#if you grew up in the culture and call food from your own culture 'disgusting' its one thing right?

[murderessdominatrix]

lil rant but I hate hate HATE when white american social media people do 'trying/reviewing/comparing foreign candy/treats/whatever' because inevitably they'll get to the Mexican snacks and the flavor profile for most Mexican snacks is often some combination of "Sal, límon, chile y azucar" (which in english is salt, lemon, (sorry, LIME) chili peppers and sugar) which white american people aren't used to eating, so they usually don't like it. And that's OK! Nobody HAS to like ANYTHING!

But they're making social media content, which means they need a sensationalist reaction. So 99% of the time, they'll go "this is DISGUSTING!!" "people EAT THIS???" "is this even EDIBLE?!?!?"

I distinctly remember one specific youtuber trying a candy that I love and grew up with and she specifically said, and I quote, "this tastes like hot dumpster juice" which. I didnt feel great about that. I doubt anybody would feel great about someone trying your favorite childhood snack for the first time and calling it "hot dumpster juice"

I've had food I didn't like from cultures I didn't grow up with. And maybe it's a little bit of a cultural thing too because when I was raised, I was told the POLITE thing to do when trying something new is serve yourself a very little bit (because you have to finish whatever you serve yourself), swallow whatever you put in your mouth, and if you don't like it say "oh, I'll save the rest for later/ im too full, i cant possibly eat any more!". If you're with people you know who have a thicker skin/ are more direct in general you can go "I'm sorry, I'm not a fan/ im not used to it". I know white americans will often straight-up say "I didn't like it" because they tend to be very direct about almost everything.

But I feel like calling food that a whole country eats on a daily basis 'inedible' or 'disgusting' MUST be crossing SOME kind of line. And yet.

#if you grew up in the culture and call food from your own culture 'disgusting' its one thing right? #but if you're an outsider calling another culture's food disgusting thats another thing. #especially if you're from a 'majority' culture talking about a 'minority' cultures food #but also i feel like im maybe being a bit hypocritical bc i know ive clowned on british food here before #but god knows. if i was in front of a british person right now. and they eagerly handed me a plate of idk. wigan pie barm. #i would down that whole thing with a smile and rave about how delicious it was. #because there's a real human person right in front of me thats trying to do something nice! im NOT going to hurt their feelings! #and if im filming a video. there's possibly THOUSANDS of real human people looking at my reaction. maybe wanting to share their food with me #im not gonna hurt their feelings. #as opposed to here. none of you are real people with feelings (im joking). #but theres no faces attached to this site so it FEELS different to me ig. still. ill try to stop clowning on british food from now on.

[loveforneteyam]

❝i heart you❞ ( jake sully )

summary: jake suli brought many traditions from earth, including one he calls "valentine's day". pairing: jake sully x navi!reader wordcount: 1.4k contains: just short and sweet :) notes: i wanted to post a quick little thing for valentine's day and why not for my fav?? i apologize if this is a bit late, hope you enjoy! and i love spelling "sully" like "suli", idk why blah

masterlist

If there was one thing about the dream walker, it was that he was a complete marvel to the entire Omaticaya clan. Even his scent was foreign--like metal and strange chemicals. Your people were both fascinated and disgusted by him.

You were the only daughter of your family, so there was a heavy expectation on you to find a mate. Before doing so, however, you would train to become a healer. Under the tsahik's guide, you studied the will of the Great Mother and the way of the forest. You were regarded as so intelligent and skilled that it wasn't surprising when you were chosen to train Jake Suli instead of your best friend, Neytiri.

It wasn't like she wanted the job anyway.

At first, you acted with complete bias. You knew the Sky People to be destructive and ignorant of any culture but their own. Why would this alien be any different? You hardly felt guilty to admit that it was amusing to watch him stumble and lose his balance in the trees. But over time, you felt the strings in your heart play a different way.

His hands and feet grew tougher, his legs and arms became stronger, and his eyes opened to more than just the physical elements of your world. Jake Suli was learning to see.

As he learned more of you culture, you began to learn more of his. While he struggled to learn the Navi alphabet and pronunciations, he also managed to teach you more English than you had previously learned. "This is right up my alley," he said the first day you showed him a bow and arrow.

You cocked your head. "What does that one mean?"

Jake, who thought your cluelessness was adorable, chuckled. "It means, uh," he laughed at himself. He must've sounded stupid compared to your wise words. "It means I'm good at this sort of stuff."

There were other moments where the English language was unnecessarily confusing. "If it is pronounced like 'kernel'," you pondered to yourself. English was even more illegible when it was in Jake's messy handwriting. "Then why is it spelled with an 'l'?"

He had been teaching you the names of the humans who worked back at the RDA. You knew Grace Augustine well, you thought Norm was a funny name for a person, and you refused to accept that the word 'colonel' was pronounced so strangely. Jake deeply chuckled, "I'm not sure why, honey."

You also misunderstood his seemingly unnoticeable pet names for you. Honey, as you had learned, was a sweet food for humans back on Earth; you thought it strange that Jake would call you it, although you never complained...

──

There were very few days where you were not instructed to train Jake. Instead, he would follow you through your training to be a healer. He would often watch as you read the many scriptures written throughout the years, your fingers delicately tracing the writing. Sometimes, you would read it out loud to him and his ears would gently twitch at the sound of your voice.

It was winter in Pandora, which hardly seemed any different from the other seasons to Jake. The sun was still warm on his skin, the plant-life still flourished. You were already studying in your tent in the morning, wondering why Jake had still not arrived.

Mo'at, who had come to recognize Jake's admiration for you (and your admiration for him), examined you as you completed your small, morning tasks. "Where is Jake?" You asked politely, searching for him. "I have not see him yet."

You didn't see her slightly smirk. She knew what it was like for someone to anxiously await their lover, even though you would never call him that. "It is early in the morning, child," Mo'at noted. She watched your shoulders slump as an idea popped into her mind. "Wait for him, he will arrive soon."

For what felt like hours, you continued to wait for the dream walker. Mo'at was amused at your impatient behavior, how you'd frantically stand up every few minutes and check outside to see if he was there.

"It is very rude to keep someone waiting," you said to Mo'at as you sliced through a handful of herbs and leaves.

Mo'at smirked again behind her book. "Oh, yes, very rude."

Finally, Jake's figure appeared with the morning sun behind him. He had a childish smile, the braids in his hair completely disheveled, and he was holding a small basket from when you'd taught him to weave. He cleared his throat, "Tsahik, (y/n), oel ngati kameie."

You and Mo'at collectively greeted him back. Jake took a seat across from you, setting the basket down next to him. "What're you working on today?"

You ignored his curiosity and began to harshly slice the leaves, leaving small marks on the wooden cutting board. "You took a very long time," You didn't look at him, but if you had, you would've been met with wide, fascinated eyes. "Where were you?"

Jake chuckled and pulled the cutting board away from you, your knife nearly coming down to meet his thumb. You looked at him furiously with wide eyes, but he only warmly smiled. He replaced the board with the basket. "I figured you're always teaching me about this," he motioned to the forest around him. "Why can't I teach you something about my home?"

You were intrigued but refused to show it. "Your home?"

"Yeah," he smiled. Jake enjoyed seeing you try to hide your excitement. "Here," he opened the basket and pulled out several pieces of red paper and a small canister of paint with a brush. "In my home, we have something called Valentine's Day."

You repeated the word silently to see how it felt coming off of your lips.

"It's a little holiday, nothing crazy." Jake handed you a piece of paper. You cautiously watched him fold his piece in half, unsure of whatever he could be doing. "It's supposed to be, you know...about love and whatever."

You always found it enjoyable how Jake could never explain something very well. He often stumbled over his words, like the thought was in his head but came out his mouth in a different way. "Fold yours like mine." You did so and pressed the paper so there was a crease down the middle. "Now, watch what I'm drawing."

He took the brush and dipped it into the paint canister, gently tapping it against the sides so any excess dripped off the bristles. He swung the brush over the paper with a slick curve. Jake was surprisingly smooth with the brush. "Your turn."

Jake handed you the brush. You mimicked him, dipping it into the paint and tapping off any loose drops. You tried to copy the shape he had painted onto his paper, except your lines were slightly more jagged. "Good!" He smiled, a hint of pride in his voice. "Then we take this," he grabbed a small blade from the basket. "And follow the shape."

He retraced the shape on his paper with the blade so it sliced the paper clean. He then unfolded his paper. "And you have a heart."

You cocked your eyebrow and eagerly grabbed the blade from his hand, cutting over your shape and removing the remnants of the paper. "This is a heart? It looks nothing like one."

"Well, it's not like the heart in here," his fingers gently touched your chest where your heart sat. He laughed, "It's different, I know. I guess this type of heart is prettier."

You looked at your paper heart inquisitively. You did like how simple it was...you would even say it was cute. "What is the point of this?"

Jake smacked his lips, "Uh, well..." He was at a loss. "I guess there's no real point to it. It's just supposed to be for love."

"What do you do with it?"

"Well, you can do almost anything with it. Throw it in the garbage if you really wanted to," he looked down at his paper heart, tracing the soft edges with his thumb and smoothing out the crease that ran down the middle of the paper. "I think you're supposed to give it to someone."

"Why?"

Jake shrugged, gently smiling at how you already began to fold another piece of paper and reach for the paintbrush. "To show love." You started to draw out the shape of the heart again on half of you paper before you noticed Jake holding his heart out to you.

The corners of your lips softly grew upwards, a pink hue falling on your cheeks.

#hehehehehehehe #happy late vday!! #jake sully fluff #jake sully x reader #jake sully x navi!reader #jake sully x omaticaya!reader #jake sully x fem!reader #jake sully imagine #jake sully one shot #jake sully angst #jake sully smut #jake sully x oc #jake sully fanfic #jake sully fic #avatar fic #avatar fanfic #atwow #atwow spoilers #atwow fanfic #neteyam fanfic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fluff #neteyam angst #neteyam smut #neteyam x navi!reader #lo'ak fic #lo'ak fanfic #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x navi!reader

[diejager]

From someone in the UK it honestly just depends on the person. I am okay with spice but I have relatives who die from pepper but others who can eat a ghost pepper and be like 'Oh that has a little kick to it but can I have something actually spicy'. So it does honestly depend.

And I think the issue with food being bland is that a lot of what would be considered cultural dishes are not past down or sound disgusting. For example the food we call faggots where I grew up is normally pig offcuts that are in a pig intestine with different herbs and they can be very tasty if you cook them right but they just sound disgusting.

It is just that the most common foods and the cheapest are the easiest things to cook which will not have a lot of stuff put into them as to not make it anymore expensive and there is a big focus on stuff already made that you can throw in the oven instead of "fresh" food. And this can be related back to the whole history and how different events have affected the food.

But that is just my experience but everyone will have their own experience or thoughts on it as different places in the UK are very different. I was just lucky that I grew up with a lot of things that tasted more "earthy" as I had a lot of herbs or "flowers" in my food or things that were buttery, cheesy, or salty which was passed down in family recipes.

It just honestly depends on the family and where they are.

ah, this is enlightening, and let me tell you, almost nothing in the food world disgusts me. I am Asian, and we eat a lot of shit. Pig intestines with herbs is my usual Sunday and that sounds delicious. I’ve had cow intestines, crickets, spiders, chicken feet, heart and lung, fish eyes and brain, raw clam and scallops, etc, but a lot of stuff I eat is somewhat spicy? Like jalapeño spicy, but that’s just barely spicy for some people.

And honestly? “Bland” food is a godsend at times, a little respite for your pallet, yeah? But this is an interesting point of view and it makes a lot of sense, cultural dishes have a lot of roots in history and people���s tolerance also depends on the food they grow up eating.

Thank you for explaining this to me, Ozzie! This will help me in writing fics one day.

[tatooinetourism]

amongst working on my joel miller/luke skywalker christmas story, i have been revisiting some old works, which lead me to developing a backstory for one of the OCs - who was originally to be a one time only character - from my Soul Mate AU (Your Arms Are My Castle). part of this meant i ended up creating a religion and a creation story for said religion.

i thought i might share it here, in case anybody else was interested. if you wind up using this for anything, i'd like to know so i can check it out.

this is loosely edited and likely contains elements from exsiting cultures/religions, so please excuse me if that is the case. it was not intentional.

content warning for snakes.

The story goes that one day, The Mother was hungry, so she went in search of a meal. The meal she found was strange - all odd angles and no real shape, an ever shifting ball of nothing and everything - never having deterred from a meal before, especially one so different and interesting, The Mother ate the funny little meal.

 So foul tasting was the funny thing that The Mother was instantly sick; so sick that not only did The Mother vomit up the soul, funny thing, but also her vibrancy. The once rainbow coloured serpent was left dreadful and dull, coloured only the deepest, dullest black - no speck of light to be found.

From The Mothers sick, something grew; funny things, shapeless at first, but quickly growing and changing. From The Mothers sickness, the universe and everything in it was born.

The Mother hated the universe - it was an insult, an everlasting reminder of that funny thing she had once eaten, the thing that had made her sick. The thing that had stolen her colours and left her dreadful and ugly.

So, The Mother cursed the funny things that grew from the sick; she did not allow them emotions, not like her own. The things grew and changed and took form, but never became anything more; two legs, two arms, a torso and a head. That was their final form, until it wasn’t.

The Mother was furious to see how they changed without her permission; not only did they learn to hunt and feed themselves, they learnt to create more of themselves.This was not allowed; they were meant to have starved, to have rotted away into nothing and return to their original form of a disgusting puddle.

They learnt to breed, and so The Mother cursed them again; a long, difficult gestational period with a painful, bloody birth. Many died during these difficult births, but their partners - their mates - did not grieve. They did not know how, The Mother had not allowed them to learn how to do so. Despite the agonising, brutal method of creating more of themselves…the things did not stop; their numbers grew, slowly but surely, and The Mother could only watch and seethe and they grew and changed once again.

The horrible little things were not only changing and procreating; they were learning. 

They discovered fire, then easier ways to hunt and prepare food. Plants were discovered to be useful for medicinal purposes. Her horrible creations were learning and evolving, and she was at her wits end; the little things and the universe they lived in would die.

She was The Mother and she would not allow the vile pests to continue to mock her. So set on her plans of destruction was she, The Mother almost missed it; one of the younger things was out late, walking through the darkness with only the half-moon above to light their way.

Something hissed at the thing - a girl, is what the other things would have called her - when it darted out at her from amongst a nest of broken and dry sticks.

“A friend?” The girl asked, crouching down to investigate the things nest, because why wouldn't she? After all, nothing had attempted to harm her before. “Hello!” She had called out warmly to the slithering shape - colourless and cold in the shadows as it curled around it’s nest. The eggs should have hatched by now, but the air was too cold, too harsh for the little creatures inside to wake up and make their ways to fresh air, hungry for food their Mother would provide.

“Oh no!” The little girl cried out to the snake, which watched her with a shaking, hissing tongue and beady, empty eyes. The Mother watched the girl run to her home, where she disappeared into the small wooden house, only to emerge moments later with a larger thing - an adult man, from what The Mother understood - following after her. She watched the pair collect the eggs, carefully placing each one in a wooden box lined with pretty fabric; the girls' dresses, The Mother would soon learn. 

“Come on!” The girl said to the snake that was slithering about her feet in a way that would be menacing, if the girl was able to feel fear. 

All but one of the eggs hatched; kept close to the fire in the girl's home, which was kept stoked and hot, fed by dry wood that the man would bring home each day and stack by the fireplace. There was another adult, this one a grown version of the girl, that would set traps to catch mice in the fields and the forests near the house. The mice would be fed to the snakes and their Mother, who dared not stray too far from her young.

“What do we do with it?” The girl asked her Mother - her Mother by blood - when it became clear the last egg would not hatch; it had been too cold for too long, the weakest of the bunch - a failure to some, a tragic loss to others. 

A hole was dug near a patch of brightly coloured flowers, where the egg was placed - wrapped in one of the girls dresses - and buried. The girl and her family would visit the spot now and then, looking at it and…they weren’t sure; they felt compelled to look at the little mound of dirt that never grew grass.

The Mother allowed her little creations to grieve after this; they had learnt to care, to show such warmth for something they would have feared had she allowed it. 

Fear came later, when the followers and the creations of other great creatures came to attack her little things; she heard them scream, saw them fall and smelt their blood as they were cut down.

No. The Mothers great voice hissed into the night air, stealing away the noise of the battle and rendering it into nothing. You shall not harm my creatures. You shall not take what they have built. What they have learnt.

You shall perish.

So many of the enemies did The Mother eat that night, that she grew even greater in size; monstrous even by the standards of great creatures, but her little creations did not care.

They saw the great beast slide between them, snatching and swallowing down the attacking horrors in single bites, her large mouth unhinging at the jaw.

After the battle was over and the horrible, vile things that had attacked her precious, beautiful things had been destroyed…she learnt that the girl who had found the eggs was gone.

“Taken.” The girls Mother and Father had cried out, pointing to a hill nearby that fell to a steep valley - one that was shrouded in smoke and flames, one that lead to the territory of another great creature - they had been hiding there amongst the fog and smoke, concealing themself from The Mother in order to feed on her creations by corrupting them and turning them against themselves.

The ones who she had killed, the ones who she had eaten for daring to attack her beautiful creations…had been her own.

It is said that the intense, raw heat of the other creatures' flames was so great that it heated The Mothers scales to such a degree that they began to glow; brilliant red and yellow, casting an even more powerful light than that of the sun as it had been known until then.

The Girl was there, standing amongst flame and smoke, and the embers of the valley - untouched by heat, protected by the power of her creator as the great serpent ravaged the valley, destroying the land and reshaping it with her sheer size. 

A new valley was carved that day; as time went on, the valley would grow over with lush greenery and a river would flow freely through it, but on that day, the valley was dead; scorched right down to the stone.

Child.

The Girl looked up when the great serpent came to a stop before her, its gigantic body looming over her like a tightly coiled mountain; ready to strike, ready to kill and maim.The Girl saw no beast, no monster or terror of the night; she saw black scales, gleaming with all the colours of the rainbow, like the metal in her fathers forge did when he had done the process exactly right - like the piece of metal she wore on a loop of leather around her neck - smoothed down by her fingers over the years whenever she’d reach for the smooth, cold metal for something to ground her. Something to worry her fingers over when she needed comfort.

Beautiful, gleaming black that shone with vibrant colours whenever the light of the sun hit it. The girl reached up with her small, warm hand and The Serpent reached down with its gigantic snout.

Beautiful. 

The Girl thought, and thus The Mother was.

