#So much pain and suffering that it takes a toll on my fucking soul and I still choose to love. To create.

[theinkbunny]

my family after finding out that no, my reaction to pain isn’t to cry or whine, but to become hyperaggressive to anybody nearby

[cracksofmtdoom]

Well nothing shocking here. It is 4 am and I’m up. Still got a bit of crack. Well not exactly but at least a hit or two. Yay!! It has now become nearly impossible to see any way out of this mess. Both of us are just doing the wrong thing over and over and over. I had really hoped that she could be strong enough to keep me from falling further. Be the rock that I really need. But she has instead followed me down this pit of failure and pain. It hurts me badly to see her in this state. It takes a heavy toll on her physically and mentally. She does not take proper care of herself. We have a void between us. The drugs cause the same goddamn problems each and every time. And the stress of having to come up with the money for this vile soulless cocksucker kills me. I hate him. But yet here I am yet again smoking his product. I am sick. I am an addict. I am powerless. I’m wasting the precious time that I should be spending with my son. Wow. I had typed a whole new sentence or two regarding the Hellicorn but it did not get saved somehow. Ok take 2.

Oh the countless times that I have failed. At sooo much for sooo long now. It needs to end. Period.

I have failed many. All of them ones whom I claim I love and care for. And yet almost each one them still, without question, genuinely love me. I am worthy of love. I am. I deserve to have a healthy happy productive meaningful life again. They are all pulling for me and want to see me happy, at peace, sober and alive again. I long for that. I have an absolutely incredible family that I am so very grateful, proud and blessed to be part of. We are all kinda fucked up in our own strange ways. But we are family. We look out for each other, take care of each other. Love and respect each other. It’s a beautiful thing. I shut them out, I fell victim to the family affliction of addiction. As my father, his father and his father’s father. It isn’t isolated to one side or the other, but I believe it is the Bartels bloodline which is more influential if that word makes sense. Anyway, it’s an awful soulless faceless monster which consumes all that was and is good in you. It is ugly. It is sick. It cares for nothing. It begins to kill the soul. I have to wonder after this much time lost and on a frantic pace, what remains of my soul…. I know that it’s still there. Battered, burned and broken. But there and desperately clinging to me. I need to let go. Enough is enough. I do want to feel alive again. Intermission

I do enjoy this font. Cursive writing is cool. It’s a dying thing though. They no longer teach it in school. No need when you don’t really have to write, typing being the majority of time

Strange little thought stream I guess. And I was just thinking of the fact that I have a lot of people to make amends with. To not let their continued love and support be in vain. I have long standing relationships that I would like to rekindle when possible. I have so many things I want and need to do and be to be the best possible father to B. I’ve been a terrible father and have let him down far too many times and missed out on a lot of important time and events in his life. He’s at a delicate point at this age. I was already on the wrong path by his age. I need to be there for him. Goddamn. How awful I am. This twisted mockery of me that is. There is good in me. I am a good person and deserve to love myself and those around me. To put this burden aside and stop the madness and the continuing suffering. I am a father and that is an awesome responsibility and a great privilege to have the opportunity to do good, to instill values and wisdom and praise and love the human being that you created and give him the best you possibly can and show him what a real father is like.

[hocusbogus]

the heart that wasn’t even yours to break

Author’s Note: I think I wrote this to my future self. Written on December 1st 2015.

“You can't break a heart that wasn't even yours to break, you can never be there for me in the end”- Brandi Carlile

You know how at the end of the day, the one who loves more ends up getting hurt? Also, the one who loves more says sorry first, and the one who loves more makes up excuses to justify the mistreatment. The fact that one person can hold that much power over a person is sickening, and yet hauntingly beautiful. It is often unplanned, you don’t just jump into a thing (anything) and expect heartbreak and disappointment, or the craziest of all…love.

The blame, the guilt, it’s one-sided. Do you think the other person feels just as much? You think it tortured their soul just as much, sorry to break this to you honey but just like Brandi Carlile said, “you can’t break a heart that wasn’t even yours to break”. Don’t expect that the other person is hurting just as much as you are or even at all. That is why the pain is taking a toll on you, and this is why you wanted revenge and that is why you can never forgive yourself.

You hurt, a lot. It’s unbearable. You want them to hurt, a lot. You can’t possibly allow that though, the mere thought of them feeling even a fraction of the pain that you endured kills you, you can’t possibly let them suffer just like you did. That’s what love does to you, it forces you to become this dark angel that wants to hurt those you love but will end up hurting yourself even more.

It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? To have someone point all of this out to you. Calling out on your stupid excuses. Your justifications over why you are still hurting even if whatever happened, whatever broke you happened years ago, or maybe a decade ago, and who cares? You inflict this upon yourself. Stop justifying your pain, and the cause of it. Stop being a fucking slave to the heart that wasn’t even yours to break.

Once the pain is inflicted, it is not easy to heal. It might not even heal at all. Or even when it did, it will never be the same. You have to carry the scar into every new relationship you have and they have to learn those scars and try to be okay with it if they’re okay with it. Or else you have to find other people who can be okay with the scars on your heart. Some might not even be scars yet, they’re still fresh wounds.

Know one thing, it can be healed. It can be scars, or it can disappear completely. It can.  Take good care of it, and clean it every day, so that it won’t be infected. Seek remedy, in whatever form, just seek it. Acceptance is a very big piece of the puzzle, it is the last piece of the puzzle that completes the whole picture. Accept the pain, feel it until you can no longer, and then heal.

Accept that there might be ugly scars, but some might call it art. Accept that the scars will fade, and even when you can no longer see them, you know it was there and it taught you a lesson. It won’t hurt anymore, even in memories it will all be just that, and it won’t break you apart and tear you to pieces anymore.

Because we are all made up of scars, tattoos, fingerprints, and all the nice things that God intended us to be. We are made up of delicate sunshine and stubborn shadows and lovely lilac skies. We deserve so much more. You might want to break a heart that was not yours to break, but one day your heart will fuse with another heart and no one is trying to break the other. Till then, heal, my love.

[rex101111]

for people old enough to remember, or for those who played the remake, you know how the final boss of Demon’s Souls was the kinda boss that barely put up a fight at all? Like they were weak and pathetic to drive home just how their pursuit of power diminished them to show the player what an endless desire will do to you? Yeah that was neat, right?

Final Bosses are supposed to be this big final challenge, the toughest and most nail baiting test of everything you’ve learned since the start of the game. Playing that straight is probably the “smartest” move you can make because trying to play around with that expectation can very easily backfire into a not so satisfying ending for the player. 

Like with Demon’s Souls it works for me, personally, because 90% of the bosses in that game wipe the floor with you already so you walk in unsure of what ungodly asshole is waiting for you at the end of it all and you get...a pile of sludge with a sword sticking out of it that can barely muster the strength to lift the damn thing to attack you.

It was almost like a punchline. This is the first Souls game, remember, no one knew what to expect from this, so you spend the whole playthrough inching your way through a kingdom full of demons and soldiers and monsters that want you very very dead and are very good at accomplishing that, wondering what could possibly be at the end of it, and it ends with you staring at a bunch of ooze that you can beat up with your bare hands if you want. Its almost like a stress relief, right at the end all the tension washes away and you take your time just smacking this pathetic loser to take our all your frustrations you got from playing: all those gargoyles and fire bombs and that fucking swamp, and you can just lean back in your chair and sigh in relief.  

Some people don’t like it because they expected a damn fight, feels like letting the air out of the balloon before they got to pop it. That’s fair enough, even if I always end my Demon’s Souls playthroughs with the final boss of the first area so I always get my gameplay climax thank you very much.

I’m talking about it because I just finished Ender Lilies, a really good 2d Soulslike, and the final boss does something that I think bridges the gap between an actual gameplay climax, and an interesting story beat.

*spoilers*

So, throughout the whole game you hear about the White Priestess, about how kind and compassionate she was. About how she took on so much pain and suffering to ease the people in the kingdom. 

You see the toll that takes on the body on your own character, Lily, as you absorb more boss souls and blight you grow more corrupted and changed, so you understand the burden Frieta placed on herself.

When you finally meet her, she’s too far gone, she tells you to flee, leave her to her fate, before she transforms into a huge monster and fights you. And the fight is tough, though most of that comes from those enemies she spawns that chew through your health like nothing.

After you beat that first phase, and have a certain item equipped, a second phase starts up. And it’s just as tough. But as you go on...she hesitates, coughs, holds back. A part of who she was begins to peak from under the monster.

She sees that she’s hurting you, hurting Lily, the closest thing she’ll ever have to a child...and she stops. For the last quarter of the fight, she just stops attacking entirely, simply looking down at you with her weakspot exposed and quietly weeping, because she doesn’t want to hurt anyone, hurt Lily, anymore.

It was a hell of a moment, I wish more Final Bosses would do something more interesting with their narrative you know? A fight is all well and good but leave us on a more memorable note yeah?

.....although DO NOT do that thing the final endings of Nier and Drakengard 3 did, that was 5 metric tons of bullshit.

[pinkczennie]

Incubus | Ten (m)

Summary: According to urban myth, if you had sex in your dreams and it actually felt real, it means that negative entities are having sex with you while you sleep. You’re sex deprived, so a sex demon helps you with your little problem.

Pairings: incubus!Ten x female reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 4.1K

Disclaimer: This is just purely fiction and does not accurately represent how incubus’ work. Anyways, brb I think I need to go to church to purify my soul because this is just absolute smut.

Italics= inside the dreams

Quarantine has been rough for you. 

At first, you didn’t think this would be a problem, but now it’s starting to take a toll on you because you’re slowly starting to lose it. 

Because you are trying to follow quarantine guidelines and maintain as little physical interaction with others as much as possible in fear of contracting a deadly virus, you’ve become a little pent up. In other words, you haven’t been able to have sex in a while.

The last time you got intimate with another male was about almost a year ago. Who would have known this global pandemic situation would have happened because you took physical touch for granted. Had you known this was going to happen, you would have tried to fulfil your sexual needs when it was still socially acceptable to be around other people because you are just suffering at home right now. 

Sleeping around with other men right now would probably not be a safe idea, especially since you live with your parents and would not want to risk their health over your needs. Besides, your parents temporarily forbid you to see any friends or bring anyone over until the situation is over anyways. You don’t blame them, after all, who knows where other people have been and who they have interacted with, so it’s only safe for everyone in the house to restrict human interaction for a moment except with people living under the same roof.

You try to convince yourself that you can wait until the pandemic is over, but as the days go by and days turn into many months, you’re absolutely touch starved. To be more precise, you’re sexually frustrated. 

Masturbating has helped to a certain extent but it just wasn’t enough to satisfy you fully. You wanted to feel another man’s touch again.  

In fact, you were so sexually frustrated that you began to experience having sex dreams. 

The room was dark and it was empty except for your bed. You laid in bed on your back completely naked and your pussy was soaking wet as an attractive looking male hovers over you. You don’t recognize the man in front of you because it’s not a face you have seen in person before. 

He had raven-black hair that covered his forehead, cat-like eyes, and flawless skin. The first few buttons of his black dress shirt were unbuttoned, practically exposing his chest, and you spot the number 10 tattooed by his heart. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his wrists and his ears are covered in piercings. His pants were partially removed to only expose his dick and he rubs it against your slit, causing more wetness to secrete. 

“Ahhhh-” you let out a long moan as he suddenly enters you in one fluid thrust thanks to your slick.

The initial pain of his girth stretching around your tight walls soon turned into pleasure after you were able to adjust to his size. 

His hands were holding each side of your hips in place while his length begins to thrust into your heat. Your body feels hot and you became a whimpering mess as you allowed yourself to continue getting fucked in your dream, not from fear but from pleasure. 

You don’t even know who the male is that is currently fucking you but your mind is so clouded with lust that you don’t even care as long as you get to reach your climax. It feels so good, even if it is just in a dream, that you didn’t even last long because after a few seconds you could already feel that tight knot in your stomach ready to snap. 

After a few more thrusts, you both come undone and your body trembles at the feeling. It’s been way too long since you’ve been fucked and it feels amazing.

Soon, your mind slowly starts to wake up and your dream starts to slowly fade away. 

Once your mind slowly becomes conscious, you could feel your heart currently thumping wildly in your chest and you are panting lightly, so you keep your eyes closed for a moment as you try to come down from your high.

Your eyes flutter open as you lay there in your bed and stare at the ceiling as your vision becomes less blurry, feeling slightly disheveled and there is this weird sensation between your legs. You rub your fingers against your clothed core and you jolt because you could feel it throbbing with oversensitivity. 

Looks like you are going to have to change into a new pair of underwear because your current pair was completely damp from your little wet dream. 

It was so strange because the dream felt so real considering the state you woke up in. 

But lord, did it feel good. You felt somehow refreshed from getting some sort of action after many months, but also a little frustrated because it wasn’t enough and you wanted more. 

If only you could go back to your dream on command. Curse dreams for feeling like it only lasts for a few seconds even though hours have actually passed by. 

At first, you didn’t think much of it nor the male in your dream because it’s normal to have wet dreams occasionally...until it became a frequent occurrence.

The second time you had a sex dream was about a week later. 

Just like last time, it was dark and you couldn’t see anything, but you were on your bed again with your ass up and face down. 

You look behind your shoulder and you see him again, the same male from your previous sex dream in the exact same attire as well. This time, you can hear his sultry voice speaking. His voice was faint so you barely remember what his voice sounded like exactly, but you recall what he said:

“Are you ready?” he asks with a soothing tone.

“Yes,” you reply. 

You suck in a breath when you feel a wet tongue swipe across your folds. Your toes curl and you spread your legs further apart as the man continues to eat you out. His tongue felt amazing against your dripping hole as he shoves the wet muscle deeper inside of you. He sure knows how to work his tongue on you as he plunges it into the deepest part of your slick walls. 

You felt so filthy like this, completely exposed as an unknown male laps up your juices, but you could care less because you’re about to lose it when you feel two fingers rub against your clit. After all, this was just a dream. 

Again, as you cum, your mind begins to slowly awaken and your dream fades to nothing once again. 

This was your second wet dream in less than a month but having another sex dream should be nothing but a mere coincidence, you think to yourself. Right? 

That is until you had another one. The third time you had a sex dream happens a couple days later. 

