black cloud has hidden Lena’s features before Kara can come close to touching Death’s hand.

“Lena, wait!” Kara shouts. But it’s to empty air. The goddess of death is gone.

After that day, Kara puts herself in danger perhaps a shade more than she did before in the hopes of drawing Lena out again. Sometimes Kara can feel her presence when she saves a life, a gentle smoky warmth just over her shoulder; sometimes she can almost see her as someone’s soul is leaving their body, if Kara has failed to change their fate. A faint outline. A sense of calm, even when the dying person is frightened. But no matter what Kara does Lena doesn’t materialize.

She even tries praying, which feels as silly as it must look. Lena doesn’t answer. Her absence only intensifies Kara’s fascination.

As she walks the world Kara looks for worshippers of her newly-favoured goddess, and finds few and far between. Besides the occasional murderous cult who worship a version of Death that doesn’t resemble Lena in the slightest and a single, run-down temple on a remote island hidden from human access, there’s no trace of the kind of worship given to Lena’s brother the sun-god. No festivals, no sacrifices, hardly even an acknowledgement. Only fear, and resistance against the inevitable. As if pretending death doesn’t exist will stave it off indefinitely.

Even with only three meetings, Kara feels somehow as if she knows Lena. And her erasure feels deeply unfair.

It takes 12 years for Kara to see her again. 12 years of looking for danger, saving people whose names she knows must have been on Lena’s list, stealing souls back from Death in an endless back-and-forth, until finally Kara does something drastic.

She takes her vows, and becomes Death’s only Paladin.

Hearing Lena’s voice again is like hearing the first drops of rain after a long drought.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Kara opens her eyes. She’s only halfway through her 24 hours of silent prayer in this windowless room, the last step in this holy process, and now her patron goddess herself is perched on the altar surrounded by flickering candles. Her legs are folded one over the other in a graceful cross, and her face is set in incredulity.

“Lena!” Kara breathes, grinning wide and rising from her knees. “Long time no see!”

“Death doesn’t have Paladins, Kara,” Lena says fiercely, as if Kara hasn’t greeted her at all. “Nobody walks the earth saving people in Death’s name. My brother’s Paladins seek to defy me, they don’t…they don’t worship.”

“Why not?” Kara shrugs. Her armour, a dark leather set with Death’s symbol on the breast, squeaks with her movement in the way new leather always does. Lena’s nostrils flare.

“Because it doesn’t make sense!”

“It does, though. Think about it,” Kara says, as insistent in her decision as she’s been these last two years of training. She’s had to weather the disbelief of the other Paladins here too, all training to serve the sun-god. She’s gotten more than enough practice. “I can’t die. Ever. Who’s more fitting to carry out Death’s will?”

“What are you going to do, go out and kill people indiscriminately in my name?” Lena says, waving her hands wide. The strength of her reaction makes her somehow more real than she’s ever been, even when her draped sleeves pass over the candles without catching. “What could possibly be the function of a Paladin of Death?”

“You don’t take pleasure in the reaping of souls.”

Lena pauses. Her arms fall slowly back to her sides.

“You remembered that,” she whispers.

Kara knows then with a certainty she can’t describe that she’s done the right thing. She’s tried keeping Rao in her heart, she’s tried escaping from her past, she’s tried every method available on this earth of letting Death take her. But now that she knows Death, has seen her firsthand, she’ll kneel for Lena and nobody else.

“I can be your vassal,” Kara says, lowering her voice to match Lena’s. “I can sort those who can be spared from those whose time has come. Make your job easier. Save them, or ease their passage if I need to. Soothe some of that fear.”

Lena bites at her lower lip. Her teeth are brilliantly white, the edges sharp enough to leave a mark that fades slowly.

“It would defy my brother,” Lena admits. “He’s the one who gave me this task. I’m not meant to deviate.”

“Who better to do that, too?”

Lena is silent. Kara approaches her, trying to absorb her every perfect feature while she can – the curve of her brow, the shape of her sharp jaw framing her mouth. The slight underbite that shines through as she seems to chew on the inside of her cheek.

Kara reaches out a hand.

Lena slides off the altar, snatching her arm away before Kara can get close. “No - you can’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

Lena sidesteps, sliding past Kara and backing up until her back hits the wall. “Mortals can’t touch the gods. You’ll burn. It’ll -”

“Kill me?” Kara grins. She removes her gauntlet, dropping it to the flagstones. “I’d welcome it.”

Again, slowly, she reaches for Lena’s hand. And slowly Lena relaxes her arm until finally, Kara’s fingers wrap around her bare wrist.

Lena’s skin is like ice. It’s cold enough that it might burn, like Lena said, if Kara wasn’t cursed. But it doesn’t. Kara feels more alive than she’s felt in decades, just from a simple touch. Wonderfully alive. Joyously alive. Lena’s intake of breath is sharp enough to cut.

“See?” Kara says lowly. “My curse is good for something.”

“You’re…”

Kara’s free hand joins the first. She cups both of them around Lena’s, feeling their shape; Lena’s long, elegant fingers curl into themselves in the cradle of Kara’s palms, their cold receding. Kara keeps her voice low.

“What am I?”

Lena swallows. Kara watches her throat bob, her lips parting to show a flash of her pink tongue.

“Warm,” Lena murmurs. “Like the sun. I haven’t felt warmth in…a long time.”

Kara is close to her. So close that she can see the shifting sea colours in Lena’s eyes even in the dim candlelight. Carefully, Kara sinks to her knees with Lena’s hands still cradled in her own. She opens up her fingers so that she can press her forehead to Lena’s palms, and she finds that the coldness has left them. They’re almost hot, now.

“Let me serve you, Lena,” Kara whispers, like the endless prayers she’s been whispering since she was locked in this room. “Please.”

Lena’s fingers move. For a moment Kara thinks she might push her away. But instead they relax, and press against the top of Kara’s head.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” Lena says. But there’s wonder in her voice. Happiness, even. And when she disappears in her usual cloud of smoke, the smoke drifts over Kara. She breathes it in, feeling it full her lungs, and on the first breath she feels it changing her.

Lena smells of fresh earth. Of fallen leaves, crisp and decomposing in a fragrant autumn. The tangy smoke of a doused fire.

She smells like the cool air of night.

When she smoke leaves her, Kara feels different. Unimaginably different. Envigorated. The pew she uses to pull herself to her feet cracks and splits under her hand with hardly any effort, and when she flexes her shoulders – feeling a new strength in them, one she can’t wait to explore – she feels something else there.

Two black, feathered wings unfurl from her back, filling the room with fragrant shadow.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #goddess/paladin au #tw: death #tw: suicide mention #is it cliche? yes #has it been done before? probably #did i have fun writing it anyways? absolutely!#might get cheeky and write it out into a fic who knows

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virginiaoflykos · 9 months

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What to read after Light Bringer? (Series similar to Red Rising)

August 2023 update!

Red Rising is my favorite series of all time, and since I first read it, I have sought series and books similar in both spirit and execution. Some of these recs are books I haven’t read personally, but have often come up in discussions with other users!

1. The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson

Status: ongoing, expected 10 books in total, 4/10 out at the moment

Book 1: The Way of Kings. The Way of Kings takes place on the world of Roshar, where war is constantly being waged on the Shattered Plains, and the Highprinces of Alethkar fight to avenge a king that died many moons ago.

2. The Craft Sequence by Max Gladstone

Status: finished, 6/6 books out.

Book 1 (in publication order): Three Parts Dead. Comprised of 6 standalone books set in the same universe, the Craft Sequence tells the tales of the city of Alt Coulumb. The city came out of the God Wars with one of its gods intact, Kos the Everburning. In return for the worship of his people, Kos provides heat and steam power to the citizens of Alt Coulumb; he is also the hub of a vast network of power relationships with other gods and god-like beings across the planet. Oh, and he has just died. If he isn’t revived in some form by the turn of the new moon, the city will descend into chaos and the finances of the globe will take a severe hit.

3. Hierarchy by James Islington

Status: ongoing, 1/3 planned books out

Book 1: The Will of the many. The Will of the Many tells the story of Vis, a young orphan who is adopted by one of the sociopolitical elites of the Hierarchy. Vis is tasked with entering a prestigious magical academy with one goal – ascend the ranks, figure out what the other major branches of the government are doing, and report back. However, that isn’t quite as easy as Vis or anyone else thought it was going to be…

4. Suneater by Christopher Ruocchio

Status: ongoing, 5/7 books out

Book 1: Empire of Silence. Hadrian is a man doomed to universal infamy after ordering the destruction of a sun to commit an unforgivable act of genocide. Told as a chronicle written by an older Hadrian, Empire of Silence details his earlier adventures and serves as an introduction to the characters and the setting.

5. Dune by Frank Herbert

Status: completed, 6/6 books out

Book 1: Dune. Set in the distant future amidst a feudal interstellar society in which various noble houses control planetary fiefs. It tells the story of young Paul Atreides, whose family accepts the stewardship of the planet Arrakis. While the planet is an inhospitable and sparsely populated desert wasteland, it is the only source of melange, or "spice", a drug that extends life and enhances mental abilities.

6. The Expanse by James S A Corey

Status: completed, 9/9 books out

Book 1: Leviathan wakes. Set hundreds of years in the future, after mankind has colonized the solar system. A hardened detective and a rogue ship's captain come together for what starts as a missing young woman and evolves into a race across the solar system to expose the greatest conspiracy in human history.

7. The First Law by Joe Abercrombie

Status: completed. 3 books in the original trilogy + 3 standalone books + 3 books in the newest trilogy

Book 1: The Blade Itself. The story follows the fortunes and misfortunes of bad people who do the right thing, good people who do the wrong thing, stupid people who do the stupid thing and, well, pretty much any combination of the above. Survival is no mean feat, and at the end of the day, dumb luck might be more of an asset than any amount of planning, skill, or noble intention.

8. Cradle by Will Wight

Status: completed, 12/12 books out

Book 1: Unsouled. Lindon is Unsouled, forbidden to learn the sacred arts of his clan. When faced with a looming fate he cannot ignore, he must rise beyond anything he's ever known...and forge his own Path

9. Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons (one PB’s favorites)

Status: completed, 4/4 books out

Book 1: Hyperion. The story weaves the interlocking tales of a diverse group of travelers sent on a pilgrimage to the Time Tombs on Hyperion. The travelers have been sent by the Church of the Final Atonement, alternately known as the Shrike Church, and the Hegemony (the government of the human star systems) to make a request of the Shrike. As they progress in their journey, each of the pilgrims tells their tale.

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confessedlyfannish · 2 months

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Six Years Ago

Part 1

Part 2

Jon wakes slowly, warm and clean and strong for the first time in weeks. His stomach growls and he wants food, craves a thick juicy cheeseburger instead of feeling nauseous at the thought of it. Breathing comes easy instead of the slow rattle that was making its way through his chest, though the straps going around his face and the back of his head are itchy and the air itself is chilly, a strange icy patch around his mouth and nose amidst what feels like the best heated blanket in the world.

Strong arms shift around him, and the relief is so palpable tears of it form in his eyes as he slides them open, ready not to waste another minute of not seeing Superman, because Dad's found him—

Instead he sees a slight smile, inhuman in the jag of the canines and green eyes that glow in the vast abyss of space.

"Hey there, hey—" the man is saying, white hair drifting around his face, and he's saying other things but Jon is still looking for his Dad, his Dad was here wasn't he, those were his Dad's arms—

Except they weren't. They're this man, this alien's arms, one around his back and the other under his knees, cradling him in the flames of Earth's sun, and he was there, in the lab.