#star wars fanfiction #archive of our own #fanfiction #star wars #oc backstory

[msclaritea]

This month, a $100 million advertising campaign and website have been launched nationwide to help a particular figure rebrand. In the current climate, just who, do you think, might warrant such a massive PR blitz?

My own answer would be “no one,” because this kind of spending to prop up the reputations of the already highly privileged strikes me as one of the more disgusting excesses of capitalism. But whether or not you share my convictions, I’m guessing you didn’t come up with the answer “Jesus.” Yes, that Jesus. A man who’s not even alive—at least not in a way that’s accessible and demonstrable to those of us on this mortal plane—and who is, despite the release of yet another major documentary last year, almost certainly bigger than the Beatles.

Despite all that, some conservative Christians are apparently one-hundred million dollars worth of concerned that the enduringly popular Mr. of Nazareth just isn’t doing it for some of the kids these days. Hence, the rebrand to make the ostensible son of God ‘cool’ and ‘relatable.’

The “He Gets Us” campaign is a project of the Servant Christian Foundation, which Christianity Today describes as “a nonprofit backed by a Christian donor-advised fund called The Signatry.” Both the Servant Foundation and the Signatry, its financial arm, are headed by Steve French—and that’s all we know about who exactly is behind the campaign. Donor-advised funds, which don’t have to disclose the identities of the donors providing the funding for the projects they support, are often used by the Christian Right to minimize transparency. As CT reports, the “He Gets Us” ad spots were produced by Bill McKendry, whose portfolio includes campaigns for notorious Christian Right organizations like Focus on the Family and Alliance Defending Freedom.

The “He Gets Us” spots feature all the forced earnestness of the “This is Your Brain on Drugs” ads from the 1980s, but none of the accidental hilarity and iconic qualities that make those spots such an enduring aspect of Gen-X and early Millennial nostalgia. I may be a little over 40 and only an irregular consumer of TikTok videos, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to suggest that “He Gets Us” is hardly going to register with today’s youth.

Gen Z is the least religious generation, and I’m pretty sure that this tech-savvy, culturally aware, and #VeryOnline generation is not going to be ‘won back to Christ’ by, for example, a heavy-handed quasi-parable about Jesus inviting everyone to his table and being “heartbroken” that some refuse his invitation, “because he wanted everyone to be filled—not with food and wine, but with compassion.”

On a superficial level, the “He Gets Us” spots have high production value, but that’s where their sophistication ends. The prose and delivery of their voiceovers are classic evangelical, managing to be somehow both vague and overwrought, in addition to being just, well, obnoxiously concerned. Meanwhile, the music is straight out of the manipulative megachurch worship service’s tug-on-the-heartstrings playbook—as someone who grew up partly in “seeker-sensitive” evangelicalism, I ought to know.

The ads also feature mostly people of color, but interestingly enough, in the photo of the Signatry’s board of directors featured on its website, I count eleven white men, three men of color, and one white woman. Don’t think that disconnect will go unnoticed by zoomers, who have excellent Google skills and don’t tend to take ideological messaging at face value.

Above all, the ads, which direct viewers to HeGetsUs.com, radiate an aura of phoniness, holding up a seemingly pro-social-justice and inclusive vision of Jesus, who frankly comes across as “the Black friend” of the people behind the campaign. Tellingly, the ads avoid mentioning any actual hot-button issues by name or taking any direct political stances, while leaving viewers to wonder, “Alright, it’s obvious that you want something from me, so what is it?” If there’s one thing I know about zoomers, it’s that they’ll see through such ham-handed efforts in a heartbeat, and then probably mock them, in meme form.

So, what do the folks behind “He Gets Us” want from the people they reach? There are a couple of ways to get at the answer to that question. Along with considering Bill McKendry’s record mentioned above, one is to take a look at the 990 forms the Signatry has filed with the IRS. 501(c)(3) nonprofit organizations, which include churches and charities, are tax exempt. But in order to maintain that status, they’re required to make annual financial filings that are matters of public record.

Thanks to that requirement, we can use 990 forms to find out what sort of organizations receive particularly large donations via the Signatry. And wasn’t it… who was that again? Oh yes, it was Jesus who reputedly said, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” and in that instance, at least, he had a point.

According to the Signatry’s 2020 form, the most recent available, in 2019 the organization directed over $19 million of funding to Alliance Defending Freedom, an SPLC-designated anti-LGBTQ hate group and the organization that wrote the model legislation on which Mississippi’s draconian new abortion ban was based. Nearly $8 million went to Answers in Genesis, the fundamentalist ministry behind the Creation Museum. Over $1 million is designated for Campus Crusade for Christ (rebranded as “Cru” since 2011). $374,800 went to Al Hayat Ministries, an organization that seeks to “respectfully yet fearlessly unveil the deception of Islam,” and that runs an Arabic-language Christian satellite TV station with the goal of converting Muslims to Christianity.

There’s a more direct way to approach the question of what the “He Gets Us” folks want out of the people they reach, however, and that’s to interact with their website, which offers chat and “text for prayer” options to visitors. I was first alerted to the site when my friend Artemis Stardust, who writes about their experience escaping and healing from their upbringing in a homeschooling, Quiverfull, evangelical Christian family, tagged me in a Facebook post about the PR project. While my initial reaction was along the lines of “WTAF,” I soon found myself sucked in to investigating the bizarre phenomenon further.

Stardust told me they had checked out the chat feature on HeGetsUs.com and described their experience as follows: “I asked some questions about how churches conceal abuse and was told multiple times to seek answers in the context of a church community, to read the bible and pray, and to be willing to listen.” They added, “Rather than engaging with my concerns, the staff member kept sending quotes from the Bible or links to resources on how to find a church or get their prayer team to pray for me.”

Hearing that, I decided to check out the chat feature for myself. Posing as an evangelical college student ‘struggling’ with my gender identity, I had a similar experience. The staff member I chatted with urged me to tell my pastor and my parents my secret, with seemingly little regard for whether it would be safe for me to do so. To his credit, he told me he wasn’t a licensed counselor and that I should see one, but when I said I was afraid that a counselor might lead me astray, he clarified that I should definitely only consider a Christian, “biblical” counselor. At one point he quoted “male and female he created them,” a passage from the book of Genesis frequently used by evangelicals to ‘justify’ their opposition to trans rights and same-sex marriage.

Meanwhile, Ryan Stollar, a child liberation theologian and another friend of mine, took a different approach to the “He Gets Us” chat feature, publicly posting screenshots to Facebook. Adopting the persona of a conservative evangelical angry at the ad spots’ faux social justice-oriented approach, Stollar notes that “‘the marginalized’ are people like gay people and people of color,” and asks “So you support them?”

In response, the staffer explains that the point is for those very people to be drawn in and changed so they conform to conservative evangelical values:..."

[therealvinelle]

Hey,

What do you think the impact of being brought up as vegan would be on a vampire? I mean if you’re non vegetarian then it stands to reason that killing for food is normal (and humans are food for vampires) but if you’re raised to believe killing animals for sustenance to be a sin would that affect you when you turn? It doesn’t seem very likely with the way vampires act in Twilight where it seems empathy, for humans specifically, was just lost during transition (Carlisle seems to be an exception), but maybe it would?

I’m the person who asked the vegan thing.

I just realized that being raised vegan means that food was food to you so it really wouldn’t affect your diet much as a vampire. Humans were not acceptable to for both vegans and non-vegans but they both would probably end up eating them anyways as a vampire.

But what about people who changed from eating meat to abstaining because they grew up eating it and somewhere along the way realized that they were killing for it and decided to stop. In this case, the family and friends of this person were okay with meat but they decided to stop for the animals’ sake instead of a social norm. Would this kind of person be more likely to go for the vegetarian vampire diet because of their card for humans as well? How much of their personality would remain that they could still care about humans?

This here touches upon why Twilight vampires eat people in the first place.

Before I get into that, though, I feel I should point out that what people eat a is not so easily divided morally as vegans = recognize life has worth, vs. omnivores = don’t. Factors such as culture, income, class, social environment, education, health, politics, and priorities all play a part. There’s a reason why your average young and urban female college student is much more likely to be vegan than a rural male seventy-year-old factory worker, and it has nothing to do with an inherent sense of morality. Even then, someone could become a vegan for reasons that have nothing to do with animal welfare, such as protecting the planet, a special diet, or sustaining a superiority complex (this last category will of course never admit that that’s the real reason and you should unfriend them on facebook if you don’t want your timeline to be filled with guilt-tripping photos of smoking factory pipes and sad-looking cows).

But you weren’t asking about that, you were asking about vampires.

So, when a vampire wakes up, they are faced with this unbearable thirst. It’s different for everyone, or at least they describe it differently, but the whole point of this thirst is that it’s strong enough that you have to actively hold yourself back, at great pains, to keep from killing people over it. Some vampires, when especially hungry (newborn Carlisle when a herd of deer ran by) or confronted with a particularly delicious scent (Emmet when he met his singers) or just when caught off guard (Jasper at Bella’s birthday party), appear to lose their senses altogether.

Choice doesn’t really factor in it, not when you’re a newborn, and not really later on either.

Even if it did, we know that creating a vampire requires tremendous effort. There are two vampires I know of that were accidents, Carlisle and Garret. The vast majority of vampires were created as a conscious decision, and even if they weren’t, the Volturi have a law that Thou shalt not abandon thy newborn. And so this paragraph finally gets to its point: most newborns wake up with their creators nearby. And their creator will take them hunting, at a time when they’re not yet able to resist.

And so you have these people who wake up in completely new and foreign circumstances, their bodies not their own any longer, with this unbearable, constant pain in their throats they can’t escape. They can’t sleep, they can’t eat something else, they can’t tune it out with drugs. There is no reprieve. And yes, it does get better - but in those first few fateful months, they’re pretty much forced to kill people.

Carlisle was the exception, and while I don’t wish to lessen the incredible willpower and humanity he displayed when he resisted his thirst, he was in a unique situation that allowed it. His creator wasn’t there to force him to feed, he already knew what vampires were and as such was repulsed by his own nature, and he was sequestered away in a potato cellar, and therefore not in immediate proximity to humans. What he did was still incredible, but the circumstances allowed him to do it in the first place. Every other man-eating vampire in canon was not so lucky.

My point being, for newborn vampires eating people can’t really be called a choice.

Even as vampires learn control, I imagine the choice to continue eating people is a mix of several factors. In bullet points:

Sunk cost fallacy They’ve already eaten so many humans, why stop now? If there’s a heaven or a hell, they know which one they’re going to. Might as well get a good ride.

Humans aren’t people Vampires in Twilight are dismissive of humans more often than they’re not, often expressing surprise, incomprehension, or disgust at Edward falling for one. And I see why they would: it’s a coping mechanism, for starters, to stop seeing the people you’re tearing apart on a weekly basis as someone with thoughts and feelings. It’d be hard not to, when every interaction with a human is spent having to actively fight the urge to eat them. Men struggle enough with seeing women as people because we have boobs, vampires are the extreme version of that. More, a vampire’s human memories are fading, and what they do remember was so blurry and dull. With the sharpened and enhanced nature of the vampire, being endowed with vampirism will seem like more. Which makes humans less. (Relevant meta)

Blood is hard to resist The thirst is a huge problem. Even as vampires get better at controlling themselves, few of them seem to be particularly good at it. Keep in mind that the Cullens are all training to get to Carlisle’s level, they’re not representative of your average vampire. Most will fail when trying to create a new vampire, and they all balk at Carlisle being unbothered by blood.

Blood tastes amazing Siobhan’s reaction when she learns Carlisle has created a vampire of his own is, verbatim, “how tragic - to be deprived of the greatest joy in life.” (Midnight Sun, page I’m-not-sure) And I can’t blame her for it - blood puts out the fire in her throat, and is the single greatest pleasure in the world. Jasper, Emmet, and Rosalie all agree that it’s the thing a vampire craves more than anything. And living a meandering life where there are no milestones, no community, no home, no deeper meaning to anything, the intense pleasure of drinking human blood becomes the only constant and the only thing they have to truly live for and enjoy.

Then you have the fact that most of them have no idea that animals are an option. By the time they find out there’s a door number two, they’ve successfully dehumanized humans, have nothing else in life and the sunk cost fallacy is sky high. More, Carlisle is a crazy monk asking them to forgo their reason for living to go eat dishwater and be malnourished instead, all so that the mayfly humans can go die of consumption instead. I can see why they said “...no?”.

So, yes, Twilight vampires are terrifying demons who turn into psychopaths. But I can’t in good consciousness hate them for it, because they don’t really get a choice in the matter. Their very nature is designed specifically to turn them into this. Carlisle is a freak who makes everyone else look bad.

In other words, vegans are just as susceptible as others to becoming serial killers. If anything, vegans would eat those filthy meat-eaters to save the planet.

#i don't hate vegans #but they're such low hanging targets for making fun of #twilight vampires #twilight worldbuilding #long post #carlisle cullen #twilight vegetarianism #Anonymous #ask

[skypied]

Some sea monster culture/body language/some mating rituals stuff/”the courtship fic” in general

So some of this is just. Stuff I’ve been playing with in that courtship fic I mentioned … a month or two ago? (that I still love but am struggling with and haven’t touched in so long sob). I’m gonna add in some snippets here and there, actually, now that I’m scrolling it to find examples to explain my thoughts. (I would be more reluctant to share if I knew I was gonna get this fic finished, but I’m at an eternal stalemate with it - so I’d rather share and show examples of what I’m playing with - because I like sharing)

The fic is overall is based aorund some core ideas I guess:

The fish boys struggling with adapting to human culture because sea folk communicate a lot non-verbally, through their fins and tails, both subconsciously and consciously

Alberto trying to figure out what all the weird feelings he gets around Luca mean

Alberto trying to adapt to life on land when he doesn’t understand his own biology

There’s gotta be a lot of differences between body languages and communication style, I think! One of the first things I thought about playing with was “what if sea folk don’t understand smiling, because they see it as baring their teeth” and “what if sea folk don’t understand hugging, because coming close like that means vulnerable to be attacked” - you know, kind of like with humans vs dogs - but I mostly scrapped that after watching the movie and feeling it didn’t make sense with how physically affectionate the Paguros are, and loads of smiling.

Here are some half-finished paragraphs that kind of summarize the premise I’m working with, I guess:

He didn’t realize how hard he was working maintaining the human facade until realizing he could stop. How the itchy restlessness chasing over his skin correlates to the amount of time he spends on the surface.

Luca chatters his siren words, and Alberto doesn’t understand, but he understands. It’s like his throat isn’t speaking words, but pure emotions and images, that don’t need to be filtered through his thoughts to be interpreted - they shoot straight through his hide and make him respond in turn.

Luca twitters high-pitched and fast, and his fins rise in excitement. He growls and sneers and Alberto bares his teeth, eyes flickering to find the threat. Luca purrs and Alberto melts against him like butter, knowing he’s safe.

Alberto is delighted to discover Luca reacting to him too - tail whipping around whenever Alberto senses danger, fins standing to curious attention, nudging their heads together with a worried chirp whenever he sighs, 

(...)

It’s a relief letting noises rumble through his throat, instead of freezing up and desperately scratching at his throat to make them go away. It’s a relief to not scrub his scales away in panic and glance nervously around. It’s a relief to not hide away to sink his teeth into whole fish to avoid the dark whisky-sour grumble calling him disgusting.

It’s a relief to not feel human eyes widening or scowling in reaction to his very existence. 

Alberto taught Luca to be human and now he’s returning the favor by bringing him home to the sea. 

one scene where Luca offers Alberto a taste of the lunch his mom packed him - one of those little kelp packets from the movie - and Alberto HATES it (bc carnivore) and spits it out, and Luca just. Grabs it and plops it into his mouth:

“That was in my mouth!” Alberto feels his fins stand on end, not yet angry but distressed.

“And?”

“It’s - that’s gross, Luca!”

“No, it’s not.” Luca frowns at him as he swallows. “I’m not wasting my mom’s food just ‘cause you didn’t like it.”

“But it was in my mouth!”

“We share ice cream all the time?” 

“But it was in my mouth!”

“Beto, please.” Luca rolls his eyes. “Mom used to chew food for me before my teeth grew in.”

“But I’m not your mom and you’re not three.”

“But we’re like…” Luca studies him for a moment. “Brothers.”

Something turns in Alberto’s stomach, something warm and pleasant but nauseating. He shakes his head to get rid of it.

“I don’t wanna be if that’s the food I’m getting.”

Luca sticks his tongue out.

a not very fleshed out thing about how they reconcile sea folk to human communication with Giulia: 

Giulia finds them weird and sometimes off-putting when they discard words in favor of chitters and whistles, or when they spend fifteen minutes figuring out one human expression. She doesn’t understand what they mean when they feel the need to express things like humility or submission or back off or the claws are out.

“What about just saying it?” she suggests, but keels over laughing the time Luca charges at her screaming this is not a threat I am just very excited.

Giulia tries teaching them facial expressions but they’re hard. They try their best to keep up and she quizzes them on reading hers, but according to Luca’s calculations, only get it right about half the time.

The three agree to find the middle ground between their languages to avoid flaring fins or threatening growls. If Giulia smiles too wide and notices them tensing up, she adds, playful. If she needs to apologize, she ducks her head and says, humbly.

(...)

“How can they not strangle each other when they show their teeth all day.” Alberto bares his teeth in a joking threat, so wide there’s no happy wrinkles around his mouth. Luca growls at him, so Alberto closes his mouth and adds, “not a threat.” 

The idea of “pebbling as a courtship ritual” was what started this whole fic, really, where Alberto keeps bringing Luca small rocks as gifts. Alberto doesn’t understand why, of course, he just likes it for some reason. Luca at first finds it cute and charming at first, but after a while gets annoyed and frustrated, because Alberto’s flirting so overtly with him but he never takes it further. So he ends up taking Alberto aside and is like “Are you done playing around like a hatchling? Are you gonna actually court me properly?”

I just really enjoy playing around with body language as a both unconscious and conscious choice, like –

They stare at each other in tense anticipation waiting for the others’ pupils to dilate, before simultaneously shaking off both the remaining scales and the tense hairs rising on the backs of their necks.

I have a scene - unfortunately too rough to share much from - where the boys end up arguing viciously as humans, using words, and Alberto refuses to accept Luca’s apology, so Luca grabs him and pulls him under water so he can smell the emotions he’s unable to express with words - here are some tiny bits:

“Alberto, please, come with me.” When he keeps resisting, Luca’s sneer is so vicious it can hardly be disguised as anything resembling a human voice. Alberto’s spine straightens as a lightning bolt shoots down it. Luca screws his eyes shut and nudges his forehead against Alberto’s cheek. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry for everything and sorry for growling but I don’t know how to say it in human.” The words come out in one long, fumbling breath, vocals made rough by rasps and consonants sharp with clicks. “Please, Beto, let me tell you.”