Again, you see the same man but this time in a new position. He lays back comfortably on your bed while you hover over him, practically sitting naked on top of his dick sticking out of his pants.

“Ride me,” he commands as he strokes his hands on your thighs. 

You place both hands on his chest and lift yourself up so your slit is directly above his cock before slowly sinking down on his length. You both throw your heads back as a moan escapes both your lips. He is buried deep inside you and you feel stuffed to the brim from his inches. Your warm cavern is tightly snug around his length and you could feel his dick twitching inside of you. 

You begin to ride him at a slow pace before you pick up the pace and you’re in utter bliss when you find a steady rhythm to bounce on his cock. Your tits bounce as your body moves up and down.

The pattern repeats itself as you release around him. 

It happens again a fourth time and you swear you keep seeing the same man as before from your previous dreams. This is starting to become a strange recurring dream.

Another thing that all of those dreams had in common is that they all felt oddly real. You do wake up with your clothes from the night before still on and your body seems untouched when you look in the mirror but why do you feel so spent?

You think you’re just sex deprived, that’s all. Besides, dreams are just your inner desires so maybe that explains why you are having all these sex dreams. 

You don’t think it is necessary to see a doctor or a professional about your strange dreams considering it isn’t causing any harm to you, like sleep deprivation. 

That night, you are on a video call with your close group of friends, catching up on what all of them have been doing during quarantine because your electronics are the only forms of communication you have with other people. 

Eventually, you complain to them about the outrageous amounts of sex dreams you have been having lately and how the same man keeps appearing in those dreams. Sure, it’s normal to have dreams but when you have multiple sex dreams with the same male, it’s quite concerning. 

“That is weird,” your male friend ponders.

“Is he hot?” your female friend giggles.

“Gorgeous,” you dreamily sigh in content. Honestly, it’s what makes the dream that much more enjoyable. 

“I saw on Tik Tok, that if you have sex in your dreams and actually felt it, it means that a very negative entity called an incubus or succubus is stealing your sexual energy,” another friend informs the group. 

You start to wonder if that was the explanation behind all your sex dreams lately.

“If they want my sexual energy, then they can come and have it because they sure are making me feel good in my dreams.” you joke and your friends all laugh. 

Afterwards, the conversation drifts onto a different topic. 

Little did you know that a negative entity was listening to you this whole time and his lips curled up into a sinister smile at your invitation. Looks like he will be seeing you again real soon once you have drifted off to slumber. 

After your video call with your friends ended, you decide it was time to head to bed since it’s getting pretty late. 

You didn’t have any dreams at all that day, until the day after.

Your dream was unusual today because you’re not in the middle of sex for once. You’re just standing in a dark room still fully clothed in your pajamas. It was still dark and there wasn’t anyone else in there with you, until suddenly, you see a figure emerge from the darkness approaching towards you. 

It’s him again.

This was the man, or more like being, that has been the source of your pleasure, the exact same man that you’ve been seeing in your sex dreams, so now that he stands before you, you can’t help but stare. 

The male’s sharp gaze sent chills down your spine but butterflies in your stomach as well because he is intimidatingly attractive. There was a dark aura surrounding him, yet you couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes. His hands rest in his pants pockets and one side of his lips curl up into a sinister grin. He stops walking forward when he’s about a foot away from you. 

“Hello, little one, it’s so nice to formally meet you,” the man greets.

You think you’re lucid dreaming because, for some reason, you feel yourself being able to control yourself in the dream as if you were conscious, so you decide to ask him a question that has been on your mind lately. 

“Who are you?” you ask him.

“You can call me Ten,” he responds. 

Your brows furrow as you try to rack your brain for any recollection of a man named Ten but nothing comes to mind. Maybe it’s a nickname he goes by?

“Do I know you?” you wonder.

“Not really, but we will be seeing each other much more often from now on.”

A chill runs down your spine at his seemingly threatening statement. What does he mean by seeing each other more often from now on?

“Am I still dreaming?” you ask yourself in a hushed tone.

“You are, technically,” he states with a slight tilt of his head. “Let’s just say we are both in your mind right now.”

“And why do I keep seeing you in my dreams?” You cross your arms over your chest. 

Ten smirks, “That’s because I have the ability to enter your dreams.”

What? How is that even humanly possible to enter someone else’s dreams? Unless...he’s not human. 

“Who-what are you?” you nervously question as you take one step back. You feel your heel come into contact with something behind you when you took a step back but you did not turn around to look in fear of Ten doing something to you once you have your guard down. 

“I’m an incubus.” he announces. 

Your eyes widen like saucers at him. He’s an incubus? 

You have a vague knowledge about incubus’, but you know one thing for sure is that they are sex demons. That would explain how he has the ability to enter your dreams and the eerie atmosphere around him. 

Despite the daunting feeling surrounding him, his appearance does not seem like what you would picture an incubus to look like. You were expecting some horns on his head and maybe some wings, but that’s just what you assumed based on nonfiction novels and interpretations from movies depicting demons.

“You don’t look like an incubus to me,” you raise an eyebrow at him as you eye his human body up and down. You’re not sure if he is just playing around or being truthful.

“Oh, you do not want to see my demon form. Trust me,” he warns. “We have the ability to alter our appearance to take on different forms that our partners would be attracted to.” 

You raise your eyebrow at him but take his word for it. After all, who knows what he would look like in his true form. 

Besides, he does look absolutely captivating in his current form that you would ogle over him if you could. You’re not sure how Ten knew what attributes you were attracted to, but you assume it’s probably his demon powers, you conclude since he can shape shift, that gives him the ability to access this knowledge of yours. 

Now the bigger question is what does he want with you? Did you accidentally summon a supernatural entity without your knowledge? You don’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary so you don’t know why he is here and what his purpose is with you. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you ask. 

“Oh, no no no, I have no desire to kill you. You see, as a sex demon, I thrive by consuming sexual energy from human beings in their sleep,” he elaborates. “And you, little one, you’re so sex-deprived that any sex demon could smell you from a mile radius,” he jokes with a chuckle, “You might as well have ‘fuck me’ labeled on your forehead.” 

Because you are not that knowledgeable about incubus’ and succubus’, you didn’t know being sex-deprived could release a smell that could attract sex demons. 

“There are more sex demons?” you curiously ask.

“Of course. There are practically hundreds of them on Earth. I’m the tenth one in existence.” Ten gestures to the mark on his chest, the number 10. And here you were thinking it was a tattoo.

“Why are you telling me all this?” you wonder.

Ten casually shrugs. “I know you’re probably curious as to why you keep seeing me in your dreams. Besides, people might just think you’re crazy if you go around saying an incubus is haunting your dreams, so I’m not worried about you exposing me. But if you do try to do anything against me, just know I have the ability to erase your memories of your dreams.” He brings his hand up to present him in a ready position to snap his fingers. “Understood?”

You hesitantly nod in understanding.

“So, how are you going to take my ‘sexual energy’?” you ask, putting quotation marks around sexual energy since you can’t see it but apparently he wants it from you.

The demon’s eyes glow a crimson red before he opens his mouth and says, “By fucking you.” 

Your eyes widen from the sudden change of colors in his irises, but then you feel pink tint your cheeks at his bold statement. 

“W-what?” you squeak out.

“You want to have sex and I want your sexual energy. I can satisfy that desire for you but I get to take your sexual energy. Sounds like a win-win situation to me. Besides, didn’t you say to your friends that one night that I can take your sexual energy since I make you feel good?”

You did. 

Ten was staring deeply into your eyes with such intensity that you feel like a defenseless rabbit about to be eaten by a starving wolf. You gulp and sink under his devouring gaze as you feel wetness slowly pooling in your panties. Why were you actually getting turned on from this?

“There is sooo much desire and arousal radiating off of you. It’s so intoxicating. So delicious,” the demon says, stretching out the word ‘so’. His tone is dripping with want and he licks his lips to emphasize his hunger for you as he stares into your eyes.

“What do you say?” he asks with a raised brow.

You don’t know what possessed your body at that moment but you actually nod, accepting his proposal and he smiles wickedly. 

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you are willing to obey to his commands even though a logical person would probably run or scream at the presence of an evil entity. But your brain does not even register anything other than your lustful desire for Ten.  

You gasp when he backs you up and you trip backwards into the bed where the demon’s body hovers over you as you lay under him.

Ten brings one hand to a breast where your nipples are erect and protruding against your thin pajama shirt. You whimper when you feel his fingers brush against your nub. 

With a snap of his fingers, your clothes suddenly disappeared. He licks a stripe up your neck, next your collarbone, and then the valley between your breasts, causing goosebumps to form all over your body as his wet tongue swipes against your skin as if he’s trying to taste you. 

You bite your bottom lip when he rubs two fingers against your folds. 

“Holy shit, I barely touched you and you’re already this wet for me? How dirty” he smirks and he’s not wrong. 

Maybe he was using some sort of spell or had the ability to hypnotize you, because you want him so badly right now. 

He latches his mouth onto your nipple to suck on it and shoves two fingers past your folds, causing you to elicit a string of moans at the sudden intrusion. You grip onto the blanket when he inserts his digits in and out of you, hearing the squelching noises your pussy was making. Then, he begins to release his cock using his free hand from the confines of his pants and he pumps it a few times in his hand before positioning it at your entrance.

“W-wait, shouldn’t you put on a condom or something?” you panic.

“Relax, you won’t get pregnant if I cum inside of you.” he states. “I’m a sex demon, I can’t reproduce. Besides, I’ve already come inside you multiple times before.”

“I thought it was just a dream,” you mutter, embarrassed.

“We’ll then, let’s pretend like it is a dream and not worry about the consequences of your actions in your dreams,” he suggests.

Ten removes his fingers from inside of you and replaces it with his length.

“Don’t hold back. I want to hear you,” he growls. 

He pushes through your folds and you practically mewl at the penetration. Your nails practically dig into the blankets as he completely bottoms out inside of you. Once you were adjusted to his size, he starts his thrusts off slow but hard. As soon as you tell Ten to go faster, he practically pounds into you without any mercy and you gasp. He throws your legs over his shoulder to reach a deeper angle and it sends you over the edge.

“Yes, feels so good-ah,” you chant as he continues to pound into your throbbing pussy with his harsh pace.

Ten is hitting the deepest parts of you and you’re a moaning mess when the pace becomes faster and faster. The unknown male hits your g spot and a rush of pleasure courses through your body as you make sure he continues to abuse that particular spot.

“There! Oh fuck-” you practically scream.

This is wrong on so many levels because you are literally having sexual intercourse with a demon, yet why does it feel so incredibly good? You feel like you’re committing some kind of sin being so intimate with what is supposed to be a negative entity, but your mind is too preoccupied with lust to even comprehend that rational thought.  

You chant Ten’s name like a mantra as you near your orgasm which only fuels said man’s ego because he knows no one will ever fuck you as good as he does.

“That’s right, baby. That’s right,” he grunts as he feeds off your pleasure. The more intense the sex is and the closer you get to your orgasm, the more sexual energy you release.

You feel his thrusts becoming harsher and his grip is leaving crescent-shaped marks and bruises on your thighs but you are too focused on chasing your own high to notice he is slowly becoming stronger and stronger from taking in your overwhelming amount of sexual energy. 

In fact, you think his cock is actually getting bigger inside of you too but that thought is cut short when he suddenly slaps your ass cheek, causing you to yelp at the pain as the sound echoes the room.  

Ten laughs at your reaction as he continues to ram inside of you at an inhumane pace and all you two can hear are the sounds of moans, bed creaking, and skin slapping against skin. 

Your walls start to clench erratically around his length because you’re close. So fucking close. 

Ten is close too because his breathing becomes harsher and his thrusts are becoming more uneven.

“Cumming. Ten. I’m cumming.” You announce. 

Soon, you release a silent scream as you come undone and climax around his cock. Ten groans and soon comes afterwards, spilling his cum deep inside of you and painting your walls white. 

Both of you just stay in your positions trying to catch your breaths while Ten is still inside of you. You are both covered in a light layer of sweat from your little activity and the place reeks of sex.

Soon, Ten pulls out of your abused hole and his seeds slowly leak out of your abused cunt.

Ten snaps his fingers and next thing you know you’re fully clothed and the mess he released inside you was gone, like nothing ever happened. Ten was fully dressed again, minus the two undone buttons, and the sweat from his body was gone.  

“I’ll come back for you, little one,” he whispers and winks at you.

Suddenly, your alarm rings and you jolt awake. You look around your room, but nobody was in there except you. Then you look down to see you were still in your pajamas. 

You sit up from your bed and rush over to examine your appearance in the closet mirror but nothing looks out of the ordinary, just some bed hair but that’s about it. After examining your entire body but finding nothing, you crawl back to bed and begin to think of Ten and his words.

I’ll come back for you, little one.

“Wow,” you whisper in a daze. 

Was that all real or just an intense dream? Honestly, you couldn’t believe it because it felt like a straight up fantasy. 

Having sex with an incubus was on a whole new level of euphoria. But then again, they are sex demons for a reason. So many dirty thoughts are running through your head as you fantasize over Ten. 

Regardless of whether Ten really was an incubus having sex with you to steal your energy or just a dream, you couldn’t wait to see him in your dreams again to satisfy your fantasies.

[robininthelabyrinth]

What would happen if Jiang Cheng found A-Yuan hiding in the tree stump at the Siege of the Burial Mounds and decided he's going to take in this toddler Wei Wuxian's was raising and raise him, in the memory of what WWX promised to be for JC?

sequel to this aka Delight in Misery (ao3)

--

“Sizhui?!” Jiang Cheng roared as he stormed into Lan Wangji’s room. “You named him Sizhui?”

Lan Wangji had already long ago become inured to Jiang Cheng’s huffing and puffing. Anyway, Jiang Cheng had medicine in his hands when he stormed in, which meant that he wasn’t bothered enough by it to come yell at him outside the usual time - and that meant that whatever it was, it was no big deal.

Accordingly, Lan Wangji didn’t give the yelling any more thought than it required, opting instead to turn onto his stomach in silent invitation.

Sure enough, Jiang Cheng came over to sit on the bed, grumbling the entire time he undid the bandages on Lan Wangji’s back and starting to spread the soothing balm onto the slowly healing wounds.

