#the strangest message sent

[dragonmuse]

Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #the strangest message sent #and no idea if it was on purpose #I kind of think it wasn't somehow #but boy howedy did it come across

[lieutenantfloyd]

So I know it’s just a joke….but I’m kinda living for the Alonso/Taylor thing that’s happening right now. How hilarious would it be for Taylor(YN) to lean into it??? We know that Lewis is kinda a Swiftie or a least would run in similar circles; she reaches out and is like can I send flowers to congratulate him for P3 in Aus, since they’re “dating” just as an unhinged joke. And then it turns into Alonso jokingly inviting her to a race (we know he’s been on a SM run lately) and it just turns from a joke into a not joke. And Fans have no clue when that is b/c they still think it’s just a bit😂

⁑ So It Goes — Fernando Alonso ⁑

Celebrity AU (social media AU + oneshot)

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x famous!reader (Taylor Swift face claim)

Summary: A pop singer's world tour, a month-long break in the f1 season, and two fanbase's engaging in some harmless trolling lead to one of the most unexpected meet-cutes the internet has ever seen.

notes: i don’t know what’s been wilder; watching F1 fans breach containment in real time or getting the notification for this ask while thinking about this exact concept. Either way, thank you anon for this ask! Please enjoy the most unhinged thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of creating.

popgossip's story

Of all the things to be trending for today, this was by far the strangest. In your line of work, rumors spread like wildfire. However: Rumors, especially of the dating variety, were typically between yourself and someone who you were photographed or with who mentioned you in an interview. Being rumored to date a man who you barely even knew existed? Well that was new. Luckily, after being in the same social circles for years, you were able to call a rival driver of your alleged BF one of your closest friends.

Two days after your conversation with Lewis, you sat at your dining room table filing out the card. Writing a short message filled with congratulations and well wishes before signing your initials and setting the card aside. Before your judgement got the best of you, you opened the card again and scrawl your phone number in small letters across the bottom. You knew the chances of him contacting you personally were slim to none, but you wanted to extend the invitation.

Fernandoalo_oficial's story

Tonight was yet another performance in yet another city. Your driver dropped you off at your hotel and you made your way up to your suite. Still buzzing from the energy of a stadium full of fans, you weren't particularly sleepy but your body was exhausted. Somehow you willed yourself to take a quick shower before collapsing into bed. Wet hair and all. You pulled out your phone and clicked on the messaging app. Selecting the all messages tab, you began responding to the slew of messages congratulating you on another stellar performance. After 20 or so threads, you made it to the messages you had received earlier in your very busy week. Humming softly, you opened another one and automatically clicked on the keyboard before glancing back up towards the top of the screen.

It was kind and simple, but you couldn't help but smile as your eyes scanned over his words. Because most nights you were either traveling or performing, the outlandish rumor only made its way into your mind when you checked your mentions and saw that you were still being tagged in a fair share of related memes. You paused and mulled over your response. Typing and deleting over and over until you sent back a similar pleasantry to his. Closing the app, you locked your phone and let it drop down onto the bed beside you. Even if your conversation stayed like this, you were still a bit excited to get a response from him. You didn't know where Fernando currently was in the world, but you could only assume you were in different timezones.

As the next weeks came and went, your correspondence with Fernando had shifted from mostly uninvolved to warm and friendly. You learned that not only did you both find your situation absolutely hilarious, but you had a surprising amount of commonality. Including your sense of humor and a shared love of cats.

You and him had began to talk more and more. In between tour rehearsals one day, Fernando messaged you inviting you to the next race. You thanked him before joking about people's reaction if you were able to attend. Making a mental note to inquire about your schedule with your team.

Aside from the low drone coming from the drivers walkie talkie, the car was silent. Leaning your head against the window, you watched the clouds pass by from behind your tinted sunglasses. It not only a warm and sunny Sunday, but it was a rare day off for you. Soon, the car had slowed to a stop. Only moments later the door opened. Revealing your smiling agent, standing next to what you assumed was some kind of F1 press officer. You let the pair lead you towards the Aston Martin garage, followed distantly by your usual security guards. Stopping on occasional to take a selfie with your adoring fans. The further you walked, the more you felt the countless eyes on you. The one aspect of fame you could never quite accept: the near constant stares. Thankfully, as you entered the emerald green marked garage, you felt the stares fall away. Celebrities were no oddity in these areas.

yourusername

liked by Fernandoalo_oficial and 3,3194,031 others

yourusername: A day to remember 💚

tagged: @ astonmartinf1 & @ fernandoalo_oficial

view 24,693 comments

betty31: HELP

user13: There's simply no way😭

forsainz4: THE RUMORS ??? ARE TRUE???

After the Grand Prix and a celebratory dinner with your new 2nd favorite driver, you once again set off to finish your tour. Despite almost always being on opposite sides of the world, you and Fernando never lost contact. In fact, you grew closer and closer. Your fanbase’s both catching on to your unusual friendship. By the time your tour was over, it was time to start writing and recording your next album. An album which, whether directly or indirectly, Fernando had plenty of influence on. Always busy, and endlessly tiring. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world, you both concurred dramatically over facetime. Late one night for him, mid day for you. It was on another one of those facetime calls that you finally spoke the thoughts that were beginning to weight heavy on both of your chests. An unspoken comradere, among many other things, had formed between you. It wasn’t long before you were mapping out what little spare time you had so you could spend it together in person. Neither one of you wanted to force anything, instead just letting whatever felt right to happen. Following the surprise release of your now completed album, you joined Fernando for a much needed period of rest and relaxation. And maybe it was the sun, the sand, or the fact you were a little wine drunk, but you were in the mood to cause a bit of drama.

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial and 14,996,831 others

yourusername i'm starting to think it might not be a joke anymore

view 46,002 comments

yktsunoda: HOLY SHIT??

user64: IM LOSING MY MIND

fernandoalo_oficial El Plan ✅😎

lavender11: y/n please come get your man😭

user98: this is the most ambitious crossover event in history

#fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x y/n #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 headcanon #formula 1 x reader #Formula 1

[potahun]

n.sfw headcanon but i had a delightful time watching a clip of cheng yi taking selfies with dubious angles today so now im slapping that onto li lianhua and thinking of a modern au where, if fang duobing ever asks for nudes, li lianhua would just casually send him the strangest, most unidentifiable, blurriest selfies where one can barely recognize what is being photographed at all, like

^this one but instead of a face you barely see some trace of skin color through the glass, and li lianhua offers no explanation for them, doesn't follow up with any text message, so fang duobing just has to sit there trying to make sense of the pictures he's sent and the brainwork kills his libido every time

#fang duobing #li lianhua #fanghua #lhl #mysterious lotus casebook #this is crack but the mental image haunted me today

[lizzieislife94x]

Mile High Club (w.m)

WandaG!PxFem Reader

Just a little update to keep the stories up to date I only started writing like 5 days ago but for some reason I enjoy writing g!p don't know why but I hope you enjoy if you don't only way to fix it is by messaging me YOUR requests what you would like to read but until then y'all have to deal with what my imagination creates lmaooo. Anyway enjoy 😉 (sorry just keeping what was already wrote bc im copy and pasting)

Y/ns POV: 

"Uggggh how long is left until we arrive wanda I feel like we've been up here for 8 hours" I groan at the annoyed looking witch across from me, she just gives me a death stare "y/n shut up I don't want to be here anymore than you do I'd rather be doing literally anything else than this we've only been in the air 40 minutes and I swear if you don't shut up I will throw you out this jet I'm not dealing with your whining for the next 7 hours, go entertain yourself or sleep I don't really care just do it away from me" she spits out and I feel a mixture of emotions the strangest is turned on when she yells at me or gives me a death stare it makes me feel some kinda way I'm not gonna lie I purposely annoy her at times to get a reaction because its such a turn on, we've both been on the avengers for like 3 years now and we never really liked each other I don't dislike her but we never really got to know each other to like each other so it kind of went from there I think that's why the team sent just me and her because they can't bare to be in the same room as us when we bicker never mind trapped in metal bird for 7 hours, I shake my head getting out of my thoughts and let out a frustrated sigh "fine you stay up here I'm going to go lay down I don't wanna be here either I'd rather be at a bar having fun drinking and potentially hooking up with someone than behere I don't know why fury put us on this stupid mission" I say with attitude as I storm away not giving her time to reply.

3 hours later

I continued to toss and turn like I have been the last few hours I can't seem to fall asleep then an idea pops into my head I bite my lip and slide my hand down my sweat pants and panties letting out a low moan at the contact I slowly start to rub circles on my clit teasing myself as the thought of Wanda pops into my head I can't lie but every time I need to get off I can't help but think of her nothing else seems to work I continue to tease my clit before sliding my hand out and taking off my sweats and panties mhh much better I slide my hand back down to my pussy and close my eyes continuing the teasing of my clit fuck this feels good, I slide my 2 fingers into my already dripping cunt and begin to thrust slowly letting out moans getting lost in the pleasure "oh fuck Wanda yessss right there don't stop" I moan completely forgetting where I am I don't notice due to the amazing feeling I'm bring myself "fuck fuck I'm so bad I need you to put me in my place daddy"

I instantly freeze when I hear a snicker I know to well and I don't dare open my eyes fuck fuck fuck "eyes on me y/n" she states as her accent creeps through this isn't happening I open my eyes and look up at a smug Wanda and my eyes instantly catch her huge bulge in her sweats holy fuck, I pull my fingers out and close my legs and mumble breathless "what are you doing here a little privacy please" she smirks and bites her lip "I wouldn't have bothered until I heard you moan my name that caught my interest so I came over and heard you moaning about how much of a bad girl you where and you wanted me to put you in place so here I am princess spread those legs for daddy let me see that pretty pussy" I instantly open my legs for her fuck why do I feel the need to do as she says, she walks over to the bed biting her lip as she removes her clothes and the minute she removes her boxers my mouth falls open she's huge Holy shit "suck" she commands and I comply crawling over to her and biting lip, I take hold of her hard member and she let's out a moan, fuck that was hot I lower my head and tease her tip with my tounge wanting more of those sweet sweet moans and it works I slide more of her into my mouth trying to get all of her in, I start gagging and feel tears run down my cheek as she pulls out of me

"oh y/n well work on that don't worry princess the key is to breath through your nose but we'll get there" I blush as she pushes me back to lay down and climbs between my legs she wastes no time in attacking my clit and the sounds that leave my mouth I don't recognise no girl has made me feel like this let alone in the space of 30 seconds I continue to moan getting louder as she slides 3 fingers into my waiting cunt fuckkkkk "shit daddy don't stop I'm so fucking close" I beg and feel her smirk into my cunt after a few more thrusts of her magical fingers I cum with a scream of her name "fuck y/n that was so fucking sexy, I can't wait to fuck that attitude out of you do you have any condoms" she breaths out clearly turned on "fuck I don't but I could always take plan B tomorrow or you could pull o.." I'm interrupted by Wanda shh'ing me while teasing my entrance with her soild member "oh no babygirl I won't be pulling out I want to fill your needy little cunt, we can get plan B" I moan and nod fuck that was sexy my thoughts are wiped when she bottoms out inside my tight cunt as a silent scream falls from my mouth hers to by the looks of it she stays still for a second looking into my eyes and I nod letting her know its ok to move, I instinctively wrap my legs around her pulling her closer and crash my lips against hers in a bruising kiss I don't fight her I let her invade my mouth with her tounge both of us moaning into each others mouths as her thrusts get faster and harder hitting my gspot over and over I break away from the kiss and moan "I'm.. fuck I'm gonna cum" she smirks and switches positions putting my legs over her shoulders so she can get deeper and holy shit I've never felt anything like this "don't stop daddy" I moan into her ear as she pounds my needy pussy till I cum all over her cock as my eyes roll and a string of words leave my mouth she slows her thrusts to help me through my orgasm "such a good girl you done so well for me baby, but we're not done" she smirks biting her lip pulling out of me and I whimper feeling so empty without her inside me, she gets up and helps me up walking into the main sitting area and pushes me against the wall spreading my legs "fuck Wanda I need you" and before I know it she's deep inside my tight cunt again groaning into my ear "fuck princess just like that you take my cock so well" I close my eyes moaning at the immense pleasure building up "fuck daddy I want you to fill me please" she starts pounding into me tightening her grip on my waist I know she's close I feel her twitching inside me so I start meeting her thrusts both of us chasing our highs "I'm gonna cum y/n" I moan feeling her thrusting harder and faster than before "me too daddy cum inside me "I moan out loud and I think that sent her over the edge because I feel her shooting her load deep inside me which sends me over the edge.