(...)

“Shut up. Stop listening.” Alberto bares his teeth and whips his tail in annoyance, but Luca shushes him, cradling his face to massage the pressure points where his ear fins meet his skull. Alberto’s eyes narrow in annoyance at how quickly this calms him. “Start smelling. Start feeling.”

And just lots of. Alberto trying to figure out what the strange pull he feels for Luca is, because he has no frame of reference for it, or understanding Luca’s attempts to flirt back:

Luca’s head tilts and he poses a questioning chirp. Alberto feels his pupils contract to zone out anything but Luca as his lips part. He keeps the expertly trained, relaxed shrug of nonchalance in his grin, but can’t help the pride tugging at the corners when Luca’s eyes flicker down to survey every single pearly white point of his front teeth.

Suddenly showing off just how sharp his teeth are seems like the most important thing in the universe. He needs Luca to know how capable he is. Of whatever he could ever need or want. Providing food, shelter, safety, company. Maybe his teeth can’t prove the last one, but the words stuck between them can’t come close to explaining it either.

He wants to open wide and make Luca feel the rows coming in behind them too, see, see how prepared he is, that he can hide underneath his tongue and soon an army of teeth will keep him safe from anything. Anything but the sharp edges and scary words inside him.

Luca’s eyes find his again to mirror the shivering slivers of intense focus. They don’t flicker even a millimeter, but Alberto feels every other sense working relentlessly to survey him. He feels every little anticipatory twitch of his own fins echoed back in ripples by Luca’s billowing in a far slower, more calculated way, but the puffs of water coming through his heaving gills betray an intoxicating scent Alberto can’t place or name but lets him know Luca is just as desperately eager as him for – for – something. 

Alberto ends up asking Daniela for advice haha:

Daniela is quiet as he chokes out the words, gills burning as he fills their cave with mortification. She keeps quiet as his fins droop with humiliation confiding what he knows and a very barebones retelling of his experiences. She stays quiet when he stops, so abruptly mid sentence it’s jarring even to his own ears, but he can’t go into detail without infringing on Luca’s privacy.

Alberto doesn’t dare look up and notices he’s even clutching the tip of his tail for comfort like a guppy. He’s fully grown but hasn’t felt quite this small since his knees knocked together as he chased after Bruno. He whips his tail back underneath him, clears his throat and announces, “I’m done.”

Alberto’s eyes flicker nervously up as she floats over, giving him a sympathetic smile before crushing him in a fierce hug that has him chirping in surprise. “Of course you wouldn’t know, Alberto, of course you wouldn’t, I should have realized as much, I should have invited you as well-” he has a quick flash of how he and Luca would stifle their giggles and be whacked up the head by Daniela’s large, fanning tail fin “- I didn’t think. Of course you don’t know, sweetheart.”

He groans and wriggles out of her embrace with the embarrassed frustration of a teenager smothered. Impoliteness aside, Daniela thankfully takes mercy on him, explaining the whole process from start to finish, from the playfighting and pebbling to the dance and the mating itself. She answers all his questions, and gracefully ignores the awkwardly obvious holes in his words where her son resides.

Like when he prods her for information on differences in their biologies, why the Paguros don’t eat meat, why Alberto is sharper and faster, and why he’s always more eager to use claws and fangs. For a moment, Daniela fixes him with an imposing stare and he curls in on himself, and he thanks the heavens scales don’t blush as he fumblingly explains that no he’s not biting her son that much and yes Luca does like it and yes Luca bites him just as much. 

Her demeanor and scent is so comforting he even very carefully tells her about how uncomfortable the past couple of weeks have been and the lengths he’s gone to lessen the itching under his scales. Daniela laughs heartily with clicks and rattles and his fins stand on end. She quickly smooths down his facial fins and says, “Alberto, honey, I know you miss him. But you also have spring fever.” He frowns at her. “You’re just plain old horny.”

Alberto wriggles out of her grip with a loud groan echoing Luca’s exasperation with her. “Signora Paguro, please!”

Daniela continues loudly over his protests. “Come spring, mating season starts and the water’s full of pheromones and every last barnacle comes crawling out of their caves.” She inhales and ruffles her head fins. “Out of courtesy you should ask first, but I’m sure Luca would understand if you chased some tail to cool your gills until he gets back home.”

And then when they’ve both matured enough that the mating instinct really sets in:

Then Luca steps off the train, and seeing him is like a punch to the gut. He steps to the side to let other passengers by and quickly shake his head, the familiar little motion he does in relief when shaking off unpleasantness. Then he freezes as his nostrils flare. He looks up and his eyes meeting Alberto’s is like a punch to the gut.

Usually, they’d be running towards each other and almost fall onto the train tracks with the forceful impact of their hug, but Alberto’s feet are rooted to the ground as they stare each other down.

Luca’s changed. Luca’s always changed come summer, he expects it and anticipates it. He’s a little taller, a little stronger, a little easier and more assured in his movements. His hair is longer and his glasses are new but that’s not it. Luca’s changed and it’s only been three seconds and he’s already going crazy trying to figure out what it means.

Luca lifts his chin and it’s like he can see his fins ruffling.

Alberto straightens his spine, feeling his phantom tail rise to attention.

Giulia hovers around him, worrying and asking what’s wrong, did you have a fight? Alberto grits his teeth and shakes his head. 

Even if he tried to, human words wouldn’t come close to explaining the nuances of smells and tastes in the electric summer air without the harshness of clicking consonants in a siren throat, the significance of fins fluttering and tails twitching. Besides, he doesn’t understand it himself, but it’s big and important and Luca senses it too.

Human words simply fall short compared to the beauty of not needing to ask and answer but just sense and react and dance around each other until they figure this out.

and here they are inspecting each other:

In one heart-stopping moment, when Luca’s flipping over him to swim above his head and grab his tail, he catches sight of the new blush of golden yellow scales peeking up from his shorts. His throat clatters in some odd mixture of excitement and alarm that makes Luca sink to the bottom laughing.

Alberto feels his pupils contracting and needs a moment to clear away the excited growls tearing in his throat, because Luca is laying there in a perfect little pit of sand with his belly and golden scales face-up looking at him with his sunny, inviting smile.

His body senses that Luca is ready and he is so very, very ready, has been for too long. But he doesn’t want to scare him off with his eagerness. Exaggerating the tilt of his head and laying his fins flat in a display of humility, Alberto swims down and hovers nervously above him. Because he comes from imposingly from above, because he’s older and sharper and stronger, because his lizard brain screams to pounce right this second, but even with his lacking knowledge, he understands that that would be poor form for both humans and sirens.

Also more tiny fish vs human biology tidbits that aren’t really fleshed out, but I’m playing around with:

Deprived of salt filtering and rinsing out his gills, Alberto’s throat feels like sand and pure death with every rasping inhale. Massimo looks at him in astonishment as he drowns out his zucchini casserole in heaped spoons of salt, but purchases three kilos extra to tide him over until summer.

(...)

Alberto is barely able to roll up on the shore of Isola del Mare and rub his face dry before the tears come. There is one thing humans have sirens beat for, and that is a good cry. Without it constantly engulfing him, the salt water squeezed through his weak human eyes is comforting. He cries harder than he has in years and feels lighter and clearer when his heart is finally dry the way it will never be underwater.

Alberto isn't able to lie underwater 'cause he's not used to controlling his body language in sea monster form so Luca tries telling him he's in love with/loves him (depends on context) and his fins flare in alarm 'cause he refuses to/doesn't believe him:

Luca gently closes his jaws to plant a kiss on his throat and sigh, “God, I love you so much.” His fins flare in something like alarm and threat and worry. Luca pulls back, pupils contracting to survey him. “What’s wrong, Beto?”

Alberto doesn’t know how to hide in this form, to freeze the curve of his smile and give an affected laugh and hold himself together with malleable skin or will alone. He can’t control all the intricate machinations of this body, the flaring of fins or curl of his tail, the scent of his emotions and taste of his thoughts.

He hates that he can’t hide but loves that Luca will always find him.

The urge to turn tail and flee is quickly stopped by Luca pressing close against him, neck to tail intertwined as he purrs soothingly into his neck. In human form he’d be annoyed, how dare he presume to know what Alberto needs, but his tongue flicks out and tastes only kindness and worry and something sweet, unknown yet familiar. “You do?” he breathes.

“I- I’ve told you loads of times, Alberto, it’s you who hasn’t-”

“What? That’s not true I-”

“Beto, I promise I’ve told you-”

Alberto snorts. “You think I’d miss you saying - that?”

Luca scowls at him and gives a sneer around a series of clicks and trills. “Sound familiar?” He nudges their snouts together, and even with frustration making him hard and sharp, it soothes Alberto’s heart. “Feel familiar?” he whispers against his cheek, the purring deep in his throat clearer and sharper through his open lips.

“Oh.” Alberto closes his eyes and inhales the scent seeping through Luca’s gills, the comfort of billowing grass above and below water, of all things tangy and salty that make humans scrunch up their noses but make him want to flip over and rub against it because it’s warmth and safety and home and little stars in the corners of his eyes. “That’s what it means?”

#skypieposts #skypiefics #im just shoving stuff at y'all today bc for once i feel like my brain and meat is huge

[mytardisisparked]

Hi this is an entirely self-indulgent fic and I have zero apologies to make about it.

Based on this post.

Enjoy.

-------

The Problem with Kenobis

Satine didn’t hate political dinners, per se. Really, she actually enjoyed the dancing and the food and the lively conversation. What she actually hated was the subversion - the political maneuvering and manipulating that left her feeling slimy and ready to quit politics entirely. Mostly, she supposed, she hated being a pawn.

Nevertheless, she was willing to risk the more disgusting side of politics for the sake of the food and fun, which is why she attended the crown prince of Mon Cala’s birthday party with little hesitation.

The room was lush, a glass dome let the guests admire the waters of the capital city from the safety of dryness as they munched on hors d'oeuvres and danced intermittently. Upon arrival, the duchess had not seen anyone she knew very well and, not feeling entirely sociable before having had at least one martini, she grabbed her choice drink and settled herself into a corner until something interesting happened, content to simply watch the fish swim by outside.

“It’s almost like a reverse-fishbowl, isn’t it?” A musical voice interrupted her thoughts.

Satine turned to find herself looking at a young, ginger woman. She was about the same height as Satine and clad in lovely, flowing robes of black and gold that still managed to look quite practical on her solid frame. She was smiling gently and there was an almost familiar glint of mischief in her silver eyes. 

“Yes,” Satine smiled back before turning back to the ocean view, “I suppose it is.”

She saw the woman move to stand next to her out of the corner of her eye. “You are Duchess Satine, are you not?”

Satine turned her head to look at the woman again, studying her carefully. There was something familiar about her, but Satine couldn’t quite put her finger on where they might have met. “Yes. I’m afraid I’m not sure of your name.”

The woman turned back to her and stuck out a hand to shake. “I’m Senator Mri-Lan Cairn of Stewjon. I’m afraid we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, though I’m quite familiar with your history.”

Satine raised a brow as she took Senator Cairn’s hand. “Oh?” She still couldn’t quite place the redhead but perhaps she had seen the young senator on the news - Stewjon did ring a bell. “I assume you are part of the Republic then.”

Senator Cairn inclined her head. “Indeed. I must say, Duchess, I’m fascinated by your take on pacifism. The fact that you managed to subdue a warrior race into such a political stance without any blood drawn is quite the remarkable feat.”

“Thank you, although, it wasn’t without the spilling of blood entirely.” Satine lowered her gaze. “It took a civil war that nearly wiped my people out to start convincing them to stop fighting.”

The senator’s eyes grew dim. “I’m sorry, that can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t.”

They stood quietly for a moment. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne and Senator Cairn took one, drinking it in one go.

“Well, Duchess, I must say that I am somewhat surprised to see you at a Republic function.” The senator smiled. “Not that I’m complaining, of course; I’ve desired to meet you for some time.”

Satine couldn’t help but grin. She usually hated compliments as they felt ingenuine but, as cheeky as this young woman seemed, Satine could tell the compliment was entirely genuine. “You flatter me, Senator. I’m here because I have a good friendship with the royal family of Mon Cala.” She paused for a moment. “You may call me Satine, if you would prefer.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Satine, you may call me Mri-Lan.”

Satine smiled back. “Alright, Mri-Lan.”

The two stuck to each other’s side for the rest of the evening, swapping gossip about other party guests, laughing over drinks, debating politics, bantering about the news, and stealing as many finger foods as they could manage. The longer they hung out, however, the more and more Satine felt she had met the young woman before; everything about her - her face, her eyes, her expressions, even her manner of speaking - engulfed Satine in a peculiar sense of deja vu.

As the party grew quieter, couples settling into slow dances or corners to talk, Mri-Lan and Satine found a table and some crackers to enjoy in peace.

“Do you have family, Mri-Lan?”

The redhead smiled. “I do. My husband and I just got married a few months ago.” She flicked a button on her wrist communicator and a blue holo of a dashing young man popped up. “This is Gen-Dar.”

Satine leaned in and looked him over. “He’s quite handsome.”

“He is.” Mri-Lan beamed. “I also have a couple of brothers.” She swiped to a new holo image of a massive, burly man. “This is Har-Gar, my eldest brother and this,” she swiped once more, “is my younger brother, Sur-Kan.” The boy was a few years younger than Mri-Lan and was as slender as his elder brother was wide.

“They’re so different.” Satine marveled. “And yet you all still manage to look alike.”

Mri-Lan grinned. “It’s a family trait.”

As Satine studied the picture of Sur-Kan, something hit her. “Do- do all Stewjonians hyphenate their names?”

The senator nodded. “Yes, it's part of our culture.”

Satine took another sip of her martini, her throat suddenly feeling dry. “Mri-Lan, what was your maiden name?”

“It was Kenobi.”

It was all Satine could do not to spit out her drink.

She looked at Mri-Lan with wide eyes. “Is that a common last name on Stewjon?”

The senator gave her a half-smile. “Is that really the question you want to ask?”

Satine lifted her chin. “You’re related to Obi-Wan Kenobi, aren’t you?”

Mri-Lan smiled. “Yes, he is my second older brother.”

Suddenly, Satine’s entire night made sense - her easy conversation with Mri-Lan even in the midst of their political differences, their friendly banter, the familiarity of Mri-Lan’s smile and gestures.... even the timbre of the senator’s voice was the same as Obi-Wan’s even though her accent was quite different.

“Oh,” was all Satine could bring herself to say.

The senator smiled. “You know Obi-Wan quite well, don’t you?”

Satine swallowed. “Yes, he is a dear friend.”

Mri-Lan gave her a peculiar look. “What is he like?”

Satine paused, feeling a pang in her heart at the longing she saw in the young woman’s eyes. Memories of Satine’s own sibling, Bo Katan, bubbled up, nearly choking her. She shoved those emotions down to where they usually rested deep inside her mind. 

“To be honest, he’s a lot like you just...” she grinned wryly, “a great deal more infuriating.”

Mri-Lan laughed. “You haven’t seen me at my worst, Satine.”

The blonde woman smiled. “Thankfully, you haven’t seen me at mine either.”

“A toast then,” Mri-Lan held up her glass, “to new friends and old ones.”

Satine clinked her glass against hers. “And to hopefully seeing more of each other in the future.” She took her sip and studied Mri-Lan’s face. “Perhaps I could tell you more about your brother.”

Mri-Lan turned her hopeful face to Satine. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’d like that.”

Satine watched as Mri-Lan finished her drink. With a smile, Satine finished her own, thinking about how much Obi-Wan would like his sister. For a moment, she contemplated introducing them but then, reality crashed in and made her realize the chaos that would cause; images flooded her mind of the two Kenobis teaming up on her to tease and banter. That would never do - Obi-Wan was a handful as it was and to add a smaller, female version of him would just be too many Kenobis.

Exactly why Korkie and Obi-Wan could also never meet.

#Obitine #too many kenobis #i might make this a series IDK #just watchign satine and anakin meet various kenobi siblings #and cousins #and obi-wan not realizing he is related to any of them #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #satine kryze #korkie is a kenobi

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Pt 13

AN: Another part is up! Let me know what you’re thinking of the series so far because I’m thinking of ending it soon because I’d hate for it to go on longer than needed. But I am having a lot of fun writing it and love hearing back from you guys! Thank you all for those that have been reading since the beginning and if you’re just finding the series, welcome! Enjoy!

Steven Hyde x Reader

October 15, 1978

The Forman Kitchen

Point Place, Wisconsin           

The morning at the breakfast table, things still hadn’t changed between the three teenagers, but they were at least able to be around each other without fists flying, so y/n took that as a plus. Y/n could barley eat though. She had woken up feeling sick to her stomach; the thought of food repulsing her. She nibbled on her toast and couldn’t even sip on her orange juice without wanting to vomit.             

“Y/n, are you okay?” Kitty asked concerned. “You’ve barley touched your breakfast.”          

Y/n groaned. “Just feeling a little sick is all.”            

Kitty hummed and pressed the back of her hand to y/n’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm. Maybe it was something you ate.”            

Y/n groaned again and put her head down. “Maybe.”           

 “Hey Dad, can you pass the bacon?” Eric asked, stretching arm out.            

Y/n gagged and groaned. “Please don’t say bacon.”           

 Eric smirked and grabbed a piece, biting into it. “Mhmmmm…bacόn.”           

 “Please stop,” she grumbled, her stomach churning.            

“It’s so juicy and chewy and the fat at the end is the best part,” Eric continued, laughing.            

“Oh, God! Did you have to say that?!” she screeched as she made haste to the nearest bathroom. She could feel the contents of her stomach rising before she made it to the bathroom.            

“Did you really have to do that?” Kitty asked, disappointed.             

“Yes,” Eric responded. “Yes, I did.”            

Kitty shook her head in disapproval and brought her fork of food to her mouth.            

Red glared at his son before returning his attention to the newspaper.            

“What?!” Eric asked. “She started it!”            

“Oh, boo hoo, she broke your dolls,” Red mocked.           

 “G.I Joes,” Eric corrected.           

 “Whatever,” his father answered. “Whatever she did isn’t worth making her throw up over.”            

Yes, it is, Eric thought.            

Y/n returned to the kitchen, her skin ashen and her eyes sunken. “I think I’m going to go back to bed so I don’t barf all over the table.”            