One moment Jon had been hiding from the robot that had been hunting him for days, taunting him as he dodged booby traps and ate leaves that made him sick. He'd grown weaker and dirtier even as Damian's voice in his head urged him to fight, to stay alive, and he'd fallen asleep to a violet sky and the ghost of his mother's hand on his forehead, cool against his warm brow.

He'd awoken inside of a tube, a concave shape of a person, holding his eyes open long enough to see the man peering at him as if he was an exhibit. Don't tap the glass. Or do. Jon wouldn't bite. He couldn't remember how.

And now he is here, threads of plasma tickling his skin, feeling better than he has in days. Behind the man is Earth. Home. Jon is only 93 million miles from home.

He can make it. He will make it.

He stares at the man keeping him from his home, his family, and the tickle in his eyes turns to fire in a matter of blinks. Red light hits the alien straight in the chest and with a shout, he releases Jon.

Jon wastes no time, flying in the direction of Earth. He'd struggle with this, all of this, but adrenaline sharpens his abilities. The mask strapped over his mouth and nose provide oxygen from the pack taped to his chest. He wants nothing more than to rip it off but he leaves it be.

His focus is singular, the apartment in Metropolis. He can feel his Mom's arms around him already. He's formulating what he will say to his Dad, how he will explain about Jor-El. He is worried they won't believe him. Ashamed of what he committed to and then ran away from. He told his Mom to go. He said he would be fine.

He doesn't want to think about the floating island, or talk about it, and he decides he won't. He is a runaway, a failed Superson, but he is not the boy on the floating island. He didn't shiver from fever, tearing at his cape to bandage the wounds from the robot's green metal claws. He did not scream in fear when a trick arrow carved a path down his cheek. He did not give up, covered in bush and counting his ribs like a messed up lullaby.

His Dad can make the trip to the Sun in ten seconds. Jon thinks he flies even faster, and later he will think that is the reason he doesn't notice the Watchtower is missing.

But he does notice Metropolis is gone. Instead of the Daily Planet's gleaming golden globe, he lands in a marsh. Herons fly up and away, squawking in startled choir as he touches down, water lapping up to his knees. He looks to his left but there's nothing but tourists on a floating wooden path in the far distance, taking photos of geese as they weave trails through the water that was supposed to be home.

He looks to his right, and the man from space is there, floating above the water.

Jon flies to Kansas.

By the time the man catches up with him, Jon is curled up in his grandparent's corn field, except it isn't their corn field. He digs a hand into the ground and brings up light, loose soil that tastes like citrus, acidic and unbalanced in a way Ma Kent would never let stand (and he lets it fall from his palm with a shudder, reminded of the mud on the alien island he'd eaten, before the nausea had set in but long after pride had fled). The barn at the far end of the field has a blue door, not red.

"Dad," Jon mumbles into the ground. "Dad."

Feet lightly touch down, but this time Jon knows they aren't his father's.

The man has no heartbeat, nor breath. Even the silver robot softly whirred. But the man is silent as he touches down beside Jon, who will not go back to the tube.

Survive, Damian's voice demands. Jon closes his eyes to the world, this utterly wrong world, and he flies.

#I have more for this #but gonna leave it here for now #jon kent #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #my writing

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diorcities · 1 year

Text

icarus

pairing: jeno x fem reader.

genre: smut, angst

content: mention of inexperience reader, mention of virginity, face riding (female), slight bondage (collarbone), female masturbation, fingering, anal fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, oral sex (male).

wc: 2.5 k

an: stop bc this look so ridiculous i don't even care. am i projecting? yes. do i want my yn moment? also yes. i love daydreams, and i love being delusional, anyway, enjoy <3

masterlist

oh, icarus! for all you have fallen, still you flew! and for a moment, the sun knew of you, too.

“yn, you're here?” your friend snaps her fingers in front of you, making you blink twice. “i'm having a collapse,” you confess, grabbing your head. “oh, no, i think i'm having a panic attack.” your eyes widening as the realization hit you in the stomach. “yeah... can you have it later? we're in the middle of something.” you laugh, tense. “i mean, what's going on? we've been here before,” she wanders around, as the lineup moves. “like, past year, you forgot?” you shake your head, a glimpse of a smile slowly dancing on your lips.

of course you remember.

last summer was the best summer of your life. after you have studied all year for your final exams at university, you and your friend went on a summer trip full of concerts and traveling around the globe. it was a rewarding experience for passing all your exams with good grades and saving money on your part-time job. it didn't matter what concerts you were attending. imagine dragons, coldplay, taylor swift... after a whole year of working hard, it was kind of a present from you to yourself. forgetting completely about college, both of you had a great time last year.

one night you two bumped into a concert having a place in your city. your friend immediately wanted to go, and consequently, dragged you with her. since your motto was <enjoy the summer as if it was your last> you didn't waste time and started to feel the vibe of the moment. letting yourself go.

a guy caught your attention that night. spending all evening looking at him in awe. amazed. later that night, you were sure his gaze was fixed on you. stealing glances from time to time, your heart beating so fast in your chest from the arousal. when the concert was over, he invited you to come with him.

his voice was low and raspy, like a shot of rum. and later that night, you knew his breathing was sharp and heavy. arms covered in veins, body sculpture, and chiseled by some divine god. eyes so dark you are scared to drown in the void of his pupils. nose long and manly that still makes you wet your underwear. you let him have you that night. a couple times.

“oh, god, i lost you again.” your friend rolls her eyes. “what's the deal with you?”.

“sorry, i got lost in my thoughts,” you reply, advancing with the line. your friend gives you a look. “you sound flustered,” she notices, smiling. “stop that,” you cut her off, hearing his laugh. “i mean, i'm a human, i'm nosy,” she defends herself. “what if i wanna know what happened?” “nothing happened,” you answer. she huffs. “lies.”

once inside, you and your friend go to the right side of the scenario. “you never told me about that guy you met last year,” she comments. “you know... your first time.” she adds. “oh, what if he's here tonight?” her eyes wides. “could be,” you say, distracted. “that's why you've been smiling so hard, i just know it.” she laughs. “i kinda wanna meet this sex god that has you smiling like an idiot.” you join her and laugh. your smile dies in your lips as the bitterness hit you. chest starting to hurt. what if he doesn't remember you? what if he doesn't want to see you? your fingers start to fidget the moment the lights go out.

and there he is again. the warmth expanding in your chest when your eyes manage to find him. he looks the same as always. ethereal. unreachable. magical. your eyes opening, trying to grasp everything. frame it in your head. tattoo it. he doesn't look at you. his eyes sweep the whole place with parsimony, but his eyes don't find yours. and the flame in your chest spreads. wanting. wishing. your muscles move on their own as you stand up, without worrying about how ridiculous you are trying right now. but your attempt worked. and now his eyes lock with yours. and you feel like you're holding your breath, yearning.

is this how icarus felt when he approached the sun? this burnt feeling through the limbs, only to find out he was burning inside out? suddenly falling (in love) with joy because, for a moment, he was close to the sun?.

his eyes weigh down when he looks at you. charged with a deep feeling, an unknown emotion. licking his lips as he sinks into his thoughts, imagining. his hectic breathing makes him look attractive. his skin glowing with sweat. flexed arms looking bigger; the memory of them holding you tightly as he penetrated you with care. you bite your lip instinctively, and you see him spasm where he stands.

both of you don't think you can hold it anymore.

the hours pass slowly. a torture for you, already waiting for him. your fiery pussy wet by your violent desires. lips part open as you breathe fast and superficial. he disappears behind backstage and doubt freeze you right where you are. wondering if you imagined it all. until a message.

j: you free?

“no. fucking. way.” you shush her watching her open her mouth, in disbelief. “you're texting jeno!?” she whispers, and you nod. “wait, what? hold on.” her eyes sparkle. “so this mysterious guy is the one and only jeno lee?” you roll your eyes. “jeez, you'll let everyone know.” she glances at your phone. “well, you better go, right?” she says. “wait, you're not coming with me?” you ask, worried. “i mean, i don't see any threesome word anywhere, so yes, i'm leaving,” she says, “you better show off. tell me all about it tomorrow,” she demands, walking away. “eh, can i have an autograph, perhaps?” she jokes, before winking. you watch her leave before responding to the message.

you: always.

even up close, your eyesight doesn't do justice to his beauty. he had a shower before you arrived. water pearls forming in his jet-black hair. his hands guide you to a wall before attacking your lips fervently. with sharp and hungry movements, he devours your mouth with desperation. leaving you breathless. the kiss breaks enough to take a breath of air, a thread of saliva connected to your lips due to arousal. feeling his tongue make its way through your mouth, flicking and moving, causing your arousal released in your core. “i want you,” you whisper in his mouth, feeling his hands running over you. “how much?” he breathes. your hands guide one of his hands under your skirt. his palm rests in your pussy. wetness going through the fabric. a filthy groan leaves his mouth. “take it off for me, angel.”

you do as you're told. lowering your underwear to your ankles and picking it up from the floor. you hand it to him, watching him bring your underwear to his face, sniffing your scent. “cute,” he says, before he kisses you. hands finding the buttons of your shirt, undressing you. leaving quick pecks on your lips, he guides you to his hotel bed. you drop yourself on the surface, staring intently at him standing in front of the bed. “show me how much you want me.” his glossy eyes darken at the sight of you spreading in the bed as you do what he wants. your black skirt lifted up, showing your wet pussy. your fingers slide between your folds, before inserting two in your cunt, remembering the times you touched yourself thinking it was him.

your head pulls back, eyes shut, feeling a sweet warmth in your intimate area. your mouth opening to let out little gasps, while your fingers move rhythmically and quickly in and out of your pussy, hitting hardly your spot. “jen-o,” you pant with a whine. the only mention of his name on your glossy lips makes his dick twitch inside his pants. he sits in the bed, eyes glued on your fingers stroking your cunt. your back arch as you feel the flames spreading inside you, his hands stopping you from reaching your climax. a wave of spasms shakes your body, as you bite your lips, opening your eyes, before he uses the same hand that pulled out your fingers from your pussy to insert his own. “let me.”

his movements are by far more precise and agile than yours. his long fingers going in and out, as you stirred and hissed and twitched your face in pleasure under the blackhair's gaze. his free hand goes to your collarbone, restraining you from moving under his touch. the wet sounds filling the room with your whimpers and moans, feeling his fingers increase intensity and speed, driving you insane, making a mess of babbling and incoherent words. your eyesight going black when he hit your sweet spot repeatedly, limbs going numb, before the fire pools and spread in your core, to the rest of your body. legs pressing together as he keeps flicking his fingers inside, your walls contracting and pulsing in his digits.

he lets you go to lick your arousal from his fingers, humming in an instance. “so sweet.” he states. “fuck, let me taste a little more.” you feel his breath in your pussy, before his tongue wipes out your sensitive core. your hands go to his hair, feeling him licking and sucking you. your legs spread open, as he dives into your pussy with heavy breath.

he detaches from your pussy and sits up on the bed. his hands seek yours and climb you on his lap without difficulty due to your muscles still stiff, body feeling lightweight. he kisses your neck and lips. hands disappearing under your skirt sensing his fingers testing your ass, sliding his index finger along the length, until finding your hole, inserting his digit with a quick move. your body stutter as the warm feeling embraces you, starting to wiggle while his finger fucks you. it's a new feeling for you, arching your back due to the strange pleasure that hits you. starting to grind against his lap. his free hand goes to your back, unfastening your bra. his thumb rubs circles in your nipple while his mouth wraps the other one, sucking gently.

he stops his fingers while lifting you with one arm enough to pull down his pants. “are you gonna be a good girl and ride this dick? mmm.” you nod effusively. he releases his length and it hit your leg, twitching. your hands go to your skirt, but he stops you, “leave it on, you look cute.” glancing at his bulge you think that it must hurt him. so you don't waste time after he puts a condom in, taking it on your hands and plunging it inside, already craving it. a sweet burn embraces your pussy due to his thickness. stretching you out. adjusting and wriggling on his length. jeno lets out a rasping grunt before he makes you bounce on his lap. pounding into his dick, your vision fades to black, sensing the waves of pleasure washing you. your breathy moans and soft whines mixing with his guttural sounds. kissing his lips, grinding against him. awakening all your nerve endings.

you contract your walls feeling his dick twitch, before pushing it deeper, the dizziness clouding your senses as you go up and down, constantly hitting your core, almost seeing stars. “fuck, i'm gonna cum.” his raspy voice warns. you go faster and harder, riding him to his climax. feeling his dick, pulsating against your walls, you grind him, rocking your hips back and forth, feeling his cock still hard. your moves becoming sloppy the more you approach your orgasm, finally exploding and throbbing around his length.

you pant, exhausted. feeling mind blurry and body buzzing on top of him.