Fuck that was amazing after we both get ready I look over at her and smirk "I've wanted to do that for so long" she glares at me "I'm not even sorry why do you think I push your buttons so much because your so fucking sexy when you look at me like you're going to kill me" she just giggles and gives me a genuine smile I've never seen. I smirk and bite my lip "guess I can say I'm part of the milehigh club" she laughs and nods in agreement fuck her laugh is actually beautiful 

AN: just to keep the book up to date if you want anything specific let me know lovely people, all feedback welcome if you enjoy It if you don't I don't mind haha word count for this chapter is close to 1.6k 

#elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #fanfic #marvel mcu #oneshot #smut #mcu fanfiction #wattpad #lizzieislife94x #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #wanda smut #wandavision #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #wanda maximommy #wanda maxmoff x y/n

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

❝ ʙɪɢ ꜰᴀɴ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 3.8k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, public displays of affection

↣ notes :: welcome to the first chapter! 💕 I hope you guys already for the rollercoaster between these two.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you see my thick thighs, lost when you look into my brown eyes, see my little waist can make you switch sides. you've never seen the devil in disguise."

- be honest, jorja smith-

ｗｉｎｔｅｒ

A low hum of people chatting over the Lo-Fi beats filled the area. Glasses clinking, some munching, all sounds that Kiara Smith grew familiar with. Though the crowd was more significant than the last exhibition she attended, it was starting to become all the same. 

She could remember the very first exhibit she went to and all the nerves it brought. She was a bumbling mess—sweaty palms constantly being wiped on her dress that she may have also used as her prom dress while her stomach frequently threatened to release her breakfast all over the floor—as she watched the few people who also attended like hawks. So insecure about the words those people chose not to share. So insecure about their lips pressed into taught smiles. Were they being genuine or just keeping up appearances? Was her art worth anything, or was she going to flop and end up having to get a shitty job just to make ends meet? Those same nerves would never fade, holding onto her like some clingy child desperately needing attention. But they became less apparent whenever her boyfriend was around. The heaven-sent angel would always know the right thing to say and make the world melt away. Though he would never miss an event, it was very seldom that he was on time. She never stressed his whereabouts, knowing he'd arrive eventually.

The 24-year-old continued to walk around, partially eavesdropping as she passed couples and groups of people. Occasionally, she would take a sip of the bubbly gold in her glass to appease that child named Nerves tugging on her leg. She slowed to a stop once a particular piece caught her eye. It was two separate canvases placed at equal heights. One canvas had a bright figure colored in hues of pink and blue, while the other was dark. Shades of black and grey bled from one canvas to the other as if it was trying to overcome the figure itself. The darkness had enough space on their canvas, though, at least a third remaining untouched, but it wanted the colors. It wanted to possess them, spread its darkness to them.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" blurted a voice near her. Despite the voice being calm and inviting, it startled her. She quickly turned to the side, not realizing a man joined her. His side profile was magnificent — features that were immaculately sculpted from his eyebrows, down his straight nose bridge leading to a button tip, to where his rose-shaded lips took center stage, frozen in a pout. His light blonde hair with dark roots made his olive skin stand out. It looked natural on him. The man was attractive, and Kiara couldn't deny that. His aura alone was almost as intoxicating as the drink in her hand. It pulled her in and wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She nodded, humming in agreement with his question. She faced ahead again.

The man stole another glance at her, eyes slowly glazing over her features. "It's so rare nowadays to find someone who could capture so much without saying a word. It's almost godly."

The more he talked, the nicer his voice sounded. It had an excellent depth, low and appealing even in his hushed tone. Kiara was into what he was saying, continuing to nod until the last comment. She had to sip her drink to subdue the urge to giggle.

"But you know what you and this painting have in common?"

She turned to look at the man, their eyes meeting for the first time tonight. And boy, how he could get lost in those pools of amber. She raised an eyebrow curiously, her glass still resting on her lips as she silently urged him to continue.

"You both were crafted with the same care, holding a beauty one could only dream of containing."

Kiara almost spat out her drink, startling the man before her. She raised her hand to cover her mouth, holding back the remainder of the liquid behind her taut lips. The man's eyebrows drew together and his lips pursed slightly. His expression then dropped to a neutral state once he realized she was chuckling at what he said.

Once she swallowed the liquid, she turned to face him completely. She took a moment to graze over his appearance fully. He was well dressed, wearing a black blazer, white crew neck underneath, and dark-wash skinny jeans. Silver earrings dangled from his earlobes to match the silver chain around his neck and the wristwatch. 

"Damn," she commented, a grin growing on her full glossed lips, "you're really laying it on thick for someone you don't know." Her voice was nothing he expected. She seemed like one of those Hamptons girls, playing in New York City with daddy's money. Her voice was light and smooth like silk fabric, but her accent was hard like a concrete wall. She was either from Queens or Brooklyn, syllables being dropped or stretched at a whim. Something about the way her words blended was incredibly sexy. 

The man quirked a brow, intrigued as the corner of his lips pulled into a half smile. "You tryna say I'm out of practice?"

"Precisely." She answered quickly and confidently as she gazed up at him. "I expect that kind of line from someone twice your age."

"Well, ouch." He chuckled, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as his eyes glanced downward at the girl. "My job requires me to be blunt, so I call it like I see it."

"And you're saying I'm as beautiful as this painting?"

He grabbed a glass off the tray of a passing waiter. "Your beauty surpasses it." It was true. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her golden honey skin practically glowed under the cool white fluorescent lights. Her hair was dark brown and long, pulled back into a sleek high ponytail with two strands framing her face. Her black satin dress hugged every curve in her body with grace, and there were plenty of them. The material looked soft to the touch, gently reflecting the light. He'd be lying if he said her looks weren't the reason why he approached. And on top of all the looks, she smelled phenomenal—warm and sweet, like a freshly baked sugar cookie with a dash of cinnamon on top, making him want to relive through the holiday season that just passed.

Kiara let out a soft scoff. "Thank you, but that's not as much of a compliment as you may think." She suddenly spun on her stiletto heels, turning her back to the man as she walked away.

He quickly followed, catching up in a few steps to join her by her side. "Do explain."

"Beauty has, and always will be, skin deep." She circled the champagne in her glass while looking out into the crowd. "Looks fade over time. Trends come and go faster than the seasons. So if you really wanna wow a girl…." She stopped at another painting that grabbed her attention before looking at him. "Compliment the things you can't see." The two stopped to gaze at the artwork in front of them. The man thought over her words while admiring the piece. The canvas before them had various hues of green splashed about, but shades of purple peeked through upon closer inspection. It mimicked little flowers blooming through a field of wild grass. She managed to lead him to the only painting that mirrored their conversation.

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "You're completely right. And to think I almost missed out on how intelligent you are."

She smiled, soft and genuine. "Thank you."

The man stayed by her side as Kiara floated, offering his opinions on whichever piece they stopped in front of. She really appreciated being able to receive unbiased feedback on her work. He didn't know he was chatting with the artist. No one in the room knew. The name signed at the bottom of each canvas was Luna, a faceless painter. It's been that way since the beginning, and she intended it to stay that way. Only her close friends, family, and people she hired knew of her secret.

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to lunch tomorrow." The man asked at their fourth or so painting.

"I see you don't waste any time."

"Correct. Time is limited, after all."

She looked up at him, his perfect lips pulled into a soft smile. Maybe in another lifetime, she thought as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Flattered, but I can't."

His brows furrowed. He thought that the conversation they were having was great, so what was with the rejection? "May I ask why?"

"I have a boyfriend," she said with a wide smile.

He suddenly scoffed, causing her to tilt her head to the side slightly. "I haven't seen anyone on your arm the whole night." The first thing the man hated the most was being lied to.

Her brows then lowered while her eyes narrowed. "He's just late."

The second thing was excuses.

"Tsk," he shook his head before downing his drink. "Committed to a man with no time management? Red flag."

"And somehow that's better than a man who can't take rejection?" She shot back as she quickly matched his energy. They had a peaceful conversation only moments before, and now the energy between them had grown negative.

"Oh, I can take rejection," he stated with a chuckle as he put his glass down. "But only when I'm being told the truth."

"It is—"

"Hey, darling." And finally, the deep and butter-smooth voice appeared, melting away the anger that was bubbling inside Kiara. As he approached her side, he placed his large hand on the small of her back and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry I'm late."

The blonde in front of them eyed the man from his tan skin and wavy ebony hair to his solid-colored turtle neck and long coat. Something about the dark-haired man seemed familiar to the blonde. Then it hit him like a freight train. "Well, isn't it Mr. Kim Taehyung?" He smiled widely, glancing up at the slightly taller man.

Taehyung's brows furrowed momentarily before grinning. "Holy shit, Park Jimin!" He stepped forward, leaving Kiara's side to wrap his arms around the blonde. "What are you doing here?" He asked as he pulled away from the man. "I never would've thought that you'd be into art."

He chuckled softly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "It's just a little appreciation I picked up from Spain." He shrugged casually.

Taehyung's jaw clenched briefly, his smile slipping for a moment. For as long as he's known Jimin, he always had to slip in a way to brag about his accomplishments. It was sad that he still hasn't grown out of that trait yet. "Ah yeah," he responded, playing cool, "I forgot you traveled there. How was it?"

Jimin shrugged again. "It was Spain," he said, glazing over the topic. "But me and—shit, I'm sorry." His attention shifted from Taehyung to the woman. "I never asked for your name."

"I'm Kiara," she said softly. Her arms folded over her chest as she watched the two men converse. She didn't mind a bit since Taehyung was the most extroverted of the two.

"Kiara," Jimin repeated to himself, his eyes trailing down her appearance briefly. He tried to pin the name to the face, especially if she was Taehyung's. His eyes finally returned to the other man. "Kiara and I were discussing some of the pieces earlier. I've been a huge fan of Luna for years now." He tried to be calm about the subject of Luna, but it made excitement course through his veins. He was among the first few to learn about the mysterious artist who abruptly appeared on the scene. Everyone wanted one of their pieces overnight, and Jimin was obviously at the very top of that list. Every brushstroke left was a paragraph, speaking a language only artists could understand. 

"I don't even wanna talk about how hard it was to get in here," he chuckled, a faint flush spreading over his cheeks. A Luna Eclipse had a longer wait list than some Michelin-star restaurants. Luckily for him, he was able to pull a few strings. A few phone calls here, some embarrassing promises there, and he was in.