“Well, okay honey,” Kitty said getting up and taking her plate to the sink. “I’ll bring you some soup later, okay?”            

Y/n shook her head, making a face of disgust. “Please, Mom. I can’t even think about food right now.”           

 “Well, you have to get some food in you,” Kitty responded. “Otherwise you’ll get even more sick.”            

Y/n nodded. “Okay. I just really want to go back to bed.”            

“Okay sweetie,” Kitty responded, rubbing her daughter’s shoulder. “We’ll see you later.”            

Y/n nodded and stole a glance at Hyde before she made her way upstairs.         

“Eric, I need you to mow the lawn later,” Red demanded as he finished his breakfast.            

“What? Why can’t Hyde do it?”            

“Because unlike your sorry ass, I actually have work,” Hyde replied.           

 Eric glared at him before turning back to Red. “Why do I always have to do it?”           

 “Because I said so!” Red barked.                                                 

                                                   --Time Skip—           

 “So, you think you got food poisoning, huh?” Donna asked that night over the phone.             

Y/n nodded before she realized she was talking over the phone. “Yeah, I do. Every time I move, my body screams at me. My back is hurting so much. And my stupid cramps aren’t helping any either.”           

 “Have you been throwing up that much?”            

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, wiping her sweaty and oily hair out of her face. “I think I pulled a muscle in my back or something because of it. Even my boobs hurt.”    

  “Nausea, back aches, and tender breasts,” Donna counted off. “Hey, you may be pregnant.” Donna chuckled at her own joke.           

 “Ha ha,” Y/n chortled. “You’re funny. Definitely not pregnant.”           

 “Yeah? And how do you know?”            

“Because I’m supposed to be getting my period in a few days. These could be symptoms of PMS. Or maybe both.”            

“Supposed to,” Donna pushed, putting emphasis on her words.            

“Shut up,” Elena laughed. “Stop saying that. I’m not pregnant. Eric would throw himself off a cliff if that happened. Or Hyde. Or Eric would push Hyde off a cliff. One of the three.”          

  Donna chuckled. “But seriously, are you alright?”            

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t do much for a couple of days.”            

“Okay, well if you need anything, you know where to find me.”            

“Thanks Donna,” Y/n said. “I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”            “Alright, rest easy. Talk to you later.”            

Y/n hung up the phone before turning back around and falling back asleep, feeling her stomach churning. Pregnant.            

The word echoed in her head as sleep quickly enveloped her.                                                                             --Time Skip—           

 “Guys!” Kelso called as he barged through the door in the basement. “The Omen is on TV right now!” He hurriedly made his way over to the television set, switching on the movie.           

 “Kelso, what the hell, man? We were watching that!” Hyde piped up.            “C’mon, it’s Halloween season!” Kelso argued. “Tis the season to be jolly!”            

“That’s Christmas, moron,” Jackie said from behind him.           

 “Well, whatever! I think we should get in the spirit.”            

The gang groaned as they leaned back into their seats.           

 “Hey, where’s y/n?” Hyde asked.            

“Oh, she’s upstairs sleeping,” Donna answered nonchalantly.            

“Still? It’s six o’ clock,” he responded. “She’s been upstairs since this morning.”    

“Well, food poisoning is a real bitch,” she replied. “And so is PMS.”           

 “Alright, TMI,” Eric said and got up to turn up the volume on the TV.            

“Oh, Eric, don’t be such a prude,” Fez said. “It’s completely natural. In my culture, we honor women whenever they go through their monthly ordeal. It’s kind of a big deal. We thank the gods and celebrate their womanhood. Then, we bring them flowers and chocolates and some candy too. Or whatever else they’re craving. They get a week off and can stay at home in bed while their husbands, brothers, fathers, or sons take care of everything.”            

“Wow…can I join your culture?” Donna asked.          

  Fez chuckled. “Sure, if you feel like eating bugs for breakfast.”            

Donna grimaced. “Never mind.” She turned to Eric. “Why don’t you do that for me?”            

“Because a woman shouldn’t bleed for seven days straight and still live,” he deadpanned.           

 “Yeah, I don’t trust anything that can bleed for that long and not die,” Kelso said.            

Hyde looked at him amused. “You can’t even be with a woman for seven days straight, let alone be there for her during her monthly problem.”           

 “Not true! I was with Jackie for three years!”           

 “And you cheated on me at least once a month!” Jackie responded. “Hey…wait a minute!”           

 “You guys, women are sacred. They need to be honored and cherished during this time because the pain they go through, we will never understand,” Fez said gently.            

 “We don’t understand?” Hyde said. “Have you ever been kicked in the nads?”            

“Okay, sure, but imagine getting kicked in the nads for at least 3 days straight,” Donna responded.             

“Oh, God!” Eric said, squirming in his seat. “I can’t even imagine that!”            

“Well, sometimes, it’s even more painful,” Jackie added.             

“What does it feel like?” Kelso asked, staring at her.            

“Well, it can feel like someone is taking a knife to your pelvis and slowly twisting it,” Jackie responded causing all the men in the room to squirm, except for Fez.            

“Fez, man, how are you not effected by this?” Kelso asked.            

“I grew up with five sisters,” he responded, shrugging. “Nothing I’m not used to.”            

“Are you guys seriously talking about periods?” Y/n asked as she slowly made her way down the stairs.            

“Hey, you’re up,” Donna stated. “How are you feeling?”            

“Pretty lousy,” Y/n said. “But I’d rather be miserable with company than go through it alone.” She plopped down on the couch next to where Hyde was sitting.            

“Are you going through your…girl problem?” Kelso asked nervously.            

“What? No,” Y/n replied. “I mean, I could be, but it could also be food poisoning.”           

 “Well, what did you eat?” Hyde asked.            

“Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that you guys didn’t eat,” she replied.           

 “Must be the PMS thing then,” Donna said, laughing when Eric shifted uncomfortably in his seat.           

 “Can we please stop talking about my sister’s cycle? It’s giving me a very vivid image that I’d rather not have.”            

“Y/n, do you need anything?” Fez asked sweetly. “Chocolate? Water? A hot water bottle?”            

Y/n smiled at him. “Why, yes, Fez. That would be lovely.”           

 “Okay, I’ll be right back!” Fez beamed and hopped out the chair to run out the door.           

 “Hey, man, why are you taking care of my chick?” Hyde asked, stopping Fez at the door. “That’s my job.”           

 “Then why aren’t you doing it?” Fez shot back.            

Y/n’s mouth fell open in a laugh as she covered it with her hand. Donna and Jackie tightened their lips to keep themselves for laughing.            

“’Cause she didn’t ask,” he responded.            

“She shouldn’t have to,” Fez said calmly. “You should just do it for her. That’s how you keep your woman happy.”            

“Then why couldn’t you keep Jackie happy?” Hyde quipped.            

Y/n gasped. “Steven!”            

“No, no it’s okay,” Fez said, oddly calm. “You know, Hyde, normally that would bother me, but not today because I’m not the one having another man making my woman happy.”            

Hyde grabbed the nearest object—a magazine—and threw it at Fez, but before it could hit him, he slammed the door shut; the magazine hitting the door with a thud.            

 “He’s right, you know,” Y/n responded with a smile.            

“Do you really feel that way?” Hyde asked her.            

Y/n shrugged. “Not really. It would be nice though.”            

“I see,” Hyde said and stood from his chair, stalking his way to his room.           

 “Steven, wait!” she called after him. “I wasn’t being serious!”            

He flapped a hand at her without turning to look at her and slammed his door.            

“Wow,” Jackie said, puffing out her cheeks. “That escaladed quickly.”           

Y/n shrunk down in her seat, feeling guilty. “What else is new with this group?” 

 “This is great!” Eric beamed, causing everyone to stare at him in confusion. “Now Hyde is mad at you too! Not just me.”           

 Y/n groaned and stood up slowly. “You’re an immature dillhole. I’m going back to bed.”           

 “What should I tell Fez when he gets back?” Donna asked.           

 “That I’m upstairs and he can come up.”           

 “I don’t think Hyde will like that very much,” Kelso mentioned.            

“Who cares?” Eric griped.           

 “Look, I’ll deal with Hyde later,” Y/n responded, ignoring her twin. “Right now, I just want to feel better.” She trudged up the stairs, leaving the group alone.           

 “What a mess,” Donna said.          

  “Tell me about it,” Jackie responded. “Eric, are you still mad at them?”           

 “Of course, I am!” he responded, surprised that Jackie would ask him such a question. “How can I not be?”           

 “Well, you can try not being mad,” Jackie suggested sarcastically.            

 “Eric, give it a rest, yeah?” Donna said. “It’s been over a week.”           

 Eric growled and leaned back in his seat.            

 “He was supposed to be moved out by now,” he mumbled.           

 “Shut. Up. Please,” Donna snapped. “He literally has nowhere to go. You have to be a real prick to throw him out on the streets. It’s not like he murdered your sister.”            

“You just don’t get it, Donna!” he whined. The whole group groaned.            

“Yeah, yeah, yeah we don’t get it because it’s not our sister and we would be pissed too if Hyde was nailing her, blah blah blah. Seriously, Eric, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we’re sick of hearing about it,” Kelso said, irritated. He just wanted to watch the movie. Why wasn’t anybody respecting that?            

Eric furrowed his brows at his friends. “You guys really feel this way?”            

“YES!” Jackie, Donna, and Kelso said in unison.           

 “Oh. Well, then, fine,” Eric grumbled and stood up.           

 “Where are you going?” Donna asked.           

 “Since you guys are tired of hearing about it, I’m going to go somewhere else.”           

 “Oh my God, you are such a drama queen,” Donna groaned. “Just sit back down and watch the movie with us.”            

“Nah, I’m good. See you guys later.” With that, he grabbed his coat and shut the door, leaving the three teenagers left to watch the movie.            

“He’s gotten more annoying than usual,” Jackie commented.            

“You know, Jackie, normally I would be offended by that, but this time I have to agree with you,” Donna responded.            

“Well, now we can watch the movie,” Kelso said.            

The three sat in silence on the couch until Kelso tried to sneak his hand up Donna’s leg.           

 “Kelso!” Donna screeched as she slapped his hand away.           

 “Damn, Donna! I was just looking for the remote!”           

 “The remote is on the table, you idiot,” Jackie pointed out.           

 Kelso looked between the two girls with a hurt look. “Women are mean!” He stomped out the basement, forgetting the movie.            

The girls looked at each other and shrugged, returning their attention to the TV before Donna got up to change it back to the channel they were watching.                                                

                                                 --Time Skip—            

Y/n stared down at the home pregnancy test, shock filling her. Positive. The test was freaking positive. She was going to be a mother. Oh God, how would everyone else react? What kind of mother was she going to be?           

 “Oh, Y/n, how could you?” Kitty asked from behind her, hurt playing on her face.    

“Wait, Mom--!” Y/n tried to call after her mother before Red showed up at her side.           

 “How could you be such a disgrace to the family?!” Red shouted, his face turning pink. Kitty turned to her husband’s side and started sobbing. “Look what you’re doing to your mother!”            

“No, but Daddy—” Y/n said, tears welling in her eyes.            

“Wow, you’re such a whore!” Eric laughed as he suddenly appeared by their parents’ side. “And here I thought Laurie would be the one to get knocked up from some rando.”            

“What?” she asked her twin, tears cascading down her pale cheeks.            

“Wow, little sister, you certainly top me,” Laurie said, smirking.            

“Laurie?” Y/n questioned.           

 “I’m leaving you,” Steven said coldly, appearing in front of her. “You were just a fling. You knew this from the start. I can’t have a baby with a loser.”           

 “You said you loved me!” Y/n screamed.          

  “I lied,” Steven said and smirked. “I only strung you along so that I could nail you. Now, look at you. You’re fat and alone.”            

Y/n looked down and saw that her stomach had enlarged. “What?” she whispered.           

 “We can’t have you in the family,” Kitty suddenly said. “We can’t have a whore in the family.”            

“You have Laurie!”           

 “At least she didn’t get pregnant!” her mother shot back. “You and your mistake can get out of our house, out of our lives. You’re no longer welcome!”            

“No, Mom! Please, I need you. I need Daddy and Steven, please. I can’t do this alone. I need you more than ever.”           

 She went to grab his hands, but he jerked away from her. “Well, you’re gonna have to do it alone.”            

Tears cascaded down her face as she tried to blink them away, but as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. Suddenly, Y/n found herself sitting alone in a total darkness, a single light shining above her.           

 “No,” she whimpered, looking around. “No. No. NO!”            

Y/n jerked awake, sweat coating her forehead. Her breathing was slightly heavy as she glanced at the clock. 2:08AM. She sighed and fell back onto her pillow, fingers threading through her sweaty and knotted hair. She couldn’t believe she’d been asleep for eight hours.            

Her room suddenly flooded with light as Kitty, dressed in her pink robe, hair a rat’s nest, stood in her cracked door. “Y/n, honey, are you alright? I heard you yelling.”           

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Y/n replied. “Just had a nightmare.”            

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Kitty replied and moved closer to adjust herself on the bed. “You know, when you were little, you would get nightmares all the time. And the only thing that would soothe you and get you to go back to sleep is when I would gently caress your hair until you fell back asleep.”            

Y/n smiled softly. “Too bad I’m older now, huh?”            

“Oh, nonsense,” Kitty said and leaned over, caressing her hair back. “You’re never too old for your mother’s love.”            

Y/n smiled and turned on her side, facing Kitty.            

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked her daughter after a moment of silence.            

Y/n thought about it for a minute. She actually wanted to talk to her about it, but she knew if she did, she could open up something that she really didn’t want to. Even if it were just a dream, Kitty would know that it was something much deeper than that.            

“No,” she responded after a beat. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”          

  “Of course sweetheart,” Kitty cooed. She continued to smooth Y/n’s hair, effectively calming her down. Fifteen years later and it still works.           

 Y/n could already feel sleep overcoming her again. “Thank you, Mommy,” she mumbled as her eyelids grew heavier.            

“You’re absolutely welcome,” Kitty responded and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”           

 “I love you too,” Y/n whispered before falling asleep once more.                                                                         

                                                 ⧝⧝⧝            

Y/n woke up the next day, just as horrible as the day before. She dragged herself out of bed and trudged downstairs to see her family eating lunch.            

“Morning Sunshine,” Kitty cheerfully greeted her. “You must be really sick to sleep in till noon.”            

Y/n grunted back and grabbed some orange juice and sat down. The smell of their lunch making her nose curl, repulsing her.           

 “How’re you feeling, kitten?” Red asked.            

“I’m okay,” Y/n responded. “Could be better. Still feel kinda nauseas and tired.”            

“You want some dry toast?” Kitty asked. “You haven’t eaten much.”           

Y/n nodded tiredly and put her head on the table. “I’d love some actually.”            

Kitty smiled and got up, popping bread in the toaster. “Oh, your foreign friend dropped off some stuff for you. I left it here on the counter.”            

“Hm?” Y/n hummed, looking at Kitty.            

“He said something to do with your menstrual cycle, so he dropped off a hot water bottle, some midol, and a box of chocolate.”           

 “Oh, come on, Kitty, not while we’re eating!” Red exclaimed, disgusted.           

 The whole time, Eric and Steven had been quiet. Steven glared at the gifts through his aviators. Eric rolled his eyes and continued to eat his lunch.            

“What a sweet boy!” Kitty laughed. “You know, I don’t think I’d mind if you ended up with him.”            

Y/n smiled as Kitty set a plate of two slices of dry toast in front of her.           

 “I’m going to make you some tea as well. You gotta get some liquids in you,” Kitty stated.           

 “Kitty, don’t put ideas in her head!” Red said, throwing down the paper he was reading.           

 “What do you mean by that?” Y/n asked, offended. “Is it because of his skin color?”            

“What?” Red asked, scrunching up his face. “God, no! I don’t want you dating anybody. You’re too young.”       ��   

 “Dad, I’m eighteen,” Y/n deadpanned as she nibbled at her toast. “Eric and Donna have been dating since they were, like, eight.”            

“No, we haven’t,” Eric argued.            

 “Shut up, yes you have,” Y/n said.            

“Eric’s different,” Red continued. “Eric is a man, or as close of a man as he can get. Besides, Donna is the best he’s ever going to do.” He started laughing, but he was the only one who found that funny.           

 “Thanks Dad,” Eric deadpanned.            

“Red Forman!” Kitty exclaimed.            

“What? It’s funny!” Kitty gave him a hard look making him shut up. “Fine, it’s not.”            

Y/n managed a small smile before bringing a piece of toast to her lips. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not even seeing anyone.”            

Eric stopped mid-bite to give side eye to his twin sister. Y/n returned a hard, cold stare to her brother as if to say don’t you freaking dare.           

 “So, Fez gave you those huh?” Steven asked.            

“Yeah, I guess,” Y/n replied. “That was really nice of him.”           

 “Yeah, real nice,” he responded slowly.            

“It was,” Y/n replied, staring at her boyfriend in suspicion. “You got something to say?”           

 “No, why would I?” he responded. “Why would I have anything to say that my best friend is flirting with my…other best friend?”            

Kitty stood at the stove as she waited for the tea to heat up and squinted her eyes at Steven before looking to her husband who was giving him the same look.           

 “What’s your deal, Hyde?” Y/n asked him, growing annoyed with him.            

“Oh, nothing,” he responded. “I’m just saying that he’s never done this for another girl before unless it was Jackie.”            

“Steven, what’re you getting at?” Red asked him.            

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Y/n?” Hyde said, staring coldly at her.           

 Y/n returned the glare. “If you’re insinuating that Fez likes me, you are terribly, terribly wrong.”            

“Then why would he do it for you?” he asked impatiently.           

 “I don’t know!” Y/n responded, flabbergasted. “Because he wants to be nice?”            

“Nice, ha!” Steven hollered, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. “Guys don’t do things just to be nice.”            

Y/n gave him a look. “Why do you care so much what he does?”           

 “Yeah, Hyde. Why do you care?” Eric asked with a smirk.            

Steven realized what he was doing and looked at everyone who was looking at him with furrowed brows. He straightened his posture and looked down at his lunch, clearing his throat. “I don’t. I just find it rather odd.”            

“And if Fez does like me, what’s it to ya?” Y/n asked, cocking her head to the side.           

 “It doesn’t,” Hyde replied coldly, taking a sip from his iced tea.             

Y/n lifted an eyebrow at him before finishing off her toast.             

“Is there something going on between you two?” Red asked.            

The couple stole a glance at each other before looking to Red.           

 “No, not at all,” Y/n replied casually.           

 “Why would there be?” Steven asked.            

