#nothing is worse than death and taxes

[viridian-forest-collective]

Joe: *what's worse than telling him I'm literally death... OH YEAH!*

Joe: I'm the IRS, now gimme your taxes.

#meet joe black #joe black #joe #death #death character #immortal #immortals #pls somebody #someone get this pls #i need more characters like him #i NEED to consume more characters that are literally death #give me more content somebody pls #i need more immortals #i need the bittersweet endings that immortals with no control of the inevitable have #i need it #pls #give this to me #im crying #please #nothing is worse than death and taxes #bro #bro please #gove polly a cracker and shove this gorgeous sad content down my throat

[calumfmu]

sugar coated melting.

Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

Famous!Steve Harrington x Assistant!reader (modern!au, with 40's Steve) 7.5k+ words

cw: older Steve Harrington, smut, loss of virginity, inexperienced!reader, AFAB reader, angst (what's new), mentions of death, swearing, 18+, mdni

Working with one of the most famous actors in the world was draining, exhausting, taxing, everything you could negatively describe. He was such a high maintenance person, he made your job seem like a constant boot camp run for the Navy Seals. Your best friend had cackled at that supply of information.

Steve wasn’t a bad person, no. He was handsome (obviously, he had been voted most handsome of the previous 2 years in a row), kind (to most people—who weren’t you), and compassionate (he let you eat his leftovers that one time you had gotten stuck on set for 16 straight hours). You were getting paid to say nice things about him if anyone had asked.

Life working as his head assistant was just a drag. It was everything you had dreamed of doing when you were a kid, working in Hollywood with big A-listers, attending red carpets, seeing the way movies worked. The job wasn’t the problem, it… was him.

A script was shoved into your hands as you thought of giving it to the man. The look on his face was burned into the back of your mind, irritation crossing his features as you imagined giving him the bad news. He always took things out on you, attitude forward as he said some slick remark.

Last minute script change, typical of productions like these. Something that anyone could expect while working on these things. Anyone with a normal level of patience would handle it well, take it with stride.

Your fingers rapped against the trailer door, aluminum warm to the touch from the sun beating down on it. Movement sounded behind the door, mumbling a few words out at you.

The door swung open, Steve rubbing at his eyes with his hair sticking in every direction. Fuck, he was asleep. It made it so much worse delivering the news.

“Heyyy, boss,” you beamed, voice raising a few octaves. You held out the script to him, cringing slightly. “Nothing too crazy, just a sliight chan-”

“No,” the door slammed in your face, your eyes closing as the bright reflection shone on you. Your smile immediately dropped, the reflection of your face on the white aluminum door looking back at you.

Red seethed through you, frustration prickling at the back of your neck. You knocked again, this day becoming even longer with each passing second.

“Mr. Harrington.” You were met with silence, ear pressing to the door to hear any movement. You waited a beat, knocking more urgently.

“Don’t want it, tell them no,” he grumbled behind the door, his voice sounded across the trailer, muffled through the closed door.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the patience to not go off on him. You were his assistant, not his agent, not the director of the film, not anything else. What did he realistically think you were going to do about a script change?

“‘M just delivering it, Mr. Harrington.” Your voice was level. “I don’t even think it’s your lines that changed.”

A faint note of music came through the door, Steve deciding to tune you out. Looking towards the sky, you squinted, finding prayer between the clouds.

“Mr. Harrington!”

Another PA walked by you, speaking into the earpiece she had with a clipboard in hand. You raised a hand to greet her, faux smile crossing your lips as you pretended everything was okay. She waved back, making her way in between the trailers and out of your eyesight.

As soon as she disappeared, your fist came up to bang at the door, louder than before.

It opened in the middle of your fit, you nearly stumbled into the trailer. You cut your eyes at your boss, biting your tongue at the swear words that threatened to come out.

The man was well past 30 years old, but still acted like a spoiled brat.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth, grabbing the stack of papers from your hand. He barely glanced at it before tossing it on the small couch behind him. Your eyes followed it, noticing the mess of bottles on the floor around it.

He followed your gaze with his own eyes, stepping into your eyesight as he closed the door slightly.

“Anything else, Yn?” A pinch of attitude at your name. Typical.

You smiled at the man, frustration disappearing as you were just grateful this episode of his didn’t last as long as it did last week.

“No, sir, that would be it for me,” you gave him a slightly bow, clasping your hands in front of you before swiveling on your heel. Descending the mini set of stairs, you rolled your eyes, back to him as you descended. “Fucking twat.”

“I heard that!” His voice was far behind you, your feet moving fast across the blacktops. You smiled back at him, waving as confusion crossed your features.

“Sorry sir, I said it was fucking hot!” You lied straight through your teeth. “Outside, you know? Pardon my language.”

You rolled your eyes once more, turning back on your mission to get back inside the building. You and him both knew what you said, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Nothing you did would get you fired, trust, have you tried.

It was like you were in your own personal Purgatory. You assumed Steve liked you, he wouldn’t fire you even on your worst days. You had fucked up many times, forgetting things, slipping up on his to do list, calling the wrong people for the wrong events. More recently, he had heard the rude nicknames you had for him, and he just didn’t seem to care.

You had heard him one time, whisper under his breath about “best help in Hollywood”. It was sarcastic of course, his eye roll you’ve been well acquainted with to follow.

The last few weeks have been more of a hell for you, Steve becoming more temperamental and moody, you becoming the worst employee on planet Earth. You begged to be fired at this point, your shot at unemployment looking more and more appetizing.

A sudden ring cut through the air, your back pocket buzzing. Pulling it out, you nearly ripped your hair out, Steve’s contact popping up on the screen. I could ignore it, you thought. This could finally be my chance at escaping him.

Your thoughts were cut short, the phone ringing again as Steve's name popped up. He didn't even let the first one finish before trying you again.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," you breathed, hand pressed into your brow as you answered. "Hi, sorry, sir. Did you need me?"

"Need you to come back," you heard him say, voice muffled as he seemed to be doing other things on the other side of the line. Your feet responded before your brain did, autopilot in motion. "Script's not fucking working, and I just-"

Something fell in the background, and your footsteps faltered. You ignored it, rolling your eyes yet again at his antics.

"Are you okay, sir?" You asked, seeing his trailer in the distance. One of the trailer windows had its blinds half up, he paced back and forth.

You approached it, listening to him as he rambled on the phone, speaking about how much he hated this director and his damn agent for giving him these roles. Fighting back laughter, you cosigned with him, not choosing to mention that this stupid role was worth $13 million.

You raised your fist to knock at the door, it swinging open before you could even make a noise. The three dial tones of the phone call ending rung in your ears, Steve grumbling at you to enter.

"A-are you sure, sir?" Hesitation filled you, you weren't used to stepping into his trailer. You think you'd been in it once during the last seven months of production, grabbing his left behind cell phone before they traveled to location.

Steve didn't look at you the whole time, just muttering words under his breath as he held the brand new scripts in his hand. He was pacing, feet burning holes in the carpet of the trailer.

You slowly stepped in, apprehensively closing the door behind you. Hands clasped in front of you, you stood in close proximity to the door, eyes shifting over the large trailer.

He had clothes thrown over one end of the vehicle, previous scripts sitting on the makeshift table, and a half full glass of a dark colored liquid next to it. You eyed it, brow furrowing as you swore this man had been sober for the past few years--or at least, that's what the news outlets said about him. Not like you kept up.

"Sir," you interjected his thoughts, causing him to stop in place. He still didn't look at you. "Why am I here?"

Curt answers were the easiest way for you to pretend to be nice to him. You knew you couldn't be outright rude, this was your boss after all. Saying stuff under your breath and if he accidentally heard was another thing.

He ignored you.

"How is this supposed to be the Oscar nomination when they have me acting like this?" He exhaled a small shout at the end of his words, your eyes squinting at the volume. "Does this make sense to you? It's like they want me to make a fool of myself, no?"

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "I'm not sure how you want me to answer that, sir."

He waited a moment, sighing loudly as he collapsed on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. You looked at him then, seeing the way his chest heaved as he shook his eyes. The sun was setting now, golden hour lighting inching through the windows over his figure. His bed head was still wild, even more messy than it was previously.

"W-what would you like me to do, sir?" You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you felt the awkwardness creep into the air. This was the longest you had been in a room with him, at least, with no one around.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you took note of your 'shift' being almost over. It was a quarter to seven, your freedom lingering in the distance.

"Sir?"

"Enough!" He cut out, breaking his silence. You jumped at the words, ducking your head as his outburst came. This was the Steve you knew, the short tempered boss who was always so moody whenever things didn't go his way.

You opted for silence, not daring to speak as you awaited his next choice of words.

His arm left his face, palm running down his features as he stared into the ceiling of the trailer.

"Sorry, I just," his voice was significantly lower. He sat up on the edge of the couch, his palms resting on his thighs. "I just need you to take me home."

Your eyes closed briefly, irritation quickly crossing you as you realized this was going to be a longer day than you imagined. If Steve had needed you longer than you were scheduled, then so be it.

"Why?" The word wasn't supposed to come out, replacing the 'okay' that sat on the edge of your mouth.

His gaze cut to you quickly, searching your face as you stood there. Eyes burning slightly, you felt tears prickling. The pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and Friends rerun marathon looking further away from you could bring you to tears.

"Because I employ you, do I not?" The harshness in his words did nothing but fuel the 'Hollywood Tell All' feature you planned for the day you quit.

"You do, sir, yes," You muttered, hands dropping to your side in defeat. "I just thought you'd drive yourself like normal. You know, day ends, and I'll see you here the next day, eight sharp like normal."

"I can't--no," he answered, standing up as he gathered his things. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You just need to take me home. You can drive my car."

The words to protest him were lost in your throat. You complied with his actions, eyes to the floor as he finished gathering his things. Following him out of the trailer, you sighed, feeling like you were walking into a lion's den.

The walk to the private lot was silent, Steve grumbling to himself as he texted someone on his phone. You noticed his phone ringing several times, his thumb finding the red button to end it each time. Curse words came out of his mouth every few seconds, a few from your own mouth being added to the mix as you thought of ways to leave.

As the two of you came across an old school beemer sitting deep in the parking lot, he threw the keys at you, settling into the passenger seat. Reluctantly, you slide in the driver's seat, feeling the leather interior beneath your fingers.

"Nice car, boss," You whispered, checking out how the car didn't even look a day out of 1985. Steve side eyed you, nodding at the compliment before returning to his phone.

"Get us there in one piece, yeah?"

You sucked your teeth as his comment, shaking your head before starting the car. It was like it was impossible for him to be a decent person. Here you were, doing something for this man which may or may not be in your contract, and he couldn't even say thank you to a compliment about his car.

The ride was silent save for an old tape that played in the car. Some band from the 80's you noted, a little too old for your taste. Steve's fingers tapped away at his phone, not focused on the LA traffic you sat in for most of the drive. He gave you directions to his swanky high rise, ignored you as you struggled to keep up with him.

You pulled into an underground garage, valet men coming immediately, opening the door for you as they took the keys. Everything happened in such fast motion, you barely noticed he was half way to the elevator. Jogging to catch up with him, you turned your own attention to your phone, thumb hovering over the Uber app.

Steve took a call, fingers rapidly pressing the elevator button as he spoke (yelled) at the person on the other end.

"No, Robin, I'm not doing that, okay?" He said, voice gruff as he glanced at you. You heard the static voice of the person on the other line, seeming to be yelling at him too.

The elevator dinged, the two of your bodies stepping in as the doors opened. The transportation app on your phone lagged, loading bar stagnant on your screen.

"No, I get it, it's been years. Fine, I-" Steve groaned in frustration, eyes repeatedly shifting over to you as you tried to tune out the phone call. You stared at the numbers the elevator passed, the first floor blinking by before you could say anything. Your phone remain in your hand, screen dimming as it began to time out.

"Robin. I know."

The voice on the other line picked up, the woman's voice growing even louder. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear slightly, grimacing at the volume. The elevator stopped at a floor labeled 'P', doors opening to a mini lobby that ended in double doors. He went over to unlock them, key fob in his hands as a beep sounded through the empty room.

As he stepped through them, phone balanced on his shoulder with his ear pressed to it, he looked at you. You stood right outside the elevator, doors closing behind you as you didn't know what to do.

He held open his front door, hand waving at you in frustration. "Well, are you coming in?"

You pressed your lips together, another wave of irritation pulling at your teeth. Eyes half rolling, you nodded, entering the doors as he closed and locked it behind you.

Steve moved fast, throwing his jacket over a couch that lay in the middle of the giant room, toeing off his shoes by its side. You stood in place, not sure what to do as your boss made his way around his home.

You took note of the place, not picturing that he would live in a place like this. It was modern, with a touch of old school fashion. Retro furniture, expensive nonetheless. Floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city. However, not a touch of life, no personal pictures, no sign of family, or anything personal that may shine light on what type of person he truly was.

You stepped in further to the place, watching as Steve made his way to a cabinet in his kitchen. Observing him over the breakfast bar, you saw into the open kitchen, watched him as he grabbed a rocks glass and a bottle of something pushed far back into a cabinet.

He continued on the phone, placing it on speaker as he began to open the bottle. He struggled at first, face turning up as his hands twisted on the cap.

Slowly making your way around the room, you glanced around, expecting him to yell at you for even being here, despite inviting you in.

"Steve," you heard the voice on the other line say. His eyes drifted towards the phone, pouring a hefty shot. "All I'm saying is, I miss you. And care for you. I love you. I want you to be okay today, alright?"

Steve grunted in response, not noticing your proximity to him. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to gain his attention.

The woman on the phone waited for more of a response. Once it was clear she wasn't going to get one, she sighed. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Yeah sure," his tone was rude, eyes boring into the glass of dark liquid that sat in front of him. His fingers danced at the rim.

"Eddie would've wanted you to come."

Steve's body language immediately stiffened, finger moving to hang up the phone before throwing back the shot of liquor. His face grimaced at the taste, slamming the glass back on the table.

You didn't know what to say, looking anywhere but at your boss.

"Fuck, I forgot you were even here," he suddenly said, hand running through his hair. His hand was on his hip, eyes glossy as he looked at you. You chewed at your bottom lip, nodding as he stared at you. He pointed to the alcohol, shrugging. "Drink?"

Declining, your head shook. "I don't drink, sir."

"Ahh," he said, grabbing the glass and bottle as he headed towards the couch. "Good girl."

He threw himself down on the furniture, exhaling loudly as he stretched out. His eyes were closed as you stood across the room.

"Hey, I-I think I'm gonna go," you said, beginning to walk towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As you crossed the room, Steve's voice called out to you. Your movements stopped, turning on your heel to look at him.

"Stay?" He asked you, eyes huge as they looked in your direction. You took note of his features, blinking at him as he awaited your response. Your boss was approaching his 40's, however, in this moment, he looked just like a little kid. Pictures of him in his teen years you had seen on the Internet were pushed to the forefront of your mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Harrington," you muttered, wanting to leave the scene.

His eyes fell to the floor briefly before he spoke out, "Steve."

"Huh?" You were confused, this sudden change in his attitude.

"You can call me Steve," he said, shifting his body as he relaxed into the couch. "We've known each other for a few years now, figured we should might as well be on a first name basis."

Fighting back the eye roll, you were reminded in the ways your boss had made your life into chaos.

"I bet you a million dollars, you don't even know my name, sir."

His gaze softened, laughing out loud as your hard exterior slowly came back.

"Yn." He muttered, smile dancing at his mouth.

You didn't know what to say, stuck between dashing out of his apartment or staying and seeing what type of Steve Harrington you were going to get today.

"I figure I should apologize for the way I've acted today," he said, turning forward as his gaze left your way. You didn't know why, but your feet followed it, walking closer so you could sit next to him. Lowering your self on the couch, you felt self conscious, like he was going to snap any second.