Kiara couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she eyed the man. The smirk on Taehyung's lips was full of pride, almost conceited, as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Oh, you don't say?" For once in the pair's life, it felt like Taehyung had a one-up on Jimin. "How does it feel to—"

"My love," Kiara interjected, voice just as sweet, yet bitter, like honey as she placed her hand on Taehyung's chest. She looked up at him, and Jimin could see her pupils dilated, swirling with love. He chewed on his lower lip gently. He barely knew this woman, but why did he want her to look at him like that? "I have to talk to you about something."

Taehyung stared at his partner with furrowed brows before looking at Jimin. "Um, alright. I'll catch up with you later then."

She looked at Jimin, and that love dissipated instantly. Such a look was only reserved for Taehyung, making a heaviness grow in his abdomen. "If you would excuse us."

The blonde couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from Kiara. "Of course," he finally said, grinning at the man. "Don't be a stranger!"

The two waved at each other before Kiara led him away. Her arm wrapped around his, holding him close to her. She glanced back at Jimin one last time before pulling Taehyung to a quiet section of the event. He leaned against the pillar while Kiara stood before him, gazing up at him.

"Why did you cut me off?" Taehyung asked, keeping his voice calm.

"Because you almost name-dropped me," she said, her arms folding over her chest. 

The 26-year-old's lips turned into a small o shape before forming a sheepish smile. "You're right. I'm sorry. I completely forgot for a second. It's just so hard not to brag about you when you always look so good." He reached out and touched her waist, pulling her into him.

She couldn't stop her lips from forming a smile as he buried his face into her neck. She giggled quietly, her hands placed on his chest. "Stop it," she whined, not wanting him to do such a thing.

Taehyung inhaled deeply, the notes of her sweet perfume entering his nostrils. "Mm, and you're wearing my favorite perfume too?" He mumbled against her skin, placing gentle kisses randomly. "You just wanted me to be on you."

The girl laughed before gasping when she felt his large hand fully palm her ass. She pulled away from him just enough to slap him in the chest playfully. "We're in public!"

His eyes locked with hers, with a smirk playing on his lips. "So?" He questioned as he pulled her close again, resuming to litter her neck with kisses. "No one's looking anyway. They're too distracted by your beautiful art." 

He continued until he reached her favorite spot, a moan parting from her smiling lips. His hands couldn't get enough of her, feeling her up as if it was the first time. Kiara's eyes fluttered shut, biting back moans that wanted to escape her mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Taehyung," she whined again, partially out of want. It started to feel so good that the world began to melt away. "Someone will see."

Someone cleared their throat. "That's true."

Kiara's eyes shot open, quickly pushing the man in the midst of giving her a hickey off of her. He groaned as his back hit the pillar wall while she turned around. Her cheeks flushed with heat, embarrassment promptly replacing the arousal. She saw familiar ice-blue eyes playfully glaring at her. The petite woman pushed her long, ginger hair off her shoulders as she cocked an eyebrow at the two—disapproval flooding her features.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Hello, Aimee," he said, greeting the woman for both of them.

Aimee huffed, glancing at the man. "Taehyung."

He stood up from the wall, kissing Kiara's temple. "Lemme get us something to drink." He shot one last glare to Aimee before walking off.

Aimee shook her head. "I don't know how you put up with him and all the PDA." She grumbled, her heavy New Jersey accent ringing through Kiara's ears while she glared a hole into the back of Taehyung's head.

Kiara straightened out the smooth material of her dress. "You get used to it," she smiled softly to herself. "Plus, I kinda like it."

"Ugh," Aimee rolled her eyes as she folded her arms over her chest. "Seems like he'd fuck ya right there with an audience." The girl pointed her index finger to her open mouth, making a gagging sound while Kiara laughed.

"You're so dramatic," Kiara smiled while shaking her head. "But what's up? Is everything going OK?" Aimee was at every event Kiara held. She was her art dealer, providing guests with the information needed to purchase a piece. She would only come up to the artist if something were awry.

"Oh! Everything is fucking fantastic, honestly." Her eyes lit up with excitement as she bounced on the balls of her heels. "I think this might be your best collection yet."

Kiara sighed in relief, placing her hand on her chest as it fell. "Thank you. If we can get everything sold tonight, I'll be set." Aimee looked at the girl, her brows furrowing momentarily before releasing. "Taehyung and I have been looking for a bigger place."

Aimee's lips turned down into a slight frown. "A bigger house? Has he even talked about getting a ring yet?"

Kiara's shoulders dropped, her hand pinching and rubbing at her fingers. She sounded just like her best friends and every other friend in Kiara's life. "I know," she sighed. She glanced down at her left hand, where her ring finger was aching to be adorned with something. "It's so backward, but a one-bedroom isn't enough. He needs an office space for work. So, I'm hoping the ring will come soon after once we settle into a new place."

She looked at the girl, a sad smile replacing her frown. "Well, it's only been four years, right?"

Only. That word ran circles in Kiara's head. 

It's only been for years. 

You've only just moved in with each other. 

You've only just started dating.

The word was growing tiresome, especially in the conversations about Taehyung. Everyone had an opinion about her and her relationship, but no one dared to say anything straightforward about it. She was sick of only.

Kiara nodded slowly, which only caused Aimee to sigh. "He'll come around, doll, don't stress it." She assured with a soft smile, gently patting the woman's shoulder. "Lemme get back to my job so you can get that house." After Kiara gave Aimee a small smile, she walked off. She almost bumped into Taehyung on the way out, the two quietly cursing at each other before continuing their path.

He returned to Kiara with a smile, handing her a glass of champagne. "All good news?"

She grinned at the man, feeling warm despite not sipping her drink yet. "Amazing news."

As the night continued, the two walked around together. They always had a hand on each other somehow, whether it was Taehyung's on the small of her back or Kiara's hand being swallowed by his. She adored this. It made her feel safe—feel wanted. He had to let everyone know she was off the market and was his. As if a shiny diamond ring resting upon her left finger wouldn't have done the same. Taehyung struck up conversations with random people, small-talking them like the extrovert he was. During each conversation, she would glance around, finding something to fill her attention while they spoke of things that didn't matter. Every time, her gaze would meet the blonde.

Their eyes lingered for longer than what was appropriate. Why was he looking at me? She thought while she fidgeted with her fingers. Or was he staring at Taehyung?

"Love," she said as she turned her gaze to Taehyung. He has just finished up a conversation with an elderly couple. "How long have you known Jimin?"

"We grew up together, and were best friends."

The girl's eyes went wide. Despite four years together, Taehyung rarely talked about anything before his college years. It was optional to dwell on past things, even though Kiara would've loved to know everything, from how he scraped his knees while learning to ride a bike to his first love.

"We even went to college together, out here," he continued. "But our crowds were completely different. He got along with the nepo babies since he basically is one, and I got along with the art kids. I remember us bumping heads quite a bit." He let out an amused chuckle.

"Oh," she frowned slightly.

"Like he didn't have to brag about going to Spain," he blurted out. "Not all of us can drop our responsibilities and take off on vacation for a year."

"A year?!" She repeated as her jaw dropped.

"Mhm, basically had his parents pay for the whole trip." There was a fire behind his words. He's been tight-lipped about his friendship with Jimin, and finally, it felt amazing to let it out. "I'm surprised he's not rotting from the inside out."

Kiara pouted a bit, never hearing Taehyung speak so harshly about another. "Well, maybe it was a birthday gift?" The blonde couldn't be that bad, even if she got a taste of that quick-witted mouth earlier. He could've just been having a bad day after all.

"He left in March, babe, and his birthday is in October."

Her mouth formed a small o before she chewed on her lower lip gently. "So you're not gonna catch up with him?"

He looked ahead before glancing down at the girl. "I am," he said with a shrug, "I would rather hang out with a nepo baby than my coworkers." Kiara let out a half-hearted snicker as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "It would be a good opportunity to get out of the house since someone says I need to make friends."

"You do!" She looked at him, brows furrowed and nose slightly scrunched. "I feel bad leaving you home every girls' night. I want to know you're having fun and not rewatching the same three movies."

"They're good movies!" He argued with a smile as the girl shot him a glare. "But I hear you," she stretched out the last syllable as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "So I will try for you, OK?"

The girl smiled, leaning up to touch their lips together briefly. "Thank you." She hoped they could work past their differences and become friends. She knew the man wanted to go out and experience things, but he longed for a set group to do that with. Sometimes, rekindling a relationship was more manageable than starting a new one.

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#bts fanfic #bts fic #fic: inevitably yours #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fic #bts smut #jimin x oc #park jimin x oc #park jimin smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut

[satorkiees]

✮⋆ TWILIGHT ZONE : satoru gojo ✮ ⋆ ˚｡

ˋ⁀➷ in which you get a note pertaining your death sent to you by none other than satoru gojo. chaos ensues.

cw: 2.8k words, strangers to (eventual) lovers

prev < part 1 > next

Death was on your doorstep. Literally.

In your hands, a creased brown envelope clung to an equally tattered piece of paper which had embarked on a journey to land outside of your door. The message was clear. Ominous, even. Written with a fading black ballpoint pen that seemed to have exhausted its ink by the end of its extreme warning.

“BY THE EIGHTH OF FEBRUARY. YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DO NOT HEED MY WARNING. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT YOU EITHER  A) FIND A NEW JOB OR B) LEAVE THE COUNTRY. PLEASE CONTACT THIS NUMBER ASAP - 0XX XXX XXXX”

Surveying your surroundings for any prying eyes, you found no one but a cold draft of air tumbling by you. With a sigh, you retrieved your worn out phone from your pocket and dialled the number. What could possibly go wrong?

RING.

RING. 

RING. 

“Hello?” you said hesitantly.

“Heyyyy.” A voice, far too chirpy for the gravity of the situation, rang out from your phone. “I’m glad you called, Y/N. I’m Satoru Gojo and I’ll be your makeshift bodyguard for the next 2 weeks.” He paused whilst words failed you. ”Well, I guess I’ll see you soon!”

Over the past couple of days, you had learnt a lot about Satoru Gojo but perhaps the strangest of all was his nonchalance. 

An hour or two after your call, your doorbell rang. Standing before you was a man, about six feet tall, with an allure that masked the ominous message (you assumed) he sent. His boyish smile and circular black sunglasses (despite it being the dead of winter) contradicted the gravity of the situation perfectly matched the aura of the voice you heard. He appeared slightly older than you, maybe eighteen or nineteen, as a youthful aura exuded off of him.

“Can I come in?”

Silently, you allowed him in. Satoru took a few glances around your cramped apartment, his mouth opening as if to mention it but deciding to keep it shut.

“So, could you please explain to me what’s going on?” You asked, anxiety laced in your voice.

Seating himself on your worn couch, he began to unravel the unsettling truth. “A curse is after you, like big-time. If they can successfully remove your soul from your body, it’ll be game over for both you, me and the sorcerer world!” He sighed dramatically, motioning a ‘kaboom’ effect with his hands for added effect.  Frankly, eighty percent of his mysterious revelation had not quite registered and you weren’t sure it ever would. 

Swiftly, the night began to fall as darkness crept into your apartment. Stumbling over some old book piles, you switched on your lamp allowing a warm yellow light to fill the room. Turning your back to Gojo, you lit up another two candles allowing a lavender scent to creep into your senses. Despite its supposed calming properties, the lavender scent only confused you even more wearing your patience thinner. You blew out the candle light.