“I can’t believe you picked ‘Sizhui’ as a courtesy name for A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding thoroughly disgusted and more than a little disgruntled as well. His hands, however, were as gentle as his voice was harsh. “Sizhui. Was carving ‘Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian’ into the woodwork too subtle for you?”

Being face down made it easier for Lan Wangji to hide the way his lips twitched.

At first, he had been disturbed at the notion that his grief for Wei Wuxian’s loss – an endless well of despair, an injury that would never heal – might in some ways be balanced with instances of joy, and yet, in time, he had slowly come to accept it. After all, Wei Wuxian himself had never remembered pain for more than a moment; he would not have wanted Lan Wangji to deny himself the pleasures of A-Yuan’s cheerful presence, the peace of being surrounded by Wei Wuxian’s belongings, the amusement of Jiang Cheng’s sarcastic commentary that was so thoroughly ungracious it could only be laughed at.  

The adjustment had not been easy. Lan Wangji was broken in both body and heart, lingering too longer in regrets of the past, while Jiang Cheng had walked a fine line on the verge of true madness, periods of calm interrupted suddenly by grief so intense it manifested as hysterical anger and furious lashing out, his own servants trembling to see it - it was only when Jin Ling had ended up with them, a safe haven for him in his younger years while Lanling Jin sorted out its own internal issues, that Jiang Cheng had started to calm down. His nights were still full of nightmares, brutal soul-shattering screaming ones that Lan Wangji suspected matched his own, but there were now entire days in which the man who kept him company (because apparently “seclusion” wasn’t considered a real word in Yunmeng Jiang, and “alone” was translated to mean “with me”) was a serious, earnest sect leader with a penchant for snide quips rather than the  devastated wreckage of a human being he had met upon the Burial Mounds.

They had not been particularly close, before, and their personalities weren’t exactly compatible. And yet, to his surprise, Lan Wangji found that he didn’t miss the serenity of the Cloud Recesses as much as he thought he would, but rather appreciated the noise and clamor that Jiang Cheng brought into his life.

“ – like two drops of water, both of you,” Jiang Cheng was saying. “Sizhui and Rulan! These are people’s names! They’ll have to bear them their entire lives! Do you think when they’re adults they’re going to enjoy telling people, ‘oh, yes, well, you see, the people who named us had absolutely no sense of dignity or proportion, so –’”

“How is A-Ling?” Lan Wangji asked, feeling his ears go red. He had known about Jin Ling’s courtesy name since long ago, but he hadn’t known until Jiang Cheng had told him that the name had been bestowed by Wei Wuxian, or that Wei Wuxian had praised his sect and maybe even him in the naming – it sometimes made him wonder if his feelings, which he’d long believed to be unrequited, might not have been so hopeless after all.

That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about said feelings with Jiang Cheng, though.

Luckily, Jiang Cheng’s attention was very easy to divert when it came to his precious nephew. “Good! His teeth are finally coming out properly, so we won’t have to deal with all that wailing and gnawing anymore – I thought we’d have to lose A-Yuan’s fingers to all that biting before it ever happened –”

“I thought you told him to stop.”

“Of course I did. Did he listen? No. He just looked sad and obedient whenever I looked at him, and snuck his fingers into the crib whenever I didn’t – I should’ve gotten you to give him the order. He actually listens to you.”

Lan Wangji hummed in response, listening as Jiang Cheng continued in his usual manner to update him about the development of the children they were raising – teething for Jin Ling, Lan Yuan’s rapidly swelling waistline (he was almost recognizable as a child again instead of the pile of bones he’d been after he’d recovered from his fever) and the need to start him on physical conditioning soon, the investment of time and effort that all three of them were putting into trying to convince Jin Ling that his first word should be ‘jiujiu’ – and then, from there, about developments at the Lotus Pier more generally.

At first, Lan Wangji had thought there was a purpose to these updates, that he was meant to give some sort of advice as payment for taking up food and resources, but after a while he realized that Jiang Cheng just wanted someone to listen to him.

He didn’t seem to have anyone else that would.

“– finally finished the full set of docks, so maybe the fishermen will stop beating my ears in about it,” Jiang Cheng was saying. “And yes, damn you, your idea about opening up hotels was both very popular and very profitable – just goes to show that your Lan sect’s reputation for being above it all isn’t in any way justified, you lot make money better than the Jin sect…your brother came by again.”

Lan Wangji tensed.  

“Stop that! Your back’s bad enough without adding knots to it.” Jiang Cheng pressed down on one of them purposefully: it hurt for a moment, and then released, and Lan Wangji involuntarily relaxed as the relief spread through him. Jiang Cheng either had a very good teacher in massage or a natural-born talent for it; Lan Wangji hadn’t yet figured out how to ask which it was. “He’s still looking for you, that’s all, and it’s starting to take a bit of a toll on him; he looks like he hasn’t slept in a while. I’m starting to almost feel bad about it.”

It was very classic Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji had found, to orchestrate a punishment for someone and feel bad about it almost immediately thereafter. It was no wonder A-Yuan had him so thoroughly wrapped around his little finger.

“You can tell him, if you want,” Lan Wangji said reluctantly. Telling would mean seeing, and while he missed his brother very much, he was still very angry over everything that had happened. “I do not want the Lotus Pier to suffer for having harbored me.”

“Stop being so damned self-sacrificing,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji wasn’t looking but he could hear him rolling his eyes. “I don’t care how much you enjoy it; I for one can’t stand it. Anyway, if my Jiang Sect can’t hold our heads up against another sect’s anger, we don’t deserve to be called a Great Sect. It’s like I told you: the moment he actually admits that you’re missing, rather than being all ambiguous and vague about it, I’ll tell him.”

Lan Wangji was secretly glad, even though he knew it was petty of him.

The thought of how frantic Lan Xichen must be after all these months, the idea of him not sleeping, of him travelling to all the sects to ask again and again if they’d seen him…the thought of it hurt, he didn’t deny it. But it didn’t hurt as much as finding out that Wei Wuxian had died with no one by his side – as finding out that his brother, who knew what Wei Wuxian meant to him, had known and deliberately omitted to tell him.

Just as Jiang Cheng was deliberately omitting to tell Lan Xichen the truth now.

“The sect would lose face,” he finally said, offering up an explanation for his brother’s actions, both then and now.

“Yeah, well, fuck your sect,” Jiang Cheng said. “I picked my sect over my family, too, and where did that leave me? Now it’s all I have left.”

His hands stilled for a moment.

“…except you and kids, I guess,” he said, sounding especially bitter about it in the sort of way that Lan Wangji had learned indicated that Jiang Cheng was having an attack of feelings and not particularly enjoying the experience. “You’re not that annoying.”

That was practically stating that Jiang Cheng would die without them.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, and after a moment Jiang Cheng continued rubbing in the salve. There was even a brief moment of silence, probably Jiang Cheng being thankful that Lan Wangji didn’t call him out on those feelings. Normally, Lan Wangji would just enjoy it, but… “You could have children of your own.”

Jiang Cheng choked, his hand slipping as he nearly fell over. “What?”

“Children,” Lan Wangji said. “You could marry.”

Not that marriage was a requirement for children, as Jin Guangshan continuously seemed to demonstrate – according to some of the gossip Jiang Cheng had recently reported, he’d recently brought another bastard son home.

“I’m trying, aren’t I?” Jiang Cheng asked, indignant. “I’ve gone on three matchmaking dates –”

Lan Wangji was well aware. He had been the one to whom Jiang Cheng had exaggeratedly complained after each one of those disastrous dates.

“Deliberate sabotage,” he said, because even without having left the four walls around him in months he could figure that much out. “Why?”

Jiang Cheng hesitated, then snorted. “Well, let’s hope not everyone’s as perceptive as you. It’s the agreement I made with the Jin sect to allow me to raise Jin Ling – no other children.”

Somehow, Lan Wangji hadn’t expected that. 

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He knew, of course, that there was nothing Jiang Cheng wouldn’t do for his last living blood relative, even risk having his Jiang sect turned into nothing more than an inheritance to be gobbled up by the Jin sect, but he hadn’t realized – that the Jin sect would take advantage of the grief and trauma that Jiang Cheng suffered, the same grief and trauma that he himself suffered from every day…

It made him taste bile.

“Though you’ve nearly screwed that up, you know,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding suddenly amused. “Back’s done, by the way.”

Lan Wangji sat up and turned his head to look at Jiang Cheng. “How?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Well, given your injuries, I’m the one out there teaching Lan Yuan all the basics, aren’t I? The Jiang sect hasn’t started accepting disciples that young yet, so he stands out. Everyone’s starting to say that he’s mine.”

“His surname is Lan.”

“And Wei Wuxian’s was Wei; that never stopped people from talking, did it?” Jiang Cheng scowled a little at the reminder he’d just given himself; as Lan Wangji had found out these past few months, Jiang Cheng was a master of the self-inflicted injury. “The latest I’ve heard is that I fell in love with some lady from the Lan sect who left her child with me when she died – honestly, it’s a bit sad that they can’t think of anything more interesting. Why would I be stupid enough to make the same mistakes as my father?”

Lan Wangji frowned. Jiang Cheng’s voice was shading near to actual pain, rather than his usual bark without a bite – he had let slip enough about his childhood for Lan Wangji to have figured out that the old jokes about the Jiang sect leader’s favoritism for Wei Wuxian were not jokes at all.

More like an old wound ripped open so many times that it would never heal.

It was no surprise, then, that it hurt him to be cast in the same role.

“You could always tell them that the lady still lives,” he said mildly, pretending his words weren’t hurting himself this time. Maybe Jiang Cheng had a point when he said that Lan Wangji enjoyed self-sacrifice. “Only that she’s ill, or in confinement, and cannot be seen.”

“Not a chance! Like I’d ever do something like that,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji very briefly loved him for his immediate rejection of the idea. “Besides, if I say that, what do I do when you do come out of here and claim him? Everyone will think we’ve been sleeping together.”

Lan Wangji politely didn’t mention the occasional night that Jiang Cheng spent huddling by his side, wild-eyed, until the nightmares went away, or the way Jiang Cheng would occasionally lend a hand with certain physiological reactions that Lan Wangji could not bear to deal with himself, turning what might have been a trigger for self-hatred and near suicidal despair into a process as mundane as the baths he still needed help taking; neither of those were what was meant.

“No one would fear that you would have children if they thought you cut your sleeve,” he pointed out, not sure why he was pushing the issue. Even if people did say that, it was only rumors, after all, and temporary ones: when Lan Wangji could walk again, even the most pointed would swiftly fade in favor of ones that slandered Lan Wangji’s reputation instead.

“I’m still hoping to get married eventually,” Jiang Cheng said. “Just – after Jin Ling is an adult. Once he’s sect leader, he can release me from the promise I made. No harm done, assuming I don’t die first.”

Lan Wangji nodded. It made sense, though for some reason he felt some dissatisfaction.

“Though,” Jiang Cheng continued, looking thoughtful, “it might not be that bad an idea to spread some rumors. If I never commented on it, people would never know for sure if it was true or just slander by some dissatisfied female cultivator after one of my horrible matchmaking meetings.”

“It would still affect your reputation.”

“Like I care,” Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Let them talk! If anyone is stupid enough to think that the contents of my bed have any impact on my abilities, I still have Zidian to show them the error of their ways. And I will, too; don’t think I won’t!”

Lan Wangji abruptly felt lighter inside. Of course Jiang Cheng wouldn’t care; he hardly ever cared about anything other than his sect and the children – and anyway, just because Lan Wangji had never told Jiang Cheng directly how he felt about Wei Wuxian didn’t mean that he hadn’t guessed. He had given Lan Wangji Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, after all. “I would never be so foolish.”

Jiang Cheng huffed and tossed his head, then turned to say something that he promptly forgot in favor of gaping at him. “Hanguang-jun, what are you doing with your mouth?”

Lan Wangji allowed his smile to widen. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Stop it! It’s creepy! Go back to being humorless and dull this instant!”

“No.”

“This is my sect and you’re my guest; you have to do what I say.”

“No.”

“You’re worse than A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng complained. “At least he pretends to listen. I’ll have to raise Jin Ling to be properly obedient.”

For some reason, Lan Wangji didn’t think he would have much luck with that.

[stark-tony]

underrated irondad and spiderson fic recs part 2

part 1

Queer Eye for the Cacti by silentsaebyeok

summary: He bought one-hundred cacti on Amazon! Pepper was going to kill him!

What had possessed him to do such a thing? He never went on shopping sprees when drunk. That just wasn’t a Tony Stark type of thing to do. And in all honesty, he was astonished he even remembered the Amazon password.

--

Tony makes an interesting purchase while drunk. What he doesn’t expect is for said purchase to bite him in the ass in the worst possible way.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Tumblr Posts by Jen27ny

summary:   Literally what the title says. All the prompts and one-shots I post on tumblr.

pairings: pepperony, spideychelle

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

warnings:

It Lasts for Always by YellowDistress

summary:  Peter has never asked anyone to kill for him, especially not Tony.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Cursed Christmas by sahiya

summary: A series of unfortunate events befalls Tony, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan (and Happy and May) in the week leading up to Christmas.

It'd be kind of funny if it didn't totally suck. Fortunately, they've got good back-up.

pairings: pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Keeping your head up by frostysunflowers

summary: It’s been a while, a long while, since Tony felt this defenceless. He’s without a suit, the manacle around his ankle is solid steel, and he can’t see a single way out.

 He’s been here before, but back then there had been tools, resources, options.

Here, there’s just the walls, his missing kid and the water. 

The water.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: kidnapping

Young, Dumb and Suffering by wordscorrupt

summary: In a moment of desperation, Peter decides to take Steve's pain medication to relieve a migraine.

or

Peter accidentally overdoses on pain medication.

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings:

Midnight Oil by JolinarJackson

summary:  After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: none

Love Will Remind Us Who We Are by blondsak

summary: There had been many times in Tony’s life when he’d known the piercing clarity that separated a Good Day from a Bad Day. Had known the ways in which, upon first waking, one’s soul would strike a balance between agony and relief either in your favor, or not.

But none of his earlier Good and Bad times had prepared him for his reality now.

//

Nine months after the Avengers defeated Thanos, Tony is still reckoning with the toll the final snap took on his body. Between grueling physical therapy, near-constant pain, and the inability to so much as tie his own shoes, well-- things aren’t exactly like Tony had imagined.