You snorted, "Today?"

He was staring at the bottle of alcohol in front of him, smile still on his face. Laughing at your comment, he shrugged.

"I have been a dick, haven't I?" He whispered, shaking his head as the smile slowly dropped from his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes unfocused as he stared in front of himself. "Such a fucking dick."

You didn't know why, but you felt the need to comfort the man. He was clearly going through something at the moment, if the look alone on his face was any tell.

"Hey, not too bad of one," you wanted to reach out to grab him.

"Don't lie," he laughed, head turning your way. His eyes met yours, deep brown staring into the color of yours. You noticed moles dotting his face, slight lines of aging covering his features. He was still youthful, his eyes telling the tale of a once young boy who was within. "I've been terrible. And you don't deserve that."

A pang hit your heart, feeling the weight of his words. You didn't really deserve his treatment. No matter if he paid you or not.

He continued his words, eyes staring past you. "And yet here I am, sitting here with my assistant. Drinking for the first time in years." A laugh bubbled out of him, hands running down his face as he leaned further back into the couch. "You know I'm supposed to be in Indiana right now?"

You shook your head, not wanting to interrupt him. Making yourself comfortable, you took off your shoes, slipping your feet underneath yourself.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in Indiana, it's the 20th anniversary of, uhm," his voice cracked, eyes welling up with a tear that was blinked back. "It's the anniversary of one of my friend's dying, and I'm not there."

Breath catching in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, sir," you muttered, hand reaching out to rest at his thigh. The touch was inappropriate, but so was this interaction you could say.

He looked down at your hand, watching your thumb as it brushed over his jeans.

"It's okay," he responded, eyes finding yours again. "It's been so long."

You nodded, eyes scanning his face as he forced the corners of his mouth to be turned into a smile. You saw right through it, recognizing the pain of a lost loved one straight through. "I don't think that matters."

His face dropped, sincerity crossing his features as he dipped to glance at your hand once more. Silence over took the two of you, the faint sounds of the streets of LA below you, Steve's staggered breathing as he willed himself not to cry. You were patient, finding comfort in the air as he found his words.

"We were all so young, and it feels so long ago, almost like it doesn't exist anymore," he finally said, voice even. "But I know it does. I just have to face it, I've been running from it ever since it happened."

He gestured to his surroundings, and the puzzle clicked into place. This fame and jerk persona that Steve carried himself in, hid the real him. He ran from all of his problems, like anyone else would, especially when dealing with something as traumatic like he had.

You didn't know the details, didn't care to ask, since it seemed to affect him so much. All you knew was that person who had passed so long ago did matter to him, in ways that you couldn't imagine.

Letting him continue his mumblings about the person he used to know, you found out that his name had been Eddie, the one you heard on the phone before. Robin, long time best friend of his, was trying to get him to come out to reconnect with everyone, he hadn't seen much of them since the 'accident', as he had called it. He kept in touch with everyone over the phone, but seeing them in person was a whole different story. It opened up old wounds that he was afraid of what it might bring out.

The story was slightly confusing, him mentioning something about how they all had nearly lost their lives, details that would leave you wondering what this man had gone through. None of this information was available about him in the public, his childhood always being a vague story that never connected.

"So you have kids then?" You questioned, confused on how you never picked up on this detail. There had to have been at least five of them, names you had never heard before now.

Steve laughed suddenly, shaking his head as his hand rested on your own thigh. The two of you were much closer now, as his story unfolded. Your thighs were touching, each other's hands on resting upon each other, mere inches away from your faces.

"No, I don't have any. I guess, I should stop calling them kids now, you know?" His laugh was low in his throat. "They have kids of their own at this point, so they're far from it."

"Oh..." You were dumbfounded, all of this information being at a loss to you. You weren't here to understand, just here to listen.

"You know what, I'm sorry," he suddenly said, removing his hand from your leg. You wanted to whine at the absence, cold replacing his warm touch. "Maybe you should go, actually. This is pretty, uhm..."

"Unprofessional?" You supplied, inching closer as your boss sat there, wide eyed looking at you. In the dark light of his apartment, you could see the way his brown eyes glimmered at you. "I guess we're even then, me calling you a twat earlier."

Steve cackled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of the events earlier.

"I knew you said that!"

You blushed, fighting back your own smile.

"It's not my fault, you were acting like one." Your lips pursed together, observing the older man in front of you.

Silence crept over you, the first break in conversation since his phone call ended earlier. Steve stared at you, eyes darting over your features as his teeth scraped over his bottom lip. You felt shy under his gaze, not knowing what to think of the moment as your boss was closer in proximity than he had ever been in your life.

"Can I make it up to you?"

His voice was low, and you were nodding before you even knew what he meant. Grabbing your cheek in his hand, the man leaned forward, capturing your lips into his. The gasp in your throat was lost in his mouth, a shuttering moan coming out instead.

His lips were soft, slightly chapped as they moved against yours. Fluttering your eyes closed, you leaned into the kiss, moving your hand so it rest at the curve of his hip, belt loop curling in your fingers.

He tasted of whiskey, the remnants of the few shots he had earlier lingering on his tongue. Steve pulled away slightly, muttering, "This okay?" against your lips as you nodded, pulling him in by his hair with your other hand.

Your breath grew more shallow as the kiss continued, leaning back as Steve began to tower over you. He shifted in his seat, covering your body with his own as he began to push you back into the couch. His figure was large over yours, scent of vanilla and cedar nearly suffocating you.

With your back flush against the couch, Steve removed himself from your lips, pressing a slight kiss against your jaw. You arched into the touch, palms running over the tight muscle of his back.

"S-steve," you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips kissed over your neck. Each press of his mouth sent fireworks down your spine.

He returned his lips to yours, moving with a passion that was lacking previously, confidence replacing the apprehension he once felt.

Your legs spread, inviting him to nestle in between, the thick material of his jeans rubbing against your own. A bulge was present, the thought of what lay underneath sending goosebumps over your skin.

Steve was lost in the kiss, his mouth nipping at yours as he reached down to unbutton your pants, slipping a hand to run over the front of your panties.

"W-wait," you muttered, grabbing his wrist as you pulled away from the kiss. He was confused, mouth red and swollen. His fingers pressed at your covered clit, a small shot of pleasure running through you.

"What's wrong, Yn?" The hand connected to his elbow that propped him up, ran through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. Concern crossed his features, searching your face as doubt crossed it.

"I just, uhh," you felt shy, avoiding his eye contact as the words stumbled out. "I've never really done this before?"

His eyes bulged out, sitting up suddenly as he leaned over you. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you pressed the palm of your hand to your forehead. Way to ruin the moment.

"Oh," he breathed, eyes wide as he scanned you. "We don't-- fuck, sorry. I'm so, uh, wow."

He stood up suddenly, leaving you laying on your back as embarrassment colored your cheeks. You didn't know what to say as the older man panicked.

"Maybe, uh, maybe this was a bad idea," he shook his head, hand reaching down to palm at the front of his pants. Your eyes followed his hand, noticing the prominent bulge.

You spoke out, shaking your head as you didn't make any effort to move. The turn of events tonight made you realize how much you did want the man who stood before you.

"No, we can, it's okay," you said, reaching out to grab his hand that hung by his side. He looked down at your grasp before bringing his eyes to meet yours. "It's alright."

He hesitated, sputtering over something to say.

"Steve, it's okay," you pulled him down, his knees straddling the sides of your hips as he reluctantly settled into the couch. His eyes ran over your body, lingering at the spot where your pants were unbuttoned, cotton panties exposed.

"A-are you sure?" He questioned, moving to lean back down over you. You nodded, leaning up on your elbows to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth, palm caressing the front of his shirt.

"I want to, it's fine."

You knew it was now or never, this moment with your boss being an opportunity that you couldn't have passed up. You always had a crush on him growing up, the face of Hollywood you would see in your teen magazines, posters covering the room of your friends. Working for him would've never had you imagining that it would lead to this moment.

Steve took control of the situation, kissing down your neck as his hand returned between your legs, pants thrown across the room somewhere. It had happened so fast, you barely noticed the cool air that pulled goosebumps from your skin.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay?" He muttered, freshly shaved stubble prickling against your chin. You could barely get out a moan as your underwear was pulled down your legs, catching at the crook of your ankles.

You felt his fingers brush over your folds, pressing lightly at the slick entrance. His thumb rubbed in small circles over your small bundle of nerves, an eye-rolling feeling that spread your legs apart. His fingers pushed inside, his own moan coming out over yours.

The feeling of the intrusion had you panting, spreading your legs wider while his thick fingers worked you.

"M-more," you begged, throwing your head back as his fingers found a rhythm. He stretched you out over two fingers at this point, thumb collecting slick as it rubbed over your clit.

Steve's fingers curled inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot deep inside. The look on his face was one of admiration, mouth slack as he looked down at you falling apart under his touch.

"That's okay?" His voice was husky, deep with arousal as your hips began to move in time with his fingers. Your orgasm was approaching, hips moving on their own accord as you chased that high.

"God, yes, Steve."

Pushing your shirt up past your bra, Steve gaped at the sight before him, your fingers dipping inside your bra to toy at your own breasts.

"You look so perfect, angel," he muttered, leaning down to capture your lips into his as you fell apart. That white blinding of your orgasm crept in, starting at the base of your spine and blossoming through your entire body. Against his mouth, you shouted out, squeezing your eyes shut as he fingered you through the high.

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, legs spasming from the shocks of the orgasm. You hissed at the over stimulation, Steve pressing into your clit one last time before removing himself from you.

You felt shy suddenly, the haze from the orgasm clearing as you realized you had just done unimaginable things with your boss. Seeming to read your mind, Steve pressed small kisses around the perimeter of your face.

"It's alright," he said, hovering over you. Against your thigh, you could feel his bulge rub against you. "How are you feeling, good?"

You nodded, words at a loss in your throat. You reached up to place a hand on his neck, the other at his waist as you played with the hem of his shirt. His eyes fluttered close briefly before glancing down at where you were slightly tugging his shirt up.

He made eye contact with you, chewing on his bottom lip. "I need words, angel. Gotta make sure everything is 100% okay, okay?"

"I'm alright, Steve," you gasped, looking down where your own hand rubbed at the exposed part of his abdomen. You needed more, wanted to feel him all over you. You began to pull his shirt over his body, watching as he glanced down at you with hooded eyes. "Just need more of you."

He slowly nodded, sitting back on his knees as he unbuttoned his own pants and slid them down his legs. You giggled at him as he struggled to get them off, the smoothness he had previously disappearing as he nearly toppled off the couch.

You pulled your own shirt and bra off of you, dropping them on the floor next to the couch. "Nice own, old man," you laughed, returning to your spot against the couch.

He frowned at you, lip jutting out in an over exaggerated pout. "Heeyy, I still got it."

You were left breathless, the laughter disappearing at the tip of your tongue as his figure returned to cover your body. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, the wetness pooling at the head leaving you gasping.

Steve reached down to rub his cock against the length of your cunt, spreading the slick all over as you arched into him.

"Fuuckk, Steve." You hooked your ankle over his hip, warmness pooling in your belly at the thought of him being inside you. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your nipples as they shook with each moan you gave.

"You sure about this, Yn?" He asked, leaning down to dart his tongue over the skin of your breast. It sent shivers down your spine, another wave of heat rushing to your core. "I don't want to do anything you'll regret."

"'M not gonna regret this," you gasped, feeling the way the head of his cock slightly pushed at you. It burned, fuck, he was big.

The slight intrusion had you gripping at his back, leaving crescent moon marks in the skin. Your breath came out ragged, a whine scratching at the back of your throat.

Steve grunted at you, pushing in slowly as he buried his head into your shoulder. He stopped every few inches, hips stuttering slightly as he fought back to urge to fuck back into you full force.

Being an all new feeling, you couldn't help but mewl at every burn of the stretch, a fullness you had never experienced before.

He pressed to the hilt, hips flush against yours as Steve gasped for air in tune with you. He pulled his head back to make eye contact with you, forehead resting against yours. You felt the slight grinding of his hips against yours, the fullness becoming too much as you were stretched over him.

"You gotta bare with me, baby." The nickname had you moaning, fingers reaching down to dig at the plumpness of his ass. You could barely keep your eyes open, senses overwhelmed with Steve. "'S been a while for me."

Nodding, you gasped as he reared his hips back before they stuttered into you again. The movement sent a wave of slick between your thighs again, pleasure blinding you.

He found his rhythm, hips fucking into you slowly, languidly as you fell apart beneath him. You rocked with every movement of his hips, hands running over the tan skin of his body above you.

Finding his lips, you moaned against his mouth, savoring the feeling that was building up in your abdomen as the two of you moved in sync.

Steve gave you words of affirmation, hips drilling into you over and over as his cock brushed over your deep bundle of nerves. Bliss approached you once more, wetness dripping all over him as you were brought to that high again.

"Gonna cum, Steve," you whispered against his mouth, back arching into him. He reached down between you, fingers toying at your clit as they began to rub in small circles.

"Cum for me baby," he breathed, voice low as your eyes rolled back. His voice brought you over the edge, high shout escaping your lips as that pleasure took over you again.

As he fucked your through your orgasm, his own approached, hips losing their rhythm as you felt his release deep inside you. A low groan of his came out, a breathy fuck being the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes.

Your body felt light, head foggy as you came down from your orgasm. It was pure bliss what you felt, heart pounding in your chest as sleep took over you.

You shot out of bed, frantically searching for your phone as you realized the sun was creeping through the curtains. Crisp, white sheets were pooled around you, swallowing you up whole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered, trying to search for your device in the darkness of the room. The dark curtains were drawn, only allowing a sliver of light in, but enough for you to realize how late in the morning it was.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, anxiety crept over you, realizing you weren't in your room. A tossing figure lay next to you, his body half covered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, everything from last night came crashing back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

"Hey, Yn, what's wrong?" Steve's voice was groggy, as he blinked in the darkness of the room. He glanced towards the curtains and then to you, noticing the way you covered your frame with the corner of the sheet.

"What time is it?" You half shouted, looking on the bedside table for your phone. Steve was no help, slowly stretching out his limbs as he yawned.

"Too fucking early for you to be that loud," he muttered, sitting up on his elbows. The sheet pooled around his waist, exposing his bare abdomen and a deep V that cut below his waist.

You quickly looked away, blush deepening on your face. "We have to go, Ste-Mr. Harrington. We're gonna be in so much trouble."

You heard him chuckle at you, sighing as he relaxed once again in the bed. His arms circled your waist, pulling you down into him as you continued to panic. He lay behind you, your head resting on his chest as he buried his face into your shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "Called in today, came down with something apparently."

You shook your head, resting your hands on his where they rested on your stomach. "Can you even do that?"

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" He laughed, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. The anxiety that built up in your spine disappeared at his touch, the familiarity of his body replacing it. You turned in his arms, now chest to chest with the man.

His eyes were closed, sleepiness still evident over his features.

"Are you going to fire me?" You whispered at him, watching as his brow furrowed before he squinted open his eyes at you.

"What? No, what are you talking about?" He seemed genuinely confused at your question, hand rubbing at your waist. Relief took stake in your chest.

"I slept with my boss last night," you laughed at yourself, voice dropping even lower as you saw a smirk cross his face. He was smug, shaking his head with laughter as you playfully slapped at his chest.

"Pretty sure I'm the one with a lawsuit pending if anything," he said, laughter dying as you placed a small peck to his lips.

As you pulled away, he leaned into it further, tongue darting out to lick at yours. A wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach.

He towered over you, mouth nipping at you as you sighed into the kiss. The two of you moved in sync, you moving onto your back as Steve leaned over your figure. A breathy moan escaped your lips, only to be cut off by his phone ringing.