Despite your silence, Gojo persisted. “Not that I couldn’t handle it - the curses, I mean - but it’d make it significantly harder if you were dead so we’ve got to work together, alright? Alright!” He concluded, clapping his hands with an unbridled sense of finality. Gojo carried himself in a way that made what he said seem somewhat normal, as if his laid back shoulders and casual slouch into your second hand couch was enough to convince you that curses, or monsters even, existed in the first place.

Twitching, your eyes and head began to hurt; the overload of information from this somewhat cute guy made you feel like you were in some sort of absurdist dream. Laughter began to erupt out of you. Satoru’s face twitched in confusion as he furrowed his eyebrows. Sighing, you began trying to find the right words to say.

“Get out.” was what you landed on. Finally, mustering up the courage to face him.

“What?” His chirpy tone had dwindled and instead, was replaced with full panic. His eyes widened. ”Didn’t you read the letter or hear anything I just said?” Exasperation evident within his tone as he got off the couch and approached you.

“Satoru, look.” You did your best to meet his eyes  but eventually turned towards the door. “I can’t help you. Even if I could and if what you’re saying is real then what am I supposed to do against some soul-snatching curse?” 

As if on cue, your lamplight dimmed even more, leaving a low light to fill the room. Fiddling with the papers at your door, which were compiled of all your uni-work and and your part time internship responsibilities, all seemingly useless when your life was doomed to end in a couple of days. A sense of dread washed over you, your headache worsened. Gojo approached you like you were some sort of timid animal about to flee at any moment. His playful aura dissipated leaving a much more serious, grounding one. Pursing your lips together, you stopped fiddling with your work and met his eyes properly for the first time.

Satoru Gojo stood before you, someone who was essentially a stranger but looked at you with such a fire in his eyes that you couldn’t help but believe what he was saying was true. The way the lowlight framed his face and made his features glow with such an intensity was something you couldn’t ignore.

“You don’t have to do anything, honest. Leave it to me. I just need you to accept my help, that’s it.” He said with his hands on his heart. Turning around to face him once more, his blue eyes that contained a particular sense of wonder, locked with yours silently pleading. 

Looking away, you opened your door. “Please. Go.”

As he left, he looked at you once more, disappointment etched into every crevice on his face. 

The lack of his presence left you with an uneasy feeling of dread. Strangely, he had convinced you he was telling the truth even if he was a little unconventional with his methods of persuasion. Though you wanted to believe what he was saying wasn’t true, as you mindlessly went through your night routine, a constant thought plagued your mind. 

Is this it?

Waking up to the frigid stillness of your winter room, you shivered. A draft of wind swept through, tempting you to linger in the warmth of your bed. Reluctantly, you switched on your lamp, allowing light to seep into your room disbanding the darkness entrenched in the crevices of your room. Suddenly, memories of the past 24 hours flooded back into your brain as you did your best to trudge through your extensive morning routine. Doing it as you normally would - brushing your teeth, showering, getting dressed, doing a mandatory morning clean of your apartment.  However, during that last step, you found something that solidified the surreal events of the previous night. 

In a state of delusion, you had hoped that everything had been an elaborate dream, one that had simply been a byproduct of your numerous stress-inducing responsibilities. But you were sorely mistaken. Satoru Gojo’s glasses laid there on your couch, snugly wedged in where he was seated last night, evident from the deflated dent in your couch. Gently, you picked them up, surveying the accessory. They were in relatively good condition, seemingly worn a lot due to the slight oxidation around the frames; the lenses without a prescription either as you held them closer to your eyes. Because of your background, you weren’t too versed in designer brands, however seeing a ‘Cartier’ logo etched into the sides of these glasses was enough to send a second set of shivers down your spine. While you hadn’t formulated many theories surrounding Gojo’s mysterious persona, involvement with the mafia was one of your top three contenders, and these glasses (without any sort of case or protection) had bumped that theory up to number one. 

Despite the fatigue creeping into your body, you decided to attend your classes with Gojo’s glasses tucked into the safety of your backpack’s front pocket. Even if the impending doom of your life ending loomed around a month away, doesn’t mean your classes (and internship) weren’t still there waiting for you. 

As usual, your professors droned on endlessly. prompting you to wonder why you chose this course in the first place. Swiftly, you packed your things to leave, but as you made your exit, you saw something. Fleeting, a shadow outside the glass of your school’s hallway caught your eye, accompanied by a draft of wind that tried to shuffle past you. Blinking, you tried to discern if anything was there only to be met with a headache that intensified with each attempt. Clutching your backpack close, you ignored the discomfort. Making it towards your study room - a safe haven - for you to be able to catch up with the work you’d missed.

Upon entering, a familiar white haired man slouched over the desk, seemingly lost in the most peaceful of slumbers. Before you could say anything, he sprang to life, stretching with exaggerated movements and delivered with a comically large yawn. Unsure of what to do, you waited for him to speak. 

“Hey.” He said with an annoying sense of normalcy, a playful aura radiating from his face, now adorned with a new pair of Cartier glasses. He peered up at you, prompting your response. 

“Are you, like the mafia or something?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. “Because that would explain why you’re here now.” 

He chuckled, his laughter surprisingly pleasant. Though, it was unsurprising that someone like him was also blessed with a nice laugh too. You scoff. “What’s so funny about that?” you retorted, growing annoyed at his mirth whilst your life (supposedly) hung in the balance. 

“Nothing,” he calmed down, wiping an imaginary tear away. You rolled your eyes as he quietened down a bit, positioning his glasses through his hair so he could look at you clearly. Your face began to grow hot with his eyes staring right at you. He continues. “Just my friend Shoko, has this running bit about me being a mafia boss. You remind me of her a bit.” Silently, you prayed for anyone who could tolerate someone as erratic as Gojo. 

“I’m not part of the mafia, however curses and all of that jazz are the real deal and I do really need your help.” Satoru said with the same fervent sincerity as the night before. You looked away, unpacking your bag with the contents of this term’s work cluttering the table. A variety of thoughts ran through your head. Convinced that this mysterious man had been telling the truth, you felt another chilling sensation, unsure if it stemmed from the monsters he spoke of or the stress of your impending demise. 

Quietly, you retrieved Gojo’s glasses from your front pocket and slid them across to him. “You should really put these in a case or something.” His raised eyebrow met with your growing anxiety. The prospect of leaving everything behind to deal with something new was albeit - terrifying, but if you did nothing, you wouldn’t be able to feel anything at all. 

“But, won’t we-”

Not a second later, the wall caved in. Debris and smoke filling the room, rapidly. Gojo grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the now-destroyed room, leaving all your assignments crushed underneath the weight of falling concrete. A single glance back revealed other students fleeing the scene. With screams echoing down the hall, a familiar draft of wind swirled down the corridor after you. 

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” you yelled, your legs burning as you were being dragged at an (inhumanely) high speed. Gojo doing his best to manoeuvre his way through the bustling students, who were bewildered at your rapid pace.

“They’re here.” Out of breath, all retorts had escaped your mind, fight or flight in full swing. With every corridor you left behind, a new chorus of cries echo in your wake. “I could sense him--the curse–but I couldn’t see him. He’s good!" He rattled on but you were certain it was mostly for himself.  Exhilaration clearly pulsing through his veins whilst anxiety was beginning to freeze yours.

“WHAT?” Nothing made sense. It felt insane, as if this was the dreaded sequel of your absurdist nightmare. 

“THE WIND.” He shouted in reply as if that answered anything. A new set of screams followed as you tumbled down the stairs. He continued. “STOP ASKING SO MANY QUESTIONS AND ACCEPT MY HELP.”

“WELL, I WAS ABOUT TO BEFORE WE ALMOST DIED!”

“REALLY?” For the first time in a while, he took a good look at you, a smile evident on his face even despite death feeling very near to the both of you. An ultimately foolish decision, as Satoru almost ran straight into a wall.

“LOOK WHERE YOU’RE GOING, SATORU.” You called out, doing your utmost to keep up with him.

“YES, MAAM!” He turned around, turning up the speed with a newfound sense of motivation. If you stopped running for just a moment, you were sure your legs would fall off.

Nearing a corner, something materialised in front of you. Gojo looked at the mist forming then looked you dead in the eyes. “Accept my help. Please.” 

“Okay, alright! I need your help.”

Everything went black.

Time stood still for what seemed like an eternity. Nothing could be seen but you were feeling everything, everywhere, all at once. Death was your first thought but with Gojo holding onto you, you knew you were still alive.

Then, onslaughts of colour flooded back into your vision. A different form of headache made you feel like you were about to puke out the whole galaxy. However, Gojo did. Even God couldn’t make puking seem graceful. There was enough anxiety to fill up every cell in your body and realising, you were both back in your apartment, you began to panic even more.  Deciding to focus on one thing at a time, you stumbled over towards the kitchen and got a glass of water for the both of you. Placing his down, you sat next to him.

Eagerly, you waited for him to say anything, anything at all to make sense of the past 15 minutes. He looked pale, sickly; whatever he had just done had evidently taken a lot more  out of him than he’d expected. 

Gojo began to monologue, slowly, about his findings and how he got to you in the first place.

a/n - dun dun dunnnn. i'm not sure why i was so nervous to post this but i had a ton of fun writing this. please reblog/like if you enjoyed it. part 2 will be out soon :)

#satorkiees #gojo satoru #gojo saturo x reader #gojo saturo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojō x reader #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu gojo

[derww]

Loosely inspired by this headcanon by anon. Thanks, anon.

It takes Ash a little less than a week to discover that Squiddo... is not just one person.

The second Squiddo looked like the first Squiddo and fell on his head during nether travelling. She, however, did not seem to know him personally, referring to him as "Funny Purple Guy" and complained that the portals refused to extinguish the damage from the fall. 

She gave him a strange-looking turquoise spear and an obviously living mushroom, which did not stop giggling and trying to hit him with its forehead. While he has not yet moved away from the stage where he swears and asks stupid questions, she said goodbye and was about to run off into the sunset, but fell off a cliff right into a lava lake. She had no death message. 

The spear was equally likely to either pass through objects or leave very unpleasant itchy burns, and the mushroom was called an Idiot and ran around spawn for almost a month until it turned over in the water and drowned.

This Squiddo – Ash started keeping a list after he met the third one, and in this set of squiggles, crooked drawings and blurred text, she was called the "Tourist" – she consistently looked in once a month, falling out of various types of portals, sometimes right in front of him.

She was always full of enthusiasm and desire to tell him the next story of her own adventure, she loved to bring some absolutely random things and died a lot and absurdly, managing to die even in the most harmless circumstances.

Another Squiddo – Squiddo the Wanderer, as he signed, adding a bunch of question marks and outlining in ink a strange squiggle of snaking holes in the wall – took it into the habit of teleporting straight to him. 

Once she scared him so much that he swung his sword, but it just went through her, as if she were not even here. This did not prevent her from dying in a surreal way – she was in the top 3 among all Squiddos in terms of the number of deaths.

Squiddo the Wanderer didn't remember much, so she got to know him over and over again every time. "Hi, I'm Squiddo," she said. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I usually explore the most remote places in Minecraft. I think I know you, but I do not know who you are." She never remembered who he was.

Next Squiddo, however, knew him all too well. "What's up, Ashswag?" she said when she appeared for the first time, coming out of a door that appeared in the middle of nowhere. "It was a hot minute, right? How are you?".