Luckily for him, there’s a certain kid from Queens who won’t let Tony give up so easily.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Summertime Sickness by Spideysickfics

summary: "Well, this is your lucky day, then!" Peter replied enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest as he broke into a wide grin, "You're looking at a former Boy Scout!"

Tony let out a huff of air.

"No shit, a Boy Scout, huh? When did you quit?"

"First grade." Peter's grin didn’t waver. Tony rolled his eyes with a laugh.

"I'm sure you're very knowledgeable."

OR

An Irondad camping trip and sickfic to soothe your soul

pairings: none

tags: 

warnings: none

to break in these bones by searchingforstars

summary: “We’re gonna go play baseball? I’m not exactly a great shot, and you might have to let me out of these first,” Peter rattles his wrists around in the metal chains and they clink together, echoing around the sparse room, “but sounds like fun.

“We’re not playing baseball.”

“Shame, because I passed a park on my way here and I’m pretty sure that there’s only been like, six murders there this year so that could have been a fun spot.”

“I’m going to enjoy this, you fucked up little kid.”

“Hey, I’m not a little-” Peter starts, but he’s cut off by all the air being knocked out of his lungs as he sees the bat raised in front of him.

--

or, Peter doesn't listen to Tony, pisses off someone dangerous and ends up on the wrong end of a baseball bat.

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

5 Times Peter Gave Tony Something by impravidus

summary:  and the 1 time Tony gave him something back

pairings:  none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

You'll Be Here (in My Heart) by seekrest

summary:  The morning that Tony’s life changed forever began as his days usually began now — shuffling into the kitchen half asleep, going through the motions as he searched for Pepper’s favorite coffee mug.

Tony stifled a yawn, grabbing the Black Panther novelty mug she adored while he grabbed one that Morgan had made them years ago - one that made her now cringe with embarrassment anytime she saw him use it, the childish scribbles that made him laugh.

  He sets Morgan’s creation down on the countertop as he reaches for the Black Panther mug, it being just barely out of reach for when Pepper has put it last.

“Damn thing.” Tony mutters to himself, fingers barely brushing against it before he grabs it - going to set it down on the counter only to be surprised when Pepper walks in from the bedroom, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Morning. You know, you and I need to have a talk about about your choice of mugs. I know T’Challa somehow perfected the cup warmer thing here but you could at least show a little—“

“Michelle’s in labor.”

pairings: spideychelle

tags: angst

warnings: none

the little things we don't say out loud by JBS_Forever

summary: “It's not funny,” Peter says, voice catching as he whines, “This is life or death, Ned. I'm actually dying.”

On the other end of the line, Ned sighs, amused and not at all concerned. “So you're Mr. Stark's secret Santa. It's not that bad.”

- - -

In which Peter is Tony's secret Santa, and it is, in fact, that bad.

pairings: none

tags: humor, fluff

warnings: none

Hiking Essentials: A backpack, plenty of water, and a Spider-kid by kiwifeather

summary:  Morgan, Peter, and Tony enjoy each other's company on a hike through the woods while Peter is staying with them for the weekend. Father-and-son bonding ensues

(Takes place after the snap but Tony survives because this is the good timeline and we know that Tony deserved a happy ending)

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

In Case of Emergency by Bowtiez

summary: Babysitting his little sister at the Stark's lakeside cabin seems like quite the gig for 17-year-old Peter. Of course he's got that covered- he's a mature individual and he can watch over a five-year-old for forty-eight hours.

On a totally unrelated note, did anyone know that super-healing doesn't really work on bacterial infections? It's a good thing Morgan knows what to do. Well... it's probably a good thing?

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Three Times Tony Stark Used Italian Nicknames and One Time He Received One by MCUsic_to_my_ears

summary:   Tony can't help but slip into his Italian when with his children.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

More Ancient Than Magic by ironfamjam

summary: Life isn't exactly normal when your Head of House is also kinda your father-figure and his daughter is kinda sorta your little sister.

It's also not normal when the bad guys your real-life-war-hero-not-actually-dad defeated in The Great War threaten to return and you're still just trying to finish your Charms essay.

But Professor Stark asked him to protect Morgan. And that's what he's going to do.

Even if it breaks him.

The mini Hogwarts AU

pairings: spideychelle, pepperony

tags: fluff, angst

warnings: torture

Peaches by peterparkr

summary: There’s no response, not even a faint twinge of muscle. Peter tries to listen for a heartbeat, but he can’t seem to focus enough to pinpoint it. Another bubble of thought starts to rise. This could be the reason his spidey-sense is going haywire. Tony could be—

He pushes the bubble down.

OR

Peter and Tony find themselves stranded in the woods after an Avengers mission

pairings: none

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

Snowflakes by Jen27ny

summary:  Tony just wants to see his kids happy - which means letting Morgan stick as many snowflakes to the window as she likes, and making Peter talk about his nightmares.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I Sure Do Like Those Christmas Cookies by baloobird

summary: Tony is spending a fun afternoon baking cookies with his kids, but his older one isn't acting like himself.

Whatever the problem is, it's up to the now-retired hero to figure it out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: bullying, acephobia

An MIT Halloween by bethy_277

summary: Coming to MIT had been difficult, having almost lost his mentor when he had snapped to save the entire universe, and Peter had really struggled. If it hadn’t been for Ned and Harley- who he had met shortly after he came back and become good friends with- he didn’t think he would have made it past the first few weeks at school. He had called both May and Tony that first week, hysterical and begging to come back to New York. May had been patient, Tony had been ready to get in his car to drive to him to help him through it, and Harley and Ned had been there and talked him down both times.  

** Peter is a college student at MIT and Tony brings Morgan up for some trick-or-treating.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

Someone Take Me Home by GallagherHunter

summary:  More than a month since May's death Peter is having a less than stellar day at school in the hopes of making it through the day so he can get to the apartment where he's been living with Tony since his world came crashing around him. Meanwhile, Tony has been advised to adopt Peter to assure him he won't leave him.

pairings: none

tags: hurt/comfort

warnings: bullying

It’s Gonna Be Lit by Pawprinter

summary: What Christmas gift does one get for the man who seemingly has everything?

Peter is struggling to find out.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

I'll Be Home For Christmas by snarkymuch

summary:  May gets called away for work, and Tony steps in to make sure Peter isn't alone for Christmas. Harley, Morgan, and Peter being adorable kids, and Tony being a great dad.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

The power of makeup by SparrowFlight246

summary: Peter shows up to a prestigious awards ceremony with a black eye and a whole lot of regret.

Tony raids Pepper's purse and decides to improvise.

pairings: pepperony

tags: fluff

warnings: none

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky by ftmpeter

summary: There are two things Tony learns about Peter after Morgan is born.

The first thing is that when it comes to kids, he's a natural.

The second thing is that he's a self-sacrificing little shit.

(Tony already knew that. He has the gray hairs to prove it. But. Still.)

It isn't the kind of self-sacrificing that will get him killed or seriously injured - thank God - but it's just as annoying. Maybe even more, because while he can ground Peter from Spider-Man, he can't exactly ground him from staying up all night to make sure Morgan sleeps through it.

pairings: none

tags: fluff

warnings: none

give the cookies a miss by searchingforstars

summary: “Surprise!” Morgan exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She gestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

--

or, Peter is poisoned by the ones he trusts most.

pairings: none

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

i want to be with you 'til the whole world ends by searchingforstars

summary: The last thing he does as his eyes slip shut is wrap his arms tighter around Peter, as tight as he can manage when it feels like the life is draining from him.

Please, for the love of God, I'm sorry I couldn't do it, but please, please, someone look after this kid for me.

Tony would give anything to make sure that Peter Parker is safe.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much left to give. He’s about to have nothing left to give.

The world goes dark.

He drifts away.

--

Or, Peter and Tony nearly lose each other.

pairings: none

tags: angst

warnings: none

Of bright autumn days and things that go bump in the night by frostysunflowers

summary: Halloween/fall themed fics featuring plenty of fluff, feels and seasonal shenanigans!

pairings: none

tags: fluff, humor, angst

warnings: none

Twelve Days of Terror: A Whumptober Collection by seekrest

summary:

pairings: spideychelle

tags: 

warnings: 

[justanotherblonde23]

You Can’t Please Everyone - A Marcus Moreno Story

Author’s Note: Welcome to Part 3 of my Marcus Moreno and Doctor Iris Moreno one shot series! This wasn’t originally the one I planned on releasing today, but I was going through it last night and @autumnleaves1991-blog​ suggested that I write my feelings out and let it all pour into my writing. She was right, I felt so much better afterwards. Still no descriptions for what Dr. Moreno looks like, I want you to feel like you can see yourself as her <3 Thank you all for your love and encouragement, I really appreciate it. 

Warnings: angst, crying, parental problems, hurt/comfort, pregnancy mentions, language

Let me know what you think, what you’d like me to write next, want to be on a tag list for this series, etc. I want to interact with you all! 

Iris opened the front door, trying her best to be quiet; she didn’t want to wake the kids. If Marcus got the timing right, their girls should have just finished their bedtime routine and have settled in for the night. She took her jacket off, hanging it up in the coat closet. All she wanted was to grab a glass of wine and curl up and have a good cry. Unfortunately, being pregnant meant no alcohol, so she would soldier through with a good cry in the shower, maybe. 

Her heels clacked on the stairs. She went slowly, her heart and mind weary. Both girls had their doors open a crack, the universal sign that they wanted kisses and to be tucked in by momma, too, even if she came home a bit late. The drowsy kisses and ‘I love yous’ filled her with joy, covering the ache just a little. She knew that no matter what went wrong throughout the day, she would always be coming home to two precious little girls that loved her dearly. At this point, she couldn’t even imagine life without them. 

Marcus was right where she expected him to be, in bed curled up with a good book. It still blew her away every time she stopped and realized that he was hers, and she was his. Being his wife, it was bliss in every sense of the word. She hadn’t expected him to propose; how could she when his last marriage ended the way it did? Iris would have been happy to be with him forever in any way that he’d have her, but she had to admit that she had wanted to be his wife. She had changed her name as fast as humanly possible, for the thought of being Dr. Moreno filled her with pride. He had suggested keeping her last name or maybe hyphenating it after he proposed. He knew how hard she had worked to make that name worth something, and he didn’t want to take that away from her. She had appreciated the gesture, but she insisted that her work was her own, no matter her last name. She wanted to share everything with Marcus Moreno, including his last name. 

The man in question looked up, giving her one of his earth-shattering smiles, the one that made her feel as if she was the center of his universe. How could she not melt when his soft brown eyes held her gaze, baring his soul to her? She loved this beautiful man with every breath she took. 

He frowned when he noticed her eyes had welled with tears, leaving black mascara tracks down her cheeks. Silently, he stood up, gently unzipping her dress for her and helping her into a shirt of his that she loved to wear to bed. He knew that she would talk to him when she was ready. He would wait her out; it was better not to press her. Marcus led her into the bathroom, sitting her up on the counter while he cleaned her face with a warm washcloth and makeup remover. With each tender swipe of the washcloth, more tears fell. He could feel her shaking underneath him, the silent sobs giving way to heaving gasps.

Once he finished washing her face, he cradled her in his arms, carrying her back to their bed. He settled her on his lap, her legs straddling his hips, arms wound around his neck, face tucked in next to his own. The closer he could get to her, the better he knew she’d be able to feel. His hand snaked under the shirt, rubbing soothing circles on her back, fingers pressing patterns into her spine. He whispered words of comfort in his wife’s ear, willing her to hear what he was saying. Darling, I love you. I’m here for you; you’re not alone. Let it all out, baby. It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep it all stuffed inside; just cry it out. Missy loves you, Jules loves you, I love you. He went on and on, pouring his love and adoration into her. Eventually, her tears subsided, and she was ready to talk. She pulled back a bit so that she could look into those kind eyes of his that never judged her or made her feel less than. 

“Dinner with my dad was a disaster, Marcus, it was horrible. I should’ve known it would be bad, but I was hoping that this time might be different.” 

He nodded sympathetically; her relationship with her father was complicated. That man was manipulative, two-faced, selfish, and frankly a terrible parent. He had never approved of their relationship, blatantly refusing to even come to their wedding, insisting that they’d be getting a divorce at some point anyway. No matter how happy they were together, that man was always finding something to nitpick. If it wasn’t the age gap, it was the fact that Iris had stepped up and filled the spot of mother that the girls had so desperately needed. He hated their jobs, their house, the fact that they were individuals with enhanced abilities. Marcus couldn’t think of a situation where he had ever said anything positive about, well, anything. 

Despite all of this, he knew that Iris still loved him, still cared about him, and desperately wanted some type of relationship with him. She was the kindest person that Marcus had ever met. Her passion for people, her ability to truly empathize with others and try to help them heal was inspiring. He had never seen anything like it. He had seen it firsthand with his girls. She poured every ounce of love and devotion into them, treating them as if she had given birth to them herself. She said time and again that there was no difference to her. They were her girls just as much as they were his, and she loved them as such. That love and care extended to her father, too, no matter how many times he hurt her. 

“What did he do, honey?” he was hesitant to ask. Marcus knew that he would get mad at her father and have to rein himself in. He hated to see his wife hurting like this, and it made his blood boil. No one should cause her this much turmoil, especially someone that was her parent. 

“The whole thing was just a mess from the start. Dad was giving the poor waitress a hard time the second she came to the table. You know when he acts like he’s funny, but actually, he’s just rude? He was playing that game. I tried to talk him off the ledge and get him to bring it back in a bit. You should’ve seen her face, Marcus. She was petrified. Every time she came to the table, I could see the apprehension in her eyes. I tried to make sure that I was as nice to her as humanly possible to make up for him. Jesus Marcus, he should know better. I bartended to help mom with money when she was sick, for goodness sake. I was just like that poor girl all through med school and up until I got hired at Heroics HQ. You’d think he’d be willing to consider that.” 

He shook his head, placing a kiss on her forehead, not interrupting her as she spoke. He knew that Iris needed to get it all out before he chimed in. 