“sit on my face,” he hisses, lifting you up with ease. his body rests on the mattress as you climb to his chest, hands holding you for support before you sit down on his face. nose rubbing your clit.

you let out a little moan before you start moving. his hands holding your thighs tightly while you rock your hips into his face. tongue licking along your folds, nose stroking your clit, grinding against him, mixing your juices with his saliva. his warm breath hitting your core sweetly while he mumbles “taste so good.” speeding your moves as the knot in your stomach tightens. quivering and crying out because his tongue feels so good, before releasing your extasis in his mouth. your orgasm washes you over, dissolving in shockwaves.

you stroke his hair while he force you to rock your hips along his mouth. feeling so satisfied it hurts. “s-too much...” you cry, trying to stop him from moving you, but he's stronger, so it doesn't happen. “go on, darling, a little more.” he mutters into your core, sending shivers through your body due to the sensation. you swallow, deeply. “let me... i want to taste you too, ” you confess, fluttering your eyes because of how sensitive you were.

you hop off his body and drop your knees in front of him.

holding his cock in your hands, starting to move them up and down. he's already hard. you strike your tongue along his length, hearing his throaty breathing. “put it in your mouth, yeah?” he urges you. your warm mouth receives his cock with pleasure. sucking gently and watching him stare at you while you do it. tongue going to the underside of his shaft before returning to the tip, swollen and red. inserting it with ease until it hits the back of your throat. “you're taking it so well,” he says, breathy. you hum with his cock still in your mouth, causing him to swear. watching him so needy and agitated for you. oh, you wish you were the only one who could see him like that. his cock feeling so good, his tip resting on your tongue as you stroke him. feeling his flavourful seed spilling in your mouth before you swallow it.

you get up from the ground wiping the corner of your lips, staring at him, seeking his approval. “have i done it right?” you wonder. his hand caressed your cheek before sliding into your mouth. “mmm,” he grants. he taste himself on your lips.

“now, all fours on the bed. i'd like to destroy you a few times more.” strocking his length.

you feel him settle behind you, and you don't have time to get ready when his cock buries inside with a hard move. body propelled forward. his hands hold you in place before he starts to smack his hips against yours, pounding at a slow and hard pace, making you feel demolished. gasping with each thrust, your body collapses between the sheets, before he uses his strength to make you arch your back. mumbling and babbling like a fool, brainwashed by the way he's fucking you. your whole body shivering due to the overwhelming feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your abused pussy. “fu-uck.” biting your lips and rolling your eyes to the back of your head, spinning. your pulsing walls wrapping him tight while he curses a lot.

a few more thrusts are done before you release yourself around him. your limbs numbing with a white feeling. mouth part open letting out incoherent words, mind going blank. you feel his grip on your legs, turning you around, now facing him. “want to stop?” he asks, hovering over you and leaving kisses on your neck and chest. his eyes meeting your eyes, watching you smile languidly shaking your head. he smiles before he pulls in. “good girl.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #jeno smut #♡jeno #jeno drabbles

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theycallmemisterbutterfingers · 4 months

Text

Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places. Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone.

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry.

Well.

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God.

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment.

Guilt.

Horrible, horrible guilt.

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good.

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel.

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light.

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth.

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard.

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him.

His angel. His Az—hm.

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale.

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel.

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest.

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped.

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely,

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again.

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly.

And Crowley broke.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body.

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time.

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk—sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face.

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

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mrsmikaelsxn · 1 year

Text

Morning Ice Skating

masterlist

pairing: regulus black x female reader

warnings: fluff, one kiss (a peck), reggie being a child

summary: during your yule break, you take regulus along with you to go ice skating

a/n: i timmy so much, i can't-

song: beautiful boy - john lennon

"Shut that bloody alarm," Regulus groans, reaching over you to stop the blaring sound.

He hits snooze and drifts back to sleep, his arm wrapped around you, and a warm thick blanket covering you both.

You lazily sit up and rub your eyes. You had planned to go ice skating today, so you wanted to get up to have the morning sun to enjoy.

As you go to move out of Regulus' grasp, he tightens his grip on your waist.

"Where are you going, my love?"

"To go ice skating," you say kissing his forehead.

"Why? Stay in bed and cuddle with me, I need affection," he whines like a child.

"You had plenty of affection last night," you grin as his face flushes.

"Hush," he says sitting up.

"I'm going to get ready now, you could stay in bed if you want... or you could come with me," you suggest.

"Nope, absolutely not. Do you not recall what happened the last time we went? I had the bruises on my legs for days," he rolls his eyes.

"Pfft, that's only because it was your first time. I'm sure you'll be much better this time. Can you come with me, please," you give him your puppy dog eyes. He gives in, only because he can't say no to you when you do that.

"Fine. But if I fall, I am coming straight back and going to sleep again... after I throw some snowballs at you," he huffs.

"Deal," you nod with a grin. You get out of bed and drag him along with you. The two of you change into warmer clothes and you put your hair back. You both brush your teeth and grab the new ice skates you bought for him and you.

You walk out towards the frozen lake. Because it's early and the sun is still rising, you guys are the only ones there. There is a light snowfall, making the scene around you even more beautiful. You always loved snow, when it was snowing you liked to think of the world as a snow globe.

"Okay, are you ready?" Regulus looks at you and hesitantly nods.

"Great, grab my hand and we will go slow"

"Hm, okay, please don't let go," he begs as he nervously steps onto the ice with you.

"I promise I won't," you reassured him.

"Now, bend your knees a bit- good, now with your right foot..." you go on to explain how to skate in simple steps to make it easier for him to understand.

He slowly gets the hang of it and loosens his death grip on your poor hand.

"I'm going to give you a little push, and see if you can do what I told you without falling. Is that okay?"

"Yeah- um- okay... I got this," he mumbles to himself, getting a laugh out of him.

"Yes, you do," you gently push on his back and he does as he was told. He keeps repeating his movements and is slowly going around the ice on his own.

"Fabulous job, darling!"

He looks up at you and sees your bright smile, a feeling of pride takes over him. As much as he didn't want to come, seeing as last time it ended horribly, he would do anything you asked him to. Seeing you smile at him like that made everything worth it.

You skate over to him and intertwine your fingers. You talk while you slowly ease him into going faster with you around the lake.

"By the way, I forgot to mention this morning, that if you keep buying stuffed animals for the bed, they are going be either shoved in the closet or you're going to sleep on the couch," you inform him with a smile.

Every time you go to your room there are more somehow. You don't even know where he gets them from. Now they take up about half the bed and a lot of space.

"I don't think so, you wouldn't kick me out of the room"

"Oh yes. I do think so, and indeed I would," you put your finger in his face, trying your best to keep a straight face.

He gives you a mhm look, and you shake your head. "Okay," you sigh, "no I wouldn't. But some of them are going in the closet!"

He turns to you and places his hand on your cheeks that are pink from the cold air nipping at your skin.

"I love you so, so much, sweetheart. You know that right?"

You relax your face into his hand and admire him, wondering how you got to love this angel.

"And I love you so, so much, as well"

"You sure? Even with all my stuffed animals?"

"Yup, even with all of you room-taking stuffed animals," you smile pecking his lips.

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anchoeritic · 1 year

Note

hi i absolutely adore your little blurbs and rockstar!ellie has awakened something

she totally plays every instrument like drums guitar bass and she’s very good with her fingers if you know what i mean

thank you baby!! and i totally agree so here are some hcs.. ♡

• she’s a fucking monster when she plays the drums. likes to be in her own lil world when it comes to playing musical instruments, jamming away to whatever song’s playing in her headphones and matching the beats of the bass. sometimes you’d walk in on one of her sessions and just watch in awe, loving the amount of passion she shows towards her music.

• to add to the drums part: she absolutely loves teaching you as well. having you sat on her lap, putting a drumstick in your hand and letting you play your own stupid beats. “c’mon, play with me.” one hand is firmly gripping over yours while the other is holding onto your hip, making you stay in your place.

• “dunno what to do.” you mumble, looking at all the different drums you could hit. ellie chuckles, digging her face into the crook of your neck. she could hear your breath hitch with every one she took getting closer to you, the hand on your hip itching lower and lower. “y’know what to do, gorgeous.. don’t let me stop you from playin’.” let’s just say it leads to more than just a drum lesson.. by the end of the night, your legs would be wrapped around her waist, begging for her to let you cum just once.

• moving onto guitar/bass; this is the area she feels most comfortable in. not only because she grew up on strumming those very strings, but because her love for the instrument is very, incredibly symbolic to her. she was just like every other little girl, hoping to create something bigger than her dream. hoping for a life without being known as the black sheep. “joel, i don’t understand.” “watch this, kiddo. you got it.” young girl learns guitar from step-dad, crawls out from her shell, and runs along the seashores of the beaches out here in california. there was no easier way to describe her upbringing.

• every time she plays, he is the first thing to come to mind. her win was his and his loss was hers. it was such a beautiful yet disappointing scenario. after the loss of joel, she lost herself. drowning her sorrows away by diving head-first into a body of water filled with badgering sharks, ready to sign her off from being an independent artist. they wanted to get her brand purely just for the money.

• “um, hey?” a new voice. your voice. “sorry, i just wanted to come by and say hi?” blinking a few times, she turned her body to face you, surprised to see a younger looking woman other than a clean-looking businessman waiting to get her on one of those stupid contracts. your smile was the first thing she noticed, and her guitar was the first thing for you. well, her guitar and the sick ass tattoo on her arm. “yeah, yeah, hey.”

• “sorry, let me just—“ “oh, i’m so sorry to burden you—“ ellie stands up to put her guitar away, nearly tripping over her own two feet. you noticed her flushed cheeks once she finally looked up at you under the blinding rays of the sun, her freckles growing warmer too. “hi, i’m ellie.” she smiles back at you awkwardly, brushing away all the fallen strands behind her ear. “i’m y/n. just thought you sounded great, that’s all. i heard you from one of the other rooms.” you sent her a wink. god, it’s been too long since she’s talked to a woman. especially, a pretty one. she didn’t know whether to shake your hand or ask for your number, or— well, you had different plans.