Then she mentioned a bunch of their adventures together, in which Ash had never actually participated, but for some reason she stood her ground.

It turned out they were hunting ghosts together. And they were running away from monsters. And they were surviving an apocalypse. "For some reason, it seemed to me that even different you would remember," this squiddo said. He called her the Ghost Hunter. "But at least you know me. This is already good."

She was the most calm Squiddo he had ever met. She weighed her decisions, almost did not die, and walked with her dog. She was plagued by oddities, glitches, and one (1) Herobrine, but was surprisingly calm about all of them.

Ghost Hunter sent him polaroids with all kinds of monsters and silly signatures painted with markers. He was present in the photo three times. Once, he had a human face. In another time, he had a gun.

Scientist Squiddo was the strangest of them all, because she could count to ten and knew what pronouns were. She always carried a wooden tablet and papers with her and wrote down anything. She was interested in everything about the server. Much more than she needed to know.

He began to seriously worry about her safety when she began to deconstruct the revive process in order to revive the local Squiddo if she died. He called her an idiot and said she had no idea what she was getting into and that she was risking everything she had, including her life. She grinned and said: "Bet."

At one point, he was seriously expecting admins on his own doorstep every fucking day – Scientist Squiddo, of course, settled in the same place where he lived. They never came. He couldn't decide if this was good news.

With all this, this Squiddo, Lifesteal Squiddo, did not go anywhere – she was like her other versions, constantly disappearing somewhere, but unlike them, she did not travel between worlds. She got lost, disappeared, and died a lot.

Lifesteal Squiddo didn't seem to be affected by the consequences of the deaths of all the other Squiddos; she was doing a great job of dying herself. And, among all the people, it seems that even Squiddo herself was on the list of those who did not know that there were many versions of herself on the server.

Zam fed apples to the Tourist and once even went on a trip with her, Planet communicated with the Wanderer using a language consisting of clicks and whistles, Spoke explored the mysteries following the Ghost Hunter with great enthusiasm, and Ro supplied the Scientist with calculations and data. 

Of course, Ash tried to tell Squiddo that there was a lot of her. She wrinkled her nose, giggled, and asked if he thought she was Sans from Underdale, clearly thinking he was joking. He didn't know what an Undertale was.

And then Lifesteal Squiddo got a call and disappeared. And he, surrounded by the reflections of her wandering around, wondered what kind of disaster it would lead to this time. But it was Squiddo. She was going to be alright. He would just visit her one day and ask how she was.

And when he tries to figure out where Squiddo is now, when they have only half an hour and an orbital cannon is aimed at spawn, alter Squiddo, whom he has not seen before, comes to him.

They look surreally like him. Their body is unstable, disintegrating into black smoke every now and then, and even through the usual orange glasses, an abyss seeps through.

"What are you doing here?" He tries, and they slowly, as if every movement was an effort, again and again stratified and coming together, point first at him, and then to the side.

Ash is staring at them. With hissing and gurgling gestures, Suiddo shows several numbers. Quadrant. Height. Limit. Corner. It clicks in his head.

– Thank you,– he says sincerely, and Squiddo, with a ceremonial bow, turns into a voidfog. He stares at the empty space for another moment, then takes off and calls the Foundation.

#tw temporary death #i actually did my squiddo research to write this #no beta i died like tourist squddo #squiddo #ashswag #lifesteal smp #lifesteal #lssmp #derw writes

[poemsillneversend]

Sometimes I dream of you.

It is always so surreal it’s hard to tell my dreams apart from real life.

I guess that’s the price to pay for loving someone so dreamy.

I’m my last dream, you just sent me a message.

“I’m sorry, I’m really struggling right now and I can’t be in your life anymore.”

I start to spiral and I worry if you’re okay.

I wake in a panic, but soon realize I’m still in your arms.

You give me a big smile with sleepy eyes that let me know.

You’d just barely beaten me awake and watched me wake up.

You’re still too sleepy to speak your first words of the day.

I speak first.

All I can manage is a whisper, with tears welling up in my eyes,

“I just had the strangest dream that you walked out of my life.”

You hugged me tighter, wiped my tears and cradled my face in your hands.

I ask, “Are you even real?”

You smile again, softer and sadder now, but you don’t answer.

You look at me with those ocean eyes so deeply that I feel lost at sea.

You kiss me so, so softly.

For what feels like hours we lay there just kissing like that.

And then I wake up for real, alone.

And I remember the very real distance between us.

I wish you were here.

#heartbreak #poetry #relationships #writing #healing #original poem #poets on tumblr #sad poem #writers and poets #original poetry #queer poetry #lgbtq poetry #female poets #original post #love poem #original writing #original content #original art #poetic #queer longing #queer love #gay love #lost love #lgbtq poem #lovers #love #longing #poem #queer poets on tumblr #poetscommunity

[lesbianmarrow]

one of the strangest anon interactions i had on here was when i got an anon asking “when was catwoman confirmed bisexual?” and i replied “why are you asking me instead of googling it yourself?” and they sent another anon message saying that they have strict homophobic parents who monitor their online activity so they literally could not google it themself. it just raised so many questions for me? like how are your parents okay with you using tumblr but not with googling when catwoman was confirmed bisexual? and why are you offloading your search engine queries to me, a complete stranger?

#syl posts

[nekoannie-chan]

What happened?

Pairing: Michael Morbius & Reader

Word count: 576 words.

Summary: You discover you’ve been dead for a month only because your confined to your best friend’s house. Did he kill you?

Warnings: Reader is dead, vampirism, mention of blood.

A/N: This is my entry to @caplanbuckybarnes’ Summary Challenge #11.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

You can read it too on Ao3 and Wattpad.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @nana1000night  @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch  @chaoticcollectivenightmare @chemtrails-club​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @here4thefanfics​ @theestorm​ @patzammit​

You woke up in a daze; how had you gotten to the couch? You remembered having been sleeping in bed when someone knocked on the door... Who had it been?

From there, you couldn't remember anything; everything was a blur, but you didn't know what you were supposed to do—what did you do every day?

What was your routine? You couldn't remember any of it; did you have an accident? Did you hit your head?

Maybe you should go to a doctor; when you touched the doorknob, it was as if you got a shock. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Michael came in. You noticed that he looked pale, more than usual.

"Hello," you greeted him, he smiled at you, "I... I didn't remember you were coming."

"I sent you a text message; maybe you didn't see it because you didn't answer me."

"You know I had the strangest dream," you commented.

"Which one?" Michael asked, trying to hide his obvious nervousness.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little tired, you know, as usual."

"Have you taken all your medicines?"

"Of course, but tell me, what happened to you?"

"I don't remember how I got to the couch."

"Maybe you sleepwalked."

Strange things kept happening during the following weeks, strange situations; it was as if you couldn't leave his apartment, and you also noticed some changes in Michael.

Even if you asked him what was wrong, he avoided the subject; sometimes you could even notice guilt in his eyes. You also needed to find out what was wrong with your best friend; you knew him very well since you were a teenager.

On one of the occasions, you saw the calendar, it had been a month since the first time something strange had happened, but this time something different happened. You were going into his bedroom when you thought you saw a trace of blood; however, when you got closer, there was nothing.

Then you saw the clock; in a couple of minutes, Michael would arrive. It also seemed strange that you didn't remember where your own house was; you were sure you didn't live with him; and there were really many changes in him, so it was time to confront him.

You waited for the right moment after he arrived, and this time there was no escape.

"Michael, I need to know the truth; I will not stop until you tell me what is going on," you said.

However, he had a reaction you didn't expect; he started to cry and ask for your forgiveness. You looked at him without understanding why he was like that.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I'm not really sure what happened."

"What are you talking about? I'm not understanding anything," you put your hand on his shoulder.

"I've been lying to you, I tried my experiment on myself and... one of those nights when I had one of the changes, I had no artificial blood and... I was going out to hunt and you arrived, I tried to hide myself so you wouldn't be in danger... but I couldn't control myself... I'm sorry..."

He had killed you unintentionally; he still didn't control his vampiric part, and you had become one of the victims. Now you were trapped in his apartment, and he had a guilt that could not be removed since there was no way to remedy what had happened.

#Summary challenge #michael morbius & reader #michael morbius #morbius

[xinambercladx]

"The Double Cross" A Star Wars Cad Bane Fanfic

Genre: Action Adventure Word Count: 2,700 Rating: General. (SFW) I dreamed of Cad Bane again. But this time, I was nowhere. This was his story, not mine. I floated about like a ghost with no form. I was an observer. It like the perspective of a camera from which an audience might watch a film.

The planet was a dry beach land. It reminded me of the Kanan comics where the rebel Jedi stashed his prized ship The Escape. Kanan kept the ship on the planet called Lahn for safe keeping. Seeing as I read that comic some time ago, and the two places seem so similar, for simplicity’s sake I will refer to this planet as Lahn. Lahn was a blue planet located in the Outer Rim Territories. It was known for its beautiful forests, beaches, and sparkling oceans. Cad Bane was far from the strangest alien to walk the sandy trails here. There were the Ithorians with the humped backs and swooping heads, stepping slowly on stumpy feet. They had two mouths on either side of their head, and spoke in harsh, reverberating mumbles. Gran ran the shops and most of the business properties on the cliff side offices. The docks below where waves crashed against the cream and gray colored masonry hosted the water loving aliens. Famous for their sailing, fishing, and swimming prowess, the Nautolans, Mon Calamari, and Quarren had varying aquatic traits like tentacles, large eyes for seeing in dark depths, or even claw like hands.

Then there was Cad Bane, a member of the Duros species. Compared to the other races, his deep blue skin sparkled like the sea that clashed against the stony or aglae colors of all the others. He would clash more if his leather clothing weren’t as brown. Only exposed the blue skin was the tips of his fingers peaking out from gloves and the front of his face peering out from the shade of a wide brimmed hat. From afar, he would appear as a tall human man. He was a bounty hunter, and was on the isle of Illmek. He left his ship behind him at the hilltop spaceport and made his way down to the sea port.

The sea spray was refreshing. It had been a while since he last spent time at a pleasant place like this. Sea birds flew lazily on the wind. Some slept on the wing. There was an occasional whiff of rotting seaweed, but otherwise the smell of salt and of the beer the sailors drank openly. It was a carefree place on the surface. Such places often hid the most unexpected crime underneath that surface. It was subtle, like that occasional whiff of rotting seaweed.

I thought I smelled somethin’, Cad Bane thought.

His client met him out in the open, bold as could be. Dark corners didn’t seem to exist in a beautiful place like this. To meet in a corner would signal something was up to a discerning lawman, but a casual meeting between two men? Now that wasn’t anything to note. The sailors and passers-by minded their own business of exchanging fish and drinking beer. The client was a shifty eyed Quarren with a sharp chin surrounded by a tentacled mustache. I shall give the name of Shift to this Quarren.

The job was easy enough. He was to embarrass and intimidate a well-to-do businessman at the top of the hill. Shift had bad blood and jealousy with the business man, who I will name Sebastian. Sebastian reminded me a bit of a certain crab character, but had a friendlier voice. Did I say easy? The task was easy, but the execution was more elaborate than I first recalled. After dwelling on this part of my dream I remember there were three steps to it. Several days were spent harassing Sebastian's workers, causing fear and spreading rumor to spread by word of mouth up the ranks until it reached Sebastian's ears. Once the business man heard that a bounty hunter was causing trouble Sebastian sent out guards to deal with him. The pitiful guards returned empty handed, and disarmed. Cad Bane had bested them all and sent another message. Sebastian began to really sweat (if a crustacean Mon Calamari could sweat that is). Things began to go missing from his business properties. Items were lost at sea. Then things went missing from his house. By the time a week had passed, Sebastian had enough. He was about to storm out and confront the bounty hunter himself, or so he claimed.