“Then he realized that I didn’t order any wine and commented on that, and oh fuck Marcus; it just came out. I just blurted out that I wasn’t drinking because we’re having a baby. He fucking laughed at me, told me not to joke about shit like that. When he figured out that I was serious, he was furious. He told me that I made a mistake, that this baby would just tie me down. He told me that this was a sign that it was time to give up my career and commit to being a mother. I just- I can’t believe everything he said. He went on and on about how I was finally having a real kid of my own as if Missy and Jules aren’t mine, and how it was unfortunate that this baby was yours. I thought that maybe he’d be happy that he’d be excited, but it was a shit show. He didn’t ask how far along I was or anything. I don’t know why I even do this anymore, why I even hope for his approval. It’s a battle I’m never going to win, so why even try? And fuck, these pregnancy hormones are making me so goddamn emotional. I couldn’t even make it through the main course. I made up a work emergency and left. I’m hurting, I’m fucking starving, and I just want to curl up and call it a night.” 

There was silence for a few moments, Iris once again hiding her face in the crook of Marcus’ shoulder. He wished he could physically take the pain away, that he could take her heart in his hands and cradle it to his chest, protecting it from everything that threatened to break it. It killed him to see her like this, and it wasn’t fair; she didn’t deserve this. It didn’t help that at 12 weeks, her pregnancy was beginning to take a toll on her. It was always tricky for enhanced individuals to carry a child, even more so when the child was also enhanced. It just made everything a bit more complicated. He hadn’t seen it up close himself before. His ex hadn’t had powers. To see Iris suffering and struggling with harsher than average symptoms tore at his heartstrings. They were both so excited to have this little one; it would just be a bit more challenging.  

“Baby, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna grab a few things, get comfy okay?” 

Marcus hated untangling himself from her, but he knew what might make her feel a bit better. She let out a noncommittal grunt, letting him know that she heard him. He quickly went down to the kitchen, grabbing supplies. He put everything on a tray, double-checking that he had what he needed before going back up to the bedroom. He set the tray on the bed, earning a grin from his darling wife. 

“Okay, so you said you were hungry; I thought I’d grab the things you’ve been craving recently. I’ve got a bowl of butter pecan ice cream with strawberry sauce, the whipped cream from a can, and crumbled up potato chips with a side of frozen Reese’s peanut butter cups and that guava juice you started liking last week. Oh, and a grilled cheese that I made earlier and put in the fridge. I know you like them cold right now. I’m not gonna question it. I’m sorry you didn’t even get to eat anything when you went for dinner, but this might be even better.” 

He settled into bed next to Iris, putting the tray on her lap. The giggle of delight that left her mouth made him feel warm inside. He watched her dig into the ice cream, telling him about the new developments that she was working on for his katanas, how she wanted to adjust the grips a certain way, and asking for his input. There she was, his wife was crawling back out of the pain and the hurt. He adored her enthusiasm for science and invention. She always had some idea or other to improve his weaponry and armor. He could listen to her passionately explaining her thoughts and ideas for the rest of his life, and he’d never get bored. 

By the time she finished, the disaster of a dinner had been wholly forgotten. Marcus got up, placing the tray on the dresser. He’d deal with it in the morning. They spent another hour talking, cuddling, and holding each other tightly. After a while, he noticed that Iris began to nod off, her eyelids struggling to stay open. He adjusted their position so that they were lying down, and his love was wrapped securely in his arms. She fell into sweet slumber to the sound of Marcus murmuring sweet nothings in her ear and his hand rubbing her tummy, holding her and their baby close. She may not be able to please everyone, but she had Marcus, their two girls, and this baby. In the end, that was everything. It was all she needed.  

Tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @madness-roses​ @bisexual-space-slut​ @dindjarindiaries​ @frannyzooey​ @cinewhore​ @revolution-starter​ @mrschiltoncat​ @softpedropascal​ @paniclana​ @jollyrancher87​ @hdlynnslibrary​ @maybege​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @cyaredindjarin​ @magicsuperheroes​ @flightlessangelwings​ @itspdameronthings @fallingoutofthe1975​ @thestreamergirl​

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Pragma | Alucard

Request: Hi, I love your blog. Would you mind writing about what it would be like to for Alucard to fall in love with the reader post season 3? Thank you! Keep up the good work!

Word Count: 1826 words

Page Count: 5.2 pages

A/n: hope you enjoy this!

Tags: @catherinedm​

        All Alucard could do was deny that you held no ill will towards him. He had found you when you were running from a cultist like group, ready to burn you alive just for learning older sciences, he could only laugh at the bitter irony. Your legs were whipped and tired, your chest was bruised and the rest of your body was worse than you could have imagined, and so he took you in when he knew you were not a threat. Or would be conscious for a good while.

        "I seem to only get more and more desperate for heartache, don't I?" He whispered to himself as he looked to you, your body was freshly cared and cleaned for, and yet he found on the other end of the room near the opened door. His fear that gripped his heart made him feel like a child, wanting to be held and cared for by those around him, yet cannot seem to overcome going up to an adult for help.

        When you woke up days later, cleaned and cared for, your body aching like never before- and the man in the room staring at you like you had just killed his mother in front of him, full of shock and fear. Speaking with him in this stage of your relationship was scarce, only what needed to be said was put into the air, either met with silence or acknowledged with muted nods and small hums.

*****

        Alucard was never known for his temper. He was a sweet and gentle boy according to his parents, something he wished to be after seeing his mother be... her, he was never to freak or lash out on those around him. When he realized this, it had been to late, his hands were running through his hair as tears slipped effortlessly from his eyes- curled in his bed with his knees to his scarred chest. He had been helping you walk more, working on your legs and helping them gain muscle, when you had fallen near him while he fell as well.

        You both had slipped due to the old rugs folds getting caught in his foot, making him slam onto his back while you managed to land on your knees, and when you turned to see if Alucard was alright he looked at you in pure fear. He shook as he saw you on your knees, on his right side, like her. Just like she was when they both locked him onto his bed, tied with the burn of silver, looking at him with such hate and disgust.

        Your eyes held worry though. Worry for his well being. Care. Your heart was opening up. But in that moment, he saw back to that night, her. His face contorted into anger, yelling at you while his lungs burned for air, profanities settled into your mind as he was cursing your existence. 

        "I trusted you! Gave you everything! And here you are again, having me on my back, a knife to my fucking heart!" He was leaning upright at this point, while you crawled backwards away from him, the fear evident in your eyes but he didn't see. It wasn't you at that moment. It was the flickering image of Sumi and Taka.

        Once he had caught his breath, he closed his eyes, hands coming to his hair as he shook violently. You realized what was happening, your father was a soldier and suffered from delusions like this, and your mother would come running to anchor him back into the present once his past came to torment him again. 

        "Breathe. Alucard, breathe. Evenly. Exhale longer than when you inhale, please." You coached him gently, your hands in front of you in case he were to look up, you weren't a threat to him- he knew that. You told him when to inhale and hold, before letting out the breath that wavered less and less. You needed to anchor him back to the present, he wasn't seeing you yet, but you would make him to help with his sanity.

        His breathing evened but tears still came, flowing against the flushed pale skin, and you made your way closer to him. You held out two fingers, mimicking your parents, and waited for him. He saw, and pulled out two gloved fingers to wrap around yours, his shaking would start to still after a few moments.

*****

        You hadn't seen Alucard in two days, his mind was taking its toll on him, and you managed to figure out the basics of his situation. His mind was sending him back to the most stressful moments of his life, the wound on his mind hasn't been stitched and is now bleeding into his daily life.

        You wanted to learn how to help people mend their minds, ranging from trauma to genetic ailments, the human mind was so vast and complicated so of course it drew you in. In doing so, you met an old vampire in Athens, she was kind and sweet- teaching philosophy and medicine to those she knew would use them appropriately.

        Alucard was depressing himself further into his mind, and you needed to help him, though helping him would need to be paced. He needs time and luckily you both have plenty of it. You made your way around the castle and found a few empty notebooks (not wrapped in human skin), a few books on meditation and spiritual awareness, and some recipe books next to fictional ones that held important meanings on self worth.

        Should you be looking through his things?

        You didn't care. He needed help.

        You then split the books into two piles, one for Alucard to journal in and write all his thoughts in and the other for you, to write tips and other important information for Alucard to read so he can understand what is going on and how he can help himself cope with his own mind. The books that helped with meditation would help him order his thoughts and understand how to calm himself in case he couldn't find an anchor, (you hoped the spiritual awareness would be a plus? Dracula had lots of books so it wouldn't hurt.), and books of things you thought he'd enjoy in general when he needed an escape.

        Once all was finished, you placed everything into a small net bag, limping your way to the kitchen, you decided the man needed something to eat. After all, food made everyone happy, right? Right. A simple dish of grilled chicken and veggies, with a side of mash potatoes and some water, you slung the bag on your shoulder and made your way to his room.

        You didn't hesitate to knock, but you made sure it was soft and non demanding, before calling his name in the same manner. You heard shuffling, but the door never opened and you never were welcomed in, but you knew you needed to intervene and help boost Alucard onto a support line.

        "I'm coming in, in a few moments, so if you need to ready yourself please do, Alucard." You heard nothing on the other end, and waiting for about two minutes with your head against the door, you pushed it opened slowly to allow yourself into the dhampires room.

*****

        When you had managed to get Alucard fed and on a routine to help himself more and more each day, he had apologized to you for the outburst, and decided that leaving you on your own when you had trouble walking was not the best idea. He was surprised you accepted his apology and brushed his actions off, deciding to help him instead, it was a reaction different than what he had expected.

        Allowing himself to be near you much more often, he opened up a bit after a week of sitting by your side, setting you into the nine circle of his mind. You peeled back the shallower layers at his pace, setting him for a more favorable way of opening his heart and mind up, and seeing how he thought and felt about everything.

        He was intriguing and intelligent, you found yourself tearing through your own heart just to open up and show him the exposed muscle, opening yourself up to him inevitably as he did to you. He felt warmth bloom in his chest that only rose up when he was in your presence, and while you helped him heal the wounds inside him, he continued to help you heal and gain your strength back physically.

        A mutually beneficial relationship is all.

        Yeah, no.

        It was a puppy love shrouded in pain and betrayal that was settled into an old wound, the bleed has now stopped, and the clotting had begun, a deep scab was there before the skin would over take it in a tough light pink blanket. There was healing when there used to be a knife digging itself deeper into the soft flesh.

*****

        "Do you plan on leaving?" His voice was soft and scared, his breath was shaky while pale arms wrapped tightly around your waist, the sheets covering the both of you blanketed the intimate scene of a boy begging for the girl to love him back- to not leave him, though he thought he deserved it, it started to become less of a thought on his mind.

        He accepted himself for what he is and what he has done.

        He knows what he wants and what he needs.

        You were on the top of both lists.

        He was being selfish, but you told him that was good, he was learning how to realize his worth in what he wants. He was still respectful of any decisions you made, but he begged everything in the universe for you to say no, no you wouldn't leave him. You wouldn't abandon him, you'd stay and love him as you do now, and for the rest of your time together.

        "Depends." You chuckled, rubbing his arms that were secured on your waist, your eyes were closed as you felt him curl around you.

        "Depends?" He mumbled into your hair.

        "Do you wish for me to stay?"

        What? Of course, he wanted you to never leave him, and he was sure he never gave the impression of being disinterested. Hell! The position you were in now speaks for itself! He sighed, realizing you were just teasing him, and settling his mind down.

        "Of course. I never want you to leave."

        "Then I never will."

        His heart had burst at the affirmation of love, a tear slipped from his eye as he smiled wide, the supernova in his soul sparked his love for you to become brighter and stronger.

        "Thank you."

[abs0luteb4stard]

I'm living within a prison. There are no bars or guards. But it's a prison never the less.

I have always been here. Anxiety, PTSD, health problems.

Taking care of someone with dementia for 4 years or so now. And I have so much distressing things that have come up beside that. That bookend so much shit.

To say I'm carrying the weight of the world would be humorous.

I've been at a breaking point for more than half my life. Talking myself off ledges after abuses or physical or mental problems. Or when my world was coming apart because of something. Or there's a flood or disaster or a hospitals involved. Leaving school because a ton of problems come along. Things take a financial toll or cut you down in other ways.

Cancer and dementia, and death - everything fucked and that it seems like there's no pause in between. There's just more shit to pile on top.

No sunshine, just constant storms collapsing whole buildings and sheltering in a proverbial sense. Also literally.

I'm run ragged. Beyond that even. Tatters of a soul. A Bric-a-brac body that's falling apart.

I'm suffering from physical, mental, and emotional pains. They're all bleeding into the other. "Distress". Ha. That's fucking laugh.

My love and caring is sludge. Toxic waste. But I still love and care even if it's covered in shit.

I'm trying though. Dragging myself through it all. It's like my spirit is trying to drag my body along, but it's so heavy.

I haven't cried in innumerable years. The bullying that long term abuse, the PTSD, the anxieties, pressure and depression. Then sexually harassed or assault. Why didn't I do anything, punch this old drunken cunt in the face? Because money. Affluent vs the mental health 20yr old who's a liar. That's where that would go.

The stroke that would give way to the dementia in my dad

My mom getting cancer. Cutting it out.

My dad getting a silent heart attack from bronchitis. His brain forever changed. That limited oxygen to brain just flourished the damage from the stroke a year or two earlier.

My life feels like I've been skirting disasters and coming out a little less whole. My humanity less intact.

No doubt my lifespan will be shorter than many people's born around the same 5-10 years. It feels like it already. I'm 35 going on 80.

This last week or a little longer, I feel heartbroken in a unspeakable way. It's cut into my core, into my values and solemn promises and vows I've made to myself and those I love and care for.

These oaths are so arcanely innermost and profound to my being that they could be considered spiritual if I had any faith or hope left.

It's a new level of defeat that cuts into the aorta, leaking out my life.

The tears flowed the other night. I wailed like a widow. No amount of pounding my fists on doors, walls, concrete can ever relieve this life's pain.

I don't know what words to use anymore. There's no verb in any language to explain "how I'm doing".

I'm not sure I know what to do anymore, to say, how to act, there is morality, there no wisdom. I'm not stronger for it. I'm not "soldiering" on or some other fucking stupid platitude.

I'm just here. Not existing, not dead. Just so heavy.

[revchainsaw]

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

[bunnieresources]

LOVE AND AFFECTION by the blackdresses sentence starters.