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, separating himself from you as he reached for it on his side of the bed. He answered it quickly, realizing it was his publicist as he placed it on speaker. "What d'you need, man?"

His lips returned to yours briefly, before kissing down your neck. The sheets were slowly pulled off of you as he made his way down, nipping at your chest, then your nipple, and soft kisses pressed to your stomach.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible as his publicist droned on about some appearance he had to make in the next week. Steve was staring up at you, making small confirmation 'mhm's' in response to the phone call. A coy smile was on the corners of your mouth as you looked down at him wide eyed.

'Stop' you mouthed through gritted teeth. He nipped at your hip bone in protest, shaking his head at you.

You couldn't tell if it was Steve's mouth pressing to your heat or the next word's of his publicist that made your stomach drop.

"While we're at it, Steve, how about we talk how Page Six has pictures of you with a mysterious somebody in your apartment building?" They grumbled, voice staticy as it came through the phone. You felt Steve smirk against you, tongue lapping between your legs. "Aren't we a little too old to bring people back to your own place like that?"

A moan escaped you as you gripped at his hair. Steve looked up at you, wide eyed as he reached up to slap a hand across your mouth. 'Shhh', he mouthed, his own laugh threatening to spill out as his publicist's voice faltered at the noise.

"St-steve?" It said, apprehension in the tone. "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Really, man?"

Steve laughed as his hand remained over your mouth, muffling the sounds of your own laughter. They would recognize it if they heard it. He grabbed the phone from where it lay abandon, speaking into it as his thumb hovered the 'end call'.

"Something came up, gotta take care of it," he grimaced at you as you licked his hand. "Bye!"

He hung up right as the voice protested, tossing his phone aside as he leaned over you once again. His long hair hung in his face, eyes raking over your naked body.

"Now... where were we?"

an: I had to sneak in a line from All of Us Strangers because that movie was so moving. If you know, you know. I promise one of these days, I won't make Steve an asshole right off the bat, he'll be lovable.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #fanfic #my writing #writing my dark fantasies and praying they come true to my alt universe self

[lieutenant-rasczak]

On the incredible danger of the quaint, English village....

Although I live in Texas, thanks to various streaming services I get to watch a great deal of British T.V.  I have noticed that these shows (Midsomer Murders, Dalziel and Pascoe, Waking the Dead, Shakespeare and Hathaway, Vera, Rosemary & Thyme, Wycliffe,  etc.) share a common theme. 

And, after a certain amount of research I discovered that, believe it or not,  the third leading cause of death in the UK seems to be  "Moving to a quaint, country village". 

While “Getting murdered in a quaint, English, village”  killed slightly fewer UK Residents in 2021 than "Cancer" and "Heart Disease" it was distressingly close.  Even worse it came in only  slightly ahead of  "Attending a weekend party at a stately country home", which is in itself a fairly lethal pastime.  In fact “Attending a weekend party at a stately country home”  WAS the second leading cause of death in Britain between 1919 and 1939, but began to decline after the war as the Labour Govt. raised taxes and the number of country homes dropped drastically; thus causing a steep decline in the number of weekend parties one could be murdered at.

In any case my research indicates that IF you are British, AND you are feeling down, depressed, and suicidal, there is no reason for you to run your car off a cliff, or take a trip to Switzerland.  In fact, you need only do the following

1) move to a lovely, quiet, English village where nothing ever happens, but the murder rate is (adjusted for population) is far higher than that of South Chicago or East L.A.

You might think that such a village would be hard to find, but apparently England is simply teeming with them.  Places with highly competitive flower shows or bleak, cliff filled coastlines seem to be particularly deadly.

2) Change your will, and make sure to mention this to the former beneficiary. (This is vitally important!) Also make sure to let them know where the new will is kept. The top drawer of your desk is probably the best place, no need for locking file cabinets or bank safety deposit boxes!

3) Develop a keen interest in local land titles and/or genealogy. In fact you should probably announce that you are writing a book on the subject.  (It is suggested that you do so in a crowded pub.) In any case make sure to spend plenty of time at the local public records office researching this while receiving vaguely threatening  remarks from various upset neighbours. If you receive any threatening notes make sure to save them in an easily discovered drawer somewhere, but do NOT mention them to anybody, and certainly do not heed any warnings you are given about a need to “back off”.  That last one is ESSENTIAL.

4) Stand against the most popular member in the election for  Parish Council. Threatening to win the local flower show is also a good move.

5) Always leave the door or doors unlocked at night. (This includes your car.) Even if you have lived in London for decades, discard any habits you may have about locking up as soon as you move to the quaint, country, murder hole.

6) Never close any curtains or blinds, that way your future assailant always knows exactly where you are and what you are doing.

7)  Either don't have a phone or keep it in an inaccessible or hard to find place.

8)  Never, ever have any useful weapons nearby or if you do ensure you lose of drop them immediately on seeing your assailant.

Do this, and you’re guaranteed to be pushing up daisies by Christmas.

[radiocrypt-id]

Gerrard is painful in a way I didn't really understand at first. He's like, 30. He's grown. A handsome prince, married to a wonderful woman that's trying to do her job and prevent the deaths of her people. But all he thinks about is the ball. he offers to look through a sword form book as a way of "helping", or to appear to be helping anyway. He's a coward. He hides with the children and escapes through a secret tunnel and runs away. He's desperate to convince anyone, including himself, that he's a handsome prince who is in love with his wife and their marriage is going great.

And I didn't get it, at first. I thought he was funny and probably more like the average person in a terrible time, not a hero. He's a grumpy adult that feels like the world he was promised got taken away from him when he did nothing to hold onto that world in the first place.

And then they played through his story. He was 9 when he was turned into a frog. 9. A baby, unable to understand what it was he'd done wrong. He was a spoiled little prince with absent parents that was 9 and didn't want to interact with a random strange old woman at his door asking for stuff. An adult could have been gotten. His parents could have been summoned by a servant and brought to the door or a higher servant could have handled the talk but no, no they let a 9 year old boy open that massive door to a random stranger asking to come inside out of the rain. Any child would have said no. Any child. Because an old woman he'd never met was asking to go inside his home. I would have said no, any of the other characters at the table would have said no. She's a scary old lady on his doorstep! And yeah maybe he said it in a dickish way. Maybe he called her a peasant or said 'how dare you' to her face, but he was 9 years old, what 9 year old isn't a weird little dick? Especially when they don't know what's going on? Stranger danger is literally a thing taught to children as soon as they can walk! Any one would have said no. But Gerrard said no, and was turned into a frog for it.

But you know what's worse then being turned into a frog and dropped in a pond a bit away from your home? Never being looked for. Not once. He was out there, he could see hunters and soldiers. A tiny Gerrard must have waited months, just staring out into the woods, straining his ears, listening for his mother or father calling his name. And then just listening for his name at all. And then just listening for any sign of humans at all. No one was looking for him. For all the servants charged with taking care of a young prince, not one saw what happened to him and not one went looking. It's hard to be small and scared and alone, waiting for someone to come get you but no one ever comes to get you. It's hard to learn that the people that are supposed to love you just... don't.

And later on, after becoming a handsome man and marrying Elody, Gerrard spent more years of his life as a frog in a pond than a prince. Day dreaming about balls and gossip and feasts and all the fun things about being a prince because it's all he can remember about his time as a prince. He didn't have the classes he should have had. He missed out on etiquette, and sword play, and politics, and war. He missed those lessons, because he was just a little frog in a pond during the years he would have learned all that. But he's expected to know. Elody loves him, but she expects him to know how to be a prince. She expects him to understand war and strife and taxes and all those important things and doesn't once stop to ask if he actually knows these things. Of course he didn't want to talk about the war effort. Of course he asked about the ball and offered to read a book about sword play. It's not that he could give more and chose not to, he genuinely didn't know how to do more than that. He was taking what initiative he could. He could teach himself how to fight, sure! but he can't teach himself how to be a general. All he wants is to be safe, and for the person he loves to be safe. And he assumes that anyone would run away from a losing battle because he would. He grew up a frog that had to survive by running away and letting someone else die so he could live. But even once he ran, he went looking for Elody. Because although Elody is falling out of love with Gerrard, he loves her fiercely. And as he goes on his adventure and fights and dies and fights more, he gets it. He gets what Elody wanted from him and what she needed him to be and that he failed to do that.

So he's learning better now. He learning to accept personal sacrifice, like with the glass shard. He's learning to be diplomatic, like with the pig. He's learning to be dangerous and capable, like in the fight against muffet. He's learning what it means to rely on people and be honest with them about his failings so they can cover his ass, like with the party. It's hard to learn these things. It's hard to try and sus out who is helpful and who isn't. It's hard to not hand off his problems again for someone else to fix. Because even though he's 30 now, he spent an unknown number of years as a frog, and he's desperately trying to catch up without letting anyone know he's behind because they might not like him anymore if they know how far behind them he is. He's doing his very best and, terrifyingly, the person that's supposed to love him is loving him less because his best isn't good enough for her. Once again, he's missing and no one is looking for him.

But that's okay, because this time, Gerrard can do the looking.

#pinocchio neverafter #d20 neverafter #neverafter #neverafter gerard #ylfa snorgelsson #d20 spoilers #d20 rosamund #dimension 20

[loki-cees-all]

Nothing to Fear {Avengers!Loki x GN!Reader One-Shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / A03 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x GN Reader

Summary : The mission didn't go quite as planned, and it left you with questions over the practicality of your relationship. But of course, Loki always knows just what to say.

W/c : 1.5k words

Content / Warnings : Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Author's Note : For my beautiful and favorite niece @sarahscribbles, for her Birthday Celebration, using her prompt "You never have to fear that you’re losing me." Enjoy, my dear 💚

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You needed to be closer to him, and dull pain flared to life as you shifted in your seat. The effort to move even that much after the grueling mission was taxing, but the comfort he provided was worth more than the unexpended energy. Fingers weaved together as your temple found his broad shoulder, and you breathed a long sigh of relief. 

At long last, the adrenaline had begun to fade from your system, and your senses slowly switched off. And once at cruising altitude, the Quinjet’s engines mercifully drowned out the other Avengers’ voices inside the cabin; Tony and Steve were arguing again - this time over why they had failed to acquire the intel they were after, and it seemed like the disagreement was going to last all night. 

You and Loki were the only team members not participating in the immediate post-mission analysis, because as long as you were both returning home safely, you considered the expedition a rousing success. And there would be plenty of time for discussion later; for now you just wanted to enjoy the proximity of your lover.

Heavy eyelids drifted closed, and your lips curved into a soft smile as you felt his press against your hairline. The mission had been harrowing, but moments like these - the quiet intimacy of shared relief - almost made it worth the stress. 

Almost. 

An image flashed in your mind, causing your heart to thud momentarily in your chest. The team had been split into two groups, and as you, Loki and Steve infiltrated the facility, you found yourselves ambushed by a swarm of Hydra agents armed with flamethrowers. 

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been that significant, but the terror in Loki’s eyes certainly was. The entire ordeal had only lasted for a second or two, but his fear was palpable, and so was the heat. The woosh of the flamethrowers overpowered Steve’s shouting, and the flames singed your clothing as Loki yanked you behind him. 

His seidr was unusually quick at that moment. Normally, he preferred drawing his combatants out into clever banter in between blows; it was his favorite method of distraction and interrogation in his seemingly endless chest of tricks. But instead, he unleashed a sudden, massive barrage of emerald energy that took the Hydra agents out all at once - before they could even be questioned.

It was impressive, as he always was, but it left you absolutely rattled, and despite how relaxed he appeared on the outside, you knew Loki was feeling the same thing. 

And you were sure Steve had also recognized the expression on Loki’s face as his seidr dissipated and reality sunk in. But like all good leaders, he was kindly keeping that information to himself, despite how pissed Tony was that they were returning home with nothing. 

It had only been six months since Loki was freed from Thanos’ control. Only half a year separated him from those horrors, and every day you spent falling in love with him meant realizing how close to death it was possible for him to be. 

But had Loki’s overreaction been because he feared for his life, or for yours? Was your relationship making everything easier between battles, while simultaneously making them worse inside them? 

You knew that letting yourself believe this Asgardian God to be invincible was a mistake, one you couldn’t afford to make. But perhaps you being mortal was a complication neither of you could overlook any longer. Anything could happen at any time, and if relatively simple Midgardian weapons were enough to - 

“Something on your mind, dear?” Loki murmured, apparently having sensed the flashes of tension still pulsing in your veins. 

He was so talented at picking up subtleties in your body language, much to your own chagrin sometimes. You cracked open an eyelid to peak at him, and were unable to resist a smile as you took in Loki’s serene and exhausted expression. 

Too tall for his own good, he had to shift down in the seat to lean his head back and achieve any semblance of comfort. But despite that, he still managed to exude an aura of elegance and solace unmatched by anyone else.

And even with his eyes closed - even while lingering on the edges of sleep - he could still tell when something was off. 

“So, are you waiting to share until I’m fast asleep in our bed? Is that your evil plan?” Loki teased after you didn’t answer, just loud enough for you to hear as he shifted his arm to pull you closer.

“What a jerk…” you grumbled playfully, rolling your eyes even as you curled tighter against his side. 

Loki only chuckled, his fingers rubbing against your waist, tracing lazy circles as he rested his head on top of yours and waited patiently for your elaboration. 

Everyone else on the team had long since settled in their seats for the long flight back to New York, and Tony and Steve’s squabbles had finally died down; the only sound now was Loki’s soft voice in your ear in the darkened cabin. 

And while the quiet ambiance was certainly comforting - a welcome distraction from the chaos that had erupted inside that Hydra facility - you were also tempted to start another fuss amongst the other team members, just to ensure no one could hear your conversation. 

But doing so might doom Loki to having his personal business shared with the team, and that was something you knew he desperately didn’t want. 

Resigning yourself to maturity, you took a deep breath, inhaling the spicy notes of amber, wood, and myrrh lingering on his skin, before answering. “I was just thinking…do you ever second-guess this? I mean, us?” 

“No.” Loki’s answer was immediate, as if he had been expecting the question. His hand shifted, molding itself along the curve of your waist and squeezing to emphasize his words. “No, I don’t regret you, my love.” 

“That’s not entirely what I meant…” you sighed, but not out of frustration. You were almost afraid to bring it up, worried about speaking it into truth. “Every time we leave the Tower, it could be the last time we…” 

Loki twisted in his seat, bringing his other hand to tilt your chin upwards to meet his gaze. His emerald eyes almost glowed in the dim light of the cabin, casting an ethereal, comforting aura around you. Truthfully, you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t actually casting a spell, but you appreciated it all the same. 

“No, I don’t regret you,” Loki repeated softly, looking directly into your eyes with the kind of sincerity that made your heart ache for him. “Nor do I regret anything involving you.”

You swallowed hard, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t like you to be this uncertain, and you felt guilty about bringing it up at all, but it needed to be addressed. “But what if something happens to either one of us?”

Loki’s fingers drifted to the frayed seams of your jacket, absentmindedly pulling at the burnt threads as his brow furrowed and unfurrowed. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he weighed his options on how to respond before that familiar and confident grin graced his features once more. 

“Such little faith you have in me, darling,” Loki replied, his voice dripping with amusement. “I assure you, you’ve nothing to fear…”

His hand moved to cradle your jaw, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, and he leaned in close, his lips hovering just above yours. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to me…” he whispered teasingly before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

You weren’t sure what to feel - annoyed by his joke, intoxicated by his demeanor, or surprised that you were feeling both simultaneously. But even when he was joking, there was a sliver of truth in every word, and if nothing else, he always kept his promises. 