“This is an outrage! I should... I should see about this myself! How dare this bounty hunter pick a fight with me?” Sebastian asked the room, where a droid and his secretary stood sheepishly. With no answer, he went on. “Why would he do this? I don’t even know the man! I’ve had it. I’m going to demand he come here and explain himself!”

Before Sebastian walked two steps to the door, a resonant voice spoke from the window.

“Demand? I don’t take well to demands, unless yer a client.”

Sebastian turned to face the bounty hunter, who had somehow climbed in through the window and leaned against the sill as if he were perfectly comfortable with invading someone’s home. In fact, Cad Bane was perfectly comfortable invading someone’s home, especially when he was being paid to do it. Sebastian froze between reeling back from shock and urging forward with anger at the intruder. “You! You??” “Me,” Cad Bane said.

The description the guards had given him of the bounty hunter matched perfectly. Sebastian recalled, “A Duros with a big hat and a big mouth. You have some nerve! What do you want? Return my belongings, my property to me! What does a bounty hunter want with my livelihood? I have no quarrel with you.”

Cad Bane replied coolly. “Not the brightest bulb, are ye, bubble brain? I have no quarrel with you, but my employer does.” He was on the Mon Calamari in three long steps across the room. He snarled in Sebastian's fishy face, “He wanted to run you dry, fish man, to squeeze you ‘til ye shut down.”

It was true. The bounty hunter had cost him a fortune. It was a small fortune, in the grand scheme of the galaxy, but for the small island port town? It was too much.

“Shut down? I can’t do that. People depend on me, my business. They’d all starve…” Sebastian finally clicked on the fact Bane mentioned being employed by someone and wasn’t working alone. “But why? But who?”

“Feh,” Bane scoffed. “Everyone has enemies.” He leaned forward and rested a hand on his hip. There were two LL-30 blasters holstered there. The droid gave a robotic gasp. The secretary rushed to Sebastian’s side. He pushed her back behind him, even though she tried to shield him from Bane. Their little scuffle would have been cute if they both didn’t have terror in their saucer shaped eyes. Bane stepped suddenly even further into their space, causing both of them to freeze. “Shut down and I’ll leave ye be.”

The secretary urged, “Sebastian.”

“Alright… I’ll shut down.”

“Gooood,” Bane said. He turned to leave. “My employer will be pleased to hear it.” He strolled to the round metal door. It opened wider than Sebastian’s mouth. “My job’s over. Stay closed for business or my client will hire me again.” Bane was about to step outside when he heard the most peculiar thing. It was Sebastian asking a question that made him stop in his tracks.

“What if I hire you first?”

Bane gave Sebastian a second, more serious look. “Well, well, maybe yer not so dim after all,” Bane reassessed. He rejoined them in the room, but his countenance was with interest instead of intimidation. “Not often I’m hired by someone I’ve offended. Whad’ya need?”

“I want back all the items and cargo you stole.”

Bane groaned, “I was to bother and badger, not steal.”

“Then if it wasn’t you…” Sebastian took a moment to think. “I want you to find out who, arrest him, and return everything to me.”

Cad Bane grinned, and looked about the room. “Since you’ve nothing credits-wise to barter with, Sebastian, consider your lovely establishment as collateral.” The secretary gasped. “If that seems fair to you…?” Bane reached out a gloved hand to the clawed Mon Calamari. Sebastian shook his hand. The contract was signed, and Bane questioned Sebastian about his missing property, when and where each occurrence happened. He noticed a pattern. He had a feeling he knew just where to start looking.

Down at the docks, the most remote dock to be exact, Shift adjusted his brand new diving suit. It was the finest he had ever bought. It glistened in the summer sun, and his tentacled face wriggled with glee. His friends had taken notice of his change in attitude. The once salty man turned sickly sweet, and they soured in repulsion. Something had changed, but they had no idea why. So when they saw the bounty hunter that had been harassing the island walk up to the Quarren, they drew their own conclusions, and most of them were instantly suspicious of their… friend.

“Contracts done. I did what you wanted,” Cad Bane said, putting a toothpick in his mouth. Shift began to act shifty, realizing Bane approached him as boldly in the open as he had done when they first met and struck the deal. His friends would see and hear everything, even if they pretended to be fixing nets or fixing machinery. Shift asked, “He’s shutting down?”

Cad Bane nodded, “I’ll be taking my full payment now.” Shift scooted to the edge of the dock, and began pulling up a rope hanging overboard. The bounty hunter continued, “I couldn’t help but notice during my stay, folk ‘round here complainin’ about belongings going missing...” He eyed Shift as Shift eyed him right back, still pulling the rope in from the water. “Right about the same time as my antics.”

The Quarren finally pulled the remainder of the rope out of the water. On it end, a briefcase was attached. He detached and tossed the weighted rope. It splashed and sunk back down into the water, its upper portion slithering like a snake on the dock.

Shift said, “Seems like someone saw an opportunity.” Shift handed it woefully to the bounty hunter.

“Seems so,” Cad Bane said, removing his hat and propping it gently on cargo crate. He grabbed hold of Shift’s squid-like hand, gripping tightly. Shift grunted. The onlookers halted their work. The rope slithered, sinking further into the water. Cad Bane sneered, “I don’t like being used as a distraction without getting paid fer it. You altered the deal, so I have no qualms takin’ a job from Sebastian to get back at ya.”

Shift’s tiny eyes blazed, “You back-stabbing Nemoidian! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Bane showed fang and wrenched the Quarren’s wrist, “Ye don’t, do ye? Then why’s yer fancy new suit soaked when there was no diving scheduled today? Let’s have a look-see where that rope leads.” The rope snapped taut. The weight had reached the bottom.

“What? No!” was the two words Shift shouted in pain, shock, and anger before Bane launched them both into the water. Once splashed down, Bane fired his jet boots and followed the rope down into the depths. The dock was positioned over the reef’s drop-off. Down and down they went, and the water, as clear as it was, became darker. Shift struggled against Bane’s tight grip. He was a Quarren, so the water was his natural habitat, but he wasn’t used to being dragged.

“You fool! You’re a Duros! You can’t breathe underwater like I can.” Shift warned, “You’ll never reach the bottom before you need to breathe. I’ll help you back to the surface before you drown. We can call it even!” Bane laughed. Shift couldn’t believe it. The Duros had let go of his only breath of air. Shift yelled, “Do you have a death wish? There’s nothing down there worth dying for!”

Bane, even though he should have no more air, spoke and more bubbles escaped his mouth, muffling his mocking words. “That so?” With his free hand, Bane tapped the tubes protruding out of either cheek. The Quarren realized it was a breathing apparatus to the Duros’ nostrils. He had lost his only hope of leverage. Then they reached the bottom. Bane’s eyes gleamed at the sight.

Crates upon crates of valuable goods waited for extraction. Boxes marked everything from medical supplies to diving equipment. The chrome of brand new engines for small water craft shined. Leaning against the crates were propellers, oars, and unused lobster cages (that already seemed to have caught a few). These were all business supplies for every sailor on the planet. Everything they could possibly need, Sebastian provided. Sabastian’s personal items were the shiniest. Boxes filled with credits and gold, jewelry and brand new robes. These things sparkled the brightest, even as deep as they were and so far from the sun. Cad Bane grinned, thinking of the extra cut he’d be asking for from all the wealth displayed before them.

Shift had other ideas. He reached for the tubes at Bane’s cheeks. It was a last ditch effort to thwart the bounty hunter. He grabbed one and pulled, and Bane, not accustomed to the water, was slow. His head was yanked to the side. More bubbles escaped with a grunt. Shift didn’t know this, but the tubes required a twist before they could be removed. This was the only thing that saved Bane from drowning. Bane retaliated. Flames erupted from his gauntlet at the Quarren. It acted like a depth charge,. Both of them were shaken from the instantly exploding air and imploding water. The two were blown apart. They drifted for a moment, dazed. Bane gathered his senses first. He used his gauntlet again and a lasso lashed out and wrapped the criminal in a tight hold. Shift awoke and struggled uselessly. He had lost.

On the way back to the surface, Bane recovered his briefcase. There was something else he spotted on the way up, something he didn’t know was special. There was a creature, an alien he had never seen before. It was a native to the planet, a female looking thing with a fish tail instead of legs. It was a pale blue and bright yellow. Its torso was like that of a Nautolan, but had fewer tentacles on its head. She smiled approvingly. Bane figured she had seen the whole fight, and maybe knew about Shift’s poor behavior. Then she was gone with a flick of her strong tail.

I would like to note that this female alien was not me. Again, I was but an observer of this story. I also wondered who she was and why she appeared so briefly? When I was a child, I read some star wars books that chronicled the renewed Jedi Order, where Luke Skywalker taught the next generation. One of the books told a story about a Padawan needing to return to her home world, before puberty would turn her human legs into a fish tail. It was a reverse of a tadpole turning into a frog. She was a space-mermaid, going from land and returning to the water. I always liked that story. I wonder if my unconscious remembered it and made a reference to it?

This is where the dream ends. It was a happy ending, except for Shift anyway.

Bane dragged Shift onto the dock, where he was taken into custody by local law enforcement. His friends were no longer his friends, as Shift had betrayed them by ruining their jobs. However, everything lost was returned to Sebastian and his business. Sebastian and his workers were overjoyed, and overlooked the fact that Bane had been a part of Shift’s deeds. Sebastian was true to his word and paid Bane handsomely (with his items returned, Bane took credits instead of the house as collateral). Bane normally left a planet he had caused trouble on as soon as the job was done. This time though, he spent a day or two on its beautiful beaches. He fancied burying some of the credits like a pirate would on that beach, but resisted the urge. Bane learned from Shift’s mistake. Hordes of that kind were always found by those who looked for them. He breathed the salty air deeply. In a way, after two successful jobs, the opportunity to relax was a great reward too. --------------------------------- Read on AO3 &lt;- Read my other crazy Cad Bane dreams. <- Some of the hazier details of my dream were embellished, mostly dialogue. This may seem too perfect of a plotline for a dream to make up, but honestly it's pretty common in my dreams. I'm very bewildered every time. Wow, unconscious. Pretty good storytelling right there.

#Cad Bane #my dream man #no literally he keeps showing up in my dreams #not that I mind... #duros #bounty hunter #star wars #quarren #nautolans #mon calamari #Star Wars has such weird alien names #star wars aliens #dreaming #dreams #lucid dreaming #fanfiction #i may or may not add an illustration for this #my things 2023

[obsessedwithceleste]

Back in your messages with flowers this time and asks from “these are sure some asks” : 5, 12, 13, and 22. Ilyy 🫶🏻

Hi cutie patootie🤗 so I definitely reposted that question thing at like 2am and then forgot about it (as one does) so we’re simply not going to talk about how long it took me to track down which questions you were referring to. Anyway.

5. Something that makes me ridiculously happy?

My wiener dogs. They’re the loves of my life and I would commit mass arson for them🥰

12. Something you want to monologue about?

This is totally out of left field, but I’ve been watching the Valorant VCTs these last couple weeks and WHAT IS GOING ON. First SEN loses, then NRG is absolutely demolished like HUMBLED, and just today C9 got their asses handed to them by 100 thieves. Like I feel like anyone who knows these teams knows that they really are pretty evenly matched so to have all these blowouts- I’m absolutely bamboozled.