“ i can never go back. “

“ this is the shit i said i always fucking dreamed about. “

“ so fucked up but honestly, i’ve never felt more alive. “

“ how did i ever become this? “

“ i feel reality bend. “

“ it’s fucked up. it’s been days since i slept. “

“ i’m in heaven, seeing hell through stained glass. “

“ i tried so hard to kill the past. “

“ i’ve always been a burden. “

“ the nightmare’s reoccurring. “

“ i’ve never been a person, i’ve never had a soul. “

“ if you can dream, you can be anything. “

“ if you can dream, you just get further away from everything you ever wanted. “

“ i know you don’t believe it hurts. “

“ saying i’m in pain makes it worse. “

“ i know you think all i need is just to think positively, but it fucking hurts! “

“ i’ve never had a purpose. i’m too weak for working. “

“ all these years of worthlessness really take their toll. “

“ this is something you'll never understand. you'll never know what its like. “

“ i’m bleeding out on my back. “

“ i’m laughing because it feels like i am finally somewhere that makes sense. “

“ i feel so fucked up, but i just wanna be fucked up with you. “

“ sometimes i want to kill who i am. “

“ i never thought i could go to heaven until i died and i met you. “

“ is the truth just too depressing? “

“ my body hardly knows how to move. “

“ all those years just wanting to run away, i never dared to dream that i could ever feel safe. “

“ if i could tell myself that i would feel alive again someday, maybe i’d be okay. “

“ pretend for a while that we're still alive. “

“ i’ll be trapped here forever. “

“ i am never leaving. “

“ my soul is hardened on the floor. “

“ this town is festering decay. “

“ this body feels like a grave. “

“ everyday i’m so fucking freaked out. “

“ everyday i can’t get the evil out. “

“ every night i feel so far away. “

“ will it ever be okay? “

“ everyday it seems like no one sees and no one knows. “

“ most days i just feel like i’m making it up. i pray to god that i’m just making it up! “

“ i can feel the evil in me. “

“ i’m such a faker, really. “

“ i’m a mess, a beautiful monster. “

“ life is so boring, there’s not much left to do. “

“ get cut apart and consumed, and you can be me too. “

“ the world is meant to change and it should change. “

“ i’d love to see the world in a beautiful new shape. “

“ i’ve tried so hard to be good. “

“ this is how it was always going to be. i’m still me. “

“ it must be protected, it’s all we have. we can’t survive without it. “

“ music isn’t magic. “

“ i’m not sure that music is anything at all. “

“ if it was the answer, don’t you think that all our problems would be solved? “

“ the pain's still loose in my head, but that’s okay. if it ever changes, i’m sure ill be dead. “

“ if all we need is love, could there be enough to undo what we’ve done? “

“ healing is an ideal that’s supposed to be real. “

“ music is so easy but it only makes it easy to pretend. “

“ i can’t cry and i can’t sing and i can’t move and i can’t breathe. “

“ there’s no torture left, we just used it up. “

“ i’m sick, i’m suffering. “

“ i’m so fucked up my heart beats out of time. “

“ is this body me? can i be more than it? “

“ in a rotting shell, why do i exist? “

“ is this fucked up hell really all there is...? “

“ would we understand? would we still connect? would we recognize? would we still be friends? “

“ impending doom, is it true? “

“ we’ll pull through. “

[impalementation]

Do you think there is a connection between Buffy chosing name Joan in Tabula Rasa and Spike telling her she's addicted to misery in Normal Again? Does Buffy think of herself as a martyr?

sorry in advance that this reply sort of went all over the place. it’s an interesting question!

first, i think answering the martyr question depends on how one defines “martyr”. if we’re talking in the basic sense of “sacrifices oneself for a cause” then buffy certainly is one, and she does mention her sacrifices at various times throughout the show. even from the very first episode, it’s clear that buffy thinks that slaying is something she has to sacrifice something of herself for--her “normality”, her life, her peace of mind. but on a meta level, i wouldn’t say that buffy is a typical martyr figure, because the show frames her sacrifices as fundamentally unjust. as opposed to something worth deifying--the definition of martyr that is more like “sainted for sacrificing oneself for a cause”. the narrative treats buffy as heroic in part because she repeatedly chooses self-sacrifice over people getting hurt, but i don’t think it ever canonizes her for this aspect of her heroism. it doesn’t make her an exalted object of worship…with maybe the exception of her headstone and crucified swan dive in the gift. because note how after buffy sacrifices her life in prophecy girl and the gift, or sacrifices angel in becoming, the show doubles down on her humanity and trauma. when she was bad, anne, and most of season six all emphasize the emotional and psychological toll of buffy’s life as a slayer, and feature her really fucking up, or generally not being a saint. the show pays for its martyr imagery in the gift by bringing buffy back to earth in every sense of the word. i’ve always found it pretty impressive writing honestly, the way that the show consistently makes buffy’s pain humanize her instead of glorify her.

then there’s "martyr” in the sense of “acting martyred”. which is more like “exaggerating victimhood for sympathy”. or “righteously wallowing in one’s suffering”. which i don’t personally think that buffy really does, but it’s certainly something that characters and audience members accuse her of. see cordelia calling her a “cry-buffy” or faith in who are you? saying of buffy: “i could do anything i want, and instead, i choose to pout and whine and feel the burden of slayerness?” or willow’s mockery of her in grave. what i would say is that buffy definitely has a tendency to not talk to other people about her pain because she doesn’t think they would understand. for instance, her leaving all of her friends behind in anne or not telling them about heaven in season six. i don’t think that “martyred” is really the right word for that, since it has such derogatory connotations, and because this tendency of buffy’s is not really, in my opinion, about buffy flattering herself or seeking pity. but there is absolutely a way in which buffy keeps her feelings locked up, and stews in them, and doesn’t really feel able to talk about them, in a way that is tied up in her “special”, heroic status. she even says explicitly in conversations with dead people that on some level she feels like the love and validation of her friends doesn’t matter because “they haven’t been through what [she’s] been through. they’re not the slayer.” 

she’s also (in my reading) preoccupied with her goodness to a pretty intense degree, which is why her failure to live up to her ideal of herself in season six is so devastating to her sense of identity. she seems to feel an obligation to be “good” because of her heroic status—it’s telling that when she breaks down to tara about spike she describes him as “everything i’m supposed to be against.” as in, she seems to think of herself as betraying some exalted, heroic ideal by being with him, rather than just having an unhealthy relationship. you could also probably read her self-punishment that season as having similarly exalted motivation. like she is taking it upon herself, as the slayer, to punish herself for not being a “good” enough slayer. it’s how i read her turning herself in in dead things, anyway. these tendencies to self-isolate and elevate personal suffering to cosmic importance are definitely not healthy (even if her personal suffering sometimes is actually, uh, cosmically important), and do have things in common with acting martyred. but are way more complicated than just “playing the victim” or something. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s pretty much always “bad” people that suggest that that’s what buffy is doing. because the show sees much of buffy’s suffering as genuinely unfair, and thinks she is good for not rolling over and accepting it.

so to connect this to spike’s lines in normal again, i think we’re meant to see him as both right and wrong. as is the case with many of spike’s speeches. he’s upset, like dawn was, at buffy rejecting him from her life, and reacts with his well-worn tactic of hitting people with the almost-truth right where they’re most sensitive. he calls her attitude “nasty martyrdom” because, given his soullessness, he’s not in a position to really understand her depressive self-loathing. but he’s absolutely right that buffy holds herself to heroic ideals that make her miserable. and given that he was the tool she was recently addictively returning to to punish herself, it’s not strange that he would think of her as “addicted to the misery”. he gets that buffy is needlessly beating herself up, and using her heroic ideals as the bludgeon. he gets that she doesn’t feel allowed to be happy. he gets that she feels somehow trapped between what her friends represent and what he does. but he doesn’t get how that behavior is a product of self-hatred, instead of some kind of overwrought masturbatory self-interest, and is therefore unable to be sympathetic to it. even as he correctly identifies that her mindset is unhealthy.

i don’t know if they’re meant to parallel each other, but it feels deliberate that we get that scene in never leave me that also takes place in buffy’s bedroom, only this time it’s spike that’s having his brain fucked with, and buffy that suggests he’s feeling sorry for himself. and spike tells buffy that he finally understands the thing he couldn’t in season six, including normal again.

BUFFY: So, that's what this is about. You feeling sorry for yourself, Spike?

SPIKE: I’m feeling honest with myself. You used me.

BUFFY: Yes.

SPIKE: You told me that, of course. I never understood it though. Not until now. You hated yourself, and you took it out on me.

BUFFY: You figured that out just now?

SPIKE: Soul's not all about moonbeams and pennywhistles, luv. It's about self-loathing. I get it.

as for whether we’re meant to draw a line between normal again and buffy naming herself “joan” in tabula rasa, i’m not sure. the name “joan” seems like a dual joke about the fact that joan is a blandly normal name compared to “buffy”, but is also a name that evokes the grand sacrificial heroism that buffy is capable of. a joke about which parts of buffy’s identities are permanent or not. but if there is a connection, i think it’s related to the season’s general deconstructive mindset. buffy’s identity crisis in season six is all tied up in her idea of what a hero looks like, and so in that respect it’s very significant that buffy at the end of the gift was buffy at her most mythically heroic. the kind of heroism frozen at a moment of perfect, martyred sacrifice. similarly, joan is normal and happy and heroic, a version of herself--like the buffybot--that buffy feels distant from. but no one can live up to that sort of perfection day to day. buffy’s struggle to confront her human imperfection parallels the season’s attempt to make itself and its audience confront their own expectations regarding perfect, happy heroes. everyone, including buffy, is frustrated that something seems “wrong” with her. so the two scenes seem related in that they both suggest that buffy is drawn to heroism and idealism, consciously or unconsciously. which is relevant to the season’s implication that a fixation on such ideals can be as crippling or harmful as they are noble. 

[spookymultimedia]

ITS MY BLOG AND I GET TO INFODUMP ABOUT MY CHARACTERS >:D

Disability and gender experience

CW for ptsd, panic attacks, su*c*de [I will talk about at the end if you still want to read this and will add another warning] , gender dysphoria, mild transpobia and abelism both internal and external

Disability

Lyla has osteoarthritis that is due to Burns' pretty fucky genes. She found this out when one evening they literally couldn't get out of bed for anything due to intense pain in the knees. Waylon had to come and get them and when he got there Lyla was pretty much on the brink of tears. Lyla then got a diagnosis. At first she was frustrated because it changed everything about his daily life. He was prescribed pain medication that dulls the pain to a manageable degree and was recommended to use a cane to get around during mild flare ups. It initially upset her. He thought she was too young to be going through something like that and hated having to limit how much they work. They later realized that stigma was ableist and bullshit and eventually sucked it up and decided to just embrace his new way of life and let her Grandfather help him learn how to cope due to experience with chronic pain [which means its lifelong] . On some days they get around just fine with pain meds but on bad flare up days they have to use a cane or chair to get around. She eventually mastered working with the aids and can even pop a sick wheelie on his chair. The pain still gets to them and it really sucks but he does swallow his pride and allow themselves to rest and be supported by others.

Sometimes with her partner Ashley he'll get snuggled and taken care of by her. Lyla is pretty dang light like his grandfather and Ashley has no problem carrying him around. Lyla secretly loves being carried. He's pretty fucking privileged to have Mr.Burns allow her disability support. Lyla is very privileged. Sometimes they like to make his cane/chair look cool with spray paint and whatnot. Very cripplepunk. Lyla probably found a disabled community of people his age to help her feel less alone.

Abbey has undiagnosed innatentive type adhd and ptsd that she gets full on panic attacks from. Neurodiversity was something taboo and not talked about in her childhood and didn't even realize she was struggling more than she should be. As a child she struggled paying attention to long boring sermons/lectures and was shamed alot for it. She didn't understand how she occasionally made people uncomfortable with very weird and unconventional topics she talks about. Loud sudden stimuli and intense buzzing overwhelms her and can make her cry. She didn't do very well in school and barely graduated high school. She prefered watching her favorite movies and playing dolls with her sister over studying. She's extremely sensitive to fabric and only has certain types of blankets and clothes that she can stand. She absolutely hates the feeling of fabric draping against her legs too much so sometimes she either wears tight-ish pants and avoids skirts/dresses. She hates sitting and walking in dresses. She never wanted to wear them lol they feel bad to her. She refuses to sit up straight and will cross her legs. Abbey hyperfixates on animation, cinema, and dollhouses. She likes binging movies and making doll projects. She tends to bond with people through movies and model making. She struggled to make friends outside of her circle and just stayed friends with people she grew up with at her church. They all escaped that mormon hell. Abbey struggles with her emotions and usually gets overwhelmed too much which can often leave her drained and tired. She has an intense oral fixation and uses stim necklaces to chew on, before she would chew on her sleeves, pen caps, pens, her hair, her shirt, her sleeves, bottle caps, ect. She was a very curious kid and tried to eat playdough, dirt and grass lol. None of them where good. She is decent at working at the video store and feels happy with her job being related to her interests. Because hrt therapy is so expensive she doesn't feel she can afford any kind of therapy or medication and it's very overwhelming for her to have to prioritize one aspect of her health over another. But with financial support from close friends and her boyfriend Tim she gets by ok.

Gender

Lyla assumed that it was completely normal to have a fuzzy fluid gender due to believing gender is a lose concept for most people. He didn't realize most people have static genders that don't change at all. It wasn't something they never questioned. Later in Lyla's 20s they started to learn more on gender and realized she wasn't as cis as he thought they where. The term genderfluid fit his experiences perfectly. They never felt still in their gender. Even if they felt more towards one gender over another it wasn't a firm feeling. It felt fluid and lose. As a teen they dressed in goth fashion and was a self proclaimed tomboy. But they realized tomboys or most gnc women didn't dress up very feminine on somedays or even wear dresses. She loves wearing dresses and she loves wearing lose jeans and a lose men's tee.

Lyla's gender tends to shift weekly but it may present or change depending on who they're with or what media/environment they're exposed too. For example he might feel more feminine with certain friends and more masculine with strangers. Sometimes they feel more comfortable being agender or a nonbinary genders with certain people such as their partner. Sometimes they only use certain pronouns with certain people. He/she/they at work, she/he with parents, she/he/they/it with siblings, she/he with some friends, and she/he/moths/rots, rats, its with their partner. Lyla will either tell people upfront on pronouns for the week or use a pin.