• a hug. she should’ve expected that. it didn’t take long for you to wrap your arms around her stiff figure, warming up to her before she could do so. she felt at peace in your embrace. oh dear, y/n, y/n, y/n. your name was racking up on her brain, engraving into it until she sees you the next time around. little did she know, that was only the beginning of your love story and you’d be travelling across the globe as the rockstar’s girl.

• “you did fuckin’ amazing, holy shit!” you scream, jumping into her arms. she only laughs when you quite literally wrap your body around hers, engulfing her into a tight hug. “you think so?” “god, you know i fuckin’ know so!” she was covered in rose petals and sweat after her concert; your favourite look to date. luckily enough for you, you get to see that shit every night after every single performance. another pro: that’s your rockstar.

#rockstar!ellie #i got so carried away #…..#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us smut

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tigerjisunz · 4 months

Text

binded lotus (preview)

art, beauty, death and forbidden love.

SUMMARY: y/n, a passionate young 20 year old artist who is hired by the sim family to paint their portraits. the most prestigious family who comes from old money. jake finds himself obsessing over her. the family does does not see y/n to be in favor for jake or his future. the forbidden love between them leaves jake and y/n alone together.

WARNINGS FOR THE BOOK OVERALL: sex, drug usage, mentions of physical abuse, manipulative jay, small love triangle, murder, suicide

a/n: this book is loosely inspired by the beautiful movie, saltburn, starring berry kehogan and jacob elordi. please do not copy, translate or reuse this story for your own page.

w/k: 2.5k

————————————————

your eyes graze over the beautiful flowers planted into the ground, the vines growing over the walls in twisted patterns, and the beautiful deep blue sky while it waited for the moon to fall dusk on it. walking onto the estate, your heart pumped faster, not knowing what to expect from this palace.

this palace is a place from storybooks, hundreds of rooms, and amazing victorian architecture. it's the kind of place you could explore for days and not be able to see everything. you were staring at it in awe as the sunset beat on your face. its the early 2000s, intricate architecture is dead now, this place comes from old money.

the sims, they ruled over the region of south korea. now they are working on annexing switzerland. which is where you are now. they were a powerful family that was known for extending their territories across the globe. you were shitting bricks to even be in this family's presence.

the family's chauffeur walked alongside you, and helped you carry your baggage to where you will be staying in their house. you had many suitcases. they were carrying all of your clothes, oil paints, and supplies.

you walked the paved concrete with beautiful designs, taking in every detail, seeing how the sun hits the ground, how the shadows linger in between the cracks.

knock knock knock

the chauffeur used the door knocker, the knocks are heavy and prolonged. the man who opened the door for your was what seemed to be a butler. the chauffeur left the bags in the foyer of the house. the butler had a small smile on his face and welcomed you to the estate.

"welcome to this estate ms. y/n." the butler said with a small bow. "i will lead you to your room." he swiftly turned around to lead you there. he had a slim silhouette, trimmed eyebrows, little amounts of hair on his head and pointy shoes.

"thank you sir." you reply. you didn't know the formalities.

"i have worked for the sims for 3 decades, i will be here to accommodate any of your needs during your stay. you may refer to me as valentino." he says as he walks through the hallways.

as you walked through the various rooms of the house, you feel immediately inspired by the artwork surrounding you. the architecture of the house was old, victorian, beautiful and intricate. the endless colors and different shades of greens, blues and pinks painted on the walls. every room had a different vibe and tone, but every room was beautiful. there were luxurious woody fragrances that you picked up on. there were huge windows spanning from the floor to the ceiling.

as you looked out of the window to your left, there was a patio. a man sat there, while he sat on a beautifully carved wood bench. this man had a journal in hand, writing like he was running out of time. he was extremely beautiful, like Aphrodite herself had bestowed a fraction of beauty onto him.

though there was glass separating you two, you felt as if his aura was seeping into your skin. maybe it was the glow of the sun reflecting off of him, but he has such a innocent beauty radiating from him.

he had a very strong jaw, with soft eyes. he was deep in thought with his furrowed brow, while he bit down on his lower lip.

there were beautiful flowers behind him, the golden sun was starting to shine down on him, and the sky was turning pink. while he sat on the bench, a light blond dog ran up to him.

the man's face changed from serious and deep in thought, to lighter expression. a small smile was forming on his face while he petted his dog. you stopped to watch.

you had realized that you weren't following valentino anymore. fuck

fuck fuck fuck

there was a set of stairs that he could've gone up to, or the hallway to your right which lead to another room. "damnit" you whispered to yourself. how can you already mess this up.

"ah!" a high pitched voice from a woman calls out. she has an expensive australian accent. "you must be y/n! it's nice to finally meet you. jay has told me so much about your work!"

"nice to meet you elspeth." you hold your hand out to shake hands with her, she looks at it, and slowly looks up at you, then back down to your hand. she was the woman who was in change of the estate. a very important woman, she is the one who hired you.

she gives a dirty look and gives a small bow, "you may find your living quarters." as she looks away. she immediately went to page someone as she walked away.

the interaction left you feeling confused and felt a pit in your stomach, knowing that was a bad first impression. you knew she was the main woman in the house. you knew there were two women and two men you would be doing portraits on.

"y/n!" a sharp snap of a man's voice. you find his face to match the voice, and it is valentino.

his demeanor started as upset, and quickly shifted to a calmer one. "it seems that i have lost you there. follow me up to your room."

you walked up the carpet lined stairs to the room.

"your bags are all here. we searched them and everything seems to be good." he says while closing the doors.

you immediately sit on the bed and take a deep breath to decompress from what had just happened. as you look around the room that you are in, you see how marvelous it is.

the tall ceilings, the walls are painted a rich red, with accents of chartreuse and gold. the bed was king sized, with long curtains draped from poles that were part of the bed frame. the slightly opened window let in the soft sunset and a quiet breeze.

turning your attention, there was a huge vintage wooden dresser. gliding your fingers along the edge of it, you got a splinter in your middle finger.

"ah!" you say in a moment of pain. you immediately go to pick it out of your skin and you get it. there are some band aids in your backpack which you reach to get.

while doing some more exploring you find a cd player and lots of cds, madonna, MGMT, rihanna, gwen stefani, and destiny's child. there was some good shit in here, with lots of obscure artists who you've never listened to, but you will have lots of time to get to know them.

stuffing away all of your clothes, books, and bags took some time. by the time you finished, you threw your body on the bed. letting your muscles relax. today had been long, with the travel, weird out of touch rich people and feeling grimy. you had to shower.

you walked into the bathroom and it was just how you expected, fancy. on the counter, there was a beautiful vase with intricate designs. the vase was filled with in bloomed roses. it was very nice, there were 4 towels folded, with a handwritten note on top of them.

“be sure to call the service line when you need fresh towels.”

you placed the note on the sink and turned on the shower.

———————————

night time

you had been rotting in your huge bed for the past few hours. after showering, you lounged in the robe that was hanging in the closet for you. you did some skincare.

you needed some brain stimulation, after all, you were going to be using your brain a lot. painting took like of thinking, analyzing and thought. it made you feel like your brain was more of a muscle than a fatty organ with the way you felt like you were always challenging and working out your brain.

doing fine art was like working out for you. making you stronger, and it made you explode with endorphins. color theory, composition, anatomy, all of it. creating art makes you feel like you are your most authentic self. so, you decided that since you were here on a work trip, you needed to do some practice.

anatomy was your favorite, the way the body was created. drawing and analyzing the human figure was amazing to you, you had a deep connection with it. the way muscles, arteries, veins and fat lay on top of each other. the way the muscles and bones created movement, form and shape. you could learn about it forever. drawing from life was your favorite.

you went into the bathroom and took your robe off. you didn’t usually do self portraits from the mirror, because it is a bit challenging. it was nothing sexual, you just didn’t feel like drawing anything else right now.

your robe was now off your body, and you were looking at yourself wondering how you should pose. this felt kinda awkward for you, but why should it? it’s just you, alone.

you stood there for a second, moving your body in different ways to see what would look good. you decided to go for a sensual pose where you had your left hand grazing your left boob, with a rose in your hand. and your body was leaning a little.

you would take classes down at your local art school, so this was nothing irregular for you. random strangers would pose for the art classes you would take.

sketching your body was easy, detailing was a little more difficult, but nonetheless, you could do it easy. the rough sketch took no more than 3 minutes, getting the shape down. then after a few minutes, you started detailing, adding shadows, value and tone.

you suddenly jumped at a knock at your door.

“y/n. it is supper time in 5 minutes. be sure to come down.” valentino’s stern voice says to you.

“okay valentino. thank you.” you yell back as you were surprised. you subconsciously covered yourself with your hands out of fear that he would open the bedroom door and see you naked in the bathroom.

you rushed to get ready for dinner. you didn't know that were was a mandatory dinner. you didn't know what to wear. you didn't have many fancy things, so you just slipped on your cutest "formal" outfit. this would be the first time you meet the family.

the five minutes have passed and you put some makeup on, you looked cute. you went downstairs to see the headmaster and his wife eating without you. they were laughing to each other. you walked in and they all stopped to look at you. you felt the air get heavy and awkward.

the dining room was extremely huge. beautiful table settings, and a marvelous ceiling with renaissance paintings. the table was also huge, even though there were only a handful of people eating on it. elspeth and her husband sat at opposite heads of the table. a harpist was performing in the corner, playing strings of beautiful harmonies. the live music was so good.

elspeth looked at you with an annoyed expression on her face. the annoyed expression turned into a grin. valentino stood there, along with servers who started at the wall, waiting for a command to come their way. "why valentino, do not be a drag to young y/n? set her a plate at the table. she is our guest after all." she had a chuckle to herself. "be a darling and sit next to me y/n? i would like to talk to you about your work."

you walked over, sitting in the empty chair nearest to elspeth, chuckling in embarrassment. did valentino purposely give you a late heads up? what the fuck.

there were only 2 people at the table. elspeth, and elspeth's husband, sir james

"i thought i was supposed to be doing 4 portraits?" you thought to yourself.

"tell me darling, why are you so late?" elspeth laughs to herself. she was being passive aggressive towards you.

"i'm so incredibly sorry. i was not aware that there would dinner at a specific time." a pit in your stomach is arising.

"well yes, there is always a list of all daily activities in all rooms. every morning they are delivered." she looks at you as if you're stupid." valentino, be a dear and check if there is one in y/n's room for me."

you did nothing. you said nothing. you sat there embarrassed, you have been staying for 5 seconds and already feel unwelcome here.

"i hear you're a very talented young girl." sir james tells you.

"thank you. i'm very grateful to be able to-" you were cut off by a sudden clap by sir james.

a server comes close down to sir james, and kneels down to him. the server then brings out a small bag with a white substance. a small spoon, and puts it to sir james' nose. he snorts the substance.

"WHEW!" a loud yell comes out of his mouth as a reaction from the drugs, with a euphoric look in his eyes and his hand hitting the table. he squeezed the tip of his nose and looked back at you.

"i feel the most inspired when im using my sensory extenders. lets talk about art. so i wa-" he says before cutting you off.

"oh yeah!" you said to go along with his ideas. you spurted that out due to not knowing how to handle this situation. on the inside, you were shitting. this man that you've never met just did fucking cocaine in front of you, and you will be living with him for the next few months.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. let me finish." he yells at you for interrupting you in his sentence.

you physically felt yourself get taken aback. the hairs on your arm stood up. you felt your face getting hot, your throat closing and your eyes tearing up. you felt frozen in fear.