“But more importantly,” Loki continued after pulling away, murmuring softly as he rested his forehead against yours. “I’d never let anything happen to you, my dear.” 

You nodded, believing every word as you reached up to caress his face. His lips curved into a smile as he pressed them into your palm. How was he so talented at weaving truth and tricks together? How was it so effortless for him to assuage any fear you ever held?

"Promise?” 

“I promise…” Loki chuckled, pulling you back to lean against his shoulder. His eyes closed again as you rested together, one hand still lingering on your waist, and the other enveloping yours on your lap. 

It was dangerous to be a part of this team, and it was borderline idiotic to fall in love with someone in this same line of work. Not many heroes ever managed to acquire a truly happy life, and maybe this was going to end terribly someday. 

Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe everything would end perfectly, the way it was meant to. With a God and a mortal, and their unconditional love, anything was possible.

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#loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #cee writes #loki x female reader #fluff #loki x reader fluff #loki x you #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki odinson #marvel x reader #loki fic #loki mcu #marvel #imagine #fanfic #loki imagines #loki x yn #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x y/n

[marshymeds]

Intentionally Pathetic?

Description: Shang Qinghua falls asleep at his desk and Mobei Jun carries him to his room. Eepy fluff; (also posted on ao3 @marshymeds)

Nothing could have prepared Shang Qinghua for the workload that awaited him after being reinstated as An Ding Peak Lord. He had never considered himself particularly gifted in logistics or civil affairs, but he could write well enough and he had played the role to the satisfaction of the System. How could he have guessed that everyone else that would fill his place during his tenure as a fugitive was worse at finances and organization than a three year old child?

And what was worse; Mobei Jun had been particularly rude to him after the whole ‘saving him from falling to his death’ thing. Each day had borne an entirely new cadre of tortures. Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure he could take much more. He certainly wouldn’t be saving anyone out of the goodness of his own heart again anytime soon—was this the thanks he got? Complete disrespect even from his favorite OCs.

He sighed deeply and thumped his forehead down onto his arm, exasperated. Nomatter how long he wrote, the stacks of paperwork on the desk never seemed to get shorter. He envied whatever Cucumber-bro was doing at the moment. Probably off fishing with Bing-ge, living the highlife in a quaint lakeside cottage, eating a nice meal with no worries in sight…

Shang Qinghua’s eyes felt heavy as he pulled his head up once more, staring down at the blurry calligraphy on the page before him. He could really go for a warm bowl of ramen about now.

Mobei Jun used no courtesies when entering the room. He simply opened the door abruptly, stepping inside without regard for the inhabitant as he had always done. “I require your assistance.”

Silence.

When the usual startled exclamation didn’t come, Mobei Jun cocked an eyebrow at the figure hunched over the desk on the opposite end of the room. Maybe he’d been too quiet.

“I require your assistance,” he repeated. “Come.”

Still more silence.

He stepped over, annoyance flickering across his face. Was he ignoring him? The man had been incensed that morning, going on about how “no one respects their elders anymore” and “is there no one on An Ding Peak that knows how to properly file taxes??”, only bolstered by the usual round of beatings throughout their daily interactions, but Mobei Jun hadn’t expected the mood to carry over. It never had. He had certainly never willfully ignored him before.

“Qinghua,” he said flatly as he stood next to him now, his tone betraying a cold indifference as well as annoyance. It was entirely intentional.

But he paused as he stared down at him.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes were tightly closed, his cheek pressed firmly against the sheet of paper on which he had been writing. His hand still loosely gripped a brush. The writing was sloppy and trailed off towards the end, resulting in several blotchy stains of ink across the bottom half of the page.

Over the past several years, Mobei Jun had long since learned that Shang Qinghua slept like the dead. There was no use in shaking his shoulder—nothing short of whacking him upside the head would rouse him if he were truly asleep. Thus, there was no harm in leaning closer to look at him.

The peak lord’s mouth was parted slightly, a smudge of ink on his cheek from where he had apparently rested his face down onto fresh calligraphy. His breaths were slow and quiet. Peaceful. Definitely asleep.

Mobei Jun had to wonder if this was intentional. He couldn’t help but think back to that conversation several years ago, as he often did, and consider that Shang Qinghua was putting himself in a position on purpose. To appear vulnerable and weak. To be pathetic.

As Mobei Jun stared down at Shang Qinghua his fingers curled and his chest felt tight. He had to admit it worked.

He pulled his eyes away and stood up again, glancing back at the door. The matter wasn’t important enough to wake him. He would just come back in the morning.

He began to step away and quickly wavered. When had he ever cared whether something was important enough to warrant dragging Qinghua from his sleep?

With that startling thought in mind, Mobei Jun could no longer step out of the room. He quickly turned back to the man at the desk, chest still tight, and weighed the frustration over in his mind. This wasn’t worth it.

Mobei Jun reached down to him, but instead of smacking him, shouting or otherwise violently rousing him from his sleep, he found himself carefully lifting Shang Qinghua from his seat at the desk and into his arms. As he lifted his face a much larger smear of ink was revealed across his left cheek.

The tightness spread from Mobei Jun’s chest and up into his throat. He didn’t understand what sort of illness had managed to overtake him, but it was uncomfortable and he didn’t want any part of it. He didn’t understand how Luo Binghe dealt with this. His half-mortal side must have given him some sort of immunity. In any case, asking him about this was a nonstarter.

Mobei Jun still found himself reaching a hand down to brush at the ink with his thumb. Shang Qinghua’s skin was warm, and under the young demon lord’s icy fingers he flinched away, his face scrunching up slightly in his sleep. The warmth from his face made his fingers tingle and burn slightly, urging his chest to tighten further.

For a brief moment Mobei Jun considered dropping Shang Qinghua to the floor, but he gritted his teeth and shook his dark sleeve over his hand, using the cuff of his robe to gently rub at the mark on his cheek. The ink smudged around but ultimately didn’t budge.

Shang Qinghua really was warm. Mobei Jun could feel the heat through his sleeves as he stood next to the desk, still holding him in his arms. His heart beat faster.

Bed. Right, a bed. Forget the ink. What was he, a maid? He was the heir to the Mobei clan, not Shang Qinghua’s mother. He could bring him to bed, but he needn’t wash his face for him.

The halls were empty even at this time of night. Disciples had no reason to venture into their peak lord’s quarters even if they stayed up late into the night doing paperwork. It occurred to Mobei Jun that he rarely saw anyone visit the An Ding Peak Lord on anything but official business.

He glanced at the man in his arms, but Shang Qinghua had nestled himself comfortably into the demon’s arms, his face pressed into his robes, still entirely unconscious. Pathetic.

Mobei kicked the bedroom door open unceremoniously.

It was here that Mobei Jun ran into a problem. He often took the peak lord’s bed, but he had just brought Shang Qinghua from his study to bring him to bed. Where was he going to put him if he himself would take the bed?

The birds outside were the first indications that morning had come. Shang Qinghua kept his eyes closed, indulging in the quiet birdsong as long as he could before he would inevitably have to rise and begin the day. Although he felt a bit chilly, he could feel a warm ray of sun on his cheek peeking in from the window. When he finally opened his eyes he blinked lightly, momentarily blinded by that thin ray.

He froze.

The face not two inches from his own was sharp and defined, and dreadfully familiar.

Shang Qinghua nearly fell backwards off the bed in an attempt to get away. Had he crawled into bed with Mobei Jun in his sleep? He hadn’t done that in several years now.

Just as his feet touched the floor the demon stirred, eyes cracking open to stare at him blearily in the dim morning light. If he only raised his hand to lightly rub his eye he might look like a child.

Already so early and Shang Qinghua had done something wrong. Mobei Jun had never reacted well to having his sleep space invaded. Maybe he hadn’t noticed?

“M-my king, I ah…uh…H-how did you sleep?”

“Mn.” he grunted, brushing dark strands of raven black hair from his forehead.

Shang Qinghua stood there in tense silence as Mobei Jun sat up slowly, looking somewhat the image of a cat rising from a long nap, stretching and pulling the blankets away from his legs.

“You fell asleep working.”

Shang Qinghua loosened, glad to know that he hadn’t suddenly developed a gap in his memory. But the implications quickly made him tense again, sneaking an awkward glance back at his companion.

Mobei Jun’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Did…you bring me to bed…?”

The look emanating from the demon heir’s was enough to freeze any man’s heart.

“O-of course not,” Shang Qinghua said quickly, answering his own question. “I’m sorry my king, I wasn’t thinking,”

Mobei Jun’s expression softened at that, then hardened, then softened again. The array of colors glinting in his eyes made Shang Qinghua wary.

“Is…there something wrong?”

There was silence for a moment.

Mobei Jun turned away. “You…kick in your sleep.”

________

#mxtx #svsss fanfiction #svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #an ding peak #scumbag system #scum villian self saving system #scumbag villain #scum villain #fanfic #fluff #sleep #marshymeds #undedited rip

[notmorbid]

everything everywhere all at once.

dialogue prompts from everything everywhere all at once (2022).

that's not a very good joke.

you need to eat better.

you'll know when it's time to fight.

i'm not ready to fight.

whatever you're about to do, don't do it.

were you not paying attention before?

nobody trusts their neighbor anymore.

i'm not trying to hurt you.

unless it's an emergency, whenever i try to talk to you, you always get pulled away.

we can make our own way. okay?

what can be worse than death?

explain it all to me. now.

the universe is so much bigger than you realize.

don't make me fight you. i'm really good.

why are you treating me like this?

one minute you're so warm, then one minute you're cold and awful.

let me help you open up your mind.

i got bored one day and i put everything on a bagel. everything.

you're living your worst you.

you're capable of anything because you're so bad at everything.

'right' is a tiny box made by people who feel afraid.

you're young, and your mind is always changing.

i was just looking for someone who could see what i see. feel what i feel.

you don't matter. nothing matters.

whatever i did, i'm sorry.

please don't give me any false hope.

i've always hated this place.

you can just sit here and everything feels really far away.

i'm joking. that was a joke.

you think i'm weak, don't you?

when i choose to see the bright side of things, i'm not being naïve. it's strategic and necessary.

all i know is that we have to be kind.

in another life, i would have really enjoyed just doing laundry and taxes with you.

i don't want to hurt you.

don't stop playing. play something for me.

you are not unlovable.

there is always something to love.

we are all useless alone.

it's a good thing you're not alone.

he who loves the most regrets the most.

let's not live in a fantasy.

it's okay if you can't be proud of me.

i don't want to hurt anymore.

for some reason, when i'm with you, it just hurts the both of us.

let's go our separate ways, okay? just let me go.

i will always, always want to be here with you.

so what? are we just gonna ignore everything else?

this is awkward, right?

please give us a chance.

#dialogue prompt #rp prompts #rp prompt #rp memes #ask memes #families #lgbt

[ghostofskywalker]

weep not for what you've done, but rather who you've lost along the way

Commander Cody/Fem!Jedi!Reader

Words: 3,345

Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen like this, the man you loved wasn't supposed to be the one to end your life. And to make matters worse, you had to keep reliving it, over, and over, with no end in sight and no clear reason why you were subjected to a torture worse than your darkest nightmare.

yearofcreation2023 flower and meaning: june: marigold || despair and grief over the loss of love

@clonexreaderbingo square: heartache

Warnings: ANGST, character death (in a time loop), slightly graphic description of violence

Author's Note: i don't do angst often, but when i do, i make myself cry while writing apparently. half of the fact this even exists is because of the lovely @homie-one-kenobi, who ages ago encouraged me to embrace the angst in my soul and lent me her roll of "time loop" and "order 66" from the roll for clone prompt list i made.

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Clone Troopers Masterlist

From across the holotable, you caught Commander Cody’s eye. The smile on his face was meant only for you, a secret code that no one else had the privilege of understanding. You tried to pay attention what the holos of Obi-Wan and Anakin were saying, but it was hard when you could be staring into the commander’s eyes instead. You were rarely assigned to assist the 212th with their campaigns, so every chance you got was taken with an enthusiasm that you were sure must have worried Master Yoda. 

You loved him, there was no mistaking this feeling. 

And while you weren’t sure if he felt as strongly about you, the kiss you had shared in the booth at 79’s the last time you were on leave was an indication that he was certainly willing to see where your relationship went. 

Once the briefing was over and you were alone with him, you couldn’t help but smile and stare into his eyes. He must have noticed your pensive expression, because he caught your attention by softly saying your name. “Is everything alright?” 

“Do you think this war will ever be over?” 

He paused, clearly not having expected that question to come out of your mouth. But you couldn’t help it, this conflict had been nothing but an pain-filled toil with no end in sight, and the tax it was taking on both you and many of your fellow Jedi was something you feared would never be removed from your lives. “I don’t know,” was his response, and you appreciated that he was telling the truth, rather than simply sugar-coating a dream you weren’t sure would ever come to pass. “I think all we can do is hope that the tide shifts soon.” 

He was right; you had just heard Obi-Wan talk about his plan to corner General Grievous on the other side of the planet, and you were to work with the rest of the troops to provide back-up when necessary, 

War was like the crashing waves on a windy beach. There were brief times like this where you could take a step back and breathe, daydream about kisses to come and take the time to meticulously plan out your next moves, but they were few and far between. A vast majority of the time you were being pulled in every direction, forced to do whatever it took to keep yourself afloat as chaos raged all through the galaxy. And of course, every moment of serenity is ripped away far too quickly by the calloused and unforgiving hands of bloodshed, stealing the what-ifs and future tomorrows of the men you had grown close to. 

With no warning, the droids came. Thousands of them marched across the surface of the planet and you could hear the distant scream of transport ships, meaning more were certainly on their way. The clones jumped into action, and you pushed into the crowd yourself, the beam of your lightsaber twirling gracefully through the air as you severed heads and limbs from the bumbling Separatist infantry. 

With Cody beside you, the droids were no match for the unstoppable force you became. The sound of blaster fire all around you began to dull in your mind as you pushed forward, as more and more of this platoon fell to the ground. For a moment, you couldn’t see if there were any more on the way, and you were about to kill the last droid standing when a shot came from behind you. 

You couldn’t see Cody’s face when you turned to look at him, but you knew he was wearing a smirk under his helmet. “I was going to get him you know,” you said, a playful expression on your face. 

He shrugged and answered with a nonchalant tone. “Well General, maybe next time you need to be quicker.” Stars, you wanted to kiss him right now. 

“Is that challenge, commander?” 

Before he could say anything in response, his communication device started to beep. “Do you think that’s General Kenobi?” he asked. 

“I hope so,” you said. “He’s a fool for taking on Grievous alone, so I hope he’s okay.” 

As Cody stepped away to answer, the sound of another transport ship filled the air, and you turned to watch a small speck of gray whizz through the sky. Motioning to your droid, you called out to Cody that you were going to investigate whatever that was and asking him to let you know whatever he was told. Not wanting to let this ship disappear, you didn’t wait for a response before getting into your ship and taking off, your trusty R3 nestled in the droid port. 

A feeling of dread washed over you instantly, and you could feel some kind of disturbance in the Force. Your ship was climbing through the air without issue though, so you just brushed it off. 

Until you felt something hit just below you. 

There was no time to wonder what was happening, you were under fire and you had to escape it. You turned the controls, intending to land back down and see if any of the men noticed where in the planet’s rocky cliffs the droids had hidden their cannon, but your heart clenched when you noticed another blast barreling towards you, and you were struck with a terrifying realization, that this shot had unmistakably come from Republic artillery. 

Too startled to truly react with enough time, you pulled the controls to the left. The shot clipped one of the wings, the sound of its impact echoing through your mind. Now horribly off balance, your ship rocked through the sky and spiraled at the height in which you had gotten hit. “R3, what’s going on?” you said, heartbeat quickening as you tried to ignore the nagging feeling that you were truly being targeted by your own troops. The droid started to beep something, but the next blast came too quickly for him to finish. 

