#i did love it and it most certainly had the intended effect on me -> dying inside while listening

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!James Potter but its just him shamelessly flirting with reader whilst she stands there stunned.

lifeguard!james potter x reader 4

prev

wc: 1874

cw: horny again

anon i love you ur a genius. this kinda ran away from me lol but i will def be using this again so look out for future parts of flustered r if this isn't quite what u meant!!

the next time you saw james wasn't for a few days. there'd been a few days of colder wind coming from the north -- not enough to be cold necessarily, but unpleasant enough you didn't particularly fancy sitting by the pool.

after two days of mediocre, sunless weather, a real storm came in. rain beating down from the time you woke up, you spent breakfast pondering how to spend the day. you didn't particularly want to spend the whole day rotting away in bed doing nothing and so called up marlene, begging her to pick you up in her parent's car to drive everyone to the shopping village. she was easy to convince, and soon enough you were all packed into the much too small car, singing loudly to the songs on the radio.

the village wasn't anything special, most of the stores were uninteresting, but it was all undercover which was ideal for a rainy day.

the group of you had already wasted an hour in the oxfam, trying on the most ridiculous outfits you could put together. sirius had even managed to turn a truly hideous cheetah print belt into something that looked honestly cool on him, much to the annoyance of everyone else. he tended to do that, though, it meant you had to work even harder to give him awful clothing items. the only one he truly couldn't pull off was a horrendous orange hand-knitted cardigan.

that easily became boring though, and you could tell the cashier was getting annoyed that clearly none of you intended to buy anything. so you left, wandering aimlessly until lily pulled you all into the bookstore. it was warm inside so no one put up much of a fight, splitting up to find their preferred genre. peter went to the historical fiction, lily to literary fiction, remus dragged sirius with him to the classics, marlene to science fiction and mary to fantasy. that left you to wander over to the romances. you weren't much of a reader, preferring the lighter subjects to lily's more serious.

finding the brightly coloured covers you began browsing before catching a glimpse of a mop of dark curls over the next shelf and narrowed your eyes suspiciously. there was no way...

"are you following me?" you asked, no edge in your tone. james looked up with a start, breaking into one of his golden retriever smiles.

"you're the one approaching me," he said, closing the book he'd been checking out.

"touché." you grinned, looking around for the first time to observe what section you were in -- plays. "i didn't know you were a shakespeare nerd under all that muscle. doesn't seem fair you get brains and brawn."

"graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie." james looked much too pleased with himself and his shakespeare quotes, and you couldn't deny it was having some effect on your own 'pleasant fountain'. you stammered for a moment, lost for a response. no boy had ever quoted shakespeare to you before, and certainly not of such explicit content. truthfully, you didn't realise the world's most revered playwright wrote like that.

"what's that from?" you asked, desperate to get away from his innuendos before you did something you'd regret. plus, you really were curious, the only shakespeare you knew was from when you studied romeo and juliet in year nine and clearly that was becoming insufficient.

"venus and adonis, one of his poems. doesn't continue as happily, but i thought the line was nice enough."

"yeah," you managed through gritted teeth, "really nice." james only laughed at you, evidently enjoying having the upper hand in your banter. it was a testament to his goodness, though, that he didn't continue to hold it against you. instead, he settled down, going back to browsing and letting you hover next to him, answering whatever questions you had about the plays patiently. it was nice, you realised, looking over at him fondly before you caught yourself. you barely knew james, and just because he was a pretty face and a decent brain didn't mean you had to go boy crazy.

you stayed there for what felt like ages, quietly looking at the books until sirius came strutting around the corner.

"since when have you ever read a play in your life -- oh," he said, catching sight of james next to you. "who's this?" you could have sworn sirius gave him a flirty once over, but maybe you were just projecting.

"this is--"

"james," he finished, sticking out an enthusiastic hand. sirius raised an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition in his eye that made your stomach drop.