"darling, do not talk to our guest like that." elspeth replied with a stern look, and a champagne glass in hand.

for a few moments, you just sat there, not knowing what to say. you looked down at your empty plate, trying not to cry.

you heard someone running into the dining room for on the other room. it was the man from earlier with the journal. he ran in looking concerned, but he slowed down once he got inside.

“what's going on. mom are you okay?" he comes in, but he seems as if this is nothing new. as if this is something that happens often. you and him lock eyes.

elspeth looks away in shame “im so extremely sorry y/n. we are sophisticated people with class.”

sir james sits there, looks at you and claps once more. the man from earlier looks at his dad in anger, looks at you, and goes over to you and elspeth.

he whispers into his moms ear and she just looks at him with a disappointed look. the man leans down to you and asks if you want to go with him.

“i know this must be overwhelming. my dad isn’t usually here most of the time. i’ll just take you somewhere else if that’s okay.” he says in his soft australian voice. he grabbed out your hand to kiss the back of it. “my name is jake sim by the way.”

——————————————

a/n: hope you enjoyed this! i had sm fun writing it and i have tons of amazing ideas for this story. stick around til the next time. i will be letting you guys know when chapter 1 comes out. :)

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messy-gemini1 · 2 years

Text

His No Life Queen

Alucard x reader

I'm bored and been back on my hellsing shit :)

In every life he's ever lived, she was there. When he was the count; she was his countess, regal and full of life.

When he turned and slaughtered his army, he thought he had lost her for good. He had assumed she would turn and run for the hills, but she had only cupped his jaw and smiled at him.

"you've soiled your clothing my love" she had spoken to him with full devotion. He realized then that she would be his no life queen, that she would stand by his side throughout time without a second thought.

When he turned her, he hated the whimpering cries as the curse took effect on her body. When she finally awoke. ruby eyes staring into his own. He never fell harder for her, letting her drink from his own nectar.

He made love to her that night, their immortal growls howling through the ruins of their kingdom.

When he was captured by the hellsing organization, he forced her to flee and to never look back. In his dudgeon he slept, his mind was plagued with the thought of her, her beauty, her integrity and her devotion to a godless man such as himself.

When he was freed from his slumber by Sir Integra, he wanted nothing more than to search the globe for his missing queen. It would be years before he found her.

He found her when searching for a rouge vampire, only to find it had been slaughtered by his own queen. The grin never left his face even when she didn't recognize him at first, glowing amber eyes glaring into his form before his scent hit her and her guard was lowered/

He wrapped his arms around her form, spinning her around in the night sky, her laugh filtering the night like a never-ending party.

his hands never left her body, even when introducing her to his master. Intergra was very surprised by the Vampirine. His queen was respectable bowing to the human master and laying her hands out, to be bound to his own master just to be closer to him.

Alucard made love to her once more in the deep dungeon, where their growls and screams could not be heard, and they could let their desires run free.

Even in the darkness she shined like the moonlight, (s/c) skin shining in the candlelight. He worshipped her like a goddess and worshipped the ground she walked on.

When he found and turned Young Seras his queen was jealous at first before becoming like a mother to the young half-ling. Alucard watched as she babied Seras and often berated him for being so harsh on her. Integra enjoying the banter between them.

When she killed, she was like an animal; and Alucard reveled in it. he loved the way her skin smelled of blood and death after a mission or how she would smell his clothes that reeked of gunpowder residue.

When the war on London happened and he was stuck on the boat, he could feel her fury as she slaughtered those who dared attack the hellsing manor.

He regretted allowing her to see him vanish, tears streaming down her face as she begged him to stay, begged him not to leave her once more. He smiled, just as the sun began to rise and case a grey glow to the destruction across the country.

He apologized and pulled her into one last kiss, begging for forgiveness as he faded away, letting her drop to her knees and scream into the empty space, punching the concrete until her knuckles bled.

30 years later; when he returned to his master and mate, he hadn't expected her to forgive him. He watched as she cried once more, hitting his chest with all her might only making him grin.

"Tu conta prost! (You stupid count!)" She screamed at him, even with tears streaming down her cheeks and anger in her eyes she still looked so beautiful and so full of life, even without a heartbeat.

Alucard allowed her to pull him into their shared room in the basement where he worshipped her once again, showing her how sorry he was for the last 30 years and how he would make it up to her, never allowing her to rest until he felt he should be forgiven, even when she begged for him to stop, over stimulation and sobs racking through her form he continued his movements.

He praised her once he was done, their wounds healing on their own as they laid in the makeshift nest she had created, their coffins leaning against the wall just a few feet away.

She forgave him, stroking his hair and pulling him into a kiss. "My bwautiful no life king" she spoke, a small grin appearing on her face as he kissed along her neck, marking her once more.

"My no life queen" he purred, allowing her to pull him into her bosom for rest as morning came, lulling them into slumber

#hellsing #hellsing x reader #Alucard x reader #Hellsing Alucard #hellsing ultimate

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lust4life01 · 1 month

Note

i actually need more anthony swofford stuff, i crave him so bad ffs. thank you for your anthony writing 🫡

Honestly who doesn’t need more Anthony Swofford fics?? Its my pleasure to write Anthony <3

Burning Desire 18+!

Warnings! smut, cheating, public sex, etc.

Pairing: Anthony Swofford x f/reader

Summary- You are the daughter of a drill Sargent and somehow find yourself moaning a marines name in the front seat of your car.

“Come on boys, my 2 year old niece could out fucking run you!” The loud degrading shout towards marines could be heard from the other side of the globe.

You laughed a little as you walked towards the mean chants.

“Troy pick up of those fucking feet, you think you’ll make it when you run like a little bitch?!”

You made your way over to the man with incredible lung power, your father.

He turned his head finally seeing you and let out a smile.

“Hey sweetheart, what are doing here?”

“Hey dad, there’s something up with my car and my phones dead so I can’t call a truck or something.” You explained looking all innocent hoping he'd sort it out for you.

He scanned round the court room as he spoke.

“You don’t need a toy truck they’ll take all your money and your tires.”

You rolled your eyes at your father stinginess and patiently waited for him to come up with a solution whilst peering over at the men training. One caught your eye in particular.

Meanwhile, the boys had also noticed your presence. It was the height of summer and you weren’t exactly covering a lot of skin and being cooped up with a bunch of guys turned them into a bunch of horny twelve year olds.

Anthony turned his head to another marine “Hey, who is that?”

“I don’t fucking know man, but she’s hot.”

He continued to look over at you, admiring the way the sun illuminated your beauty, the way the summer sun hit you.

“Swofford!” The Sargent shouted. Anthony thought he was in the shit for talking and was mentally preparing for the ridiculous punishment he was about to face in this heat.

“YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT CARS, SWOFFORD?” The sargent called over.

He did not. Well he had a car? Did that count? But if it had anything to do with you then he was a certified mechanic.

He jogged his way over to you and the Sargent, “Yes sir.”

You scanned your eyes up and down his entire body. You lowered your head a little, trying to hide your so obvious attraction to him, which the blush across your cheeks displayed so well.

The sargent nodded his head. “Good. Go help my daughter with her car.”

“Absolutely sir.” He grinned at you, your eyes finally meeting.

“Hurry up. And don’t get too friendly!”

You rolled your eyes again at your fathers over protection, as if you were thirteen or something.

You and Anthony made your way to your car.

“I’m i- Anthony by the way” he extended his hand and you gently returned the hand shake.

“(Y,n)”

“So Sargent (y,l,n) is your dad huh? What’s that like?” He asked as he discreetly scanned your body.

“He’s not a Sargent at home, well not anymore anyway. What’s he like here?”

“Well let’s just say that man has busted my balls more than once” he answered laughing.

You laughed along, admiring the way his mouth looked when he laughed. You had noticed he was the most attractive marine that you had seen so far.

You both made it to your car, the heat getting even hotter on the hill where your car had been parked.

You lent into your car to grab a water bottle, your ass outside stuck out from he car as you bent to grab your water.

Anthony just starred. He couldn’t help it. He’s been surrounded by men for two weeks and here you are in a summer dress that barely touched your knees.

“Okay so I think I’ve got like an oil leek, or something. I’m not sure.” You open the hood and stood back so Anthony could take a look.

Luckily for Anthony he did know how to fix it due to his girlfriends brother being a mechanic. “oh okay cool I think I can fix it.”

“Great” you smiled up at him. It was far too hot outside so you sat in your car, with the doors open of course. You turned on some music and grabbed a book that was sat on the passenger seat of your car. The Fall by Albert Camus.

You also pulled out a punnet of cherries from your bag that you had bought earlier. You stared to eat one before calling out to Anthony.

“Hey, you want some cherries?”

He made his way round to the car door and nearly lost his breath. You were sat with your legs on the bonnet, a book in hand, and the red juice from the cherries smeared along your lips and tongue. He let a small “oh god” fall under his breath.

“Yes please, mam.”

You let out a giggle at the name. “You really don’t need to call me mam Anthony.”

You handed him some cherries and stared deeply into his baby blues.

“Thanks.”

You both stood gazing at one another until Anthony finally regained consciousness. He noticed the book in your hand.

“Oh you read Camus?”

You very obviously did consider the book was in your hand but you smiled enthusiastically anyway

“Yeah I do. You do too?”

“Well, I was reading The Stranger but it got confiscated.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, he didn’t say anything funny but his presence just made you feel like a silly girl with a crush on the playground.

“Anyway, I’ll go get back to work or your dad will have my head on a stick.” He grinned.

While he was working on your car he realised he needed something to catch the oil as tried to fix it. He took off his shirt and covered his hand with it, getting to work. He badly wanted to slam the hood down and then slam you on top of it, but he continued to work, brushing that though to the back of his head.

After a while of working he called out to you “Hey (y,n) I’m all done out here.”

You climbed out of the car, setting your book down, and made your way round to where Anthony was standing.

“Ugh thank you so much your a life saver!” You exclaimed as you wrapped your arms around his bear chest. Which was highly intentional.

“Ah sorry I’m probably all sweaty” Anthony apologised as he retreated his arms from your back.

“That’s all right, I don’t mind” you smiled up at him but not with the same innocent smile you possessed earlier. This one was daring.

Something took over him. Lust. He grabbed your jaw and smashed your lips together. You let out a startled moan and he quickly broke away.

“I’m so sorry, i-“

You cut him off by re connecting your lips and letting out a small grunt. The pleasant taste of cherries made him hum into the kiss.

His tongued dipped into your mouth, making the kiss heavier. He grabbed your thighs and carried you over to the hood of the car, placing you down with your legs still wrapped around his hips.

The hood burnt the back of your legs a little but you didn’t care, not when you could feel the temptation between the two of you. The burning of the hot car was was nothing in comparison to the burning desire that could be felt oozing from both of you.

He kissed your neck and you let out a whimper, god it was pathetic. I mean you just met him and you already wanted him to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

You cupped the bulge in his pants and starred up at him through your lashes.

His breathing got heavier.

“God your fucking angelic.” He whispered into your ear.

“Fuck me Swofford.” You whispered back.

He audible moaned when he heard those words leave you lips. His hands travelled up your thighs and under the sweet white sundress. His large fingers rubbed at your clit through your panties, the wetness seeping through.