“I don’t know. You’re acting weird,” Red commented. “Stop it.”            

Steven grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”           

 “Here’s your tea, sweetheart,” Kitty said, bringing over a mug of tea. “And I put in some honey, Honey.” She laughed at her own joke.            

Y/n chuckled softly. “Thanks, Mom.”           

 “Oh, by the way, Sasha called for you yesterday,” Kitty said, sitting back down.            

Y/n perked up. “She did? Why?”          

  “I’m not too sure. She wanted to talk to you about something, but I told her you weren’t feeling well. So, I took down her number and told her you’d give her a call back when you feel better.”           

 “Yeah, I’ll call her back once I can stop vomiting.”            

“And yet, you’ve been able to achieve that this whole time,” Eric said sarcastically. “Must feel nice to finally be able to achieve something for once. Congrats, sis.”           

Y/n glared at him. “If I could control it, I’d do it on you right now.”            

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kitty cut in. “Finish your lunches.”            

“I can’t. I’m going downstairs to watch TV,” Y/n whimpered.           

 “Okay. Don’t forget your tea!” Kitty called out.            

Y/n turned back around and grabbed the warm mug between her cold hands and made her way downstairs. On her way, she grabbed the midol and the hot water bottle.            

At this point, Steven was seething as he watched his girlfriend take Fez’s gifts.        

 “Alright, well, I’m heading out for a few,” Steven announced, quickly getting up. “Thanks for the lunch, Mrs. Forman.”           

 “Oh, you’re welcome, dear,” she responded.           

 “Wanna come?” Hyde asked Eric.            

Eric looked up at him. “What for?”           

 “Just come on,” Hyde pushed and grabbed Eric by the shirt, tugging him out the door.           

 “But I’m not finished!” Eric whined.           

 “You are now,” Hyde said before closing the sliding door.            

“What’s with them?” Red asked.           

 “I have no clue,” Kitty responded, not caring. “They’re always up to something.”             

Outside, Eric shoved himself out of Hyde’s grasp. “What the hell, man?”            

“Get in the car,” Hyde ordered, unlocking the El Camino.            

“What? No,” Eric said, standing in his place.           

 “Get in. We have to talk.”           

 Eric crossed his arms. “I have nothing to say to you.”            

 “Great. Then you can just listen,” Hyde responded standing in front of the driver’s side door, waiting for Eric to get in. His arm rested on top of the car casually as if not a care in the world. “You going to get in?”            

“Why should I?”           

 Hyde groaned. “Just get in the car, man!”            

“Are you kidnapping me?” Eric asked as he slowly made his way to the passenger’s side.            

“Of course not.”            

“You gonna take me to the middle of nowhere, take my clothes after you convince met to skinny dip in the lake, and abandon me while I walk around naked and afraid like last time?”            

Hyde rolled his eyes. “I came back for you, didn’t I?”           

 “Three hours later!”           

 “For the love of God, just shut up and get in the car!”           

 “It was so cold,” Eric whimpered as he slid in the front seat and shut the door. “Where are we going?”           

 “For a drive,” Hyde responded and backed out the driveway. Once they were on the road, Hyde broke the silence. “Listen, man. This whole thing between you, me, and Y/n has gotten way out of hand.”            

“You don’t have to tell me.”            

“What happened to you shuttin’ up and letting me talk?”           

 Eric sighed, making a face. “Fine.”           

 “Look,” Hyde began. “I know you’re pissed off at us for dating and going behind your back—”           

 “And lying.”           

 “…Yeah, and lying about it. But I need you to know that everything I said is true. Y/n is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and when I say that I will do whatever I can to make her happy, I mean it. And this whole ending a friendship over it is stupid.”           

 Eric stared at Hyde in disbelief. “You’re serious about this? About my sister?”             

“Yeah, man. That’s why I’m here talking to you,” he responded and turned onto the main road. “I know we could’ve gone around it differently, but come on man, what would you have done? You’ve been saying that we need to put ourselves in your shoes, well put yourself in our shoes. Imagine if Donna was my sister, but you really liked her. What would you have done?”           

 Eric was silent for a minute. “Well, we probably wouldn’t be friends considering you kissed her and tried to get with her.”            

Hyde gave an exasperated sigh. “Man, will you focus?”            

 Eric thought about it for a second. “I guess I can understand that.”           

 “And I want you to know that I won’t disappoint her. I will take care of her and make sure she gets everything she wants and needs. I’m not going to be like the rest of my family and be a deadbeat and end up in prison. I will do good for her.”            

Eric turned his gaze to him and suddenly felt an anchor of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. “Oh, man. Look, Hyde when I said that…I didn’t mean it. I was angry and—”           

 “It’s fine,” Hyde said, cutting in.            

“No, no it’s not,” Eric turned to face him. “It was wrong of me to say that to you. It’s just that…she’s my sister, man. My twin, you know? My favorite sister. I can’t help but feel, you know, maybe a little overprotective of her.”            

“No, but you were right,” Hyde confessed and turned onto the highway. “I probably was headed down that path anyway. But being with her has actually made me want to be better.”            

Eric looked at Hyde like he had two heads. “You look like my friend, but you don’t sound like him. Where’s Hyde?!”           

 Hyde chuckled and turned off the highway, noticing Eric calling him his friend. “I know. It’s sickening.”            

Eric laughed and turned back around, facing the front. He noticed they were entering downtown. “Hyde…where are we going? This isn’t just a drive anymore.”            

“You’ll see in a minute,” he said and continued down a narrow road before stopping in front of a super store. He turned the car off and sat back quietly. “Just so you know, this wasn’t easy for me to talk about it. So, if you tell anyone, I’ll deny the whole thing.”            

Eric nodded and looked at Hyde seriously. “I’m still not happy about it, but I guess I don’t have a choice but to accept it. You two really do seem happy.”            

Hyde nodded and looked down. “We are, man.”            

“Just…don’t hurt her,” Eric said. “Then I’d have to kick your ass and then I’d end up getting my ass kicked and then Red will kick my ass for getting my ass kicked and then he’d hunt you down like a dog and then he’d kick your ass.”            

Hyde sat there in stunned silence. “Wow…that’s…detailed. How long have you been sitting on this?”            

“Pretty much since I found out.”           

 “Wow.”           

 “Yeah,” Eric replied. “Also, one more thing. I don’t wanna hear or see you and my sister doing anything. The image of you two doing anything makes me want to hurl.”          

  “Deal,” Hyde chucked. “So, are we good?”          

  Eric looked at him for a moment and grinned. “Yeah, man, we’re good.”            

Hyde nodded and the two boys lifted their hands, bringing each other in for bro-hug.           

 “Can I just ask you one question, though?” he asked.            

Hyde hummed.           

 “Why her? Why Y/n?”            

Hyde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. She’s different. She’s smart and actually funny, interesting, and genuine. Really sweet and cares about others beside herself. Besides, she’s smoking hot.”            

“Well, I’d never thought I’d hear my best friend put my sister and ‘smoking hot’ in the same sentence,” Eric retorted and pretended to gag. “Really, really unpleasant.”           

 “I know. I just said that because I think it’s funny,” Hyde laughed.          

  Eric slugged him in the shoulder. “And every time you say stuff like that, you’ll get hit.”            

They laughed lightly together before Eric slapped a hand on Hyde’s shoulder. “And, uh, don’t worry about my parents. Your secret is safe with me.”            

“Thanks, man,” Hyde replied. “Well, let’s go inside.”           

 “Why are we at this one?” Eric asked, joining Hyde outside the car. “You know there’s like three different stores in town. Why this one?”           

 “Because this is the biggest one in Point Place and they have everything I want.”           

 “Which is?”           

 “You’ll see.”            

As they entered the store, Hyde went for the first thing he saw: flowers. Specifically, half a dozen red roses. Then he went towards the freezer section, grabbing a pint of her favorite ice cream: mint chocolate chip.           

 “Ice cream?” Eric questioned.            

“I heard chicks really dig ice cream during their…problem time.”           

 “Yeah, Donna eats like four of those.”           

 “Damn,” Hyde sighed. “I’m, uh, I’m not very good at this. All I know is I want Y/n to feel better and I was kind of a jerk earlier.”           

 “Yeah, about that,” Eric piped up, browsing the ice cream flavors. “Why were reacting that way?” Eric’s eyes grew a fraction wider. “You were jealous, weren’t you?”           

 “What? No. I don’t get jealous.”            

“You so did!” Eric laughed. “You hated that Fez bought all that stuff for her because you felt like a bad boyfriend for not thinking about it earlier!”            

“You wanna get your ass kicked this early in the day?” Hyde threatened.             

Eric continued to laugh at him. “Just admit it. You totally did.”          

  Hyde rolled his eyes as he found his way to the soft drink section and grabbed a few bottles of ginger ale. “Okay, fine, maybe a little. But he shouldn’t have been hitting on her. She’s my chick. I should be the one getting all the stuff she needs.”           

 “And that’s what you’re doing now,” Eric stated, looking around. “Is that why you brought me here? To help you find stuff that she would like?”            

“No,” Hyde answered as they entered another aisle. He found a tin box of saltines and bent down to grab them. “I know what she likes; I don’t need you for that. I mainly brought you here so that we could sort crap out.” He picked up a box of assorted chocolates, something he knew she’d like.             

“You trying to tell me something?” Eric smirked, causing Hyde to chuckle. “Don’t you think you maybe going a little overboard?” He asked when he noticed Hyde putting everything in the basket.           

 “Maybe,” he answered honestly and led Eric away from the grocery section. “I just want her to know that I care.”            

“Well, she’ll definitely get that message,” the twin responded and noticed where Hyde was leading them. “Seriously? Condoms?”           

 “You don’t want me to knock her up, do you?”           

 “I’m still trying to accept you two and by you doing this in front of me is really bumming me out.”           

 Hyde laughed cruelly. “That’s kind of funny.” He quickly grabbed a pack and threw it in the cart. “Just don’t look at ‘em.”           

 Eric sighed and looked away. “What else are you giving her?”           

 “Besides a good time?”           

 Eric dramatically screeched and squirmed. “Please. Stop. Saying. That.”           

 Hyde burst into laughter, laughing at his friend’s discomfort. “That will never get old.”          

  “You’re a sadistic son of a bitch, you know that?”                                                        

                                                   —Time Skip—            

Y/n laid on the couch in the basement, wrapped up in a blanket, mindlessly watching tv. She was in and out of consciousness for the good part of the afternoon. Even though she was sick, she was still upset about her little dispute with Hyde.            

When did he become so jealous? Why would he think that of Fez? And worse of all, why didn’t he trust her enough? It hurt, but she was more curious as of why. She could feel her stomach beginning to churn again as it was ready to bring back up what she brought down earlier. 

Please, God, no. She quickly sat up, the room spinning for a minute, before she ran back to the bathroom and found herself with her head in the toilet. This had to be the forty-fifth time in the last couple of days of her spending time kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the light green basin.            

She held her hair back as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. It hurt so much and all she wanted in that moment was just to stop. What in the hell did she catch that made her feel this violently ill? After she was sure she was done, except from the dry heaving, she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. She sat against it for a little while longer, wishing her stomach would calm down enough for her to get a good sleep in. She couldn’t help but let a few tears escape. Her back was hurting, her body was aching, and her throat was burning. And on top of all that, she started cramping earlier in the day and the pain hadn’t subsided.             

“Y/n?” she heard from the basement living room.           

 She groaned in response and heard footsteps approach the door to the tiny bathroom. She twisted her face in pain as another surge of nausea reared its ugly head. Hyde appeared in the doorway just as he saw her turn her pale and tortured face into the basin once again. He could hear her whimpers through each retched gag.           

 “Awe, Doll,” he cooed and knelt down beside her, rubbing her back. He gathered her long hair in his hands and tried to look anywhere besides the toilet. He gently shushed her and reassured her that he was there now for her.          

Once she was finished, she fumbled for the handle, and pulled down. Hyde handed her some tissues to wipe her mouth. She gratefully accepted it and sat up fully, leaning against the wall.            

“What’re you doing here?” she croaked. “I thought you were pissed at me.”            

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he responded and helped her off the floor. He wrapped a protective arm around her waist and guided her back to the couch where Eric also sat.            

“Are you here to fight? Because this isn’t how I envisioned our first fight.”             

He gently sat her on the couch, handing her the blanket and chuckled. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”            

“Then what?”           

 “Mainly to give you these,” he responded and handed her the roses.            

Y/n’s face softened as she weakly grasped the flowers in her fists. “What’s this for?”           

 “An apology,” Hyde responded and took a deep breath. “I know I was a jealous jerk earlier and…I’m sorry, okay?”            

She looked at him in the eye. “Why were you?”            

“I don’t know,” he responded and rubbed his neck. “I just…I just didn’t like seeing some other guy bring you things that I should be bringing.”            

She meekly set the flowers down on the coffee table in front of her. “Steven, do you not trust me?”            

“What? Of course I do.”            

“Then why did you act like Fez was going to hook up with me and I wouldn’t be able to say no?”            

“No, it’s not that. I…I—can you hang on a second?” he turned around to look at Eric. “Can we get a minute?” he asked impatiently.           

 Eric’s smug look never left his face. “Sure. Doll.”           

 Hyde stood abruptly, intimidatingly. Eric laughed and ran upstairs.            

Y/n knit her eyebrows together. “You guys are okay now or something?”            

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and sat back down. “That’s another story.”            

Y/n nodded. “You were saying?”            

“Look, Y/n, when I saw Fez jumping in to immediately take care of you, I guess it felt like I…wasn’t doing my job as your boyfriend. And then when you said it did bother you, I knew I wasn’t. And…that maybe what everyone thinks is true.”            

“Which is what?” she pressed.           

 “C’mon, you’re really going to make me say it?”           

 “Yes,” she responded sternly.             

Hyde sighed and tore his eyes away from hers. “That…I’m not good enough…for you. There. Ya happy?”           

Y/n sighed, giving him a sad look. “No,” she responded gently and grabbed his hand. “No, I’m not happy. You can’t think that. You can’t let Fez get to you like that and it really didn’t bother me that you didn’t jump up to help me either. I’m a big girl. I can very well go get the stuff myself.”           

“So, you don’t mind?”           

 She smiled gently. “No. Yes, it’s nice if you did that stuff for me and trust me, I’d love it, but I’m not going to make you do it for me. I want you to want to do it for me.”            

He smiled at her and kissed the side of her head. “I did get you some things though.” He leaned down and grabbed the white bag, laying out the contents on the table. “I got you some ginger ale and saltines to help you with the nausea and then when it passes, I got you some chocolates and ice cream to satisfy your cravings.”           

 The look of sweets made her stomach churn, but she smiled through it and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, baby.”            

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly and kissed her head once more. He noticed that she was shivering and gently stood. “I’ll be right back.” He high tailed it to his room and brought back a sweater. “Here.”            

She grabbed it gratefully and threw it over her head, inhaling his scent: musk and woodsy. He settled on the couch next to her as she cuddled his side. He grabbed the blanket and threw it over both of them.           

“So, how was your day?” he asked her.            

“Fantastic,” she responded. “I spent the day throwing up my body weight and writhing in pain.”           

 “Sounds like a blast,” he chucked.           

“Oh, yeah, it was like a party in the toilet,” Y/n responded and chuckled when Hyde made a face. “How was yours?”           

 “Well, you know, it was fine,” he responded.             

“You and Eric work things out?”            

“Yeah. He’s still not happy about it, but he seems to—or trying to at least—accept it. I made him see the bigger picture here.”           

 “Which is?”            

“Us doing it.”           

 “Steven!”            

He threw his head back laughing. “I’m kidding.”           

 “You better be,” she said and reached over, grabbing the ginger ale. She laid back into his side and took a sip. She hummed and set it in her lap.            “Thank you, Steven. This is probably the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”            

He smiled at her gently. “Anything for you, doll.”           

 “Awe that’s so cute,” Eric called from the staircase. “It makes me want to vomit.”            

Y/n scowled at him. “What do you want?”            

“Well, I wanted to talk to you,” he said and sat down in the opposite chair.            

“You want to yell at me again?”           

 “No,” he responded and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I know I was an ass and I should’ve handled it better, but c’mon, my best friend and my sister, hooking up. I never thought that this would happen and to say I was shocked is an understatement.”           

 “I know,” she responded. “But you still said some pretty hurtful things, Eric, and you can’t take that back.”            

“I know and I wish I could. You’re my sister, the best one at that, and Hyde, you’re like a brother to me and I just…it hurt, okay? I can understand not wanting to tell anyone else, but to hide it from me? I felt like you couldn’t trust me.”            

Y/n cast her eyes down, feeling guilt. “I’m so sorry, Eric. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Lying to you wasn’t easy for me.”

“Then why did you do it?”

 “How would you take it if we just straight up told you?”            “

Yeah, Forman, what would you have said if I straight up said, ‘I’m nailing your sister.’ I bet you still wouldn’t have taken that lightly.”           

 Eric shuttered at the thought. “Yeah, definitely wouldn’t have. But it still wouldn’t have been as bad as me catching you.”            

Y/n looked at her twin for a moment before letting out a groan. “Dammit, I hate it when you’re right.”           

 “Yeah, and it’s not like I’m not going to kill you or anything.”           

 “Well, to be fair you did try to disown us,” Hyde defended.            

“Okay, yeah, but I just didn’t want to look at you guys at the moment,” Eric said.           

 “But kicking us out of the group and the house was the logical answer?” Y/n squinted at him.            

“Yeah, not my finest moment,” he agreed and sat down next to Y/n, causing her to shift over. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I hope you can forgive me.”            

Y/n looked at her brother, eyes getting all misty. “Only if you can forgive me.”            

Eric smiled at her. “C’mere little sister.” He brought her in and hugged her tight. 

Y/n reciprocated by wrapping her arms tightly. “I’m only two minutes younger.” 

“Still,” he chuckled. “Besides, if I don’t forgive you, then I won’t have a sister anymore.”           

 “We have Laurie,” Y/n responded, pulling away.           

 “Do you really want her close?”            

Y/n paused, pretending to think it over. “No, I really don’t.”           

 Eric chuckled. “Look, Y/n. I know I was a jerk, but you’re not only my sister, you’re my best friend and I don’t want anything to come between us.”            

Y/n nodded, smiling and wiped at her eyes. “Me too.”           

 “I’m still not entirely happy about you two and to be honest, I’m not sure if I ever will be, but I want you two to be happy and if it’s you two that make each other happy, then so be it. I just don’t want to see any of it.”            

“You got it,” Y/n responded, feeling lighter about the situation.           