"james the lifeguard? the one you thought was, and i quote, 'hotter than robert plant i swear to god' and who you would 'pay to suck his dick'? nice to meet you mate!" you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole as the boys shook hands, james looking significantly more confused than sirius (though not displeased).

"i hope you sleep with one eye open, black," you muttered, trying desperately not to make eye contact with either or let your blush show. you had an inkling you were failing.

"so james, you doing anything today?" sirius asked, and you could only feel the dread spreading throughout your body. james shook his head, quickly slotting the book he was holding back onto the shelf. when sirius invited him to spend the rest of the day with your friends your body had a physical reaction, an embarrassing half-flinch-half-jump that had both boys laughing at you.

you all reconvened outside the bookshop, only a few new books bought between you all. james had been introduced to remus and peter and the girls were all pleased to see him. it seemed like it was only you who was flustered, which seemed to be more common each time you saw him. you missed the first time you spoke when you had all the power.

sirius was the one who dragged you all to the record store, begging to check out their new stock.

"you know," james said as the two of you fell behind, "if you wanted to suck my dick you could've just asked, no payment required." this had to be the worst day of your life. you couldn't bear to look at james, already knowing the shit-eating grin you'd be met with.

"shut up," you mumbled weakly, "sirius is a dreadful dramatic."

he thankfully gave you a bit of a rest in the record store, taking the opportunity to talk to the boys as they perused the albums on offer. you definitely heard james and remus bonding over a love of bowie (not that it was a particularly niche interest) which made you smile.

while you were sure peter was being kind to james to his face, every time he turned away to look at something peter was quick to tease you, fanning his face like james was a supermodel or imitating a crude makeout. you responded with a firm middle finger, but it held no effect.

"i love that album," you said, pointing at the one james had picked up. it was bruce springsteen's born to run, a record you played in your room on repeat.

"i'm stupidly uneducated, i think i've only heard the singles. maybe we can listen to it together sometime, you can teach me his ways." you grinned, honest james was much easier to handle than flirty james.

"only if you're ready to listen to me fantasise about bruce," you said, "his eyes really do something for me."

"i have eyes," james said, pulling a giggle from both you and mary.

"guess so." it wasn't one of his better attempts at flirting, but it still drew a smile from you, so james didn't look too upset.

you didn't really talk to him again until you'd retired to the food court, all desperate for lunch. sirius had made sure you two were seated together, and you were suspicious of how much of a matchmaker he was being. you only wanted to jump his bones, you weren't looking to get married.

you'd just told an impeccable pun -- you knew it was good as the whole table began berating you -- and had caught james' eye by accident. he'd smiled at you in his lopsided way and rolled his eyes light-heartedly.

"i didn't picture you to have such terrible taste in jokes," he said, and you exaggerated a frown.

"and yet you're still talking to me," you countered, "so what does that say about you?"

"that i'm lucky." your mouth dropped open without your brain consenting. james had well and truly caught you off guard, an irritatingly perfect combination of earnestness and shameless flirting all rolled into one. you could feel yourself floundering, mouth opening and closing as you searched for anything to say. james was clearly enjoying his victory, cocky grin on display for anyone to witness. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, flushed with embarrassment (and lust) and not a single inkling of thought in your head.

you'd ended up on james' lap. it started with marlene offering james a lift home, not wanting to leave him walking in the rain. that led to the realisation you had far too many friends for seats; five available in the car and eight people. sirius had dibs-d remus' lap before the rest of you had even caught up to his train of thought, and lily and mary teamed up together shortly after. you were consequently assigned to james by the others, marlene obviously driving and peter refusing to even take part. you had sympathy for james, only an hour or two into meeting half the group and already pushed into doing their bidding because of remus' easy "you don't mind, do you, mate?"

and so you were sitting on his lap, not uncomfortable but definitely nervous. you'd imagined your first time being in his lap being slightly more sexy and autonomous.