Before you began hurtling towards the ground, you tried to make sense of what was happening, how your own troops had seemingly turned on you without warning. But it was no use, and the inevitable descent began. 

You were dead before you hit the ground, and even if you hadn’t been, the explosion on impact took care of everything in a few flagrant moments. 

***

From across the holotable, you caught Commander Cody’s eye. The smile on his face was meant only for you, a secret code that no one else had the privilege of understanding.

Wait. 

Something was wrong here. You discreetly looked around the room, desperately trying to figure out why your body was so on edge at this moment. And to make matters more confusing, you seemed to be able to know everything that Obi-Wan and Anakin were saying on the holotable in front of you.  Their plans, their updates, even their mannerisms seemed wholly predictable, as if this was not the first time you had attended this meeting. 

Cody was standing next to you now, and his hand found yours, a gesture that was not visible by anyone else. It was comforting for a fleeing moment, but you felt the overwhelming desire to pull away from him. To your fellow Jedi watching from their own holotables, the commander’s expression did not betray the pain behind his eyes at your simple action, but you saw it to be there, a cocktail of confusion and hurt that made your heart squeeze for a moment. 

He cared for you, that much was obvious. And you cared for him in a way that the Jedi Code would never allow, to the point where you had considered running away from the Order the moment the war was over, starting a new life with the kind and loving commander by your side. 

Soon the meeting was over. 

And then the droids arrived. 

Once again, this moment of tranquility was cut short as you had to become the leader, shoving the peacekeeper inside your heart aside to instead embrace the violent apathy that your rank in this conflict required of you. 

As you cut down the approaching droids in your path, blaster fire echoed through the space as the 212th helped you hold the line. You never worried for yourself in these situations, and these droid in particular were not the most advanced of the bunch. But you seemed to know their attack patterns, and it was in record time that the last of them fell to the ground. 

It seemed like things were going well, but you couldn’t shake that feeling of worry and fear that was slowly taking hold in your stomach. And it only grew when the sound of Cody’s communicator went off not far behind you, signaling that someone was trying to contact him.

It was then that you started to realize what these feelings meant, that somehow you had lived this day before. Was your force sensitivity the reason you were seeing these signals, or did the rest of the troops realize that something was different too? You turned to where Cody was standing a few paces away, his back to you as he spoke to whoever had commed in, most likely Obi-Wan letting everyone know what happened with Grievous. He had taken his helmet off this time, and you noticed it resting on the ground a few paces away. 

“Cody?” you asked as he turned around. “What’s the verdict?”

When he raised his blaster in your direction, you knew without a doubt that something was wrong. 

You dodged the shot when it came, mind racing. “Cody?” you called out again as you ignited your lightsaber. “What’s going on?” 

“You’re a traitor to the Republic.” Even his voice was different now, with a sharpness and a coldness to it that you had never heard before, not even when giving orders in a stressful situation. “You need to be eliminated.” 

The second shot came, and you deflected the blast. The other troopers just stood there and watched as their commander turned on his general, acting as if everything was fine. “What are you talking about?” you called out, tears starting to well in your eyes. Out of all the combat you expected to engage in during this war, one with your own troops was not on that list. 

“You’re a traitor to the Republic,” he said, as if you had not heard him the first time. 

Hearing those words once more cemented your impending fate in your mind, that whatever had happened, you were now under fire. Your survival instincts kicked in, and you took off towards the labyrinth of caves that characterized the landscape of this planet. Blasts echoed all around you, but you deflected what you could and tried to tap into the Force as you ran. 

You heard one of the other men ask what they should do, and the moment your heart truly shattered was when you heard Cody tell them not to do anything, that this was his kill. Once you were far enough away from the rest of the troops, you paused for a moment. 

His kill? 

Last time he called you his anything, it was his General. There were other things you’d hoped he would call you, but this was not one of them. The wave of dread that crashed over your body only grew as you heard footsteps echo at some point behind you. 

You were fast, but clones were genetically engineered to be faster. He threw his body over yours with a flying leap, knocking your lightsaber out of your hands and pushing you to the ground. For a fleeting moment, you got a good look at his face, and the daggers he glared changed everything for you. This was no longer the man you cared about, this was someone desperate to kill. 

And you refused to let that happen. 

Kicking upward, you managed to surprise him enough to wrestle the blaster from his hands, sending it flying across the ground and coming to rest near your saber. But that only gave you a second of advantage, because he pulled a vibroblade from his belt and immediately continued his attack. He hadn’t yet landed a hit on you but it still hurt, because you didn’t want to fight him. This wasn’t the man you had grown to care so much for, but as you dodged, kicked, and wrestled with him, you could feel your resolve growing thin. 

So when you felt the blade pierce your midsection, you had almost made peace with your fate. 

This death was much slower than the last, something you realized as you laid on the ground, acutely aware of the way that blood was staining your robes as it seeped from the wound. Your memories were much clearer now, and you didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse. 

Maybe you were completely delusional, or maybe the pain and the blood was causing you to see things that weren’t there, but you could have sworn you saw a flash of regret in Cody’s eyes as he pulled the vibroblade out of your abdomen and stood above you, watching and waiting for your next move. 

But if that regret was ever truly there, that emotion was gone from his face just as quickly as it formed, and the pain became too much for you to bear. 

With a final breath, you closed your eyes and prepared to become one with the Force. 

***

Something was wrong, you knew that now. As innocent as the smile on Cody’s face was, all you could think about as the two of you stood at the holotable was what you knew to be coming. There was no pretending anymore, you remembered everything. And not only were you desperate to find away out of this trap, you wanted to find the one reality, the one set of choices, that would allow you to walk away from this experience. 

You had no idea what was happening to the rest of your fellow Jedi, whether or not they were trapped in this same torturous cycle of betrayal and pain. You were afraid of what you’d find if you ever did escape this, afraid of what the galaxy had turned into. But most of all, you were afraid of what you might have to do in order to truly escape. Could you still call yourself a Jedi if you killed the man you loved, even if he was dead set on killing you first? Could you live with the choices you made, even if they were the only option?

Countering the droid attack was easy by now, and you relished the simplicity of it. You beheaded and dismembered the platoon as they attempted to march forward, watching as their parts fell to the ground beside you and almost dancing as you twirled your saber. The clones hadn’t yet turned on you, and you could still trust them to come to your aid. 

Part of you wanted to get in your ship now, to run away before whatever switch they had was flicked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. Besides, who knew what you would find if you were to return to the Jedi temple and try to warn the others, and they would probably think you were full of bantha shit. So you stayed, and you once again had to watch as the battle finished and Cody received a communication from parties unknown. 

That must be the moment that things all go wrong, you decided, and you covertly used the Force to lift the commander’s blaster from the ground next to him, sending it flying away from both him and the other troops. You received odd looks, but it didn’t matter. 

This time, you could hear what Cody was saying before he fixed his steely gaze on you and declared you a traitor to the Republic. “Execute Order 66.” 

“Cody,” you pleaded, hopelessly wishing that this time would be different, clinging onto the desperate desire that he wouldn’t try to kill you in the next few moments. “Don’t do this.” 

It was a useless effort. 

You already knew that, but it took hearing the word “traitor” from his mouth for you to actually believe it. All noise was dulled in your ears as your mind took over, and once again your survival instinct won over your affections for the man standing in front of you. 

This time was similar to the last version of this day you had lived, where you took off running and tried to escape the fate that Cody had in store for you. And once again you found yourself far away from the rest of the troops by the time he caught up. 

His helmet was on this time, which a part of you appreciated, because you weren’t sure if you could take the pain of seeing his face while you fought. But his vibroblade was out, and you had no intentions of repeating your previous fate. When you used the Force to send his weapon skittering across the floor, an audible growl escaped his mouth, and you pretty much knew what was coming next. 

You had spent your free time sparring with some of the clones before, but never before had you considered that you’d be drawing on those experiences in a bitter fight for your life. It was your unwavering desire to survive that truly kept you going as you swung and kicked at the man who you had kissed in one of the booths at 79’s, who you had dreamed about running away with when the war was over. You doubted he remembered any of that now, but it didn’t make fighting him any easier. 

You threw your arm out in a burst of emotion, harnessing the Force to send the commander flying backwards. The crack of his armor hitting the stone of the cliff made your heart clench, but it was the chance you so desperately needed to get away. It took every ounce of resolve to just leave him there, slumped over on the ground, but you did not want to risk your life once more. 

He stirred once and let out a pitiful groan as you looked back for the last time, and that was enough for you to absolve yourself of this crime. Maybe one day you would be able to see him again, and things could be different, but a delusional fantasy like that one was no use to you now. 

It was something of an immense relief to find your ship completely deserted, the other troopers nowhere to be found. R3 wasn’t there, but you didn’t know if you had the time to wait for him, and you didn’t question this development as you quickly took off, throwing the tiny starship into hyperspace the moment you were far enough away from the painful choices and suffocating memories of the planet.

The fact that you were now completely alone hit first. There was a raw and ragged wave of darkness that washed over you, what you realized must have been the pain and suffering of every other Jedi as they died at the hands of those they trusted the most, their commanders and troops. What were you to do with your life now? Was your escape from this infinite nightmare truly a victory, or did you simply just throw yourself into a new hell? 

The blue streaks of hyperspace used to be a comfort, a testament to the power and sprawling vastness of the galaxy, but now they were just another reminder of what you had done, and what you still had to face. 

There was no stopping the tears that rolled down your face as you screamed to no one in particular, a ugly, guttural noise that communicated every emotion that you couldn’t articulate. But unlike what had happened every instance before, time didn’t reset. No, you were forced to move forward from here. 

There was no other choice. 

- the end -

#CFB2023 #commander cody #commander cody x reader #commander cody fanfiction #commander cody x you #commander cody x female reader #clone trooper x reader #clone wars fanfiction

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 6: "Embrasse-le et épouse-la"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: You received the first letter addressed to you from France since you left, showing what a necessity your return was; and the night at Lawrence House, just like mostly every other you should not be at, lead to another incident. Once again, one starred by Antoine and Benedict.

Word count: 2.1K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

Dearest Lady Y/N,

Here in Burgundy we all hope and pray you are perfectly fine.

Your escape has been a scandal known from Corsica to Brittany, and it has awakened many more rumors than one can believe. The most resounding states that you ran away with a lover, and even His Majesty the King came to the Palace to question everything.

There are many novelties, and I am afraid that your presence is required to solve them.

Firstly, the renovation of the Palace of Versailles is finally finished, and it is important that you go and make sure everything is in order and the way you want it. It will be available for you to stay by next Thursday.

Secondly, along with the latest shipment of jewelry, your Grandfather and Cousin David unexpectedly arrived earlier today. They are considering seeing you in London, but I insisted on waiting for your reply to this letter to know if you would return to meet them or receive them there. From what I have heard, they are here to take you to the Americas with them, for it seems like they are interested in the diamond business and want you to invest. Just as your Grandfather was approaching Claude, I notified him of your father's wishes to keep you in charge of the businesses and the estate until your heir takes his rightful place and he is more than pleased with the idea. He suggested David to take the spot of the Duke as it is needed so that way you can perform ducal duties without anyone's opinion interfering, understanding that there is no one who can fit the job better than you.

Thirdly, Claude consulted me with the idea of increasing the taxes. I told him we must have everything in order first, as I am sure you do not agree with his reasoning. While I am well aware that you do not wish for him to have access to the profits of the businesses, he is realizing that it does not make much sense for you to spend so much solely covering it by the scarce money received from the people. For that, he believes you are in great debt and that there is no other choice but to do so. It is best if you resolve this matter by yourself here in Burgundy.

I simply suggest, Lady Y/N, that you return to France before it is known in England that you escaped from your home. Or even worse, before your motives get exposed.

Best wishes,

Cartier

Dear Seigneur Cartier,

I am pleased to have received your letter and grateful to you for keeping me informed.

I understand the scandal my departure must have caused in France, and I assure you that once I return, I will make sure everything gets sorted out.

After speaking to the Carringtons, they would be honored to receive my Grandfather and David, but I would rather they wait for me to get back to Burgundy. Tell them I would adore to join them in America, though I will need someone to supervise Cousin Claude on his every movement in the house after I was absent for so long.

Do not let him increase the taxes, tell him it is best to wait for the end of the year. I will have gotten married by then and he is not going to be in our home any longer after that. If I am not successful in finding a husband here in London, I believe there are enough nations in Europe and a hundred times as many gentlemen left for me to meet and, therefore, find the one to marry.

If we must keep him occupied, put him in charge of selling l'Hôtel de Bourgogne for as much as he can get from it. The money will go to the investment in the diamond mines, though he mustn't know that.

Unless there is any novelty, I will be back in France in three weeks at most. I hope to meet you and my grandfather at the Palace of Versailles for my arrival.

Before saying goodbye, I wanted to ask you to please send to London a few bottles of our finest wine.

Looking forward to your answer,

Lady Y/N of Burgundy.

[Translated from French]

"Alright, I sent the letter." you told Antoinette.

"When will we finally be back in France?" she asked anxiously.

You clicked your tongue, walking before her on your way to the carriage. "In two weeks, after the Featherington Ball."

"Do we really have to wait until then?"

"Yes," you answered. "The Carrington Ball is tomorrow, in four days we are leaving for Aubrey Hall and five days after that is the Featherington Ball. It's not too much time."

"Will you return, my Lady?"

"I don't think I will."

She nodded. "To Lawrence House?"

"Yes."

You soon arrived at Grant's home, being received with your friends' cheers and their joy to see you attend another gathering after many refusals.

"Does your sister like jewelry? We will send her a gift for letting you come," Santiago said. "I am not joking, Antoine, we are all thankful."

You laughed. "I know you cannot live without me, but you mustn't give my sister any emeralds to show that."

"Ha! My mother just received some jewelry from France, I am certain there must be something worthy of your sister." Mr. Turner commented. You were almost sure it was jewelry from your family's mines, but did not say a word.

"I can guarantee you all that she has enough jewelry to give a very thoughtful present to every woman in England," you added, knowing it was a thing a brother would say about his sister. "Save them for the ladies you are courting."

Cortez stood up. "How much for the most expensive one? My dearest Lady Y/N of Burgundy will adore it."

"Are you courting her?" Lord Connor questioned, and he nodded. "Nice! How is it going with her? I have heard she is a rare jewel!"

"Unlike any other lady I have seen," Santiago said. "In a sense that she wasn't trying to impress me, but did it still. I will marry her, gentlemen, I bet my soul on it!"

"Women like confident men, keep it up with the good work!" you yelled, taking the glass of brandy Lawrence offered you. "There is a fine line between confidence and arrogance you must be careful not to cross. Women like her would throw you away like a used napkin if you do."

"If it isn't our expert in women speaking!"

"I am quite the expert," you replied. "But I have my very own lady waiting for me in France. You all wouldn't stand a chance against me if I didn't."

"You just crossed the line." Lawrence noted.

"Not in front of a lady, I did not."

They laughed, and you all kept drinking and talking. Some friends joined later, including Benedict.

You did not interact much with him, and there were nothing but sneaky glances and spaces between you.

But you were drunk and hopelessly in love with him, regardless of how little you knew each other. Still, you were conscious enough to leave the room before he considered approaching you.

What you did not count on, was that he would follow you to Grant's studio a while after you had left the room everyone was in.

When Benedict entered the studio, he saw you: only a few candles and the moonlight helped you see around, your hair was tied up in a bun, the sleeves of the linen shirt were rolled up to your elbows, the burgundy waistcoat that reminded you of home gave color to the setting in all hues around amber. The painting developing on the canvas in front of you resembled the landscape of the outsides of the villa. The moon seemed to be the theme of the piece, and your focus that ignored his presence only made Benedict smile.