13. If you were a note, what note would you be?

I’d be a sixteenth note because that’s how long my attention span is.

22. Strangest thing that has happened to you this week?

Let me drop some quick Celeste lore as background- I work as a paralegal so I work directly with some of the attorneys (lawyers) at my firm.

Anyway, I accidentally sent an email to one of my attorneys that was meant to go to one of my other gen z coworkers. The email sign off was “I hope this email finds you before I do.” The attorney then responded by printing and taping a minions meme to my computer while I was on lunch. I like my job.

#Celeste’s intrusive thoughts #heavy on the Celeste lore today #Celeste loves amongemeraldclouds

[profound-imagination]

Lost & Found - Cal Kestis - Part 5

A/N: TW some slight injury/torture talk - I don't think there's any other warnings but please let me know!

You woke in a cold sweat and gasped for air, BD was on your chest beeping at you like a droid possessed. "I had the strangest dream BD" you sighed while patting the little droid on his head "I was there with him, with Cal, just like when he was first taken and I'd dream of him in that little cell do you remember?" The droid booped "Only this time I spoke to him, I wasn't just watching and he still had his necklace" you said as your hand ghosted up to your throat to play with your most prized possession, your heart sunk when it wasn't there, it must've fallen off when you had tackled Cal yesterday.

The Holotable chimed indicating that you were recieving an encrypted message, you stretched out your aching limbs and answered "Its good to see you" was Cere's greeting, and you nodded "So he's really alive? And an Inquistor?" She questioned "He is" you confirmed "But he's still in there Cere, he's fighting it" she shook her head at your neievety "If he came after you, he's agreed to kill you, he's gone" she told you as gently as she could "You're wrong and if you were any kind of Master to him you would help me get him back, help me free him" she opened her mouth to reply when you heard Greeze "The kids right Cere" and you could hear Merrin backing him up, Cere sighed "Alright, were coming to you, where are you?"

Cal:

Cal knew he couldn't take much more of the reconditioning, he'd managed to compartmentalise it for the most part, send his mind somewhere else while his body took the pain, he was usually in Bracca when he went through this, chasing you round the scrap yard and using his Jedi agility to catch you, he could hear your giggles as his hands grabbed your middle and he pulled you to the ground, always ensuring he was the one to hit the ground first and taking the impact of you landing on him rather than the other way around. Sitting in the run down cantina sneaking drinks and getting drunk for the first time with you, with anyone for that matter, he'd nearly confessed that night, told you about his past and who he was as you supported his weight as you'd guided him back to his room but you'd put him to bed before he could do that and he was out like a light.

He woke cold and alone as he did everyday since he'd been bought to the fortress, as he tensed to try and shake off the dream of you being there with him he closed his open palm he realised there was something in his hand, bringing it to his face to investigate he wondered when he had gotten his necklace out of its hiding place in his draws and dangled it Infront of his face for a few moments, he could still see the smile on your face when he gave you yours and could see the almost glow you had when he showed you his, he'd wanted to kiss you then, explain to you the complicated feelings he had about you, but he didn't, he was a Padawan, the last Padawan and it was forbidden, he could see it but it was fading, it was cracked around the edges and that's how Cal Kestis knew he was cracking, that's how he knew Cal Kestis would soon be gone and all that would be left was the Eleventh Brother.

He longed to reach out to you somehow, to have you come and get him and take him somewhere far away where he could be fixed, where you could fix him in a way that only you could, just like you did all those years ago on that godforsaken scrapping planet and he knew you would, he knew you'd come flying right at the Fortress with only basic training in how to use a blaster and BD on your shoulder, he knew you'd die to get to him, to set him free and that's why he didn't reach out, he might have let you go yesterday but that wouldn't happen again, if Trilla sent him after you again he would have to provoke her into killing him before he left base, that was if he wasn't completely gone first.

He sighed and opened the draw to put the necklace back in his hiding place and froze when he saw it was already there, he looked at the one that was already in his hand and picked up the one from his draw, nearly dropping them both when he realised he not only had his but yours as well, Cal wasn't sure how this was possible but remembered you handing it to him in the dream in a last ditch effort to convince him it was you, but it was just a dream so how could he be holding it right now? His blood ran cold as he considered the possibility that Trilla had found you and you were being held somewhere in the base and she had planted the necklace in his hand as a sick joke. No, if you were here Trilla would've dragged his bruised and broken body out of bed and made him watch as she inflicted unimaginable pain on you, she would've maybe made him partake as another way to break him, Cal knew where he'd hopefully find some answers, the Empire had all kinds of Jedi texts that they had stolen from various temples, it was the only rational explanation he could think of, him having your necklace was something to do with the force but you weren't a force user, you'd never shown any signs of being force sensitive, he needed to find answers but he also needed to play the part of Inquistor, he couldn't go through reconditioning again anytime soon, if he did, Cal Kestis would be gone.

You:

"Play it again BD?" You asked the little droid, he booped a yes and plugged himself into the Holotable and there was Cal, BD had shown you this for the first time a month after Cal was taken. "Hey you, it's me" recorded Cal started "but I guess you know that as I'm a hologram and BD is playing you this" he chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck "I recorded this and instructed BD to play it for you if anything ever happens to me and you aren't coping very well, BD is playing you this because he's worried about you" he continued "Listen to me, you're going to be okay, you're going to get up everyday and you're going to carry on without me, you have too" hologram Cal shook his head "I'm sorry I'm not there with you, I know I always promised you I'd never leave you but this one was out of my control. You know, you're the strongest person I've ever met? You have no idea how lucky I am to have found you or how lucky I am that you found me I think is more accurate" he chuckled again "BD is going to stay by your side, and you always have your necklace, I am always with you, believe in me, believe in the force and I'll always be there" the recording finished when you heard yourself shouting at Cal to hurry up, hologram Cal smiled, waved and then the recording finished. You'd watched it over and over again for weeks after BD played it to you for the first time and for a while you couldn't fall asleep without it playing beside you, things had gotten better over the year and you had learned to cope, but seeing him yesterday, him haunting your dreams had thrown you.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis imagine #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #bd-1 #cere junda #jedi fallen order fic #greez dritus #jedi: fallen order

[wildlyironicbee]

@inklings-challenge

This...is about as finished as it's going to be for now: time and the characters got away from me.

But, that being said, I had a ton of fun with this—it’s been ages and ages since I’ve pantsed anything. (And I don’t think I’m quite ready to leave this world alone just yet, so maybe I'll finish it to my satisfaction someday!)

------

Stairs to Nowhere

News of the death of the king took three months to reach the Gap.

News, even news as important as this, always took three months to reach the Gap—that little sliver of no man’s marshland wedged between the northern border of Meath and the southern border of Kithage. It was said among both kingdoms that only the strangest of folk lived there: those with nowhere else to go or no desire to be found.

Marta, as she was calling herself these days, ran the only tavern; a small, stooped thing aptly called The Battered Kettle. She had no love for the king and would’ve been unbothered by the news if the messenger—a screeching kestrel—hadn’t swooped into the tavern in the middle of the dinner rush and startled her so badly she dropped a full tray, shattering several mugs and spilling ale down her skirt and all over her freshly mopped floor.

“Oh, Rat’s bones,” Marta swore. She swatted at the kestrel with her now empty tray, flicking foamy ale across the room. “You nasty thing!”

Her tray never came close. The kestrel ignored her spluttering and swooped down to land on the bartop. Patrons sitting at the bar hastily pulled their plates and cups back as it spread its wings wide and cried in a loud voice, “The King of Meath is dead!”

There were a few surprised gasps. Across every table, heads leaned together, and murmurs spread throughout the tavern.

“Has an heir been chosen?” called the butcher from the back of the room, his voice loud and clear (as was polite when speaking to a king’s messenger).

The kestrel flapped its wings and said, “No heir has come forth! The chamberlain seeks those whose face matches the other! Only those such as these shall be crowned!”

In the middle of the room, Marta cut herself on a piece of broken mug. She swore quietly, sucking on her cut finger.

“That old chestnut again?” said the blacksmith from the bar. He turned his head and spat on the floor. “Didn’t they try that the last time?”

They did. Oh, they did. Marta remembered.

But what she said was, “Don’t you spit on my floor again, Riad.” 

At least Riad had the decency to look sheepish. “Beg pardon, Miss Marta,” he said. “Forgot my place.” He scowled at the kestrel over his drink. “Just don’t like messengers poking their beaks where they aren’t needed, is all.”

The kestrel’s head twisted back and forth as it looked at Riad, but it didn’t rise to its own defense. As the minutes stretched on and it became clear the kestrel would say nothing else, conversation throughout the tavern resumed. 

Marta stalked behind the bar with her tray full of broken pottery and flung it on the counter. It skidded a foot, shards clinking, as she quickly bandaged her hurt finger and wrung out her ale-soaked skirt over the mop bucket to try and hide her trembling hands.

It had been years—years and years and years—since she’d heard that wretched prophecy and now here it was again, thrown back into her face like her journey had never mattered. That Rachel had never—

Cold air hit her cheeks, and she raised her head just in time to see a tall man open the front door and slip inside, his cloak drawn close about his shoulders and his hood up over his dark hair, damp with rain. Marta, recognizing him, waved him over just as the kestrel spotted him and screeched again:

“The king of Meath is dead! The chamberlain has sent messengers to every province and town!” the kestrel said, flapping its wings. “He seeks those whose face matches the other!”

From the other side of the tavern, someone called, “You said that already!” to scattered laughter.

“How long ago was this message made?” Marta asked the kestrel as the tall man came behind the bar to stand beside her.

“Three months and five days,” the kestrel said.

Marta nodded, expecting this. “And no one has been found in all that time?”

“No one,” the kestrel answered. It hopped back and forth on the bartop and looked at her expectantly.

Marta sighed and reached for a jar of birdseed on a shelf beneath the bartop. The kestrel looked down its beak at it before screeching at Marta indignantly, ruffling its feathers. 

“The last messenger we got was a pigeon,” Marta said with a shrug. “Take it or leave it.”

The kestrel gave a haughty flap of its wings, said, “Leave it,” and took off. Someone pulled the door open, and it took to the gray skies and disappeared. 

“And good riddance,” Marta muttered. She turned to the man beside her and smiled warmly. “Narl, take off your cloak and stay awhile. What can I do you for?”

Narl didn’t return her smile. “I need your help,” he said quietly. “I’ve…found someone. Two someones.”

“Two someones,” Marta repeated. She glanced behind him and, seeing no one, raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got them squared away,” he said with a little shake of his head. “They tend to stick out, if you catch my meaning.”

Marta stilled. “In what way?” she asked. It was a struggle to keep her voice steady. 

Narl gave her a look. “You know what way.” 

Marta nodded. She did.

Instead of saying so, she turned away from Narl to grab more mugs to replace the ones she’d broken and filled them with ale from the large keg behind the bar. Carefully arranging them on her tray, and then her tray on one hand, she squeezed past Narl and said in a low voice, “Come back when everyone’s gone.”