Most of the time clothes don't dictate their gender that week but there are some key differences. Lyla will not wear dresses on more masculine days and may draw on facial hair with a mascara brush. On more feminine days they dress more like a nature witch and loves floral stuff. They are more likely to have fun with makeup on those days.

Lyla doesn't want to undergo any kind of surgery or hormone therapy. Lyla may bind a bit with a sports bra but doesn't really feel uncomfortable with his chest and mostly doesn't mind having visibile tits on masc days.

Abbey always felt different from her birth sex and felt very frustrated learning she wouldn't just naturally grow into the chest and genitals she wants growing up. It was an extremely taboo and forbidden subject but despite that something inside her soul knew she was a girl. Her parents pushed very strict gender roles on her growing up and causes her to struggle with her femininity as an infertile woman who could not stand dresses. It made her feel a bit lost but she later felt better knowing other women cis and trans who don't conform to gender roles.

Abbey gets intense physical dysphoria from her crotch and for a long time she had to just deal with it until surgery was an option. Some days she could tolerate it but some days [especially when she got on estrogen and felt very hormonal] it was unbearable and a wet dream or boner would trigger a depressive episode that consists of cacooning a cover, watching her favorite movies and long naps. It was a toll on her mental health that was already pretty bad. But emotional support, understanding and patience from her friends and boyfriend helped her carry on though it. She eventually does get bottom surgery and it's a HUGE weight off her chest.

Abbey usually dresses in sweatshirts, graphic tees and cute jeans. Whatever's comfortable on the skin. She wore tank tops more when her tits grew in. And they grew in pretty dang fast and big and ah it hurt. She's a c cup which she loves but God they where tender for awhile. Double puberty isn't fun. Her transition was a bit rough and long being low middle class but she pulled through.

TW for su*cide. Leave the post now if this triggers you.

Abbey is a suicide attempt survivor. She suffers ptsd from her own husband taking his life leaving her a widow. She felt trapped and tired in her unbalanced emotions and uncertainty of ever feeling okay or getting the medical attention she needed and attempted to OD. Fortunately she was with Timothy who immediately called an ambulance. She was very tired and at first a bit disappointed she was still alive but also a bit relieved. She then had to cope with feeling suicidal.

[ngame989]

SVTFOE: A Retrospective

Happy Mama Star Day!

OK, first and foremost, a quick update on TGG: I plan to have something ready for at least one of the major anniversaries coming up, and hopefully will resume slightly more regular updates from then forward. Thanks to everyone for your continued support, it’s been a rough year so far for me personally and for everyone in in the current pandemic situation. The anniversary of both STH and Mama Star seemed like a fitting time to get some things off my chest, both good and bad, so I’ll do that now and get it out of the way to focus on bigger and better things in the future. Fair warning, this is gonna be long and rambly and personal more than it is any sort of serious show analysis. If you’re looking for fun, feel-good celebration of what definitely were some of my favorite moments in the series, I’m not so sure this is gonna be the post for you.

It goes without saying that Star vs the Forces of Evil, for better or worse, is incredibly important to me and has been without fail for years. How are you supposed to feel when something that important lets you down so hard? Is having such strong, mixed emotions and attachment better than having nothing you care about at all? The past year hasn’t answered these questions for me, and this post certainly won’t either. There’s no thesis or likely any kind of closure here, just me baring a bit of my soul here on tumblr dot com.

It’s been a rough year or two for me. I don’t want to get too much into the specifics, but let’s just say I hit a crossroads where the entire path I’d envisioned for myself in life came into serious question, and I had been spiraling into depression and paralyzing anxiety over a complete lack of any fulfillment in my “professional” life for months before I even recognized it for what it was. Season 3 finished airing around the last few months of my undergraduate degree, which (while obviously it significantly emotionally impacted me) was a generally happy and stable time in my life. As things started to change and get worse for me, SVTFOE S4 was my ray of hope. I’m not kidding when I say that some days in the hiatus leading up to it, the thought of S4 delivering on its potential for emotional fulfillment and Starco goodness (consistently, not just at the end) was the only thing that got me out of bed in the morning and the only positive thing I could see in my future. 

When we got the S4 we got, it shattered me, utterly and completely. This isn’t an attempt to dunk on S4 in some “objective” manner - hell, I even like a lot of the things about it that the fandom despises (the ending prioritizing character closure over lore, the upheaval of the political structure rather than just having Star become the Goodest Queen, etc). I’d still make the argument that a lot of the character development was very flimsy and poorly paced, a very clear effort to force the relationship resolution to be delayed until the end at all costs, but that’s not the point here. Life felt dull and lonely and warm fluffy Starco was my vicarious escape from that, and the season we got left me so completely hollow insid that it felt like I couldn’t breathe for its first more-than-a-dozen episodes, and I was so burnt out that I couldn’t even properly enjoy the parts that were genuinely good.

Even earlyish on, I was already fearing that things wouldn’t be resolved till the end and that there’d be almost none of the content I actually longed for from the show. As I’ve mentioned before, The Greatest Gift was born the morning after Lake House Fever’s late night release, out of salt and spite and a need to give myself something good to look forward to, even if it would be something I’d be making myself. I completely removed myself from even passing conversations with my best friends in the fandom because it hurt too much to even think about. I even had Seddm give me summaries of episodes before I watched them so I could take some time to emotionally prepare (at least until the 2nd to last week). And to the show’s credit, its last few weeks of episodes (with some exceptions) tried their absolute damnedest to right the ship (pun intended) and bring back the sorts of things I wanted with a vengeance. I was smiling like a complete fool for 12 hours straight after Here to Help. The ending didn’t fix my issues with the show, not by a fucking long shot, but it at least left me on a positive enough note that there was a feverish enthusiasm to continue it further on my own.

But it’s been tough. Have you or a family member/friend ever gotten bad food poisoning from a restaurant you really liked, and the smell of it makes you queasy afterwards even though you do really like it? That’s probably the best analogy I can draw to a lot of my relationship with SVTFOE since it ended. PLEASE NOTE I’M IN NO WAY TRYING TO EQUATE THE MAGNITUDE OF MY IRE WITH A CARTOON WITH SERIOUS DISORDERS THAT PEOPLE SUFFER FROM, but I’d almost be tempted to liken it to PTSD. Seeing reminders of the painful parts can put me in a bad mood for hours, and on some days even just dwelling on the show in any way will invite creeping negativity and “why the fuck couldn’t it have just-” types of thoughts taking over. There have been some days writing TGG where having to draw inspiration from or reference events/dialogues in S4 was so emotionally taxing that I had to stop writing for the night. I blocked Seddm’s entire askbox tag because I’d find my own emotions frothing into a rage over things in the show people would bring up. I’ve lost acquaintances and potential friendships over my bitterness. I instantly block anyone who posts even a hint of Tomstar/Kellco content in the Starco tags on any site because it induces such palpable negativity in my heart - I think I’m up to 1000 accounts blocked on Instagram right now, which is why Toxic runs the TGG page over there. If you’re one of the people out there that tried to strike up a conversation with me over a shared interest in the show and I vomited bile into your DMs, I sincerely apologize. And to anyone who got wrapped up in the brazen high hopes I put forth here every day as S4 approached and came crashing down with me as a result, I’m sorry for that too.

And yet... I can’t say there’s not a genuine love I still have for a lot of it. I still have my little shrine of stickers and pictures that I’ll sometimes just get let myself get lost in. There was a recent postcanon fic started by someone who just caught up on the show that brought such a depth of warmth into my chest that I’m smiling like an idiot just now thinking about it. I haven’t watched even a clip (let alone a whole episode) that Star and Marco’s voices in my head feel distant and abstract, but when I’m writing chapters I can still get emotional imagining them saying and doing things out of their devotion to one another. I’ve made no secret that I (to put it very very very lightly) have a strong distaste for the vast majority of this fandom, and yet the joy of knowing I could make people’s days or lives brighter gives me a satisfaction I can’t put words to. Don’t get me wrong, writing quickly just isn’t my thing normally anyway - I’m not trying to suggest that the sole reason for TGG downtime is that I’m driving knives into my own heart and pouring my blood onto the page. Just that that’s part of it, and it takes its toll. 

The last few months, although I have missed the joy of brewing up fluff ideas and seeing them come to life, have admittedly been a welcome reprieve just not having to think about this stuff so much. In the last few weeks I’ve finally been coming around to a bit of a better place where the good bubbles up without bringing as much of the bad with it. It will likely still wax and wane, and I can’t guarantee if or when TGG will fully finish. And this isn’t my entire life - I have MMOs and card games and all kinds of other hobbies that suck up lots of my time, so don’t worry about me just lying in bed sobbing over S4 for 12 hours a day. I don’t know if the day will ever come when I can truly be at peace with it all, but I don’t want to toss out the good with the bad. All I can ask is for your patience as my own journey evolves alongside my writing, until the day comes when perhaps this story can finally come to a close. Thanks for reading, and stay safe.

Ngame

[jessikahathaway]

Into Eternity - Part XII

Pairing: Park Jimin X Reader

Genre: Fantasy!AU, Romance

Warnings: Pining, illness, Jimin being an impatient baby. If I forgot anything please let me know!

Words: 4,050

Hoseok sat in the kitchen of the abandoned palace, guilt eating him up inside. You had a fever, one that was hard to control and it was beginning to take its toll on you. Coughing could be heard daily as you tried to get air into your lungs. 

His original plan was to get you away from Jimin and to bring you to Morgana for sacrifice, but now... Now you might die before the damned witch could even take you. He’d travelled into the village in search of an Apothecary or a Priest, someone with any kind of medical knowledge... But there wasn’t anyone.

He’d tried to read books found in the library on how to aid you in your sickness, but he wasn’t well versed in the herbal side of them... He didn’t want to poison you and have a very upset Morgana on his tail after it all.

So, there you lay in your room. Sick and asking for your husband.

You asked every day... Every single day you asked Hoseok if your Jimin had come to see you. And each day Jimin didn’t show, he saw you get paler and paler. Falling deeper into sickness as you longed for the one you couldn’t see.

“H-Hoseok.” Your voice would be cut off with coughing. “Has Jimin arrived yet? I couldn’t look out the window this morning, I couldn’t stand.”

He’d tell you no, like he did every time you asked. A small frown would appear on your face and you’d take the tea and broth from him. You’d struggle to lift your cup, as it was hot in your frigid hands. Hoseok would help you, lifting the mug so you could sip at the tea. Hoseok would stay until you’d finished it all. 

Each time you thanked him.

“Thank you, Hoseok, I feel much better.”

You were lying. Because everyday you looked worse. Thankfully you had kept some weight on you, so you didn’t look to be a skeleton under your clothing. But you were so pale and lethargic he wondered if you’d fall to pieces after a hard enough coughing fit.

Once you were finished with your meal, Hoseok would remove the dishes, help you back into bed to rest. The shame would follow him down the stairs and into the kitchen where he washed the very dishes he’d help you eat from. 

And then he’d sit and feel remorseful. 

This repetitive cycle made him dizzy. He wasn’t sure how many days had passed since you’d fallen ill, but he knew it was a decent number. He knew of your fragile state, and he was aware that you probably could be unwell during your time here. 

Hoseok thought that it might come in handy when the time to kill you was here. But Morgana was a fickle creature, and she wanted Jimin there to see the light leave your eyes. She wanted him to feel the pain she did when his ancestor chose another woman before her. 

Someone who had broken her powerful spell...

“Hoseok,” a chilling voice creeped through the walls. 

“Morgana, what is it you come to ask of me?” he sighed, standing up and placing your utensils away. 

“The girl, she isn’t well,” she pouts. “Why is that?”

“She was a weak creature to begin with, being in this cold has made her sick. I fear you may not get to have her die before Jimin as you had hoped,” Hoseok stated.

“What!? That... That wench! How dare she defy me even in this way!? Not only does she take my beloved away from me, now she doesn’t even give me the pleasure of killing her before the one who betrayed me?”

Hoseok rubbed his face then looked to the black mist that was swirling around the hag looking being.

Morgana could take on any form she wanted, but with her magic waning, she was no doubt running out of masks to wear. “Morgana, I don’t know what you’d like from me. All I can tell you is that I fear she may not make it through this very night. I doubt she’ll be able to wait for Jimin much longer,” he stressed.

Morgana looked down at the floor and growled in frustration. “Damn them! Damn you feeble bodied humans who can’t handle the meagerest amounts of change!”

“Shall I just kill her for you now?” Hoseok asked, bringing forth his cursed blades to show them off to his mistress.

“No... It won’t be the revenge I’ve waited years to see. All because this insolent brat must have lungs of paper!” 

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“That... Priest,” Morgana spit after the word. As if it was sour in her mouth. “He could heal her, certainly he could.”

“They’ll never come here, it would be too risky with you possibly knowing her whereabouts,” Hoseok declared.

“Then I’ll attack that Lord’s Castle, drive them out!”

“Then they’ll just run back to the Royal Palace. Either that or they will choose another stronghold to defend. Morgana, you may have to stop the assaults all together,” Hoseok stated.

“No! My children must feed in order to bring me sacrifice!”

“Then we make a show,” Hoseok announced.

“How do you mean?” she asked. 

“Pretend to be slain by me, and during that time we can have Lady Y/N healed and-”

“And give her a chance to make an offspring with my beloved? Absolutely not,” Morgana rejected.

“Well, it’s either that, or you don’t get your revenge the way you intended. I am merely at your will, I will do as you ask,” Hoseok said solemnly.

“Fine, make a spectacle of me then. But bring me sacrifices in the meantime, animals will suffice. I won’t be nearly as powerful as I’d like... But once that wench dies, I will be able to have my love back,” Morgana grins, teeth blackened and gnarled. Hoseok cringed at the sight, but nodded anyways. 

“Then how do you expect me to proceed?”

“Call upon them, say you have captured me,” Morgana states.

“How will I have been able to manage that on my own?” he questions.

“I will allow them to kill my children, it will weaken me so I demand several animals to keep my strength,” she snarls. 

“Of course,” Hoseok nods.