"There is something valuable in the simplest landscapes one can paint," you mentioned as soon as you noticed his reflection on the window. "I have painted ancient ruins… Roman and Greek, the Pyramids in Egypt, the coldest night sky seen from the great dunes of the Sahara desert, flawless Northern Lights from Norway, the most ravishing lakes worthy of dead poets when the sun rises in the North of the Americas, the mountains and forests found in the mystical South; as many portraits as the cities I've been to, every sort of complex technique you could think of. Still, there is something magical about the colors of the heavens when the sun sets in the vineyards, the view of it from the Château du Clos de Vougeot is priceless… Paintings from dusk until dawn of the gardens of the Palace of the Dukes. It is the sense of familiarity of it all, I assume."

"I would not know until I paint anything outside of England."

You smiled, looking around the room as you spotted dozens of portraits of people. "No offense to our fellow artists at all, but I find it delightful to portrait the beauty of nature rather than the wrinkles in those empty faces. Unless, of course, there is someone you love being the subject of one's art."

"Well, not everyone has had the fortune of traveling the world, Antoine."

"But everyone can appreciate those twilight moments outside their homes, can they not?"

Benedict nodded with a smile. "Touché."

"Take a look at the moon," you invited him, and he approached you right away. "The greatest wonders in the world are right here in plain sight, and some are blind to them, even with seeing eyes."

"Where are your paintings?"

"Some at the Palace of the Dukes," you answered. "Others in Versailles, some others were sold."

"I wish I could see them someday."

"Whenever you're in France make sure to address a letter to my sister. She organized an exhibition with our art."

"She is not like the regulars, is she?" Benedict laughed. "I assume no one says no to her."

You smiled. "A mind like hers knows no limits and her spirit cannot be stopped. Whoever says no to her will regret it, I'm sure."

"Is she that dreadful?" Benedict joked.

"Not at all," You chuckled. "She loves like no other."

"I spent only a couple afternoons with her, and I could tell how enchanting she is."

Blood rushed into your cheeks at his words, so your attention returned to the painting. "Any man that marries her will be the most fortunate one."

Benedict could have said that despite what happened between him and Antoine, yours was always the face he saw when he closed his eyes. It was your face instead of the women's he went to bed with often: no matter that they shared your skin tone, the particular length of your hair or the skilled hands yours have proved to be through your melodies. It was your voice calling out his name and your touch burning him alive rather than theirs. Instead, he said that: "A woman whose company is as delightful as hers is, is worthy of keeping."

"I'm sure."

Then there was silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The slowly building tension was easy to outlive unless one of you decided to act upon it, and you knew that would not happen.

You do not often admit when you are not right in something. Right now, you couldn't even hide how wrong you were because when you least expected it, Benedict was so close to you.

This time you looked at each other in the eyes for a while, and this time it was you who kissed him. And Benedict didn't pull away, he wouldn't even if his life depended on it.

Neither of you opened your eyes when the kiss ended, neither of you said a word.

"I- I think I… I think I love her."

Your heart fluttered at his confession, and while his kisses belonged to another, his affections were yours. "That is fantastic."

Benedict chuckled and kissed you again. "I do not know what to do."

"You love her? Utterly and truthfully, you do?" you questioned him.

"I've just met her twice."

You bit your lip. "So have we."

"Yes, so have we."

"Benedict, you and I, we are men, we cannot do this."

He kissed you again. "I know."

You must return to France with at least a serious suitor, engaged if you could.

You couldn't risk that the incident with your cousin happens again, and if you had to return betrothed, it was best if the man you were to marry was Benedict. Whatever that was happening between you and him and Antoine- you… You did not know what it was, you could not make sense of any of it, but you could not return to France by yourself.

Whatever it takes.

"Marry her, then."

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton

[duchesssoflennox]

"The 88th Anniversary of The Heartbreaking Death of Princess Victoria Melita: A Royal Outcast Who Never Found Happiness" 🤍🖤💔

She was born with a silver spoon but died with a wooden one. She married for love but lost everything. She had a royal bloodline, but no country to call her own. She faced wars, revolutions, and exiles with bravery but succumbed to a broken heart. She was Princess Victoria Melita, and this is her story...🌟

Princess Victoria Melita (nicknamed Ducky) came to Paris on 19 December 1936. She was far from well at the time, but she had planned to go to Germany the next day to see her elder daughter Marie, Princess of Leiningen, who was expecting a child.🥹

Shortly after her arrival in Wurzburg, Ducky contracted a chill but she would not hear of postponing her visit to her daughter. The birth of her granddaughter, Matilda, was not attended by any complications, and in the middle of January they all returned to Schloss Amorbach.

By now she was steadily getting weaker, and the doctors were anxious But by an immense effort of will, she attended the christening ceremony of her new grandchild.

It taxed her strength considerably, and her condition continued to deteriorate.

She suffered a stroke, one side of her body was paralyzed, and she was unable to speak coherently. 🖤

In February, Ducky's youngest daughter Kira was summoned to Amorbach, and Cyril and Vladimir were warned that she had taken a turn for the worse. They left at once to go to her bedside.

Ducky's niece, Missy’s daughter Ileana came to join the unhappy vigil.

By the time they reached Ducky, she could only mutter occasional words which were barely intelligible. There was nothing more the doctors could do.

On the evening of 1 March they noticed a rapid weakening of the pulse.

Ducky's three sisters, Missy (Marie), Sandra (Alexandra) and Baby Bee (Beatrice) all joined the bedside vigil, praying for her to go quickly and instead being tormented at the sight of her lingering. 💔

At fifteen minutes past midnight on 2 March, she passed away...💔

No more moving account of her last days and death can be given than the description in Missy’s letter to Lady Astor (4 March):💔💔💔

The whole thing was tragic beyond imagination, a tragic end to a tragic life. She carried tragedy within her – she had tragic eyes – always – even as a little girl – But we loved her enormously, there was something mighty about her – she was our Conscience. But when he betrayed her, she did not know how to forgive, so she allowed him to murder her soul. From then onwards, her strength became her weakness, her undoing – she was too absolute, she could not overcome herself. And now she had to die, unforgiving! Her lips were sealed because of the stroke which had felled her to the ground – but although she knew we were there and the first day she found a murmur of recognition for each of us in turn, she shuddered away from his touch – Whilst we sat, in turns holding her hand, he stood like an outcast on the threshold of her door not daring to enter her room – It took 11 long days before she was released. The last five she lay in a sort of coma – and the end came Sunday morning exactly at 12¼ – suddenly it was all over, as she lay there grey, gaunt, the mask of grief . . . it was torture – but I am calm, I know it is better thus – she could not have lived as a cripple – but with their egoism, those she loved killed her. They left her too lonely, and she cried continually for three long years & nothing brought her comfort nor resignation, except occasionally her garden or her painting. She would not let us help her. Her faith in humanity was dead. I know how much both you & Waldorf tried to help her – she was deeply grateful, I know she was, only her dreadful habit of never answering made her case hopeless – In spite of our tremendous love for each other, because of her silence, I was never able to keep in touch with her, nor to really help her – There is an unbearable tragedy in it all . . .

The Edinburgh sisters wrapped Ducky's body in a long white robe, and in the coffin, Missy placed white lilacs around her head and shoulders. On 5 March, the coffin was brought to Coburg and placed in the family vault of the Dukes of Saxe-Coburg. The funeral took place the next day, with rain and snow flurries, adding to the gloom of an icy winter scene, as she was laid to rest beside her parents and brother...🌃

Ducky had left a wish that there should be no pomp and ceremony.

Afterward, Missy found it hard to leave the grave of the sister who ‘always hated being alone’...

As Meriel Buchanan would later write, the Grand Duchess Cyril died ‘a bitter, disappointed woman, whose brilliant personality had been warped by failure and frustration’. Now she was alone; but at last, the ‘passionate, often misunderstood child’, who had grown up into a bitter, disappointed woman, was at peace...

On the occasion of the 88th anniversary of the tragic death of Princess Victoria Melita, Grand Duchess Cyril💔💔💔

And the world moved on, oblivious to the tragedy that once graced its courts. 🌟

#Princess Victoria Melita #Victoria Melita of Edinburgh

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Private equity health-care monopolies are on a profitable killing spree

It’s not just you. US healthcare, already a bureaucratic nightmare of buck-passing and price-gouging, has gotten far worse. Private equity firms have created regional health-care monopolies that don’t just rip patients off — they’re killing us.

Private equity is a scam. Fund managers raise gigantic sums by claiming to be able to “beat the market.” In reality, they do worse for their investors than a boring old index fund:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/25/pluralistic-your-daily-link-dose-25-feb-2020/#extraordinaryclaims

The fund managers don’t have to beat the market in order to make bank. They can take advantage of the “carried interest” loophole, which has nothing to do with interest rates — it’s a tax system that was invented for 16th century sea-captains (no, really):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

PE dresses up its playbook in all kinds of bullshit, but it’s a smokescreen. At core, PE funds buy companies, merge them to monopoly, slash wages, fire staff, load up their businesses with debt, and then skedaddle before the businesses collapse. They call this “creating value”:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/24/software-is-cake-too/#looters

This playbook guarantees that everything PE touches will turn to shit. PE is a parasite that preys on weak industries and makes them even more dysfunctional. Think of how PE has cornered regional rental housing markets and then turned every rental in town into a slum:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Most of us didn’t really think about rail-freight until last winter, when the whole system nearly collapsed. Again, the bloody handprints of PE are all over that crisis:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/04/up-your-nose/#rail-barons

The pandemic put a lot of businesses into a precarious state, and PE swooped in, buying up distressed businesses at scale and putting them into a death-spiral:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/30/medtronic-stole-your-ventilator/#blackstone-kkr

This acquisition was fueled by Trump’s corporate covid bailout and the trillions in public money that the GOP made available to corporate borrowers (remember, PE thrives on debt):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

Of all the sick industries in America, healthcare is the sickest, and it’s the domain where PE has done the most damage. PE stripped healthcare systems to the bone, removing all excess capacity and exhausting and demoralizing healthcare workers:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/21/profitable-butchers/#looted

They bought up emergency rooms, turned them into scam factories that hit every unfortunate person who stepped foot in them with thousands in “surprise billing” fees. Then they cut doctors’ pay and spent millions on ads to block anti-surprise billing legislation:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/21/all-in-it-together/#doctor-patient-unity

The ER scam was and is wild. Some hospitals lock all their doors except for the ER doors, and then they’d hit you for “emergency care” when you went through the ER on your way to receiving normal, non-emergency procedures:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/14/unhealthy-finances/#steins-law

The damage wasn’t limited to emergency rooms. Whole hospitals — whole hospital systems — were crashed by PE looters, and many of these got emergency government bailouts, because…free market?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/01/the-years-of-repair/#mass-murder

PE has bought its way into every corner of the health-care system, and made every bad thing, much, much worse. You know how “bad nursing home” are three of the scariest words in the English language? Try on “bad private equity owned nursing home” for size. The death toll is massive:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/23/acceptable-losses/#disposable-olds

Biden’s SEC chair Gary Gensler has made the most decisive anti-PE moves in decades, requiring disclosures that will help investors (especially union pension funds) pierce the veil of bullshit that brings in the billions that PE fashions into weapons of financial mass destruction:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#gary-gensler

But the wheels of justice grind slow, and PE has trillions to fuel its race to suck every bit of value out of the health-care system before the party comes to an end.

In “Sick Profit: Investigating Private Equity’s Stealthy Takeover of Health Care Across Cities and Specialties,” Kaiser Health News’s Fred Schulte reveals the plan of attack:

https://khn.org/news/article/private-equity-takeover-health-care-cities-specialties/

In 2021, PE firms bought 1,400 health care companies, spending $206b (the total since 2012 is more than $1t). They’ve cornered regional markets for eye care, dental care, family practices, hospices, and pet care. We’ve had a year to see how that played out, and it’s not pretty.

Since 2014, PE companies have paid out $500m in fines for falsifying health care billings to the US government, but a fine is a price, and the fines have been absorbed into PE’s business plans as part of the cost of operations.

Once a PE firm buys up all the specialists in a region, things get very bad. Take San Antonio, where nearly all the gastroenterology clinics have been bought up by PE firms, and where routine colonoscopies now cost patients thousands more than they paid before:

https://khn.org/news/article/private-equity-gastroenterologist-colonoscopy/

While there are plenty of illegal ways that PE companies extract value from their acquisitions, the legal tactics are pretty ugly all on their own, like cutting staff and replacing them with less skilled, less trained, cheaper workers, putting patients at risk.

This is particularly worrying when you consider how heavily PE companies invest in practices that treat people who are vulnerable and struggle to advocate for themselves, such as behavioral health specialists who treat autism, addiction and mental illness.

Whether or not you can escape PE depends a lot on where you live. PE only owns 12% of the nation’s anesthesiology practices, but those practices are concentrated in five states, where more than two thirds of anesthesiologists are PE owned.

When PE takes over your health care, billings go way up. The average PE-treated patient generates $71 more per claim, and is 9% more likely to experience “lengthy, more costly” care:

https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jama-health-forum/fullarticle/2795946

Doctors who sell their practices to PE companies are lured in with promises of administrative relief from experts who’ll handle billing, scheduling and compliance. But PE firms exercise fine-grained control over these doctors, violating rules that say medical practices must be run by MDs.

Take National Spine, a PE-backed chain owned by Sentinel Capital Partners that bought up 40+ pain-management clinics across the country. Doctors saw their caseload explode from 16 patients/day to 25. Medicare billings also exploded, with “unnecessary and often worthless” back braces being charged at up to $1,100 each. Patients were given $1,800 “medically unnecessary and often worthless” urine tests. National settled these claims for $3.3m in April 2019, without admitting guilt.

RLH Equity Partners’s pharmacies bilked the military health insurer Tricare out of $68m through a system of kickbacks and telemarketer sales. RLH settled the case for $21m and blamed it on a few corrupt “individuals.”

Most of the time, fraud claims are settled by the companies that the PE funds owe, while the PE funds themselves get off scot-free. That leaves the funds free to re-offend, and to further push the limits on patient endangerment.

One of the grisliest parts of this tale is in the realm of children’s dentistry. PE firms have bought up these practices and turned them into high-volume Medicare-fraud assembly lines that perform rushed, unnecessary major procedures on poor kids and bill the government a fortune for them.

These include baby root canals and crowns, and the PE-backed dental chains set quotas for their staff, requiring them to perform a certain number of major procedures on each patient. One particularly horrifying case recounted by the KHN article is that of two-year old Zion Gastelum, who died following major dental surgery.

Gastelum received six root canals and crowns on his baby teeth at a PE-owned Kool Smiles clinic in Yuma, AZ. The oxygen bottle used during his surgery “was empty or not operating properly” and the staff who oversaw the procedure were undertrained and didn’t notice. He never regained consciousness, and died of brain injuries days later.

Kool Smiles’s owners paid $24m to settle a DoJ overbilling claim less than a month later. The settlement alleged that Kool Smiles performed unnecessary procedures, including baby root canals. Kool Smiles denied that they were responsible for Gastelum’s death.

More than 90% of PE acquisitions fall below the $101m threshold for antitrust review, so they fly under the radar. Once the mergers are complete, they are very hard to unwind. The FTC is working its way through hundreds of comments from doctors or other health care workers asking for tighter scrutiny of health-care mergers.