“Wait. Not here. In the back of the car” You were a little while away from the other marines but you still wanted to be cautious.

You hopped down from the hood of the car and wrapped your hand around the two fingers Anthony had just used, leading him to the car.

He paused. You looked back slightly confused.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He looked down lowly before answering “(y,n) I have a girlfriend.”

You starred at him for a minute before walking right up to him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Your lips practically touching.

Your faces were inches apart. He could smell your perfume, feel the desire in his chest and looking down at you made it near impossible to refuse himself this pleasure. He crashed your lips together again, making his choice pretty clear.

He made his way into the passenger seat of the car and you climbed on top of him before reclining the seat.

You both made out as you started to unzip his pants.

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He praised as you pulled down his pants just below his thighs.

You smiled back up at him as you slowly pulled out his hard cock. You gently licked the pre cum and he let out a loud groan whilst his head fell back.

You wasted no time in taking off your panties and throwing them somewhere in the back seat.

You slowly sunk onto him, taking time to adjust when he started to buck his hips up into you.

You whimpered at the sensation and started to bounce onto him, the feeling driving you both crazy.

“Fucking perfect.”

He held onto your hips and started to pound into you as you both tried to contain your moans. You were getting closer which meant you were getting louder. Anthony was very much enjoying it but he knew if anyone saw this he would be done for.

He placed two fingers into your mouth in order to silence you. You complied and suck and lick his fingers as you continued to be fucked.

You were both close and you practically cried out as he hit that spot deep inside of you.

He released his fingers from your mouth and drew circles around your clit until you were crying in pleasure.

“Fuck Swofford I’m so close.”

He grunted and fastened his pace on your clit whilst desperately trying not to cum himself.

“Shit where should I cum?” He asked trying to keep his composure.

“Inside me. It’s fine I’m on the pill.” You said through panted breath. That nearly pushed him over the edge.

“(y,n) I’m so fucking close.”

“Wait” you moaned out, now grinding your hips harder.

With that you clenched around his cock as your mouth fell open and your climax reached its peak. Anthony was right behind you, fucking his cum into you. Making sure to fuck you both through your orgasms.

You both panted and tried to catch your breath, still attached to one another. You started to giggle and so did Anthony.

“Well that definitely beats using my hand” he joked but he did look a little lost.

You removed your self from him and stood outside the car, the mixture of both your liquids started to seep down your thighs as you stood up.

He followed you out and grabbed your panties and crouched to gently wipe away the mixture of liquids. You stared down at him whilst he cleaned you up. He looked so pretty when his face was that close to your thighs.

“You know she’s probably fucking some else right now anyway. So don’t feel too bad about this.”

He looked up without saying a word. Realistically he didn’t feel bad about what happened. He didn’t feel guilty, he felt really fucking good, which was the problem.

He smiled up at you and stood so he was now taller than you. Now he was the one looking down at you.

“I want to give you something.” You said as you walked back to the car.

He stood with an amused and curious expression, his smile growing wider and his eyes lighter when you came back with the book in your hand.

“Really?”

You nodded your head sweetly “mhm, have it.”

“Thanks (y,n.)”

You kissed his cheek as a goodbye and got back into your car. He stood for a while watching you drive away as he realised he still had your panties bawled up in his fist and his shirt off.

He quickly shoved them into his back pocket and slid his oil covered shirt on and made his way back to camp.

Later that day he sat reading the book you had so kindly given to him when a slip of paper that was neatly nestled between two pages fell out onto his lap.

He picked up the paper and realised it was your number. He smirked to himself, feeling prouder than ever, and slipped it neatly back into the book.

(Sorry but I had to include something about Camus in this because I’m a pretentious bitch xoxo)

#jake gyllenhaal smut #anthony swofford #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #anthony swofford smut #jarhead #military men

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badgirl411 · 1 year

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A Work Of Art: (Modern!Nikolai Lantsov x Reader FANFIC)

Pairings: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader, Sturmhond x Reader

Summary: Pyotr Lantsov is the CEO of the world famous Lantsov Art and Antiquities and founder of the Esthetica Gallery in New York, after he dies (Y/N) finds herself the new owner of the gallery she has helped be a success. Meanwhile world renowned and ellusive art thief Sturnhond and his crew hit the biggest galleries across the globe stealing back precious art. At a charity gala announcing (Y/N)'s success what happens when Sturmhond threatens to make an appearance and a familiar face haunts (Y/N).

Warnings: strong language, alcohol, mentions of death, sexual harassment, crime, Vasily (because that mf needs a warning all to himself)

Authors Note: Hello you wonderful lot please note this piece is a Modern AU of our favourite Puppy Prince and is therefore not canonically accurate. I decided to write this as I am currently bed bound with an infection in my jaw and cheekbone so need some Nikolai loving to distract me. IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST FOR THIS PLEASE DONT HESITATE TO DROP ME A MESSAGE.

A single solitary tear escapes your eye as your thumb hits the screen ending the call, your apartment is quiet, almost eerily so, as you sit motionless trying to digest the news that has been delivered to you over the phone. Your boss Pyotr Lantsov; CEO of Lantsov Art and Antiquities and founder of the Esthetica Gallery in New York; was dead the cause of which yet unknown.

It goes without saying that Pyotr was not the greatest of men, from several sordid affairs splashed across every tabloid to a penchant for gambling. He was bad, but you couldn’t suppress the bubbling grief in your chest, for all his wrong doings he was still your boss. The only person who gave you a shot in this black hole of a city when no one else would and for that you would be forever indebted to him.

Art had always been your one solace, even in the devastation of several historical paintings and artefacts there was still beauty. Ever lasting and pure there was something to say for the way a picture could tell you a thousand stories or a vintage watch could tell you the deepest secrets of its past. Esthetica had become your life from the moment you stepped foot within its walls, each brush stroke telling the story of a thousand memories the artists voice imbedded in every stroke. This gallery was your life’s ambition and work, it was in all respects your baby having a hand from the day you began in building its prestigious reputation.

In the weeks following his death the control of the company, gallery and its assets passed to his son Vasily. Vasily made your skin crawl he truly was a weasel of a human being and that was you being kind. Every day you were at the gallery from sun up to sun down working yourself to the bone to keep every morsel of it running as smoothly as possible. Pyotr’s wife Tatiana had no interest in the business and Vasily was, well, much the same to be honest. He was more interested in snorting away his inherited fortune and screwing his way through every New York model than actually having a hand in the business that afforded him these luxuries.

It was one of your rare days off when your phone rang, a heavy sigh fell from your mouth when you seen the name on your screen.

Tatiana calling…

“Hello?” You kept your voice friendly but monotone.

“(Y/N) darling wonderful to hear your voice, listen darling I’ve sent a car over to your apartment Vasily and I have a matter we wish to discuss with you in person. The driver will bring you over to the estate.” As much as you didn’t want to speak to her you continued to listen to her rabbit on about god knows what.

“Tatiana can this wait until tomorrow I am exhausted from sorting things in the gallery.” You pleaded trying to avoid having to see either of them, especially Vasily who would no doubt spend the entire time trying to get in your knickers.

“(Y/N) darling I’m afraid this can’t wait.” Her tone is insistent, you hope she can’t hear you roll your eyes on the other end of the phone.

“Ok I will be there shortly.” Hanging up the phone you groan falling face first into the cushion on your sofa.

You gather your belongings after quickly changing into something that wasn't an oversized shirt and underwear heading down to the street where the car is waiting.

The greenery of your surroundings trickled by as you got further from the city heading upstate and before you could comprehend you had arrived at the Lantsov estate with its impressive white exterior and lavish acres of green land.

The holler of a nearby bird startles you as you make your way towards the large entrance to the house, your nerves already fraught at the thought of being in proximity of Vasily. Making your way further into the house you are directed by a member of the house staff to the living area where Tatiana and Vasily are enjoying an afternoon drink whilst chatting idly.

“(Y/N) darling thank you for getting here so quickly, here let me grab you a drink. Sit, sit darling!” She gestures wildly for you to sit placing a glass of what you can only assume is single malt scotch in your hand. Bit early for you but its down your throat in one fellow swoop before you even consider discussing what was so urgent that they tore you away from your family sized bag of Doritos and Gilmore Girls box set.

“Tatiana what is this all about, why am I here?” Crossing your legs as Vasily’s gaze lingers on your exposed calf.

It’s Vasily who answers the question that lingers in the air “(Y/N) sweetheart” your skin is crawling already, you want to claw it off and flee this place, “Mother and I have been talking, we want you to take over Esthetica, we want to sign the gallery and all of its associated assets over to you or should we say Dad wanted us to. You practically run the place anyway we thought it was about time it was official.”

Your mouth hung open every possible emotion flooded your body, this was what you dreamed of ever since you could talk and now its happening you can’t quite believe it. You stand from your position on the sofa as Tatiana pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I don’t know what to say.” You stand dumbfounded.

“Say yes sweetheart.” Vasily lounges on the sofa his arm draped over the back of it.

“Yes, yes of course. I can’t thank you enough.” Tears are now falling as the news starts to settle in.

“Nonsense its what Pyotr wanted, we had the idea of throwing a charity gala and announcing the news to the partners there. We of course want you to help plan the gala after all it is going to be your gallery.”

The afternoon passes quickly after ideas are exchanged and plans are put into action, looking at your watch you rub your brow before standing and stretching your tired limbs.

“I really must get going but thank you again for this opportunity.” You turn to leave but a portrait hanging above a chest of drawers catches your attention.

It’s of Tatiana and a young boy, he’s blond and has striking blue eyes it could be Vasily but something in you tells you its not. You walk towards it and examine it, tilting your head to take in every aspect of it.

“Beautiful isn’t he?” Turning Tatiana has a sad smile on her face, you open your mouth but she speaks before you have the chance to “That’s Nikolai, my youngest.”

“Nikolai? Tatiana I didn’t know you had another son.” You are confused, Pyotr never mentioned having another son.

“Nikolai left home for the army a long time ago, I don't know where he is now.” She holds her hands close to her chest staring off into the space in the room. Vasily scoffs from his position on the sofa mumbling under his breath.

“What was that Vasily?” You ask hoping to get a rise out of him, you can see the mention of his little brother has him worked up.

“I said he’s an arrogant little sod!” He shouts face red with anger, you try to hide your smile getting your desired reaction.

After Vasily’s outburst you leave the estate rather quickly climbing into the car to head back to the city the sound of the radio softly swirling round the air. The sun has just about set by the time you begin to see the skyline of New York coming into view, the news broadcast on the radio catches your attention.

“Excuse me, would you mind turning the radio up a bit please?” You politely ask the driver.

“Of course madam no problem.” He replies reaching for the dial on the stereo turning it to the right increasing the volume.

This is breaking news, the world renowned art thief known as Sturmhond has struck once again. Reports suggest the thief hit the Tate Modern Gallery in London earlier this morning before the gallery opened making off with several paintings including the famous Sun Summoner piece. Police are baffled as to how the thief entered the museum undetected, more on this as it develops.

The next day rolls around and you head to the gallery hoping to contact your talent to see about pieces to present at the gala, heading from your office you decide you need to clear your head and head to the floor to bask in the art knowing you will find your relief once there.

There are several people milling about the gallery but one figure in particular peaks your interest, he’s tall and broad shouldered with a head of striking blond hair. He stares at the piece on the wall (which happens to be your favourite) you approach standing by his side admiring the painting also a small smile threatening the corner of your mouth.