 “I’m going to give you the same speech I gave Hyde,” Eric continued as Y/n’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’d never thought I’d have to say this to my sister about my best friend, but don’t hurt him. I may not be able to kick his ass, but I can for sure…try to kick yours.” As he was saying it, he knew it wasn’t true. Even if it was, he wasn’t going to do it anyway.         

Y/n cracked a wide smile, a smile that she hadn’t been able to muster for the last couple of days, and nodded. “Okay, bro. That sounds fair.”            

He turned to Hyde. “Just so you know, if you get her pregnant, I will have to find a new and interesting way to kick your ass.”           

 “Trust me, man, that ain’t gonna happen,” Hyde responded.            

“Yeah, we’re careful,” Y/n responded, adjusting herself to be laying against Hyde. Her stomach and back were starting hurt again and she was desperate to find some relief. Hyde threw an arm over her shoulders, bringing her closer. “Besides, Dad would literally stick his foot in both of our asses.”            

“And somehow, he’d still find a way to blame me,” Eric said.           

 “Hey, Y/n baby,” Fez called out, entering the basement. “How’re you feeling? You get my gifts?”           

 “Hi Fez,” Y/n greeted with a tiny smile. “I did, thank you. It was very nice of you, but I’m not feeling too much better.”            

“Sorry to hear that,” he responded.             

Y/n shrugged and snuggled deeper into Hyde’s side. “What’re you doing here anyway?”            

“Just wanted to come by and see how you were feeling,” he responded.            

 “No, you didn’t,” Hyde spit. “You came here to see if she was alone, didn’t you?”           

 Fez made a face at him. “What’re you talking about? No, I’m not!”            

“Yes you are!” he said and stood up. “Now, knock it off before I make you the first person to touch his chin to ass!”           

 Fez looked offended, placing his hand on his chest. “Have you been spying on me?!”           

 “Steven, honey, it’s not that big of deal,” Y/n said, trying to calm down the situation.           

 “Yeah, honey, listen to your lady,” Fez said, starting to get nervous.            

 “No, Y/n, he needs to understand respect,” he replied.           

 “I’m sure he gets it now,” Y/n said, signaling Fez to run now.            

“No, he doesn’t,” he responded. “If he—”            

He was cut off by the slamming of the door as Fez ran outside, away from him.           

 “He’s not getting away that easily,” Hyde commented before darting to the door.           

 “Hyde, no!” Y/n called after him. She jumped up from her seat, despite her stomach and head screaming at her.            

 Hyde ran out the door, causing it to slam against the wall. Y/n followed him out the door, ignoring the sudden faint feeling she had.            

“Steven, stop!” she called again, her voice weakened and wavering. She could see Hyde quickly gaining speed on Fez.            

 Fez screamed as Hyde tackled him to the ground on the Forman’s front lawn. Eric was behind Y/n in a flash, watching the scene in front of him unfold. Hyde struggling to get Fez in a choke hold, Fez fighting to get out of his grip, and Y/n yelling at him to stop.            

 “Steven, enough!” Y/n shrieked weakly, her voice quieting as the world started to spin, the edges of her vision darkening. “Steven, please…” 

Her vision darkened as she hit the ground, making the two boys suddenly stop to jerk their attention towards her. Eric dropped to the ground next to her.

“Y/n!” Steven shouted, letting Fez go and running over to her. “Y/n!”

 And that was the last thing she heard before she was swallowed by darkness.

Tags: @lieswithoutfairytales​ @mdittyz123​ @n-dg-wm​ @undead-sierra​ @random-thoughts-003​ @taysirene​

#Steven Hyde #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #jackie burkhart #fez #Michael Kelso #red forman #kitty forman

[bansept]

Ichihime - Samurai AU

Couldn’t do a fanart so i write this instead haha. I like this AU a lot, hopefully you guys too!

A bit of a disclaimer : I have less than basic knowledge on how the Japanese society worked in the Edo period, so I might mess the titles, names, foods and cultures, and many other things. Please forgive me if I ever mistake anything, my only help is Google :’(

Gashadokuro (yokai) : from what I gathered, it is a gigantic skeleton that chases of the living and kills them in a rather horrible way.

Return

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As long as he could remember, Ichigo had felt void in a tasteless and colorless world. Everything around him was empty of emotion, of warmth and of care. The only thing that was taught to him was the way with a sword, how to celebrate a victory with sake, or how to kill your body rather than your honor if a battle was lost.

The day he had worn his red and black armor on for the very first time, the Samurai Lord had finally felt emotions, fire burning his body, from his heart to his fingers. Hatred, disgust and madness grew on him like wildflowers on forgotten temples, but they were poisonous. No one could sprout them out, no one could soothe their bright crimson burn, and the young Lord was soon called The Human Gashadokuro, his fury unstoppable as he massacred any enemy forces by stepping on their bones and cutting off their heads.

Reminding himself those times was painful.

He knew the past couldn’t be changed, that all those deaths could never be reverted. When Ichigo wasn’t fighting, he would order all his people to remain away from him, to leave him alone… In peace. Even if peace was a pathetic term that hid his despair and pain.

Many years, from the age of 16 to the age of 23, he sat in his Samurai seat, thinking only of battle and how to atone his sins.

And, like an unexpected rainbow after a rainstorm, Lady Inoue was introduced to him.

Ichigo could not even pretend she was like the other noble ladies he had met and almost married off to. Inoue Orihime was beautiful, inside and out, warm and calm, her smile as incredible as her will to remain joyful. She was the only human being that made the mad feeling of hatred fade from his cloudy mind.

Of course they got along. Who would resist the charms of such a woman? Who could tell her “no” when she walked up to you with those clear and big grey eyes, imploring to learn how to cook from the servants, even if she was noble? Who could whisk their hand away when she took it and shyly leaned her face in the palm of it?

Not him. His only weakness was her, and all of the things coming from her.

.

.

.

The wars didn’t end. His armor was as if sewed on his back for a solid year, with no chance of returning home to his new wife anytime soon. The phantom of the blood thirsty Gashadokuro was hovering his brain, trying to take control several times. Make him forget the other feelings he had learnt with his Orihime. But it never succeeded, the monster pushed away as the horses galloped home.

He came back on a rainy day. The blooming flowers had retreated back inside their green shelters, the rain pouring hard on them without causing any damage, and the sky’s tears washed away the blood that had somehow remained on his armor. The horses were tired, and the men exhausted after running for so long.

Stepping foot on the muddy ground, Ichigo took off his helmet and gave it to the servant beside him, giving him a pat as he stared at the gates, the gardens, everywhere.

Before he could wonder where she would be, a female servant came to him, bowed profoundly and muttered the lady was asleep.

“Why would she be sleeping at such a time?” He wondered out loud, feeling his eyebrows return to their original form. “Is my wife unwell?”

“My lord, it seems she was having trouble eating and resting for the past few days. She has finally fallen asleep after waiting for your return day and night.”

Ichigo gave a sharp nod and a quick sigh, rushing as fast as his heavy armor could go inside, opening the wooden panels to reach his private quarters. Worry was evident on his face, and no one dared wishing him congratulations for his victories.

Seeing her laying on her own bedding, on her back and one hand extended to his own futon, Ichigo kneeled next to her sleeping form, silently taking off his armor piece by piece.

“You worried me, my love. I thought… That someone had attacked you. That you were sick. That you would be far away from me, even though our bodies are close… I am happy those were merely nightmares.”

He told her, tone calm and gentle, whispering to not wake her. It took a few more moments until he was in a human state again, bare as the day he was born, and sliding in his futon, gathering his wife close to his chest.

“You should have woke me up! Ah, I feel so bad for not welcoming you…”

“Don’t… I couldn’t dare wake up my tired wife… You looked as exhausted as my men. But not as muddy, which I’m grateful for.”

She gave him a pout, stopping her hand from hitting his tempting chest, turning around and huffing. Ichigo chuckled, sticking his front to her back and his hands imprisoning themselves around her waist.

“I missed you.”

Three simple words, not as powerful as the other ones he enjoyed proclaiming to her, and it was enough to calm his sweet lady, her head shifting to look at him.

Months. 10 months. That was how long they had been apart. For so many days and nights, forced to live in the dream of holding each other soon, of seeing their faces contort in happiness and mischief. Her big eyes were calling on him, begging him to forgive her, and he pulled her against his lips, easily forgiving her.

“Will… You go again?” She asked, hands toying with the sheets around them, a few hours later.

Her fear was evident, the anxious and atrocious feeling of yearning prepared to come back. But he smiled, soothing her by playing with her long hair.

“No. All the threats are gone now. No war should explode anytime soon. And if it did, I wouldn’t go for long.”

“That means… You’ll stay?”

.

.

.

He did stay. For days and days, until they turned into months and they forgot about a war. The demon was still in his mind, taking over his body to kill the ones responsible for her body ache, the poison useless against her. She had tamed the Human Gashadokuro, and in return, he protected her.

Ichigo Kurosaki didn’t know all the emotions. His life had been dull, then violently sharp, red and black the only things he could feel. But with one woman and her will to warm him, wait for him, and love him, he could finally feel human, by her side.

------------------------------------------------------------------- 

I love this AU because I can be gory and fluffy at the same time.

Here, it was merely just one idea, I’ll write more!

#ichihime #bleach #ichihime fanfiction #ichihime headcanon #ichihime writing #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime #ichihime samurai AU #fluff

[border-spam]

Can I get your take on the hierarchy within the cult? Also any thoughts you might have on basic bandit culture?

Yooo world-building time. 

Bandits are to Psychos as wolves are to predators. They are part of the same overall culture on Pandora, but Psychos? Psychos don’t just come from Bandits.

Bandits are the roaming clans of wasteland survivors that prey on corporate settlements across the wilds of the dust-planes. They are abandoned workers like the raging ghosts of Dahl’s hidden past, failed settlers deserted on a vicious planet by their patrons who’ve realised you either play Pandora’s game or die trying, and natives who were born within the Bandit tribes and now pass their culture to newfound family. 

They have laws that mean life or death, and they follow their spoken rules with savage reverence. There are clan leaders and figureheads, you’re as likely to come across a Bandit trade mogul as a skull collector. They can be reasoned with as long as you speak their language and understand their ways, and most merchant ports across the docklands have stations there are unwritten whispers about -  that you don’t setup stalls there, those docks are for the ones with no names.

Psychos are something else altogether. Psychos seek out Bandit clans naturally, like they are drawn to the possibility of belonging. They don’t really belong though, they don’t belong anywhere.

Pandora has a reputation across the border planets as being where the mad congregate, like the planet itself will rot your mind over time, leave you a babbling wreck that carves crude eyes into its chest and eats through its own limbs while shrieking about the hunger and the song, but it’s not actually Pandora that’s at fault.

It wasn’t Pandora that commercialised Eridium, it wasn’t Pandora that brought tens of thousands of people to try and eke out an existence on it while hacking crystallised energy out of its rocky crust, and it wasn’t Pandora that drove its inhabitants mad 29 years before BL3. 

That was.. something else. When [Redacted] tore through the minds of the people too close to Eridium, too vulnerable to the song that vibrates through its structure that before had been so silent, it warped their minds into what was after termed the “Psychosis”, the great maddening of Pandora’s civilians. Psychos are doctors, farmers, technicians and housewives. Psychos are bandits born and warped over time, townsfolk who walked too far along abandoned trails that were warned about for reasons, corporate shills and lost children. They are everyone.

It never stopped, and rumors still abound that being too close to Eridium is the trigger, that taking a job in a Slag refinery is practically a death sentence. 

The people who lose their sanity to the incessant whispering and scratching at the back of their minds end up seeking out others who understand them, their urge to find belonging drives them instinctively to each other, and so they congregate together around Bandit camps. They may become part of the roving caravans eventually, but they never truly become part of the clan. Bandits are closer to the Psychos than any other denizens of Pandora, but even they hold them at arm’s length, even they know to keep their distance from the muttered frenzy that drives the mad ones.

When the twins began to form the COV, they were rejected straight away by the Bandits and shanty villages they approached. And I mean rejected. We’re talking laughed out of town at the best, and at the worst…

Well, Ty got her scars in that first week, and Troy? He doesn’t remember what happened really, just the tearing smash of the glass bottle slicing across Tyreen’s face, a scream, and then nothing.

Nothing, till he woke into a fever hours later, one that turned septic as he ranted and choked about how even though he closed his eyes, he could still see.

When they tried again in earnest after spending 6 months with Seifa, it didn’t escape either of their notice that while they had to really work for the loyalty of Bandits and townsfolk, the freaks that scratched symbols into the dirt outside the camps while screeching incoherent nonsense seemed to just come to them on their own.

There was no real effort involved, all the Psychos needed was a flash of Siren markings and a promise of family and they followed at the twin’s heels like packs of yelping Skags covered in body fluids and neon paint. The twins never really discussed this -  Tyreen uninterested in challenging her own opinions about her social magnetism and Troy uncomfortable with the taste his inklings on the subject left in his mouth, but Psychos are drawn to Sirens. They always have been, they flock to them like pious worshipers half terrified and half in love with the beings they chant about as ghost mothers, vault touched, the voices of the song…

They eagerly weave Sirens into their own beliefs, they worship them without prompt, and so Psychos became the backbone of the initial COV.

They were never respected, though.

As it grew, the Holy City opened its doors to all. Except them.

The twin’s distaste for them is palpable, Troy’s more than Tyreen’s who suffocates it under layers of sickly sweet reassurances that they are family. That they have belonging here, that they are loved by her. They don’t and they aren’t.  If anything, the COV views them as literal meat shields - living walls that cushion the casualties of their actual followers by taking bullets in their stead.

The Psychos live outside the city, in shacks and crudely constructed shelter towers. Far enough from the Grand Cathedral at the city’s center that the twins don’t have to deal with hearing the shrieking raucous of the sprawl that grows outside the gates daily and robs slum dwellers of decent sleep.

The city itself is filled with Bandits, traders, drug cartels run by shrewd matriarchs covered in clan symbols inked into their skin, gangs in blood feuds, but the Psychos are forgotten till a raid siren cuts across the city scape and the faithful are called to arms. The Psychos don’t matter till they can stand in front of the Twin God’s chosen and die in glory through a hail of bullets.

Tyreen laughs when they are brought up, jokingly calls them her “favourite little snacks” through a grin that doesn’t reach her eyes and shows far too many teeth.

Troy though, he shudders in confused disgust at the thought of their desperate fingers reaching to glance in worship across the warmth of his skin as he passes with a retinue. He’s strangely invested in pushing provisions budgeting to the Holy City’s slums, and rumors are that the Vanguard are instructed to turn a blind eye when food is passed through the gates into eager hands at night.

Bandits have places of importance within the COV, from Saints like Jak-Knife and Mouthpiece, to old war-hands with roles of General within the assault ranks or highly respected traders in the marketing district of the city. Bandits have a life within the cult, they have real belonging and are seen as having some form of value even by the Twin Gods, and the Calypsos barely see most other people as people.

But the Psychos are just bullet sponges, expendable assets that happily march to death in the name of a mother who lies so convincingly about her love for them.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #sirens #calypso twins #pandora #psychos #bandits #my hcs #my writing

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon and I actually was skipping through the official City of Mizu episode and realized I missed Skeppy as a idol. So if you follow Skeppy you get to learn about different kinds of gems and what they can be used for, get trained on proper safety when mining, what to look for and avoid when mining, and they also get to go on supply runs that specifically require mining, though not many people follow Skeppy because mining is dangerous. Also I missed Charles personality a good bit so ima change it to where he's still quite, reserved and anxious, but is adventurous, curious, dedicated to his interests, and when given the chance or talking about his interests he gets very excited and talks a lot. Like a excited puppy. 

1: People can get kicked out of a idol following for many reasons, like disrespecting the idol and their peers, claiming some of the history their learning is fake, attacking anyone in the city (like stabbing, they just get chastised for fist fights), and breaking multiple rules of the city. And some people don't choose a idol, though its highly unlikely as those who don't know what idol to pick tend to pick Tommy or Tubbo. Those who choose not to choose a idol, tend to only work in farming, as its a easy job to learn. Its for these people that the idol-less council member was added, the council member also represent other cities and kingdoms that do still acknowledge and trade with Mizu. Most houses are actually built out of the side, like how we saw the idol rooms in the official episode, and their kind of scattered about, theres some halls filled with homes, but some halls have no homes. The halls with the homes tend to be the biggest/widest halls of the city, as to allow for room for the families living there, and also because theres sometimes stores in this area. Some halls also have multiple levels to allow for more room, these specific halls are referred to as Residential Complex, and only house homes in their multiple levels. While halls that hold only a few homes arent called anything special. Because outside affairs are very complex, most kingdoms and cities ignore Mizu, treating them with disgust and some times, people who have done supply runs that go into cities have reported having higher prices on what they want to buy, and disrespect from all citizens and police. But some kingdoms and cities respect them and trade with them without any tricks. The councils main agurement in this situation is that, the nice city is very far away, a weeks travel, but the mean city is close, only a 2 day walk away. They agure about what to do and what city to travel too for all supply runs. And another agurement that the council often has is what to do with visitors, they had visitors in the past that had destroyed and stole items in Mizu while causing disruptions, but some also brought their own culture and items and happily exchanged said culture and items. So their conflicted on if visitors should be welcomed or turned away. 

3: He went through what Ranbob did, being held to high standards that he just couldn't meet. But unlike Ranbob, he spoke up about his problems and managed to get held to lesser standards and allowed time to recover. When he moved out he originally lived on his own in a forest, and because he was vulnerable to monsters he didn't know how to handle, he had to make many fast paced despite when cornered by monsters or when trying to save crops or his house. And since he was also the oldest child of a 6 child family, he had to constantly look after his siblings, giving him his father-like attitude and knowing how to help people in basically almost any situation. His siblings are (current ages) Nick-17, calm, information nerd, introverted and Benjamins favorite brother. Rock-10, a tiny gremlin that loved to mess with people, he often broke bones or broke items when playing due to his rough play style and broke rules, Benjamin was the only one who could calm him. Ion-16, a teen that is very adventurous and always wandering off, she always talked about traveling the world, the hardest one for Benjamin to keep track of. Stellar-13, in love with space, but other than that is a normal child, but she also has a fascination with monsters like enderman, often wondering where they come from, Benjamin doesnt have any strong opinions on her.  And finally, Juka-15, they are very invested in redstone, often experimenting on it and trying to make different things with it, often the stuff they make blows up, Benjamin admires Juka's persistence and love for redstone but also wishes they'd stop blowing up the damn kitchen. 