The Healthcare Private Equity Association boasts that its members are poised to spend more than $3t to create “the future of healthcare.”

https://hcpea.org/#!event-list

Image: Rae Allen (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/raeallen/6224775722/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Videoplasty (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Patient_Care_Cartoon.svg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[Image ID: A hospital Emergency Room parking lot. In the center of the image stands an ogrish, top-hatted, cigar-chomping capitalist caricature. He is standing at a podium, yanking a lever made from a golden dollar-sign. The front of the podium bears a red cross. He holds aloft an elderly man in a hospital bed.]

#pluralistic

[feybeasts]

Please don’t take from this any conclusions that I’m not trying to make here but.

I don’t fear dying anymore. Or at least- it doesn’t scare me like it used to. When I was younger, it terrified me, the notion that all this would come to an end someday. I dug deep into so very many… systems of belief, so many words of people wiser than I, and nothing seemed to sate the fear, nothing would bring me peace- it was like I couldn’t live anymore, and when my dad grew ill, it became a fever pitch. Eventually it wasn’t so much that I got over it, but I just got so… worn down, so bombarded with fear and anxiety and hurt that I just couldn’t dredge up the sensations anymore.

And when he died, I… cried, sure, I wanted him back, but there was a funeral to speak at, people to care for, I couldn’t grieve overmuch because like it or not, I had to keep living. And somehow, some way, I did.

I spent almost a decade like that. Just… carrying on. I wasn’t more than 25 years old when he passed away, still a kid in so many ways, especially with the struggles I was already facing, being autistic, anxious, facing traumatic stress I didn’t have a name for. I lived, despite the fear, despite the hanging, painful inevitability of it all.

And then, my childhood best friend lost her life to cancer. And my cat I had raised from a kitten. And my grandparents. Death after death after death.

And I stopped feeling anything- because each time, I was just… expected to be there. To be the strong one, the person that showed up. That was the mask I wore, there was no room to be anything else. I became hardened to it all. Loved ones just… slipped through my fingers, and all I could do was show up, little more than a black dog hanging at the edges of a half dozen cemeteries.

I’m not alone in this, I know people have been through worse, far worse. We often say death is one of the inevitable things in this world- “death and taxes” is the joke. And that inevitably haunted me, even if the fear didn’t. Any time I got sick, any time I felt off, any time I went to the doctor, all I could think was “well, is it my turn? Will this be the time they tell me it’s curtains?”

I mean, it felt inevitable, right? I had lost so much, so many people, so… thoughtlessly. Lung cancer, ovarian cancer, MRSA, kidney failure, a fucking… genetic defect. All just bad rolls of the dice, and my luck had never been all that good to begin with.

But the thing is, we can’t really… determine that for ourselves. I mean sure, you can do things that bring you closer, make that irreversible call- I am no stranger to attempts to check out early, I have the scars to prove it- but if you just… go on living, you don’t know when your time is up. And no matter how much you might assume you’re next on the chopping block after so many losses, sometimes you just keep… carrying on anyways.

For all the arrogance we have, for all our damnable pride, we ain’t craftier than the reaper. Maybe that’s for the best.

I’ve “kept carrying on” for the last eight years, regardless of what I thought. Sometimes I still feel like I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, like all this, all the good I’ve known, the people I love, like it’s all just… a sweet song on the air, that I just get to listen to it for a little while before someday there’s silence.

When I was young, I was so afraid of when the song ended that I didn’t listen while it played.

Nowadays, I just try to sit back and enjoy the tune.

Nobody knows what’s on the other side of that door. It’s scary to think about. But when my time comes to walk on through, I like to think I’ve at least enjoyed my time here.

And who knows? Maybe death’ll just greet me like an old friend. We’re familiar, them and I- I’ll at least shake their hand and nod that little bit of understanding between us.

It’s the least I can do.

#vent #cw:death #cw:suicide mention #cw:disease

[protectanattac]

Pulling Strings For You | Part 1

Pairing- Miguel O'hara x Reader/Female oc (poc) Word count- 3200 Summary- While the reader is patrolling the streets of Chicago, she runs into two familiar villains. Then gets a proposal from two strangely familiar-looking heroes. Warnings- violence (light gore), mentions of death, hints at depression, eventual smut(minors dni!!)

AN- Hope y'all like part one loves! <3

Part 2

[2:00 am, Wednesday, Chicago, Universe 4655]

Your hands cradled your head as you attempted to relax on your bed. It was about the time you had to convince yourself to wake up and go on patrol, which you didn’t look forward to. Some days were more challenging than others, and this week had been incredibly taxing on your body. The chaotic state of the city caused you not to have enough downtime to let your cuts and bruises heal.

Willing yourself out of bed, you made your way to your spare bedroom. The uninhabited room was often used as storage, where you would keep all your spider gear and gadgets. Your spider suit was tight. The feeling could only be described as if someone had worn a custom-made reinforced version of skims. It was hell to get in and out of, but once it was on, you loved it. 

Music was your antidote to the chilly nights in Chicago. It was the only thing that kept you distracted from the harsh breeze that ravaged your body with chills. After struggling to put on your suit, you put on your headphones and hit shuffle on your playlist. You made your way to your apartment complex’s rooftop, sitting on the edge of the building like a gargoyle.

“Day n Night… at, at, at night,” You sang the song to no one in particular as you surveyed the usual routes.

The streets of your universe’s Chicago were dark and dangerous. It was a place where criminals ruled, and law-abiding citizens were afraid to walk alone. You knew this better than anyone and were determined to do whatever it took to stop these criminals in their tracks. Luckily, your brutal methods of justice and the dark presence you carried that cast over anyone who dared to cross your path scared off everyone.

There was always a strange feeling in your chest when you crossed Alchemex Street. Memories of easier times would come back no matter how hard you attempted to block them out. You painfully missed the times when it was you and Joy together in the lab listening to music and making messes—the times when you could wake up before ten a.m. comfortably. In need of clearing your thoughts, you land on a nearby building and steal a moment to calm yourself.

A few moments later, you huffed through your mask, the cold air causing your breath to condense into a small white cloud. Skillfully, you leaped off the building and swung to another, softly landing on top of the other building. You exhale at the thought of Joy and her absence. Ever since she left, its always felt off. Granted, it would feel off for anyone to lose someone as important as she was to you, but everything felt unreal like this moment of mourning would never leave your mind.

The streets were silent. That was typical for this time of night in this area. Criminals feared you. The citizens knew when it was time to get off the streets and go home, and any citizen who wasn't home by this hour became exposed to the chance of being mentally scarred for life or, worse yet, having it taken from them.

“A silent sleeper, you won't hear a peep… peep,” You sang the song to yourself.

There was still nothing—no movement on the streets. So you decided to check everything out at ground level. You walked down the side of the building with ease, your feet hitting the ground quietly as you hopped off the building. Gently, you brushed yourself off and walked a few blocks down the street, still finding nothing. Not a soul in sight.

“Come out, don't make me chase you,” You called out into the street.

Something was up, and you could feel it. Your senses were going wild. It felt like you were trudging through a bottomless lake as you walked around. Your eyes couldn’t find something to settle on as you whipped your head around trying to identify the source of your panic. You felt your chest tighten and constrict against your pounding heart and racing lungs. To ease your nerves, you pause the music you were listening to and slide your headphones off gently, allowing them to sit around your neck.

“Where did you send us, Peter,” A strong voice roared.

Instead of striking fear into your heart, the noise did the opposite. Whatever was causing you panic had a voice, meaning you could catch it. A small smirk forms on your masked face as you run toward the voices. The closer you came to the noise, a second voice came into the argument.

As you approached the building, the name of it came into view. ‘Alchemex School for Gifted Children’ was what you read on the very front of it.

‘Of fucking course,’ you muttered in your mind.

You jumped onto the wall and began to scale up the building. You screamed when you were grabbed by something you hadn’t yet identified. It pulled you through a window, and you responded by clawing at whatever had dragged you into the building and ripped pieces out of it.

“Spider!” A man exclaimed.

“Uh-Huh... Who the fuck are you?”

You didn't wait for an answer. Instead, you lunged at the man with robotic tentacles coming out of his sides. Doctor Octavius was someone you had sworn you’d gotten rid of. Psychosis wasn't something you struggled with, and you were positive you remembered squeezing the life out of his eyes yourself.

You ripped one of the robotic arms off of him as you fought. He shouted for help, and before you had a chance to realize what was happening, another person was ripping you off of him. Another person with the same technology–they looked like twins. However, you didn’t ponder on the fact that they looked the same but instead focused on the fact that they were trying their best to beat the shit out of you.

Bang. Your back flew into a row of lockers. With a loud thud, you hit the ground, wincing and clutching your side.

“C'mon, Spider, show me what you got,” The shorter doctor teased you with a smile.

You shook off the pain and pushed yourself off the floor, webbing the shorter doctor in the face to disorient him. You then swung yourself toward him, tearing off one of his robotic arms. Sparks flew from the broken wires, and you flinched away, giving the other doctor enough time to grab and throw you toward a broken window. As you flew out the window, you shot a web. The web manages to stick onto the building.

You used the web as a makeshift rope as you climbed back up to the window. Your success was short-lived, though, as one of the twins came leaping out of the building just as you approached the window. Quick thinking was the only thing that saved you from hitting the concrete. You grappled onto the doctor, saving yourself. But as you pulled yourself toward him, he managed to grab you.

The doctor squeezed your arms at your sides, laughing maniacally as you both free-fell. You webbed the side of the building during the fall and then the doctor's tentacles. Your webs jammed them, allowing you to slip from his grasp. The doctor tumbled off the building, trying to break free from the webs, but was unable to do so. You kicked him in the back before allowing him time to catch himself, giving extra power to his fall. He hits the ground.

The only sound you could compare the splat of his body to was a car crash. The doctor's body was spread across the street, his robotic tentacles twitching and sparking from the damage they endured during the collision. Rolling your eyes, you put your headphones back on and turn on your music. You hopped off the building and stealthily landed on the ground, turning your music up some.

You carefully walked over to the short doctor and over him, making sure to avoid the bits of his remains getting on your shoes. Instead of planning some intricate ambush attack, you strolled up to the front doors of the building, kicking them open.

MIGUEL

[2:08 am, Wednesday, Chicago, Universe 4655]

“Thank you, Lyla.”

The anomaly he was hunting was supposed to be somewhere around here. Miguel scanned the area carefully, his eyes taking in all the little details in the scene. He realized he wasn't in New York but rather in another city like Chicago. There was an eerie feeling about the whole place. Usually, large cities like this would still be alive and bustling with noise, and pedestrians would be out living and having a good time. However, all he could hear was the wind wrapping around the buildings and nothing else. 

Normally when he would go on his missions, the watch's portal would be at the scene. So most times, he wouldn’t have to do much walking. But instead, he stood in the desolate city, confused. Moments like these made him wish he had a spider-sense, something that would help alert him to suspicious activity, so he wouldn’t have to have his guard so far up his ass.

The building in front of him seemed quiet from what he could see. Nothing suspicious alarmed him. He was just about to ask Lyla if she’d messed up the location, but then he read the name of the building.

‘Alchemex School for Gifted Children,’ He read in his head, confirming that he was indeed in the correct place.

He nodded to himself and waited patiently for the anomaly to come waltzing out of the building. Missions like these always felt like a fun game of cat and mouse. He was the predator waiting for his prey to move into a more vulnerable position so he could attack. A loud crash took Miguel out of his thoughts.

When he heard the crash, the only thing going through his head was “Go.”. And so he did. He broke through one of the windows and ran up the stairs towards the commotion. When he made it to the cafeteria, the fight was flying from one side of the room to another. 

Miguel watched as the short doctor pounced out the window in pursuit. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene, dashing to the window. He watched as the two of you tussled, the fight ending with the doctor splattered on the sidewalk. Miguel was impressed with the brutality of the kill but found himself more intrigued with the swiftness you had committed it in. But he hadn’t much time to dissect the play thanks to the other doctors' hysterical actions.

The other doctor was throwing anything he could at Miguel. He was screaming and running around like a crazy person. Miguel sliced the table flying at him in half, but then the doctor swept him up. The next thing he knew, he was flung at a concrete wall. The force of the collision caused the wall to cave in and crack, Miguel letting out a grunt in pain.

“Lyla.” Miguel instinctively went to call for Jess’s assistance.

Before she could answer, he was grabbed by another tentacle and flung into the cafeteria door. He instantly burst through the door on impact and began tumbling down a flight of stairs. The back of his head hit the wall with a quiet thud, disorienting him slightly.

By this time, you were back inside the building and walking up the stairs. Miguel came crashing down in front of you, and you looked down at him for a second before continuing into the cafeteria.

“Yes?” Lyla’s hologram body popped out of Miguel’s watch.

He watched as you confidently walked into the room, noticing the headphones sitting casually on your head. 

“Nevermind,” Miguel answered with a low grumble.

He groaned and rubbed the debris off of his suit. He turned to the side before pushing himself up and shaking his head gently, running back into the cafeteria. He was on high alert and pissed that he’s made a fool of himself in front of another Spider-Person.

When Miguel walked back into the cafeteria, he watched as you held up one of the doctor's tentacles, ready to strike him with it. The tentacle hits the doctor's face with a loud crack. He falls to his knees, blood spilling out of his mouth, along with a few molars. Miguel walked up to the scene, seeing if he could do anything to help. You watched him from the corner of your eye and then discarded the tentacle, throwing it off to the side. Pulling your headphones off your head and sitting them around your neck, the music was now blaring out of them and echoing in the cafeteria. You turn and look at him, not caring for the disabled doctor.

“What do you want,” You asked, almost annoyed that he was interrupting the fight.

Before he could answer your question, the sound of a motorcycle echoes through the building.

“Lyla,” Miguel said, not bothering to lift his wrist to meet the A.I.’s eyes or answer your question. 

“Yes,” She asked.

“Did you call for backup,” He questioned her, partly embarrassed about the interaction.

You didn’t pay him any mind, too busy bending down and checking the doctor's pulse. He was dead. Your hit's force must have caused internal bleeding in his brain.

“Oh yeah. It’s Jess,” Lyla answered and then disappeared quickly.

You stood back up and looked over at Miguel.

“Oh, God, Miguel. You know my stomach can't take looking at this shit right now.” Jess’s face came into view via the communicator on Miguel’s wrist.

You furrowed your eyebrows curiously. Miguel huffed at his complaining partner and rubbed his forehead through his mask.

“Wasn’t me,” He simply replied.

“Oh… it's quiet. Do you want me to come up there?” Jess asked.

Miguel looked down at the doctor’s mangled face and decided this wasn’t for Jess to see. He wanted to look back at you, but you were already gone, swinging through the night. He whipped his head around the room for any sign of where you could have gone, but it was too late.

“No. I'm going to send this guy home, and then I'll be down soon,” Miguel answered.

When he reached the ground level, Jess was waiting for him outside. And so were the police.

MIA RICHARDSON

[2:57 am, Wednesday, Chicago, Universe 4655]

You thoroughly washed your hair under hot water, scrubbing shampoo into your scalp. A warm shower was what you needed—some time to relax and choose to ignore the night's events instead of adequately processing them. The smell of the fruity soaps offered you a sense of relaxation as the hot water soothed the rapidly healing bruises on your body. 

While showering, you heard what sounded to be two pairs of footsteps traveling throughout your apartment building. You knew that the chances of it being a civilian were low, seeing that nobody in their right mind would ever be out this late or at night period. You could only assume the people were two weirdos that invaded your fight from earlier. Not wanting to dwell on who they may have been, you ruled them off as tourists or some crazed fans of you (mainly because of their suits). 

A quiet sigh escapes your lips when you hear a loud knock at your door. You decided to finish up your shower since it was about time you got out. Being self-disciplined, you never allowed yourself a shower session longer than 20 minutes, so you weren't all too upset about having to get out. You turned off the water and slung on a robe, securing it to your body. When you answered the door, your hair was dripping wet, along with the rest of your body.