“Beautiful isn’t it.” You say still looking at the piece hanging on the wall.

“Exquisite” he faces you, your breath catches in your throat at his startling blue eyes.

There is something so familiar about him but you cannot place it no matter how hard you try, your head tilts slightly taking in the man in front of you. He extends a hand out in front of you palm facing yours.

“Cole” he shakes your hand offering up his name.

“(Y/N)” you can’t hide the smile that is on your face, he feels like trouble but you push down the feeling instead choosing to revel in this moment.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x reader fanfic #sturmhond #sturmhond x reader #sturmhond x reader fanfic #modern!nikolai lantsov x reader #modern!sturmhond x reader #modern!nikolai lantsov x reader smut #nikolai smut #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone

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tigertan · 28 days

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neighborly favors and chicago cigarettes. [ jellybeans. ]

part two of said slow burn fic ^_^ this is mainly a snippet but there is some silly smut incoming in the full chapter oooops ..

part one [ mac n cheese ]

ao3 link

[ word count ; 1k ]

;; all fluff. awkward meeting again. carmen takes a strange interest in your nails.

your new acrylic nails gleamed in the cold sun of chicago’s morning as they curled around your steering wheel. a pretty candy pink, nothing fancy. they were short and blunt to maximize efficiency, and you’d always liked doing your nails.

with your new job starting tomorrow, you arranged a nail appointment early this sunday morning just to get it out of the way.

you rounded the corner of the apartment building's back parking lot and hopped out of your car into the complex.

despite your freshly scrubbed face and still damp hair from the morning shower, yesterday night’s chicago smoke lingered both on your skin and your memories. the mild hangover you’d gotten was bravely fought off with a fistful of tylenol and gallons of water.

after finally finding something in common with carmy, sydney rushed out and began apologizing for richie’s behavior, to which you’d reassured her it wasn’t a big deal. you’d just avoid him your entire life after that. because while you weren’t in the wrong, it was an embarrassingly public outburst that burned itself into those moments your brain would never let you forget.

sydney decided to take you home at that moment, and you didn’t complain.

you nodded a bye to carmy with a smile still stuck with a cigarette and he’d nodded back, unsmiling.

it was only after you’d wrapped the covers around you did you realize you never asked him if his name was really carmy.

oh well, you guys were neighbors. you were bound to see him anyway.

you hummed a song to yourself— specifically frank sinatra’s classic hit, rain in my heart— as you climbed up the stairs and turned the staircase straight into a brick wall.

but that couldn’t be right, because why did it stumble back at the impact at the same time you did?

the answer was easy; it wasn’t a wall. it was the tightly fitted cotton-shirted chest/face of your neighbor carmy. his awful brown jacket was thrown across his right bicep, and you could see his tattoos much more clearly. the numbers on his fingers weren't numbers, they were three letters of ‘SOU’ on his index, middle, and ring respectively.

there was also an inked flower on the back of the same hand, and further up his arm was a measuring cup carrying a globe. you noticed he had more but stepped back too quickly to discern others.

your nose stings lightly at the impact, and you raise a hand to hold it, eyes widening. a tiny part of you wonders if he is going to yell at you.

“shit,” you say, blinking.

“sorry, i didn’t see you,”

“are you okay— sorry,”

you both spoke at the same time, which pushed a smile out your lips, and you giggled. so he wasn’t going to yell at you.

“sorry,” you whisper, a grin peeking out from either side of the hand in front of your face. he blinks, the chicago morning sky making his already ice-blue eyes seem ever clearer.

“you uh— your nails,” he blurted, a muscle in his temple shifting as the words nearly burst from his lips.

it takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about, but you lower your hand and splay it out, the uv coat catching the light perfectly.

“oh! yes. nails. got 'em done a few minutes ago.” you explain, giving him another quick smile. “they uh, they’re nice. like jellybeans.” but the compliment, if you could even call it that, was stamped out with deliberate volume and a strained edge of a rather inept tone that creased your brow despite your smile.

“... thank you,” you reply, absentmindedly running your thumb over the groove of the keys in your pocket.

he watches your hand fall back beside you and then swallows.

“do you like—“

“is your—“

your voices overlapped once more, and this time he smiled too, curving into his left cheek and carmy released a singular, airy laugh.

“sorry. uh. you go ahead,” he gestured to you, flicking his eye contact from you to the floor. “yeah, sorry.” you grinned with genuine humor now, “is your, is your real name carmy? sorry, i just heard syd say that last night and i just…” you trailed off, the question sounding dumb and cold on your tongue now that you said it aloud. he blinked again. “uh. no— no. it’s a nickname. for– for carmen. carmen berzatto.”

he extends his hand out as if you had guys met for the first time. finding it endearing, you take it, a gel-nailed hand clasping the weathered, inked one.

“were you heading to work?” you ask, and after a momentary silence, he nods, then scrunches his brows and quickly shakes it, the oat-colored curls on his head bouncing.

“hm? no, just… heading out. kitchen doesn’t open until four today,” he replies, carding a hand through his hair.

you mouth a silent oh and nod back.

“well uh, it was good to see you neighbor,” you grin and step the side lightly, breaking the awkward yet giddy conversation that had transpired.

“yeah. yeah, you too.” carmen gave you a half-smile back, nodding a final time as he passed by you, his hair bouncing as he walked down the stairs, not looking back.

you did, however, watch until his curls disappeared behind the coffee wood and industrial metal of the stairs.

you realized you didn’t ask him what he wanted to ask until you’d slotted your key into the lock with a smile.

—

carmen slammed his car door behind him as he sat, cushioned in the faux leather seat, hands firm on the steering wheel. he stared directly in front of him, boring holes into the dusty red brick of the building wall, sky tinted a slight grey from the windows.

“jellybeans? really carmen?” he sighs-slash-scoffs, running a hand over his face before fumbling his keys out of the jacket pocket. brows scrunching, the man hesitates before putting the keys into the ignition. despite the faint alarm bells going off in his mind— they seemed to always be there anyway— he twists in the front seat to look behind him at the building entrance as if she’d walk out of the large, heavy-duty door at that moment.

for a moment or two, he stares. but the reality of it catches up to him in flushed, heated cheeks and brows creasing further. “fuckin’ stupid.” he mutters, finally shoving the keys into the car as the engine purred to life. it was odd how the light from yesterday’s cigarette had bent around her mouth despite the unforgiving fluorescence of the alleyway, and made carmen stare.

but that’s all. she was only enough to stare at, he concluded with a steely grip on the wheel. with the bear at its peak, how could he do anything but stare?

he pulls into the back of the bear’s parking lot with the recipe for a spaghetti alla carbonara stuck in his head and a smile stuck in the corner of his mouth.

—

for more / updates check out the ao3 !

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aimeedaisies · 4 months

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Princess Anne’s visit reinforces Sri Lanka-UK bonds - Plaudits for hard work and modest outlook

Published 14th January 2024

By Pramod de Silva

The British Royal Family is changing their outlook following the demise of Queen Elizabeth II and amidst increasing calls for truncating or even abolishing the monarchy.

Indeed, gone are the days when the British Empire was known collectively as a region where the “Sun never sets” as its colonies were located all over the globe, from Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) to South Africa. Now there are only a very few British protectorates left, including the Falklands Islands. All others have either become Dominions with King (Charles III) as the titular Head of State (examples include Canada and Australia) or Republics with no sovereign ties to the British King, such as Sri Lanka and India.

A humble Princess Anne carried her own bags off the plane as she arrived at the Bandaranaike International Airport in Katunayake with her husband Vice Admiral Sir Timothy LaurenceA humble Princess Anne carried her own bags off the plane as she arrived at the Bandaranaike International Airport in Katunayake with her husband Vice Admiral Sir Timothy Laurence.

Yet, the British Royal Family maintains a measure of popularity in the so-called Commonwealth Countries, which are former colonies of Britain, even if their fame has taken a hit in the UK itself particularly following the death of Princess Diana, and the separation of Prince Harry and his wife Meghan Markle from royal life. The couple has since been living in California, USA.

Queen Elizabeth II’s visit

Sri Lankans, for whatever reason(s), do have a soft corner for the British Royal Family, in spite of the mixed colonial legacy in the country. This was evinced when Queen Elizabeth II arrived here for the first time in 1954. This visit was significant for two reasons. The first was that Sri Lanka hadsaman gained Independence from Britain just six years earlier, in 1948. And Sri Lanka was still a Dominion back then.

The second was that this was one of the Queen’s first official overseas visits after her Coronation on June 2, 1953. She wore her Coronation Frock at one of the events in Colombo during this tour. She would go on to occupy the Throne for nearly 70 years. Her next visit to Sri Lanka was in 1981, by which time the country had become a Republic. But judging by the raucous reception she received wherever she and Prince Philip went, her popularity in Sri Lanka was intact.

In between those two visits, the couple became the proud parents of four children – Princes Charles (the present King), Andrew (Duke of York, though now mostly retired from Royal Duties following a string of scandals), Edward (Duke of Edinburgh) and Princess Anne, now known officially as Princess Royal. She thus happens to be the only daughter of Queen Elizabeth.

It is no secret that Princess Anne is the sibling closest to King Charles, ever-ready to steady the ship amidst the turbulent storms that the Royal Family faced in the years following the tragic death of Princess Diana in Paris in 1997. Her scandal-free life and easy going nature had endeared herself to Royal fans all over the planet.

This might explain the buzz surrounding last-week’s official visit of Princess Anne to Sri Lanka to mark 75 years of diplomatic links between the two friendly countries. Given the revolving door that is Number 10, one cannot imagine a better ambassador to mark this occasion than apparently someone from Buckingham Palace – and the hardest working member of the British Royal Family at that. Princess Anne has earned that moniker from the press thanks to her non-stop work for good causes around the world.

A royal expert has explained why the Princess Royal was chosen as the first member of the family to go away in 2024, as she was praised as being “invaluable” to King Charles. Richard Fitzwilliams said: “Princess Anne is an example of what the public most admire in a working royal, she is dedicated, conscientious and prefers a low profile and no fuss.”

First-ever Royal visit for 2024

Princess Anne began the second day of her Sri Lanka tour with a visit to the Sri Dalada Maligawa (Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic) in KandyPrincess Anne began the second day of her Sri Lanka tour with a visit to the Sri Dalada Maligawa (Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic) in Kandy

In fact, her trip to Sri Lanka gained international media attention due to several reasons, with magazines such as Hello! And People devoting multiple pages to the coverage, not to mention all mainstream British newspapers. After all, this was the first-ever overseas visit by any Member of the Royal Family for 2024. Princess Anne is no stranger to Sri Lanka, having visited the country previously in 1995, as a patron of the Save the Children Fund.

The media were quick to highlight the fact that Anne (73) and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence (68) flew on a commercial airline to Colombo, whereas they could have requested a Government Airbus A330 or other aircraft from the Royal Air Force (RAF). In fact, SriLankan Airlines, the only carrier which flies directly between London (LHR) and Colombo (CMB) could not hide its delight, posting on X under the headline “A Service Fit for a Royal”.

A SriLankan Airlines post said: “We are delighted to welcome onboard Her Royal Highness (HRH) the Princess Royal on her journey from London to Colombo on a three-day official visit to mark 75 years of diplomatic relations between Sri Lanka and the UK. It is truly an honour to extend Her Royal Highness and the delegation our inherent Sri Lankan warmth and hospitality, thereby presenting the first taste of our island home through our service. We thank the HRH for honouring us with her presence onboard and choosing us for the journey.”