8: Totems do exist, their just so rare its not believed Techno managed to have and use one. So that part of the story got lost and left out over time. Pandoras vault has fallen, mostly because of a break out by Dream that destroyed most of it, and because it had fallen into disrepair. And they do have such advanced technology to make such a prison now, but they doubted the SMP had such technology and availability to do it in their time. And there is also a great lack of evidence (expect for the actual building, but even then people agure it was used for something else) supporting the existence of Pandoras Vault. 

Ran and Ranbob used to feel confused and hurt, not understanding why the world hated their home and why the world was so mean to them. Over time they learned why they where shunned, but still didn't completely understand. Eventually they grew used to it, and learned to avoid saying where they lived, unless they wanted to partake in a fight. They very very rarely say that they came from Mizu, as they had learned long ago from both classes and personal experience. But a few times it was revealed they lived in Mizu, they had to just endure it and move along, even though Ran really wanted to punch a fucker. They became friends when Charles went to him during the trip to the flower field, asking to join in on a game he was playing. Its a miracle the two didn't get a heart attack tbh.

10: He was not! Ranbob was too weak for Dream to access all of his powers. And Dreams constant hold of control and withholding food and all the essentials from him, made him even weaker. No one is aware of it, not even Ranbob. A mix of pissed, a weird sort of pride, and determination. The pride and determination is there because knowing Dream thinks that way of them, confirms that they're enough of a threat that Dream actually acknowledges them. And helps them believe that they could truly beat Dream if they tried. Though it also means Dream will try his damned best to kill them. 

13: Yeah he comes out on top, he still has some advantages over the others even without tatics, like his speed and he knows how to sneak around and use the area to his advantage pretty well. 

14: He seemed more finicky, more nervous and anxious. Constantly trying to seperate himself from the group when he tends to stay very close by. And more on edge/quick to snap at others.

 Ayy! Starting off with Skeppy and Charles, what a wonderful way to begin. How did Skeppy’s few followers mine? Were there mines under the sea floor? Did they travel out of Mizu to go find mines in the earth? 

1: Hm, interesting. The idol-less leader seems to have quite a bit on their shoulders, if they deal with all outside affairs. Were they specifically selected to learn their position? Since you said most of them farm, but all those politics and stuff seem kind of different from it. Does Ranbob remember any of the nice cities? Did either boy ever meet a former visitor that recognized them from back then?

3: Benjamin’s family sounds really cool. Does the gang ever get to meet them? If so, how do they get along with them?

8: Huh. Well, how about Woodland Mansions? What happened to those, to make totems so rare? So Pandora still stands today? Cool. Does the gang ever come across it? Where would it be located-or well, what areas would be around it? Is it used for anything else nowadays?

And that sucks. If this happens while the brothers are at odds with each other, do they still help each other out with it, since they’re being mocked about their home, or do they just ignore it, and such. How do their respective groups feel both about them being from Mizu, and how they’re treated for it, both before and after the two hauntings started to merge? Did it effect how they thought of them in anyway?

And that sounds cute. What game was it, and who won? 

10: Hmm. Was Dream aware he was causing Ranbob to become weaker, or was he that out of touch with human needs? Also, I think I remember way back then, you mentioned this part of Dream was the evil bits that survived his death.

What do you think would happen if they somehow managed to end up seeing the good parts, maybe with a similar artifact that Ranbob found in your supposed fluff?

13: Nice.

14: Oh, no. That’s not good.

#dream smp #dream smp au #tales from the smp #Brothers AU #ranbob

[sleep-i-ness]

*Let Bygones Be Bitches (Klaus Hargreeves x reader)

For @the--sad--hatter​‘s Tea Party Challenge

**TRIGGER WARNING**: Substance abuse, mentions of overdose, probably swearing, glamourisation of drugs

I’m not really sure where I went with this. I also haven’t edited it but it’s something I wrote a while back for this challenge and I realised the deadline is tomorrow so I banged out the ending :)

Taglist: @neymarlionelmessi7​ @persephonehemingway​ @blisfvll​ @20coldhearts​

There was something so exhilaratingly freeing about drugs. No one had ever talked to you about that, school had drilled into you the terrible effects of them but as you fell into harder and harder drugs, that had been the last thing from your mind. Really, what you blamed was society. Drugs were only seen as bad if you were poor, if you were a junkie and homeless, or living in poverty. Never mind the upper classes who were almost always off their asses on cocaine; snorted off gold dishes and offered around at social gatherings. Your parents certainly had seen no problems in them; most of your childhood they were high, living life as carefree as possible. Who cared if they had a kid to look after? Well, that was what nannies were for. And you craved their attention. Their approval. So, you acted out more and more, getting kicked out of one posh private school after the other with nothing more than a warning letter from your father each time.

And so, drugs had ended up becoming an escape rather than the rebellion you had hoped to lead against the careless lifestyle of the rich. The schmoozing amongst those of your ‘kind’ was done over lines of cocaine and ever-flowing bottles of champagne, never sober enough to have to remember enduring pointless small talk. Life was too fun to bother with formalities, you and the reckless debutantes and bachelors of your age were jumping off roofs into pools and committing arson instead. And when you reached the ripe age of 21, you moved back to your childhood home, surrounded by staff and peers just like yourself, but no one who really cared. Your parents weren’t frugal to say the least, and your allowance grew each time you reached the limit. It was almost like a challenge to see how much you could spend in a month. It wasn’t like you were anywhere near close to running out.

Your town was almost a cultural phenomenon, known for being the residence of the Umbrella Academy, back in the days when they were actually a team. Not just one pitiful member left to sort out the messes by himself. You weren’t sure what had happened to anyone other than Allison, who had launched herself into super-stardom and therefore was constantly a topic of gossip when local drama was dull. Tonight, you had agreed to host your ‘friends’, who were bringing a few of their friends and you knew the place would be wrecked by the end of the night. You wished you could pretend to care about the priceless antiques and expensive imported furniture, but it was all just stuff. Stuff that could easily be replaced. It didn’t truly matter.

You awoke the next day under blinding light in an unrecognisable room, blank white walls glaringly painful. You weren’t at home, that was for sure, nowhere was decorated this hideously at home. As your vision swam into focus, you saw the IV drip hooked up to your arm and heart monitor beeping steadily. Oh fuck, you were in the hospital again. And they hadn’t even bothered to put you in your family’s private suite; you were sure to be making a complaint as soon as you got out.

“Oh good, Miss Y/L/N, you’re awake.” A nurse bustled over, and you bit back the remark that was on the tip of the tongue. You were so sure that nurses were meant to be female, but clearly not in this case. “You were brought in last night, having had a seizure with a dangerously high body temperature and heart rate.”

Oh, that would be the effects of a cocaine overdose. You knew enough about them, having both experienced them first-hand and seen others having them, to know the symptoms. You remained silent, knowing that your family’s private doctor would soon have you out of this dump in the more public area and away from prying eyes. Your parents had people working to ensure that any scandals would be hushed up, so you assumed that this was just a blip before they set you up in a place a bit more suited to your wealth.

“How are you feeling now?” The nurse asked, checking the monitor at the end of your bed, and noting down something on a clipboard.

“Absolutely wonderful,” you remarked dryly, voice hoarse, mouth dry as sandpaper.

“Good, good,” he muttered, placing the tatty clipboard back in the scratched plastic holder. Your upper lip curled; that did not look very sanitary.

The nurse strode out looking purposeful and you wondered what purpose he actually had considering that doctors were the ones who actually did any work.

As the plastic ticking of a clock and heavy breathing of the infirm filled the air, you rolled your eyes, feeling ill at the thought of all of the germs floating around you. The off-white paint was peeling in the corner, cracks running down the wall, disrupting blotchy yellow marks of discolouration. As your eyes roved over the disgusting state of the ward, the scuff marks on the blue linoleum floor caught your gaze and you held back a groan. Did they not clean the place?

“Hey,” a languid voice called from the bed next to you and you frowned, brows furrowing as you tried to figure out whether he was talking to you. “Hey, miss judgemental.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, don’t know your name.” His tone implied he didn’t even care, and you sneered, why had he even bothered to try and start a conversation? “Was I not meant to notice the disgusted looks you were giving the ward?”

“Do I know you?” He clearly wasn’t somebody you would have mixed with, eyes ringed with the remnants of a couple day’s old eyeliner and hair mussed up, strands sticking up in various directions. But there was still something that made you hesitate.

“I’m Klaus.” Klaus… That was a Scandinavian name, right? Maybe he was related to the Bengtsson twins.

“I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You waited for the expected exclamation of awe or some form of recognition at least. There was nothing and you snuck a peek at Klaus who had merely raised an eyebrow.

“Y/L/N?” He seemed to be trying to recall something from deep in the dregs of his memory, eyes fluttering shut. “Hang on, wasn’t there a kidnapping? Something about a ransom that wasn’t paid?”

You froze.

There had been so many lawsuits and pulling of strings to ensure that that story never came out.

“How the hell do you know about that?” You hissed lowly, glancing around at the other patients who seemed fast asleep or too deaf to hear anything.

Klaus raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, taken aback at your reaction. “What do you mean?”

“No one knows about that. No one.”

“Well, I do.” Clearly. Your breathing had sped up and your head felt light. It was all over. You were safe. You were okay. They weren’t here. Goddamn it, why wasn’t it working! The sudden bolt of anger flashed through the fog, but you were too numb to process it.

Klaus had pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, and eyebrows furrowed. Your brain marked that it was an amusing expression. “Hey, Y/N, just breathe with me, okay? Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold for 1, 2, 3, breathe out for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.”

You followed his counting, eyes squeezed shut as your ears focused in on his voice. The bustle of hospital eased out as your breathing filled your thoughts. Every breath was forced out, long but shallow as your heart pounded in your head, the beat deafening.

You gasped, suddenly realising where you knew him from. “Klaus… Hargreeves? You were there. That’s why you know.”

The crisp, starchy sheets were clean under your grip, crinkling between your fingers as you clenched your hands subconsciously. Leaning closer to him to watch his response, he nodded slowly, head slowly lifting to make eye contact. A mask had dropped, eyes showing something a lot more vulnerable.

“Yeah. That one was one of the worst.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was your fault. And you’d thought the only one affected was you.

“Parents, right?” Klaus murmured, propping himself up on one arm as he continued to watch you.

Your parents hadn’t even cared. They hadn’t bothered to pay the ransom. The kidnappers had slowly stopped bothering to even come visit you with food. Leaving you to slowly died. No one had cared.

And then the Umbrella Academy had turned up. And you’d had the hope rekindled that someone cared.

Your return to your parents had been a surprise, a ‘wonderful surprise’ as they claimed. And the hope has sunk, like a lead balloon as you realised that they hadn’t wanted you back.

“Yeah.” You nodded, knowing nothing needed to be said to explain it. “I feel like it might be a billionaire thing.”

Klaus hummed, rolling onto his back with a dramatic groan as he threw his arms into the air. He stretched out, limbs unfurling like a cat, lithe and supple. The crinkle of plastic caught your ear and you snapped your head towards him, just catching sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly. He stretched out his arms and the plastic bag glinted in his hand. You grabbed it from him, gratefully swallowing the small blue pill inside.

“You know what, Klaus,” you paused, fiddling with the end of your sleeves. “I feel like we might be more similar than expected.”

He grinned, an almost maniacal twinkle in his eyes. “God, we’re such a cliché. Bonding over childhood trauma? Where’d we get that idea from? Some angsty YA novel?”

He snorted at his own joke and you couldn’t help but smile in response, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the small dimples popping in his cheeks.

Hopefully, this would follow the cliché trope right to the happy ending.

#klaus #klaus hargreeves #tua klaus #tua #the umbrella academy #tua imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x you #klaus x y/n #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x you #klaus hargreeves x y/n

[salvejoon]

Life is Beautifully Ugly (At Times) - pjm | 03

⇒ Warnings for this chapter: Not much for this chapter, some cursing but that’s about it.

⇒ A/N: I apologize for being late in posting this chapter. IRL took most of my energy askfjhas

When Hyejin woke up the next morning, in your bed, she was a bit confused. Why was she in your bed and not in her own?

Had Appa put her here?

“Appa?” She called out but got no answer, “Eomma?” Still no answer.

Tears gathered in her eyes and she let out a wail which had you crashing into the door as you ran to the room. 

Your niece was bawling her eyes out, calling for her parents and you hurriedly went to her, “Baby, it’s okay, I’m here. Calm down.” You picked her up in your arms and hugged her close. You bounced her lightly up and down, gently calming her down. She seemed to calm down as her wails subsided and they turned into whimpers. You drew back to look at her, your heart constricting in your chest when you saw the trails of tears on her cheeks, “You okay?” 

She sniffled and nodded, “I think.” 

“Want to talk about it?” You sat down on the bed, adjusting her in your lap. 

“I just woke up and I was scared because I was alone.” 

“I’m here.” 

“But you weren’t when I woke up and I got really scared because I thought you had left me too.” 

No one could have prepared your poor heart for that one sentence and you sighed heavily as you put your head on top of hers, “I will never leave you, Hyejin.” 

“But what if you die too?” 

Charlotte was the one who was good with kids and you missed her sorely at the current moment, “I will die someday. It’s just how life works, baby.” 

Hyejin looked up at you, “Who will take care of me then?” 

“Hopefully, I hope that by the time I die, you’re old enough and won’t have to think about that.” You told her.

“But what if you die tomorrow? Will Uncle Jimin take care of me?” 

“Probably. Maybe. I think so, yeah.” 

“What about Boon?” 

You chuckled softly and nuzzled her nose with yours, “I think he’d love to.”

“I want Boon to take care of me if you die, Imo. Uncle Jimin seems is cold.” 

You sighed, “Your uncle is a peculiar man, Hyejin, but he’s not cold. He’s not as used to showing emotions as we are. He cares about you. He just doesn’t show it as I do.” 

“How does he show it?” 

“By buying donuts for you, for example. Now, dry your tears, sprout. We have a long day ahead of us.” 

Entering his father’s office, Jimin fought back his raging headache. He had a million things to do today and his father calling him to his office was not one of them. He had a funeral to plan and a woman that most surely needed help with said funeral.

Closing the door behind him, he bowed even though his father had his back turned to him, “You summoned me.” 

His father hummed and glanced at him over his shoulder, “Yes. Did you do what I asked of you?” 

“I did but she insisted that she will take care of the funeral.” 

There was a brief silence before his father whirled around, “She cannot afford it.” 

“She assured me that the cost was of no problem.” Jimin told him. He could feel his father’s anger even from where he stood, “Not that the cost really matters because she agreed to let me help her.

His father grew quiet as he stared at his youngest, “Not what I wanted but you will make sure your brother gets a proper funeral as per our customs. Make sure she remembers that she’s the foreigner and has no say.” 

Jimin’s eyes narrowed at his father’s words. Words that didn’t sit well with him. Yet he didn’t say anything.

“I will make it happen, sir.” He said stiffly, watching as his father nodded. 

“Good.” He turned his back to Jimin, “One more thing, Jimin, before you leave..” 

“About what?” 

“I want custody of the child.”

Korean funerals were a little different from what you were used to but you had spent most of the night texting Namjoon of the hows and whys. Jimin had also pitched in, offering to set it up but you insisted that you had it handled. You had to call the mortuary at the hospital where they died, order flower arrangements and then find out what kind of food and beverage the attendees should get served. 

Thankfully, a nice old lady guided you through the whole process over the phone and you let out a loud exhale as you hung up the phone. 

Now all you needed was to text Jimin with the details and he would take care of the rest. You leaned against the counter and put your phone down, ran both hands down your face as you sighed heavily. Right now you couldn’t be bothered with Jimin and Hyejin was at Namjoon’s for a few more hours. 

For the first time since the accident, you were completely alone. And it was quiet. So unbearably quiet in the apartment. Pain formed itself as a lump in your throat and tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. 

Your feet seemed to act on their own as they ventured towards the master bedroom. With a trembling hand, you opened it and stepped inside the dark room. The curtains shut out the midday sun and it was cold. So cold. 

Trudging across the room, you pulled the curtains and let sunlight enter the room, casting light on the multitude of pictures on the walls and nightstands. You took a deep breath and the pain only increased in your chest. It smelled like Charlotte. Her perfume. The stupid face creams that she’d spent a fortune on. 

And Han. His expensive cologne blended well together with the perfume.

You turned your attention to the photos on the wall.

You fingered the edges of a photo of them from their wedding. Charlotte looked annoyed as Han was carrying her over his shoulder. 

The next photo was of them, still at their wedding, smiling at each other as they’d just exited the shrine. Both dressed in Korean traditional clothing. You could vividly recall the ceremony and the love they had exuded. So many obstacles had stood in their way in the form of Han’s father, long-distance relationship, cultural differences and an unplanned pregnancy but they’d managed. 

Because Han and I, we’re meant to be.

She had really won the lottery with this one, you remembered thinking. 

The last frame on the wall was of you and her in your younger years. You were around 20 years in the picture and Charlotte was 17 years. It was taken in your grandparent’s backyard, a bright sunny day in August. You carried her on your back, her arms outstretched as she laughed. You looked up at her with adoration and love. 

You muffled a sob with a hand as you took the picture down from the wall and sat on the bed. The picture blurred as the tears won out this time and started rolling down your cheeks. 

You hugged the photo close to your heart as you cried in silence, completely alone, only surrounded by memories in the form of pictures of those you loved.

Jimin bowed respectfully as some of the chairmen entered the room, ears perking up when he heard your voice. He straightened and his eyes fell on you, clutching Hyejin’s hand in yours, Namjoon right behind you. 

The taller man’s eyes met his and he inclined his head in greeting and Jimin mirrored his movement. 

“Hey.” You greeted him as you came up to him. You wore a simple black dress with matching heels, a dark grey trench coat to keep you warm from the cooling weather. His eyes shifted from you to his niece. She was dressed in a black dress as well but more traditional, an outfit Namjoon had no doubt helped you get together. 

“Hey.” Jimin said before he turned on his heels, leading you into the room. 

Your eyes immediately landed on the pictures of Han and Charlotte framed in big, dark wooden frames, flowers littered around them, some in potts, others laying freely and covering a good portion of the floor. Candles were lit and cast the room in a warm glow. 

“It’s beautiful.” Namjoon noted as he stood next to you, his hand gliding across the small of your back in a comforting gesture and you nodded. Hyejin walked up to the pictures and touched the photo of her mother before you called her back to you. 

She hugged your right leg tightly, her teary brown eyes looking up at you and you nodded, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek, understanding her silent message. You missed them too. 

Then something in the corner of your eyes caught your attention and your eyes widened slightly as you saw who it was. 