Narl inclined his head and slipped back out the door as Marta returned to her patrons with a fixed smile on her face and a slow dread prickling like sweat down her back.

~~~

The two someones were a boy and a girl, maybe twelve, maybe thirteen, maybe younger—Marta had never been good at guessing ages. Brown hair, brown eyes. Twins, Marta could tell that for certain. She could always tell when people were twins.

The kids stood behind Narl and peered at her curiously. Narl was right, they did stick out. Their faces—dirty and hungry—could have belonged to any child with the misfortune of growing up in the Gap, but their clothes were another story and Marta stared with no small amount of wonder at their puffer coats, dyed brighter colors than any dye in the Gap, even obscured as they were underneath a layer of dirt. Then, she looked down and, oh Rat’s bones, the girl was wearing Cookie Monster pajama pants.

Marta couldn’t help but laugh in delight at the sight of them, ignoring the way her eyes stung.

But when the kids started at her laughter and reached for each other’s hands, she stifled it immediately with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Oh, forgive me; come in, come in,” she said, smiling. “You must be starving.” 

The kids stared at her blankly. The boy narrowed his eyes and clutched at his sister’s hand and said nothing.

Marta’s eyes narrowed too, but because of the kids. She turned her ire on Narl. “They don’t understand us, do they.”

Narl pressed his lips together and slowly shook his head. “They speak English.”

Marta scowled. English. Of course. She hadn’t heard anyone speak English since—

With a shaky breath, she banished those thoughts and started over.

“My name is Marta,” she said to the kids, carefully sounding out the words. The English felt strange in her mouth—too harsh, too foreign. “What are your names?”

The kids stared at her.

“You speak English,” the boy said.

“Yes,” Marta said. “Though, please forgive me, I am a little rusty.” She paused. “Are you...hungry?”

“Yeah,” the girl said immediately. The boy frowned at her, and she frowned right back. “What? I am!”

The boy’s frown deepened as he turned to Marta. “We don’t have any money.”

“I assumed,” Marta said with a wry smile. “Narl can cover the bill, can’t you, Narl?”

Narl narrowed his eyes. “You know very well I don’t know what you said, so no.”

Marta snorted. “He said he’d be happy to,” she said to the kids.

The girl leaned against her brother. “I don’t think he said that,” she whispered. The boy nodded.

Marta laughed and gestured vaguely at the tables and upturned chairs in the dining room. “Sit, sit,” she said. “I’ll grab, uh.” Her mind blanked on the English word. “Stew? I think is the word?”

She disappeared into the kitchen before either of the kids could correct her and ladled out three bowls and arranged them on a tray beside a loaf of bread. Taking slow, deep breaths, she stepped back out into the dining room.

The kids (and Narl) had pulled down a few chairs and arranged themselves at a table in front of the hearth. The dwindling fire cast strange shadows across their faces. The boy and girl leaned against each other, whispering in low voices, while Narl wrote something in a small notebook. All three looked up when she returned and set the food down in front of them.

Narl dug into his meal immediately, humming his enjoyment, but the kids poked cautiously at the contents of their bowls, wrinkling their noses.

“It’s...a kind of soup. I’m not sure what the vegetables are called in English,” Marta told them. When the boy gave her another suspicious look, she tried again. “Just...think of it like, um...” She cast around for the right word before settling on, “Potato? Soup.”

The girl immediately brightened. “Oh, okay!” she chirped, scooping up a large spoonful. “I love potato soup.”

The boy watched her carefully as she took a bite and smiled. She nudged him. “It’s so good, dude, try it.”

The boy did, slowly at first, but after two cautious bites he devoured the rest of the bowl with relish, while the girl did the same. Marta was quick to slice up the bread and slather it with butter before handing it to them too. She didn’t need to explain this one—she’d learned early on that bread was bread no matter what universe you were in.

When the bowls were emptied and the bread reduced to crumbs, the kids leaned back in their chairs, full and happy and more than a little sleepy. But Marta couldn’t let them go yet: she had questions.

“Alright, now,” Marta said, leaning across the table. “How long have you been here?”

“Uh…two days?” the girl said. She looked to her brother for confirmation, and relaxed when he nodded. “Yeah, two days.”

Narl nodded his own confirmation when Marta’s eyes flicked to him.

“And what are your names?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s easy,” the girl said. “I’m Laura and this” – she elbowed her brother – “is Link.”

Marta blinked. “Like—like from The Legend of Zelda?”

Link slammed his palm down on the table hard enough to make the dishes rattle and pointed at her. “I knew it!” he cried. “You’re from our world!”

Laura gasped and stared at Marta. Her eyes were very, very round.

Narl leaned back in his chair fiddling with his pipe in his hands. “I take it he figured it out?” he asked mildly.

Marta glared at him. “You’re not thinking of smoking in my tavern, are you?” 

Narl rolled his eyes but put his pipe back in his pocket. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“How did you get here?” Link asked excitedly. “When did you get here?”

“Did you come here the same way as us?” Laura asked.

“Depends,” Marta said, folding her arms across her chest. “How did you get here?”

Link launched into their story. They’d been camping with their parents up in the mountains. Laura and Link had gotten their own tent this year, and when they’d seen the small, worn-down stone stairs in the woods (The stairs that led to nowhere, Marta mouthed along with him), well. It had been the perfect spot to pitch their tent, with the stairs as their own little front porch. They’d gone to sleep that first night, safe and full from hot dogs and s’mores…and had awoken to an entirely new forest in an entirely new world with no tent, no parents, and a very startled Narl staring at them.

After that, things were…messy. Marta remembered her own first days in Kithage—remembered the shock of waking up in another world, the language barrier, the strange food, the soldiers waving swords in her and Rachel’s faces—so. She knew a little about what these two must have gone through to get all the way from the border of Kithage to here.

“But Mister Narl was with us the whole time,” Laura said, smiling sweetly at the man in question (and Narl, who only understood his name in that sentence, smiled back). “So it wasn’t all bad.”

“What year was it when you left?” Marta asked.

“2012,” Link said, and Marta blinked in surprise. She and Rachel had left in 2023.

“Can you help us get home?” Link asked quietly.

Marta considered her answer. Laura was still smiling, but Link watched her with a wary expression, and she knew that he knew she didn’t have a good answer for him. 

She couldn’t lie to him. “I don’t know.”

Link’s shoulders slumped and Laura reached for his hand again.

“But—you’ll try?” Laura asked.

Marta looked at Narl, but his expression didn’t change. She sighed. “I…I don’t know. I—it’s been a—a long time. For me. And I never—I haven’t found—”

“It’s okay,” Laura said. “We can help you get home too.”

She reached across the table and patted Marta’s hand once.

Marta drew her hand back, startled, and barked out a short laugh. “Thank you, kiddo, but I’ve been here over twenty years,” she said. “This is my home.”

Link’s mouth fell open. “Twenty years?”

“That’s horrible!” Laura cried.

Marta stood with a loud scrape of her chair and started gathering up their dishes. “It’s very late,” she said. “We can…talk about this tomorrow. Okay?”

“But—” Laura said.

Marta looked at Narl. “Do you need a place?” she asked not in English.

“Please.”

Marta nodded once. “I’ll set up a couple rooms.” She eyed the puffer coats. “And…I’ll see what I can do about clothes.” She took a deep breath, let it out again. “Rachel’s should fit her, but him...”

“I’ll handle his clothes tomorrow,” Narl said.

Marta gave him a tight smile. “Thank you.”

She took the dishes to the kitchen. When she returned, Link and Laura sat on the edge of their seats, looking like they still had a thousand questions, and Marta had no desire to answer them yet (or at all).

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s find you two a bed.”

“We’re not tired,” Link said, yawning.

Marta smiled despite herself. “Let’s find you one anyway.”

“’Kay,” Laura said. She nudged her brother, and they stood on unsteady feet and followed Marta upstairs.

The Battered Kettle was not a well-established inn. Visitors were exceptionally rare in the Gap, and when they did visit, they rarely stayed long. But Marta had a few rooms above the dining room set aside for those rare occasions, and it was to one of these she led the kids.

She left them standing in the doorway as she busied herself with turning down the covers on the large (and somewhat dusty, but that couldn’t be helped now) bed and starting a fire in the small hearth.

“It’s too late for a bath, I’m afraid,” Marta said to fill the silence. “Too dark outside. But we can see to that in the morning—and see to some new clothes too. Help you blend in.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Laura said softly. She rubbed her eyes.

Link opened his mouth and hesitated. Marta waited, sitting back on her heels in front of a cheery fire, but he slowly closed his mouth again. Whatever he wanted to ask could apparently wait until tomorrow.

Marta stood, joints creaking. “Bathroom’s a chamber pot in the corner, I’m afraid,” she said, snorting when both kids wrinkled their noses. “I’ll leave a basin of water to wash for you outside the door in the morning. Good night.”

She heard a soft, “Good night, Miss Marta,” as she closed the door behind her.

~~~

“How’d you even get them to come with you?” Marta asked Narl later, two drinks in and the kids long asleep.

Narl shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I remembered a few phrases you used to say.”

Marta groaned. She remembered what kind of phrases she used to say. “Narl, please tell me you didn’t swear at them.”

Narl’s cheeks tinged pink. “I…might’ve?” When Marta made a slightly strangled sound, he said defensively, “Well, it worked didn’t it? They laughed, even.”

“Oh I’m sure they did,” Marta said. She and Rachel had been very...creative when they’d first arrived and realized no one understood them. If Narl remembered even a tiny portion of the stuff she used to say…

Marta thumped her forehead on the table. Narl laughed, and she rolled her head to the side to look up at him.

“So, what’s your plan, then?” she asked. Narl sobered immediately and she continued, “Because they’re not going to be able to stay here forever. Someone will come looking.”

Narl grimaced and Marta sat up.

“Someone’s already come looking, haven’t they?”

Narl made a soft sound of confirmation in the back of his throat. He took his pipe out of his pocket and fiddled with it.

Marta nodded. She’d expected as much. “Which is it—Meath or Kithage?”

“Meath.” Narl shrugged one shoulder. “The chamberlain isn’t so anxious to crown anyone after three months of power. If I had to guess.”

“Mm,” Marta said. Narl’s guesses weren’t always far off the mark.

She hesitated before her next question. “Why did you bring them here? Be honest.”

“I want you to come with us,” Narl said simply. “To Meath. See them crowned.”

Marta bristled. “No.”

“Becs—Marta, listen. They need someone,” Narl insisted. “Someone who understands what they’re going through.”

“And that someone does not need to be me,” Marta said. “How—how can you even ask me that? After everything we went through—after Rachel?”

Narl raised his hands in supplication. “I know—I know I’m asking for a lot—”

“Try impossible—”

“But they need you,” Narl said, pointing fiercely up the stairs. “I can keep them safe, but I can’t understand them, language barrier aside.” He grunted in frustration. “I can’t be what they need.”

“And what do they need?” Marta snapped.

“A guide,” Narl said. “A—A teacher. Someone who knows—”

But Marta was already shaking her head. “No. Narl, I...I can’t be that. For them. Not after—”

She stopped. Sighed. “Those kids won’t want to rule anyway. They just want to go home.”

Narl was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t think they’re going to have a choice.”

“I did,” Marta said harshly. “Why are they any different?”

“You didn’t,” Narl said, looking down at the table. “You might think you did, but you didn’t. Your choice was made for you when Rachel died.”

Marta pushed back from the table so fast her chair crashed to the floor behind her. She ignored it. “I’m going to bed.”

She left before he could say anything to stop her.

#inklingschallenge #team lewis #genre: portal fantasy #theme: food #theme: shelter #theme: clothing #story: unfinished