Royal commentators and observers were also delighted to note that the couple carried their own bags, both at the points of embarkation and disembarkation. Princess Anne and Sir Tim’s down-to-Earth nature was displayed by them carrying their own bags onto the flight, the commentators said. One eagle-eyed royal writer even noted that one of her bags was from the French brand Longchamp’s La Pliage Line, costing just 115 Sterling Pounds, at a time lesser mortals like to show off bags from the likes of Louis Vuitton costing thousands of pounds or dollars.

A welcome ceremony at the airport saw the two Royals greeted by dancers, music, Union Jack flags and a red carpet. Princess Anne, sporting sunglasses, was received by dignitaries including the British High Commissioner Andrew Patrick and Minister of Foreign Affairs Ali Sabry, PC.

Princess Anne and Sir Tim kicked off their engagements right away, heading first to the MAS Active Factory near the Airport, one of the largest apparel tech companies in South Asia and identified by the UK Fashion and Textile (UKFT) Association as an important Sri Lankan partner. As President of the UKFT, the Princess Royal met staff and toured the facility to hear more about their innovative designs and partnerships with leading UK brands.

Princess Anne, Princess Royal signs the golden book after she arrives for a three-day official visit to Sri Lanka at the BIA in KatunayakePrincess Anne, Princess Royal signs the golden book after she arrives for a three-day official visit to Sri Lanka at the BIA in Katunayake.

Letter from King Charles

The couple also met President Ranil Wickremesinghe and Prof. Maitree Wickremesinghe at the President’s House. Her brother King Charles had outlined “considerable challenges” that the world is facing in a letter delivered by Princess Anne to President Wickremesinghe during this meeting.

The Royal Couple also got the opportunity of meeting former President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga on this occasion. She was the incumbent President when Princess Anne last toured the island in 1995. Royal watchers praised the Princess’s modest outfit worn to this important event. Hello! Magazine described her outfit in this manner: “Putting on a colourful display, the Princess Royal asserted her sartorial prowess in a ravishing red shift dress adorned with blooming pastel flowers. For an additional pop of colour, the royal added a berry-red lipstick, balancing her ensemble with a draped cream scarf and white gloves.” Another royal watcher said that her white gloves worn at the event were a subtle nod to the legacy of her mother.

Princess Anne, with her lifelong affinity to the Save the Children Fund, also took time off her busy schedule of meetings to visit its offices in Colombo and inquire into their programs in Sri Lanka. After unveiling a plaque commemorating the 50th anniversary of Save the Children working in Sri Lanka, she gave an impromptu speech to staff and guests at the charity’s Colombo HQ.

Princess Anne said: “It’s a real pleasure to return to Sri Lanka and the chance to visit Save the Children’s (headquarters) and underline the fact you have been doing extraordinary work here for 50 years.’ And I know, because when I came before it was slightly different, things have changed a lot. But the very fact that you are here and seen as valuable partners to the Government and the departments – that says a lot for what you’ve achieved…So a big thank you to all those who have been part of that journey, thank you all very much.” She also visited the Lady Ridgeway Hospital (LRH) in Colombo.

Princess Anne paid her respects to the Fallen Heroes of World Wars when she laid a wreath in their memory in Colombo, during her first visit to a Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) cemetery in the Jawatta area as the organisation’s President. They also visited the nearby Vajira Pillayar Hindu Kovil, where Sir Tim dashed a coconut to ward off bad luck. Chief Priest Sachithanantha Kurukal went into the shrine to conduct the pooja as Princess Anne and her husband watched, and they later toured the temple viewing the many shrines to Hindu Gods.

The Royal Couple then left for Kandy, where they paid homage to the Sacred Tooth Relic of the Buddha at the Sri Dalada Maligawa. Dressed in white, Princess Anne was ushered into an inner sanctum, reserved for the temple’s most important guests, to make her offering to the Sacred Relic in private.

Princess Anne engaged in a friendly conversation with Former President Chandrika Bandaranaike KumaratungaPrincess Anne engaged in a friendly conversation with Former President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga

Later, the couple travelled to Jaffna, where they toured the famous Jaffna Public Library, which was burnt down by mobs in 1981 and then rebuilt to reflect its former glory. The couple toured the library “where they heard of its significance to the community and met key figures from the fields of education, arts and culture,” said the British High Commission in Sri Lanka. Andrew Patrick, British High Commissioner to Sri Lanka, called the building “a landmark of great significance”. “This important moment marks the first visit by a member of the Royal Family to Jaffna,” he added.

The library was one of the largest libraries in Asia and housed over 97,000 unique and irreplaceable palm leaves books (ola), manuscripts, parchments, books, magazines and newspapers, before its destruction in 1981.

The couple had several other engagements in Sri Lanka before they flew back to the UK after a highly successful visit, which reinforced UK-Sri Lanka ties. Several more events will be held in 2024 to mark this milestone.

Princess Anne’s Sri Lanka visit is her second official engagement of this year, having returned to duties on January 4 to attend the Oxford Farming Conference.

The King and Queen are also set to fly overseas later this year. The couple are expected to visit Canada in May, before flying to Australia, New Zealand and Samoa in October.

As for the Prince and Princess of Wales, they too will be preparing to return to Royal Duties in the coming week, which comes after the family celebrated Princess Kate’s 42nd birthday on Tuesday January 9.

#a lovely summary of an excellent trip 💗#princess anne #princess royal #tim laurence #timothy laurence #sri lanneka

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meowunmeow · 2 months

Text

Undead Unluck Chapter 198 Spoilers!!

This is Part 2. Part 1 here

It is strange that Luna made the first UMA despite it being Sun's thing... Does that imply Sun made the first Artifact at some point?

damn so he came from the lunussy instead of the sunussy

Once again with the mother-like comparison. It could've been "created" but instead it's "give birth".

Oh and neat detail but in media, they tend to draw the world focused on their country of origin (USA or Japan) but here it is shown on purpose that it's South America, where Brazil is

Also Top is dragging Beast like 6 times across the globe what the fuck

Soul asking the big question here.

Damn okay girl

Whoever said that Luna is akin to a chess player that won't understand how the chess pieces feel is hella correct, it seems

Also I'm thinking about the teacup. Why is Luna so similar to Juiz in terms of this?

There's a look of distance in Soul's face... Already pointed this out but because Luna is also responsible for creating Negators, I'm gonna assume that Soul is more similar to humans rather than UMAs. Like most humans, I guess that he also wants to know his purpose and the truth of the world

Looks like neutralised UMAs are not considered dead nor gone, hence why they reappear in the next loop. But... This is the final one. How is Soul so sure that they will meet? Unless there's info that is being witheld right now.

Also damn Julia is so gender

Haruka diving in because she knows Top can't swim :,)) but she still hit her head against his anyways poor Top he's gonna black out for weeks

Also DAMN HARUKA GOT HELLA MEAT IN HER BICEPS GOODNESS

That's all for this week!!

#undead unluck #undead unluck spoilers #meow reads

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scholastic-dragon · 1 year

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Hi hello Scenario 8 and 9, Dialogue 8, 9, and 18:

Y/N sees that it's snowing and calls one of the turtle boys (who is their s/o) and uses dialogue 9, and they plan a snow day together.

Go sledding or snowball-fighting, which leads to dialogue 18 (kiss the snow off Y/N's eyelashes for a bonus) and 28 (and then let some kisses and cuddles be shared rolling in the snow lol).

End with Y/N rubbing snow under turtle's shell. High-pitched screams all around 😂 Pure fluff plz? 🙏

Thx mate -3-

~��👸

This is so late and I am so sorry but hey! It's done now! :)

Bay!Turtles of choice x Gn!reader

Snow Day

Word Count: 745

Warnings: established relationship, turtle smootches, feelings, spelling mistakes,

Summary: you and your turtle boo play in the snow to fight off seasonal depression

You had to get out of your apartment. It was early January, and the sun hadn't been out in over a week. It was a mix of snow, rain, and more snow, which just left slush covering New Yorks bustling streets.

You knew he was feeling it too. He hadn't said anything but you saw it in his eyes when you went to visit or video called him.

He and his brothers always suffered during the cold winter months. It was absolutely freezing in the lair and it just kept getting colder.

When you woke up that morning you'd finally had enough. It had just snowed the night before, leaving the ground covered in fluffy white powder: perfect for a snowball fight. A few stray snowflakes slowly fluttered down from the sky, New York would make a wonderful snow globe.

You'd called him up as you pulled on a thick sweater.

He answered with a groggy voice. "Hello?"

"It's snowing!" You tucked the phone under your chin as you pulled on jeans.

"Yeah, has been for some time," He laughed, you heard him moving around in his bed.

"Let's go outside and play in the snow!"

"Hun," He sighed, pausing to take a rather obnoxiously loud slurp of a drink before continuing. "I can't go outside-"

"We'll go over by the bridge. No one ever goes over there, and it's already horrible out, and no one's stupid enough to want to go outside." You plead, pausing after putting socks on.

A deep sigh. "Well we are,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You launched another snowball toward your boyfriend, he just narrowly missed getting hit, ducking down behind a tree.

If felt like it's been forever since you last laughed like this. When in reality it'd only been about 3 weeks since Christmas with his family.

You dripped down to your knees, making a pile of snowballs, ready to throw them when he tried to move across the small park.

You lifted one and glanced over to his spot, only to find he wasn't there. Glancing across the path to the spot he'd been trying - and failing - to reach, you saw it also bare.

"Where-" Before you could question it further, your boo jumped out from behind you, tackling you to the ground and rolling down a small hill with you.

He rolled so he was lying on his shell with you onto of him. Snow was in your hair, covering your face and crawling into your jacket and sweater.

And yet you couldn't stop laughing, putting your hands in the snow beside his head and staring into his beautiful eyes.

"What?" He asked, hands coming up to hold your waist. He needn't worry though, you had no intentions of going anywhere.

"You look so beautiful in the snow,"

He bashfully looked away, you cupped his cheek and made him look at you.

"It's true, you're the most handsome man I've ever seen," You leaned down and kissed the cute pout off his lips.

"If we're talking about appearances..." He pulled back with a smile. "You have snow on your eyelashes, looks cute"

You laugh wiping at your face with your sleeve. "Did I get it?"

"No," He laughed, sitting up on his elbows, one hand cupping your red cheek. "Here,"

He leaned in and gently kissed your eyelids, it felt a bit strange, causing you to giggle and try to move away. He felt you closer, and continued pressing butterfly kisses to you eyes, then your cheeks, then one of the tip of your nose.

"There,"

"All better?" He nodded.

"Well now it's my turn to return the favor," you bit your lip as you looked down at him, seeing a familiar look flash across his eyes.

Before he could get too excited, you lunged forward, grabbing tow handfuls of snow and dumping them on his face.

You rolled off him and tried to crawl away but he quickly grabbed your ankle. You squealed as he yanked you over to him with minimal effort.

He put his body over yours, snow clung to his hat and scarf. "Now you've done it!"

Instead of kissing your lips or your neck like you thought he would. He layed down on top of you, using his weight to push you into the snow.

"Babe! Baby, it's cold!" You squealed as snow started to go down your jacket.

He didn't answer instead opting to blow raspberries on your neck, making you laugh even harder.

tags: @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @happymoonangel @sharpwindow @dilucsflame33 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @strawberrycakeblog @mysticboombox

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt stocking stuffers #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt headcannons #tmnt imagines #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #thanks for the ask!

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