Jimin’s father. You had only seen him a couple of times but his intimidating presence was still there. He took all the attention in the room, people bowing their heads, coming up to him, conveying their sadness to him for the loss of his eldest son. 

Next to you, Jimin stiffened when his father’s eyes landed on him. He bowed deeply and his father simply stared at him. 

You saw them and you had to bite your lip to not say anything. How could a father act so cold towards their only remaining child? 

Not even a pat on the shoulder? A nod in his direction? 

Dark eyes simply looked down at the bowing Jimin. 

Then said dark eyes roved over to you and the child hugging your leg. He looked disgusted almost. The disdain in his eyes was clear as day even as his eyes fell to his granddaughter. 

“Don’t say anything.” Jimin whispered as he stood back up, his father turning his back to him and you, “For the sake of Han and Charlotte.” 

“He didn’t even greet you, Jimin. Or Hyejin.” 

He didn’t answer, knowing that if he got you going, you wouldn’t stop and right now was not the time for your ‘open mouth, insert foot’. 

“The nerve of him!” 

Jimin sighed, his hands on the steering wheel tightening, “Just let it go, Y/N.” Then he glanced over his shoulder to check on the sleeping Hyejin in the backseat, “And lower your damn voice or you’ll wake her up.” 

You grumbled something he didn’t quite catch and then said, “Your father is an asshole.” 

“You’ve stated that six times now.” 

“And now I see where you get it from.” 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, opting to keep his eyes on the road. He’d agreed to drive you home to Han and Charlotte’s place at Namjoon’s behest. 

You glanced back at Hyejin and sighed, “What are we going to do, Jimin?”

“With what?” 

You rolled your eyes, “With Hyejin and the apartment.”

“Don’t bother thinking about that right now, Y/N.” 

“But-”

“But it’s been a long day for both of us and Hyejin. We’ll figure something out.” 

You sagged further into the car seat and nodded. Jimin was right. It had been a long day and all of you were exhausted. You would think about that stuff tomorrow. 

Jimin watched you out of the corner of his eye, relaxing into the seat and looking out the car window. His father’s words rang loud and clear in his mind and he wondered if he should tell you now. 

But then you turned your head towards him, your eyes boring into his face, “Thank you, by the way.” 

“For what?” He met your eyes for a brief second. 

You smiled, a tiny and tired smile, but a smile nonetheless, “For helping me with the funeral. You and Joonie really were a big help.”

His lips tugged upwards, “Of course.” 

#jimin x fem!reader #jimin angst #aoidsjadsio almost done with the angst #for now #im so tired of angst askjlfha

[ressyfaerie]

Hello! For the fic request, is it possible for you to write something about Europen Team/ Majestics going on a vacation to Japan?

Honestly I don't know how much detail I should give, or if you want to write about this at all. If you prefer, shoot me any KaiTaka moments and I'll be content haha

(I prefer sub names but it doesn't matter much)

So I’ve never written ANYTHING about the Majestics before but I really enjoyed this! I’m not used to their Japanese names so if I messed up anywhere don’t take it personally- lol. I might have accidentally made them too privileged and rich but you know what it's cute in the end I promise lol.

“It’s not *exactly* a vacation, but let’s make the most of it!” Giancarlo spread his arms wide taking in all of the sun. 

Ralf sighed as he walked behind his team watching over them, like always. 

“What’s wrong Ralf?” Olivier asked in a concerned tone, he really did know what was wrong, he was just working on his teamwork. 

“I hate visiting here.”

“How come?” Johnny asked, also sort of hating it here.

“I hate the food, the people, the cars, the transportation, infrastructure, all of it.” 

“I love it!” Olivier boasted, “the food is great! The people are nice-”

“Yeah yeah let’s just get to Tyson’s house and get it over with-

“Dojo” Giancarlo corrected him.

“A what now?” Johnny wrinkled his eyebrows confused about culture, again. 

“Dojo. It’s like a-”

Johnny cut Olivier off. “Don’t care. I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

After getting confused about Japanese transportation and infrastructure Ralf ended up calling his own private car and driver to pick them up from the airport to take them to Tyson’s dojo.

 When they arrived, all of them could admit the dojo was impressive. 

“Wow it’s so cool!” Olivier hung his jaw low in awe. 

“It’s alright, not many people could live here.” Johnny crossed his arms, pretending it just wasn’t cool at all. 

“Well- Let’s get this over with.” Ralf rolled his eyes.

Thankfully Rei was the one to approach them.

Thank god they all thought: We won’t have to knock on the door. 

“Hey guys! Welcome to Tyson’s 18th birthday party! He’s going to be so stoked when he shows up and everyone’s here!” 

Ray approached them not sure how to greet them. 

“This place is sick, I think I own something like this in America.” Giancarlo complimented like a rich kid compliments.

Rei smiled knowing he did mean it. “Let me show you guys to the backyard, that’s where we’re having the party, it’s going to be half inside half outside- You’ll see when we get there.”

The backyard was set up beautifully and they were impressed. 

“Not bad for the-”

“Don’t say the poor!” Olivier hissed to Giancarlo.

“For the uh- Bladebreakers.” He smiled back at Olivier.

Olivier placed a hand to his forehead sighing.  

Thankfully there were a lot of other team members already in the backyard and they all made conversation easily. 

“We will probably be doing business soon with the Hiwatari company-”

“That’s enough talking business Ralf! Take a load off come on-” Johnny pulled Ralf to a different group, specifically the White Tigers, hoping he wouldn't talk business with kids from a village with no reception.   

“How’s the blading going?” Johnny made conversation with Miriah.

“Great, probably better than you.” She joked but challenged him at the same time. 

“You wanna go?” He fixed his posture to look taller. 

“You’re not that tall Johnny.” Ralf talked down to him. 

“Pfft-” Johnny crossed his arms. 

“No blading until Tyson gets here!” Rei had to break up the group before things got too intense. 

Once Tyson arrived the party became full swing. He pretended to be surprised but clearly someone tipped him off. 

“Do you think he would have liked it if it was an actual surprise?” Olivier asked Giancarlo. 

“I would. I think Tyson would have too, but since it’s in his house, maybe not?” 

“Wait till what I have planned for your birthday.” Olivier grinned.

“Hey now it’s not a surprise!” Giancarlo frowned, clearly bummed.

“You don’t know what birthday.” Olivier patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

They grinned at each other. 

“Dance? Everyone else is?” Olivier asked politely knowing the answer. 

“Of course.” 

Dancing all night in the lit up dojo was picturesque. Everyone had a great time reconnecting. Even Ralf and Johnny enjoyed catching up with all the teams. 

It was the late hours and they decided it was time to head back to their hotel room. 

They awkwardly stood on the curb while Ralf opened his phone. 

“My phone’s dead.” 

Silence. 

“Do you have the driver’s number memorized?” Johnny grew worried.

“...No.” Ralf reluctantly admitted.

“Oh someone’s not as perfect as they think they are.” Giancarlo laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 

Ralf gave him a death glare. 

“Guess we’re walking it?” Olivier suggested, but was met with disgusted glances, “Sorry for the awful idea of walking! Geez!” 

Walking around the nighttime Japanese ocean was… Really beautiful.

“I’m just going to say it, Tyson is lucky to live here.” Olivier admitted, but also tried to lift his team's spirits.

 “Hey guys!” Giancarlo pointed to a lit up shop on the boardwalk “A shop’s open!” 

They shrugged and decided to head in. 

It was a cute little cafe open late. They served some interesting desserts and drinks. 

“My Japanese sucks sorry guys.” Johnny shook his head knowing it was a lost cause for him to order.

Ralf rolled his eyes knowing he would have to stand up for his team. 

Turns out everyone’s Japanese was bad and they ended up mostly pointing to things. 

 They ate a bunch of desserts they weren’t used to, Ralf hated it, Giancarlo thought it was decent, Johnny didn’t mind it, and Olivier of course liked most well done food. 

They had their drinks in to-go cups and went back outside to walk along the beach. 

“Disappointed you never got to blade Miriah?” Ralf asked Johnny. 

“Yeah I’m pissed.” 

“Don’t like to not be part of the action?” Giancarlo grinned. 

“I don’t like being bored.” Johnny lightly punched his shoulder. 

“Hey! Get out of here-” Giancarlo pushed him back a bit, friendly, but also to keep him in his lane. 

“Pfft- You really think you could fight this scotsman?” (Johnny is Scottish right? Imma just- yeah-)

“Ha!” Giancarlo tried to pull him down into the sand by his shoulders.

“Ugh!” Johnny grabbed his arm and threw him down on the sand with a thump.

Giancarlo grabbed his leg and pulled him down with him. 

They both laughed and Olivier turned to look at Ralf who looked at his friends with intense concern. 

“Come on Ralf, get in there.” 

“Excuse me Olivier?” 

Olivier grinned and pushed Ralf with all the might of his smaller arms. 

Ralf didn’t expect it and fell face first into the sand shouting curses into the beach. 

Olivier simply laughed while Giancarlo jumped up, grabbed him by the abdomen and threw him to the ground, throwing Olivier into a laugh screaming fit. 

They all play fought as friends for the first time. 

Minutes rolled by until they were all laying on their backs catching their breath and gazing up at the stars. 

“You know what.” Ralf said in a low voice.

“Maybe Japan isn’t so bad.”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

i wanna know what love is - 07

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: fertility talk

A/N: sebastian is in his early 30′s in this fanfic, idk if i’ve ever mentioned it before but i felt i should say it so no one’s confused. let me know what you guys think, i love receiving your feedback always warms my heart listening to your opinions xx

Last Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N woke up to a different yet pleasant environment. The bus had stopped and there were no bumps that could wake her up and the sun was shining into the bus and all she could hear were people on the outside laughing following for some movie. She raised her torso from the bed where she was covered by yellow papers and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains to come to sight with what she had heard and seen for years in pop culture. Las Vegas. 

The lights were off as it was daytime but she could see the grandeur of everything. Y/N had only been to Vegas when she was a young girl with her father who was accompanying her mother to a writing gig and stuff seemed to remain the same. 

Sebastian took zero time to wake up once he felt the bright light hit his eyes. No matter what people said, waking up sober to bright daylight was somehow worse than waking up hangover to bright daylight. He lifted his head to stare at what he thought was his brain playing tricks on him. Y/N was looking out the window, back turned to him in the shortest, tightest shorts that enhanced her backside. This had to be his mind playing tricks on him. 

    - We’re in Vegas. - she rushed to his side. - C’mon, we gotta go out.

   - No. You go out, I’m tired and too important. - he turned to the other side, grabbing her fluffy white to cover over his head and try to stop the light from hitting his face. Y/N however was determined to get him to wake up, after all the boys and Sherrie had left already so she had no one else to go with her and going out by herself sounded like trouble. Y/N pushed the cover off him and onto the floor. - Go piss off someone else. 

   - Put a shirt on and let’s go. - she crossed her arms, one foot on top of the covers so he couldn’t push it over himself again. Defeated, he lifted his torso, rubbing his face and eyes to stare at the woman in front of him. - C’mon, don’t you wanna see Sherrie before she goes back to her work place?

   - I already had sex with her and said goodbye. - he groaned, looking at her with hatred in his eyes. There was nothing he hated more than having his precious sleep interrupted. But yet again he was fighting Y/N over going outside and she really wanted to. - Go meet the boys at the venue, they’ll take you. 

  - I’ll pay for breakfast. - she said, poking his cheek with her baby pink painted nail. Sebastian could not refuse free breakfast, specially when he was in Vegas and everything was over the top. 

The rockstar got up from his bed, looking at the mess of yellow papers and polaroids. He didn’t exactly remember if they had finished compiling them but he sure hoped they had because there was no way it would be possible to organise everything once again. He heard her say thank you as he walked to his own room to get dressed.

Y/N on the other hand was jumping around in her room like a little kid, grabbing clothes out of her closet and deciding what to wear. She lived in New York most of the year so she normally had little to no summer clothes but she found a nice short white summer dress. She grabbed her bag to check if she had her wallet, fully knowing he’d only gotten the rockstar to wake up due to free breakfast, and walked outside her room to find him in his usual dark jeans and a white shirt, cap and sunglasses on. 

  - You do realise that wearing a cap and sunglasses doesn’t exactly count as a disguise, right? You still look like you do cocaine on Fridays. - she looked over everything on the kitchen to check if the guys had left the stove on, which wouldn’t be the first time. She swore that living in this bus was a constant “when will I die” contest. 

  - I don’t do cocaine, that’s for newbies. 

  - I’m sorry I don’t know what’s your favourite dying poison. 

  - Poison would kill you so why add dying before poison, that’s just redundant. You’re a writer you should know that. - he grinned, happy he had corrected miss perfect but instead of getting the sweet satisfaction of watching her explain herself in fluster, she just opened the door and started walking straight ahead. - Hey sweetheart, do you know where you’re going?

  - I’ll google it. - she kept walking like a child whose mother told them no candy at a shop isle. Sebastian smiled to himself and started walking behind her as she asked Siri what cafes were close by. She shifted to the left as they walked into the centre Vegas. 

Sebastian always hated Vegas, it was loud and showy. He had enough to entertain himself with in the city but if he was asked to do a forever tour in one of the casinos that would be a no for him. The only good thing about the Vegas stops in all of his tours were that his bandmates wives would come to visit them so everyone would be off his back. Besides, the other good thing was that Sherrie would finally be off his back to go back to her job at the Hard Rock cafe. He wasn’t a fan of having the same girl next to him for longer than a week. 

He was so lost in thoughts that he didn’t notice the young writer stop in front of a smallish cafe. Once she stopped, he woke from his thought filled mind and looked at the building in front of him. It was small, homey, not like his style but he guessed there was a smaller chance of people noticing him. She leaned against the door, opening it and making the bell sound calling for the attention of some of the customers who had disgusted looks on their faces. Y/N gave them a shy smile, once again feeling embarrassed by the fact that she had interrupted someone’s meal. However, Sebastian was having none of that.

 - Isn’t this a lovely cafe, honey? - he wrapped his arm around her, gaining a confused look from her. - Sorry fellas, we’re a bit late in our honeymoon schedule, late for breakfast.

A bunch of the people who had given her dirty looks, immediately started to apologise making Sebastian grin to himself. There was something he knew for sure and it was that people loved not to stop a newly wed couples plan with their dirty looks, besides, if someone was gonna berate her for going for breakfast at 11 AM it would be him, not a bunch of lazy people. 

They got into a table by the window and Y/N took one of the laminated menus, her hair falling in front of her face as she studied what she could have for food. Sebastian found himself looking at her, the way her face twitched every time she saw something she didn’t like.

 - I found a typo. - she said, a huge smile in her face. - They wrote ceasar salad instead of caesar salad. 

 - You’re such a nerd. - he rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he returned to pick what to have for breakfast. An old lady reached their table, holding a small waitress pad. 

 - You two are such a beautiful couple, how long have you known each other.

 - We are ... - Y/N was about to come clean, she hated lying, but Sebastian was having the time of his life making people fell bad about giving them dirty looks, so he was not ready to let this go.

 - Five wonderful years, isn’t it so babe? - he reached his hand to touch hers but she still gave him the “touch me again, you’re dead” look. - Gotta enjoy our honeymoon before we start trying for a little one.

 - What can I get you two, sweethearts? - she asked and Y/N smiled at the mention of finally getting some food.

 - I’ll get a full English and Buck’s Fizz, thank you. - Sebastian handed her the menu as Y/N finished looking at the menu.

 - I’d like some Eggs Benedict with a Diet coke, please. - she handed her the menu too, putting her hands on top of her lap. The old woman gave her a puzzling look. - Is there something wrong?

 - Soda is not good if you’re trying for a little one. - she said making Y/N immediately shot a look that only translated into his death sentence.

 - You heard her babe, better not have that diet coke. - he tapped her hand, trying not to burst out laughing at the devastated look the writer had in her face. 

 - Freshly squeezed orange and grapefruit juice is better for fertility, sweetheart. I’ll add that to your order. - the old woman turned and walked back to the kitchen leaving Y/N to cross her arms at Sebastian who was wheezing in silence at her face. 

 - Damn daddy, I sure hope that juice makes me magically pregnant. - she mocked him, looking at the table next to her being served the nicest coldest glass of Diet Coke. Sebastian, on the other hand, grew flustered at her words, looking out into the window. - I can’t believe they would believe I would marry you, much less try for a baby.

 - Look, there is a lower chance of people thinking I’m me if we keep pretending we’re married and trying for a baby. 

 - That makes no sense. Besides, I’d rather die slowly than have to carry your offspring. - she mumbled as the lady came back with a tray containing their order and lacking her beloved Diet Coke. Y/N adored Diet Coke which was a controversial choice but back in university she used to down two cans of it per day while revising in the library. Cut to present day and she still enjoys a nice cold glass of Diet Coke with a slice of lemon. Instead, replacing heaven in a bottle, stood the freshly squeezed orange and grapefruit juice. She didn’t even like grapefruit, it was too sour for her. 

She placed the metal tray on the table, placing Sebastian’s order in front of him and Y/N’s in front of hers along with a bowl of wild berries. She looked up to the old woman, quizzing if she had ordered it or if it was a mistake.

   - Berries are good for the baby, sweetheart. It’s on the house. - she gave them a kind smile and left them to their food. Y/N shrugged, a gut feeling of guilt but yet again she loved berries and free berries sounded good to her.

  - So ... - she burst her egg yolks using her fork, her question stuck in her head and failing to come out. She didn’t want him to get annoyed at her, not when they had spent more than an hour without bickering. - Do you wanna get married and have kids? 

  - Too late for that. - he chuckled but it wasn’t his normal chuckle, it wasn’t that chuckle she had gotten used to.

  - You’re in your early 30′s, Sebastian. Besides, men are technically fertile until the end of their lives. 

  - Men like me don’t get married, we continue our life until no girl wants to lay down with us and then we disappear into oblivion. 

  - Is that what you want? Oblivion? - she questioned, one of her eyebrows raised at his comment. 

  - It’s not about what I want anymore. What about you, kids and engagement in the cards for you?

  - I used to want it but I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to get married if love is something that’s not everlasting. Besides, I do have to work. - she gave him that sweet smile of hers. - Why are you leaving the band? For real, why don’t you wanna be part of it anymore?

  - Just felt like it. 

  - You know, I don’t believe you’re a “just felt like it” type of guy so you gotta lie better to me. 

  - Anyhow, we’re moving into a hotel for the rest of the week so I won’t be annoying you during the nights anymore. 

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan AU #bucky barnes imagine