“Call them here, and use those blades to puncture my heart. Only cursed weapons and poison will take down she with a blackened soul. Lie, slather this potion on your blade. I’ll burst into flames, make a ‘show’ for them as you put it,” Morgana explains. “During that time, heal the girl. Then when she is finally back in health and my beloved comes to her, I will appear and you will slay the girl. With that sacrifice I will be able to bring back your wife and child.”

Hoseok thought of his wife whom he’d loved so dearly... And it hurt... God it was killing him not to hold her in his arms. To kiss her sweet face and cradle his infant in his embrace. 

“Very well,” Hoseok nodded. “I will send the letter tonight.”

“If you betray me, Hoseok... Know your family will suffer for eternity in oblivion,” Morgana warned as she slipped back into mist, dissipating into the air.

“I know...”

---

Jimin sat in his study again, signing more papers and doing official duties. After the initial battle, he was told to stay at the Castle while his men went to fight without him. Jungkook said that he was far too worried about you to fight properly, and he didn’t want something to happen to him. So, he’d stayed behind and helped Taehyung catch up on some documentation and deals that were bothering him. It was all very mundane. Get up, go to his desk and sign his life away. Life was so unsaturated without a purpose... 

A knock rang in the dusty air.

“Enter,” he accepted, leaning back in his chair.

Taehyung came in, shutting the door behind him. He looked bright, compared to Jimin’s dull atmosphere. 

“You seem... somber, Majesty,” Taehyung commented, sitting on the chair in front of Jimin’s desk. 

“First my wife is removed from me, then I am told I am unable to fight for my Kingdom... Imagine the uselessness I feel from these statements, Taehyung... I-I am questioning my right for the throne under these circumstances,” Jimin wavered.

“Don’t ever think that you aren’t fit to rule, Jimin,” Taehyung declared firm. “You care more for these people than they know. And if signing papers is how you will help them, then do it.”

“Taehyung, something bothers me,” Jimin whispered, staring at the sheets before him.

“What troubles you?” Taehyung asked. 

Jimin’s face was dark, hidden behind the mask he put up for everyone around him. It was rare for him to remove it, unless you were around. But Taehyung slowly saw the edges peeling away before it crumbled. Jimin’s broken eyes stared back at him as he looked to his friend for help.

Taehyung was frightened. Never had he seen his friend in such a state before. 

“I miss her so much I feel like my heart is going to break, Taehyung... I need to see her, I long to hold her again... I want to know she’s alright, that she’s safe... And I can’t do that from here, I need to see her so badly,” Jimin whimpered. 

“Jimin,” Taehyung whispered, coming to embrace his friend gingerly. Jimin grabbed onto his brother in arms and dear friend, trembling as if he were his last tie to this world. 

“Taehyung my world is falling down around me. My father is dead, my family is halfway across the map from me, and I am not allowed to go out and fight for my wife because... Because all I can think about is what that damned Forsaken told me on the battlefield,” he growled.

“What did it say? You know they spout lies,” Taehyung admonished. 

“Taehyung it knew where she was,” he breathed. 

“What are you talking about? Are you certain?” Taehyung gasped, standing. 

“It said that the cold makes her weak... And she’s in the cold right now, Taehyung! What the fuck was I supposed to think when that damned thing told me that?! Shit, Taehyung I can’t sleep because of worry.”

“I’m sure that it was just trying to get a rise out of you Highness,” Taehyung attempted to be calming. 

“Jesus Taehyung! Are you not listening?!”

The room went silent. 

Jimin’s harsh breathing was deafening to his own ears. 

“She’s in the Northern Peninsula... And she’s susceptible to the cold, tell me how you would react if you were told that from the enemy? From the thing you’re trying to hide your loved one from? I can’t stand it, Taehyung... It’s driving me insane,” Jimin croaked. 

“I’m sure nothing is wrong, we must have patience-”

“MAJESTY!”

Jimin’s head turned towards the door, soon a frantic knocking came from behind it. “Majesty, it’s me, please open the door, I have news!”

Father Jin’s voice came through the wood. 

Taehyung quickly moved to open it, letting in a frazzled Priest. Jimin stood, placing his hand on his desk for support. Why did he feel like something bad was happening? What was this feeling in his stomach, why did he feel sick?

“Father, what’s the matter?” Taehyung asked, placing his hand on Jin’s shoulders.

“I received a letter from Hoseok,” Jin answered.

“What?”

“He’s not supposed to be sending letters to us! He could give away Lady Y/N’s position!” Taehyung yelled.

“Taehyung, gather Jungkook and Yoongi. I want to speak with all of you in regards to this matter,” Jimin announced. Taehyung nodded, moving out the door to quickly collect the men Jimin wished to see. The Prince then turned to the Priest. “Father, tell me, is my wife alright?”

Jin’s face fell and Jimin thought that he would truly be sick. “She’s fallen ill, sire. Hoseok called for my aid... He claims that he has captured Morgana...”

---

The strategy room was cold as Jimin looked at his fellow men with a deep gaze. Something serious was going on, and none of them were certain how to handle the proceedings. 

“Gentleman, Hoseok has broken a rule put in place by us to protect my wife’s safety. However, Father Jin tells me it is because she is ill... She needs help. Hoseok also claims to have captured the witch, Morgana.”

Yoongi scoffed. “No, there isn’t a way in hell he managed to get close enough to touch her.”

“Well, think about it Yoongi,” Jungkook began. “We’ve been taking out several of her Forsaken. Without them she isn’t getting sacrifices, Father Jin told us that she needs those to keep up with her dark magic. And she’s having to produce more to keep up with our assaults... perhaps it wore her down enough to as where Hoseok was able to capture her.”

“If he was able to capture her why didn’t he just kill her then?” Jimin asked.

“It’s not that simple. A creature such as her must be taken down by either a cursed weapon or poison. Regular weapons are futile against her,” Father Jin explained.

“So, he managed to get her into some restraints? If she’s so powerful how was he able to accomplish this?” Taehyung asked.

“Hoseok said he placed the necklace I charmed around her neck to weaken her abilities. It has made her unable to use her magic. And with her power already waning, it might just be enough,” Jin stated.

“What of Y/N?” Jimin asked, palms sweating.

Jin’s face took on a darker expression. “He stated she isn’t well. He needs me there promptly, otherwise he fears she may not make it,” Jin warned.

“Then we should leave immediately,” Taehyung declared.

“I agree, I need to make sure she’s alright,” Jimin urged. The thought of seeing you already making his heart swell. 

“Hold, impatience is a sin.”

The boys stopped their chittering. Jin stood and addressed the men before him with a grave look on his face. 

“I must warn you all. This is a dangerous situation we find ourselves in. Morgana is a being that has long defied God. She has no semblance for human life and takes what she wants, destroys when she can. If Hoseok has indeed captured her, then killing her is our first priority. We need to make a plan of how we are to deal with her,” Jin announced.

“What do you mean Father?” Jungkook asked, raising a brow in his direction.

“I mean, we need a plan if this goes wrong. Lady Y/N’s life is at risk. Morgana is being held underneath the palace, but I worry for her safety. With her being so close, she may be planning her demise.”

The room looked at Jin then to Jimin for confirmation. Jimin gripped the table in fury. His wife was being dangled in front of the very being who wanted her death, like a toy. It was disgusting.

“If Morgana manages to escape, I have a relic that could aid us,” Jimin explained. “The first dagger forged in pure Arcanian steel. It belonged to the very ancestors Morgana loved. If I place a poison upon the blade, I could end her,” The Prince stated.

“How would you get close enough?” Taehyung asked.

“Lure her into believing that her spell over him has worked. That he loves her,” Yoongi suggested.

“I think that would be worth the shot,” Jungkook stated.

“She would do anything to have Jimin be hers,” Father Jin reasoned. “If the situation turns sour, she will no doubt try to take Jimin. All you have to do is pretend that her spell worked, get close enough to deliver the killing blow.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Jimin snarled, fists curled tight on top of the table.

“What’s wrong with Lady Y/N?” Taehyung asked, leaning forward.

Father Jin looked at the paper and frowned. “She’s sick, a fever and chills taking. As well as a brutal cough. Hoseok says that it has been persistent, even with the broth and herbal teas he’s been trying. He knows only so much, but I know how to help her... I just hope that he didn’t wait too long to tell us,” Jin commented.

“I want the carriages ready as soon as possible. Father Jin, Jungkook and I will all go. Taehyung and Yoongi, stay here to defend the castle,” Jimin stated.

“Highness, perhaps we should just send Father Jin and Jungkook,” Yoongi warned. “Moving you to where that witch is located isn’t the best idea.”

“We’ve already made a decision, and a plan that involves me. I am going, Yoongi. I will see my wife,” The Prince declared with a steely tone.

The room sensed the tension. Everyone knew how on edge Jimin was not being able to see you. He’d been so tense and irritable these past weeks. Nothing like the man he was when you left. They knew you two needed to be reunited again. The men in that room knew Jimin wouldn’t stop until he got to see you once more. 

“When shall we depart?” Jungkook asked. 

“As soon as possible,” Father Jin noted. “I need to collect several herbs and my books as well as some tools. I don’t know how bad the progression is, but if it is as bad as Hoseok says, then I will need to be thoroughly prepared. I should be able to take off at dusk,” the Priest stated to his council.

“I will head to the stables and collect some horses and an older carriage,” Jungkook mentioned. “I can smear mud on it and things of the like to keep suspicious eyes from staying too long.”

“Perfect idea,” Taehyung smiled. “I can get some tunics from the guards quarters and you and Jimin can dress in those. That way it will look like a few gentleman on a trading route.”

“I concur. We will take a few articles of clothing, but we can keep them in the cabin with us,” Jimin stated.

“Yes, as well as some rations,” Jungkook noted. “The travel will be long, and we will want to be prepared for the cold when it comes.”

“Very well,” Father Jin nodded. He stood, gathering his robes before looking to the group before him. “Please take caution all. This is a dangerous journey we are to make, and we must be careful. Lady Y’N’s safety is at risk.”

With that he left, leaving everyone in the room unsettled. 

But no one more so than your husband, who looked to his wedding band and bit his lip. 

“I’m coming my love, I will see you soon...”

---

Father Jin was writing furiously in his book as the carriage moved along steadily in the dark of night. 

They’d been travelling for almost a whole day. They’d reach the castle by morning, it was certain.

Jungkook was at the reins, keeping a watchful eye on the horizon and all around in case of an attack. No one had approached and fellow travellers shared a small nod before passing them by. 

No one was aware that their future King lay within the doors of the beaten up buggy. And it was imperative it stay that way. 

Jimin was anxious as he thought of how long it had been since he’d held you in his arms... Had you lost weight due to your ailment? He hoped you hadn’t, he loved how soft and warm you were to wake up to in the morning. Had you been sleeping alright? Hopefully you were getting restful sleep and you weren’t being awoken by your coughs. 

Father Jin looked to his Prince and saw the fear residing in his features. Setting his book down, Jin placed a gentle hand on Jimin’s shoulder. The poor man jumped and turned to see the Priest eyeing him with curiosity. 

“You seem restless, what burdens you, Highness?” 

Jimin let his heart settle before looking at Jin with pensive eyes. “I worry for her, Father... I have almost lost her once, I don’t want to go through that again. It would kill me,” he breathed. 

Jin nodded, looking ahead. “I understand your fear, but believe me... Believe in Y/N, she won’t let you go so easily.”

“She’s stubborn,” Jimin smiled sadly. “I can’t imagine life without her... She’s made such a difference in my life. I never thought that... That I...”

“That you could love someone?” Jin tested.

“No one showed me what love was... My mother and father are products of arranged marriages all through the lineage and... I was supposed to be another in a long line. Yet there was something so much deeper within this story. I knew that Y/N wasn’t supposed to be my permanent bride, my mother had warned me as such... The Princess of Laureliea was supposed to be my final wife. Uniting our Kingdom’s would no doubt bring prosperity. But, I had to fall in love with her. I had to defy everything that had been set in stone, crumbling into dust within my hands. Mother obviously is enraged, I receive her letters. She asks me,  ‘why I can’t just kill the broad and marry again?’ We haven’t consummated anything. But each time, I refuse her. ``I can’t,'' I tell her. For to kill her would kill me as well. I fear we will be at odds until her death,” Jimin huffed.

Father Jin patted his shoulder softly. “Your mother is still your mother, she needs to respect your decision. You found love in a place that seemed impossible. It is such a blessing from God that you two were able to find the most purest form of love in one another. Don’t let others' emotions towards your own change them.”

Jimin bit his lip as he thought of these words. All he had done since you’d left was whine about how he wanted to be with you again. It wasn’t fair to all of those he had been working for. His people weren’t getting anything done with him pouting. 

How selfish could a future ruler be?

He wondered if something were to happen to you, he knew his response. He’d give up, he’d let his Kingdom fall to ruin if you weren’t there by his side. How incredibly greedy. 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m going to tell you you’re wrong,” Jin stated, pulling him from his deprecating thoughts. 

“Father the whole time I’ve been without Y/N all I’ve done was-”

“Do your best,” Father Jin finished. 

“But I complained, and was difficult and-”

“And that’s what being in love does. It doesn’t make you weak, nor does it make you selfish. It makes you compassionate, it makes you loyal, it makes you devoted. None of these are bad things, Highness. None of them. You are allowed to feel anxious and worried without the one you love beside you. We don’t marry or fall in love with the expectation of being separated. You’ve been apart for almost two months, that’s long enough. You both have suffered, I know Y/N misses you. She’ll want to see you, and you are allowed to be just Jimin for a moment. You aren’t only the Prince of Arcane... You are also Jimin, a man who misses his wife,” Jin stated.

Jimin looked at Jin with wide bleary eyes. 

“I-I’m allowed to be just Jimin for the moment then?”

“You are allowed to be yourself whenever you feel the need, Jimin. Being Prince is merely a title, soon you won’t be Prince. You’ll be King. However, being Jimin is forever. Think about it. Lady Y/N doesn’t love you because you are a Prince. She loves you because you are Jimin. Even though you must be Prince, that doesn’t mean you can’t also be yourself. You are so different around Lady Y/N, and it fills my heart with joy to see you two together. I believe she lets you be Jimin. Not a Prince, not a ruler, just Jimin. And that’s another blessing you’ve been granted,” Jin expressed.

Jungkook shouted from the front of the carriage. 

“THE NORTHERN CASTLE IS IN SIGHT!”