“Sorry to disturb you. We are looking for Spider-Woman,” Miguel said, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

He stood behind Jess, towering over her figure. He still wore his mask, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his whole demeanor radiating confidence. He was trying to display a sense of authority, but you were too tired to give a fuck, so to you, it had no effect. Jess stood in front of him with a small smile on her face.

You looked down at her and studied her face. She didn't seem to be a threat, and she didn’t seem nervous or outwardly trying to seem– your eyes shifted to Miguel, looking him up and down to find the right word– cool.

“Who’s asking?” You looked back at Jess.

“I'm Jess. The Spider-Woman in my universe,” She answered, and her smile grew a bit after seeing the shocked expression you had gained.

Your eyes shift back to Miguel's silent figure. The act he was trying to pull off wasn’t working. If you hadn’t seen the man fall down a flight of stairs from a level three out of ten villain, his intimidation tactics might’ve affected you. But right now, you were too tired for this shit.

“Can you not speak,” You asked him snarkily, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” His voice was deep and velvety, a slight accent touching his words. Just how you expected it to sound.

You diverted your eyes from him and looked back down at Jess.

“Well, my name is Mia. Nice to meet you. And nice to meet your employee, too, I guess,” You said while maintaining eye contact with Jess.

It caused the woman to laugh a bit. She extended her hand toward you, offering a handshake. Gently, you grabbed her hand and shook it, eyes moving back onto Miguel. The three of you awkwardly stood in the doorway for another twenty seconds before you couldn’t take it anymore.

“So, what do you want,” You asked, growing impatient.

Jess nudged Miguel with her elbow gently. He looked down at her momentarily before moving in front of her.

“I have a–” Miguel started, but then you cut him off, automatically knowing his offer.

“No, sorry. I don't do teams. I’ve never seen either of you around,” your eyes squint slightly, your head tilting to the side, “did you follow me here?”

Miguel paused for a second before answering plainly, “Yes.” His hand moved to his hip, his other staying idle at his side.

Jess cringed as she witnessed the awkward conversation. She was surprised that Miguel was still somewhat composed with your current attitude. However, Jess understood where your sass came from. It was late, and judging by the looks of the city she had seen so far, this lifestyle couldn't be the most luxurious and uplifting experience.

“Alright, you have a good one,” you said, “not you, though.” You pointed at Miguel.

Without letting them retaliate, you waved them off and quickly closed the door locking. By the time you heard them leave, you were already under the covers, getting the beauty sleep you had so badly needed.

#protectanattac #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #atsv #atsv oc #astv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel ohara x oc #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[takiisieju]

Gold and purples on the floor: Chapter 1/8

My MK OC Stinger-centered fic. I will keep the chapters short and I hope I can finish all 8 of them. TW: violence This entire fic is Kotal Kahn negative. If he is your favorite/comfort character, consider not reading.

STINGER'S BIO

NAKARI'S BIO

Taglist: @roofgeese @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @spacestephh @mistalintu

Stinger clicked his mandibles anxiously, his braid swaying from side to side like an angry cat’s tail. Normally, his forces wouldn’t stop at a village. But it was summer, and they haven’t found any oases in this rocky desert lately. Sure, they were about to head for the jungles, but until then, they needed a water supply. And if there was a village, there was a well.

Stinger didn’t like the idea of letting his large squad of outcasts anywhere close to civilians. After all, many of them have been outcasts for a good reason. But there was no other way, and he could only hope a threat of brutal punishment and possible death for anybody who’d lay a hand on a villager would work.

Aside from that, there was a possibility of the villagers somehow notifying Kotal of their presence. “Let’s just burn it all down once we leave”, his right-hand man had said. Stinger didn’t like this idea either. He had no warm feelings towards the people who were looking at him with fear and disgust, not even trying to hide their disdain. And still, mere dislike was no reason to kill and pillage. After all, he had Mileena Kahn’s good name and memory to maintain.

Memory of Mileena made him frown, mandibles shaking slightly in anger. Kotal had wronged him in many unforgivable ways, and for that… all of his servants would die.

”This is two times less than asked!” a man’s voice said behind the wooden bead door curtain. “The Kahn has his demands, and you know he’ll raze the village to the ground if even a single coin is missing! I know you have the money.”

”Screw you and your Kahn, Nakari. You are worse than a Naknada dog”, the other voice answered. “And you will be treated exactly like one.”

Stinger moved the curtain out of the way, walking inside the small house of the tax collector. The old man who couldn’t pay his tribute immediately hid in the corner, scowling at the hybrid. Nothing new.

The tax collector, a young man dressed in washed-out purples, stepped back in horror, and bolted to the window, not even looking at the fan axe he kept on the wall. In a second, Stinger’s braid was wrapped around his ankle, making the boy fall face-first onto the wooden floor. The hybrid raised him by the hair, earning a pained whine. Nakari looked pathetic, panic in his eyes and blood oozing from his nose. 

Stinger dragged him out of the house and threw him into the middle of the street. The villagers surrounded them, gloating at the sight of the tax collector about to meet his fate. Somebody threw a rock, earning a couple of approving shouts. The man on the ground hissed, tears of fear and pain threatening to spill. Stinger wasn’t going to give them the time to do so, though. One of his soldiers handed him a blade. 

“No-no-no-no!” Nakari cried out, trying to cover his chest and neck, generously adorned with green beads, with his hands. “Stop-stop-stop, let’s talk!”

”What do I have to talk with you about, Kotal’s dog?” Stinger growled, mandibles opening wide to show the rows of needle-like teeth. 

“I only did as I was told!” Nakari squealed out, staring at the teeth. “I did it so that the Kahn does not harm the village! We all have to pay tribute, there is no other way…”

The mandibles chattered. 

“You serve the wrong Kahn, boy”, Stinger hissed, walking closer.

”I’ve served every Kahn!” the other man cried out, trying to crawl away, but the crowd kept kicking him back towards his soon-to-be executioner. “Please, I… I can serve you now! I’ll be very useful!”

Now, the crowd was laughing. Even Stinger chirped in amusement.

”No, really! I am an accountant first, tax collector second. Can your people even count to ten?” Nakari gulped, somewhat pulling himself together. 

Now Stinger was intrigued. What was this boy’s strategy? Winning time was no use - if Stinger wouldn’t kill him, his fellow villagers would. The tax collector was right, of course. Stinger himself couldn’t count in any way other than with the counting sticks or beads, and couldn’t divide or multiply at all.

”Why would we need to count at all?”

”Why, you need to collect tribute as well”, Nakari answered, bemused.

”At death's door, and still only thinking about money”, some old woman scoffed, spitting on the boy which made him shudder in fear and disgust. 

He wasn’t even sure who he should’ve feared more. At least death by the monster’s hand was likely faster than by the hands of the crowd tearing him limb from limb.

”A-aside from that, you will need to plan rations”, he continued, voice trembling. “Mathematics is very useful in warfare. Counting the weapons and booty, making sure nobody is wronged. Very, very useful!”

Stinger heard some murmurs behind him, his soldiers clearly getting convinced, especially when it came to booty. Stinger himself was more concerned about the rations. The crowd, however, was getting impatient, waiting for the execution to happen. Seeing the effect of his words, Nakari started shuffling further away from his people and closer to Stinger.

”You can always kill me if you realize I am a burden, can’t you?” He asked with a weak smile. “What does it hurt to show a little mercy now?”

Stinger looked at him grimly, the spear-like tip of his braid aimed at the other man. Nakari shut his eyes, expecting it to pierce his chest. Instead, the braid lifted him up by the throat, bringing the man to his feet.

”You will receive half of a soldier’s ration, you will be kept with your hands tied up, and if you even half-think of running away, I will tear your skin off and use it as a carpet”, Stinger said, clearly leaving no room for bargaining.

The grip on Nakari’s throat loosened, letting him fall back to the ground. Stinger’s soldiers grabbed the new accountant roughly, leading him towards the camp. Stinger gave the blade back, choosing to ignore the way the bloodthirsty crowd glared at him as he walked away.

After all, it was nothing new.

#tell me if i messed up the grammar or the lore #mk oc #ship: gold and purples on the floor #takii writes #mk stinger #mk nakari

[junkartie]

I'm hearing 2 opinions on Erdogan and idk I wanted to ask you bcs I got both of them from non-natives. So the first says that he IS a good president, there is just too many outside factors trying to bring him down. And the second told me that he WAS a good a help for the country until he decided to care about some other things (colonisation ?) which eventually led to the current downfall. Maybe both are right or both are wrong, what do you think?

(can you tell I love political discussions because I don't I'm just really invested cause you're one of my fav blogs hehe)

Non natives love to defend Erdo which is why us Turks have a whole term for them. Most of it however DOES stem from the second option being true.

Erdogan was in fact a very good leader in his first few years of power, now my family personally never liked him, he technically was in power on the sidelines for 10 years until he became president 10 yrs go. He did many things like make hospitals and healthcare way more accessible, fixed a lot of roads and built bridges etc. Now you may go “jay, isnt that what a normal president is supposed to do ?” Well, yes. But the guy before him didnt do a whole lot, so him doing his literal job was enough to convince people he was good enough to keep around.

As time went on he started to take a way harsher approach. Slowly but surely the price and tax on everything went up. Religion started to be the hottest topic in turkey despite us being a secular country on paper.Slowly festivals became too loud, protests were bothersome, pride parades were sinful, gays werent considered people, music after 12 wasnt allowed, Eurovision was something too embarrassing for our country to take place in, alcohol was a luxury that only the desperate & sinful tried to buy, women were not obedient enough, the legal age to get married was too high, sex before marriage became a big topic, rapists and murderers would walk freely, femicide got to a brand new high and a whole lot more.

This all happened slowly and gradually. By the time we thought to speak up on any of this the i-don’t-even know, 60% yearly inflation rate had worn us down. A dollar was no longer 2.5 TL, it was close to 25. Nothing could be bought with minimum wage. Whatever you bought, you bought a second one for the govt in tax (a phone here costs twice the price of one in america). People who vote for him mostly do so because all media outlets are heavily censored and totally in his favor. He has control of literally everything. Literally!! He hosted a referendum where he legally was given so much power that he can change whatever he wants on a whim. He will confidently lie out of his teeth and tell his supporters that the reason everything is so expensive is because of his opposition (who have virtually no power) + its fine because even if we’re poor we’re closer to god and his supporters eat it up because they have some fucked up parasocial relationship with him.

Right now we’re screwed beyond belief. The election was rigged in his favor but despite everything he either wasnt able to end it on the first round or intentionally didnt so he could win by a higher margin on the next round. The house is fucked, the opposition lost a ton of seats to highly religious islamic fanatics who straight up advocate for sharia law. That and the president literally had an alliance with a terrorist organization who want 15 year olds to get married, theyre also in the house. Its great.

Now we wait for the 28th, but its going to take a miracle for Erdogan to lose. I have virtually 0 hope at this point. One thing is foreigners defending him, but any turk who does so deserve everything they get. I truly hope anyone who voted for him suffer a fate worse than death (at this rate, they will). It may sound harsh, but ive seen no one in power except for this absolute sorry of an excuse, cunt of a man. My teens and childhood was wasted away with terrorist attacks and a staged coup, along with a power hungry man who made every walking day of my life worse than what it could have been.

Basically, wish us the best of luck i guess lol.

#long post

[chasingpj]

𝕩𝕖𝕟𝕚'𝕤 𝟙𝕜 𝕔𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟☺

Thank you so much for the support all of you have given me since the beginning of my blog. It’s been so crazy experiencing this account grow and knowing my writing has been enjoyed by so many of you. I put off this celebration because I was debating if I should do one but I miss interacting with you guys and you all deserve it! You guys are the best and I'm excited for the fun we'll have! ♡♡

this celebration will go on from Friday, 3/24th to Sunday, 3/26th

🎁 personalized letter from your favorite character (you can tell me about yourself and/or a situation and i'll write a short love letter for you from your favorite character. things to include: preferred pronouns, name, cabin, hobby, interests, personality, scenario, and who you want the letter to be written by!)

🏹 tell me anything about yourself (be sure to include your preferred name/pronouns, cabin, preferred weapon, your powers, personality type, your favorite characters in the series: romantically and platonically, literally any aspect of yourself or your personal ocs), and I'll give you a brief summary of what your years at CHB look like.

⭐️ send me a personal headcanon (it can be about a character, a concept/au, pjo as a whole, or my fic yg and i'll add on to it!)

✒️ ask for a blurb: (send me one of the prompts provided or an idea and i'll make short headcanons or write a 200ish-word blurb)

🎬 ask for a director's cut (ask me about anything I've posted! what inspired me? i can elaborate on a headcanon or one-shot, give sneak peeks, and answer questions about young god)

🍄 get to know me more! (feel free to ask me anything)

don’t know what to request? here are 30+ prompts you can use!

disclaimer & reminder: i will cross out the quotes that have already been requested so just check back before sending it in. I will add more if i get lots of requests. i write romantically for percy, leo, jason, connor, and travis and platonically for annabeth and nico.

Dialogue Prompts

"If we lose this-" "It's just a game of Capture the Flag honey, it's not that serious-" "If we lose this, I'm divorcing you."

“I feel like I’ve stepped back in time.”

“Please tell me that we’re not stuck out here in your piece of shit car.”

"We can't take care of a baby."

“Don't even talk to me about this because I won't remember.”

“What is worse than death?”

“In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”

With time to kill and entertainment to have, you lay your hand on his and the new waltz commences.

“Tell me, what will you do when this is all over?”

“Do you ever think about what life would be like for us if things were different?”

“C’mon, we don’t really need to get up yet.”

“Can you remember how you died?”

“Act natural.”

“Is that blood?” “No?”

“Mom says if you blow up the house, she’s gonna put you up for adoption.”

“how is it that you always manage to look so handsome, even in [insert not-handsome looking clothes?”

“Excuse you, I am great at being a third wheel.”

“Apologize. Right now.”

“Don’t let this one go. he’s perfect for you."

“Pass the binoculars. Hurry!”

“Why did i have to end up partnered with you of all people?”

"Why are you wearing my skirt?"

"You're not getting sea sick, are you?"

"We're way too drunk for this."

"Watch how a professional does this."

Lyric Prompts

Photo album on the counter; Your cheeks were turning red. You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed and your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team /// All Too Well by Taylor Swift

I've been watching' you for some time. Can't stop staring' at those ocean eyes. Burning cities and napalm skies, fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes. Your ocean eyes. /// Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

What if I told you none of it was accidental and the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me? I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork the dominoes cascaded in a line. /// Mastermind by Taylor Swift

Then you're drivin' me home and I don't wanna leave but I have to go. You kiss me in your car and it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before /// Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

I'm playing hooky with the best of the best. Pull my heart out my chest, so that you can see it too. I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall. The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live? /// Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco

Recount the night that I first met your mother and on the drive back to my house, I told you that, I told you that I loved ya /// Still into You by Paramore

In the car, I just can't wait to pick you up on our very first date. Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance? Do you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? I'm just scared of what you think. You make me nervous so I really can't eat. /// First Date by Blink-182

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room. When you started crying, baby, I did too but when the sun came up, I was looking at you. /// Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift

And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything so why don't we go somewhere only we know? /// Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

I have kissed honey lips, felt the healing in her fingertips. It burned like fire, this burning desire. I have spoken with the tongue of angels. I have held the hand of a devil. It was warm in the night. I was cold as a stone but I still haven't found what I'm looking for. /// I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For by U2

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson fic #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson fanfiction #jason grace x reader #travis stoll x reader #travis stoll #connor stoll x reader #connor stoll headcanons #connor stoll imagine #percy jackson fanfic #pjo fanfic #pjo fic #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction #xeni's 1k celebration