"i'm not too heavy, am i?" you asked, hating how insecure you sounded. james just laughed softly.

"weren't you the one pining after my muscles? have a little faith in me!" james was unbelievably confident today, even more so than you remember him being in your previous meetings. you were the opposite, never having felt so meek around him.

you figured you couldn't be the only one experiencing the torture and so rolled the window down, pushing your upper half out and into the wind, laughing as you felt the rain on your skin. whilst enjoyable for yourself, it also required you to shift your position on james' lap and stretch out your torso, giving james a good view of your bra from under your sloppily done, homemade crop top. the combination was clearly effective if the development in his crotch was anything to go off. plus the way he held your hips to keep you concealing his little problem was telling you all you needed to know. another little wiggle from you and his grip tightened to almost bruising, but far from unpleasant. maybe james could flirt, but you had tricks you weren't above using.

[chaithetics]

Can you please do something like youngest Roy is secretly dating Stewy and he sees Lucas Mattson hitting on her. And he gets jealous and wants to go public with their relationship thank you!!!!

Jealous Disclosures

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) Reader

Word count: 4.6K

Author's note: Thank you so much for this request Nonnie! I'm sorry for the delay in getting it out to you! It's been busy and I take a bit longer with jealousy/find it harder to write. I really hope you enjoy this, please do let me know! Also, this is obviously not proofread lol. I hope you all enjoy it and would love feedback :)

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, established/secret relationship, some smut, jealous Stewy, icky Lukas Matsson, and douchey, douchey Roman! (Sorry about that).

*****************************************

It was Kendall’s 40th birthday party. You knew that this event was going to be something else, Kendall Roy always went above and beyond for a party, especially when he was in these kinds of states. Your more timid nature in comparison to your siblings' abrasive one meant that you naturally weren’t the biggest fan of big events but you could and would be able to suck that up for a night for your older brother. 

You and Connor were the only ones of your siblings to have been officially invited. It was especially tense amongst Roy siblings at the moment, which was saying a lot because frankly, when wasn’t it? Fortunately not being involved at Waystar meant that you didn’t have to bite the bullet and deal with the tension like the middle three Roy children did. But you certainly still felt its effects. 

You were in a corner chatting away with Rava, you’d gladly clutched to her company as soon as she had arrived despite the fact that she initially wasn’t intending to stay for long. She was the nicest and most genuine of any of the partners that the Roys had ever brought back to the family. Well other than Willa you quickly thought, you liked Willa and had from the get-go, she was down to earth and easy to get along with. She also made an impressively good balance to the often well-intending but very chaotic nature of your eldest sibling. 

“Wow wee, Little Bo Peep!” A voice blurted, grabbing your attention and forcing you to turn. You found that Roman had awkwardly jumped onto the seat next to you with a poor landing that he brushed off as he completely ignored Rava, solely focusing his attention on you. 

“Wait what? Is that a nickname? What kind of nickname is that? And  Rava was talking-” 

“The kind that losers like you get.” He instantly quipped back. 

“How charming.” You sighed as you took a sip of your drink. 

“You didn’t bring a date?” Roman questioned. 

“Rava and I were having a conversation, Ro.” Roman just looked at you blankly. “Remember Rava? Kendall’s wife for over a decade, the mother of your niece and neph-” 

“Hey Rava,” Roman says turning to face her for a brief second before turning his attention back to you, Rava just scoffs, already exposed and more than used to these antics. “So, did you bring a date?” 

“No, did you?” 

“Not tonight didn’t really feel like it.” He says dryly and then looks back up at you. 

“Fair enough.” You respond. Anxiously waiting. 

There’s bound to be more. There’s always a biting and inappropriate comment seconds away from leaving Roman’s mouth. 

“But so, are you like seeing anyone?” 

“What the fuck Roman?!” You spoke and Rava had an expression of disbelief over the audacity of Roy men but not in shock, she was well acquainted with it. 

“Well, I’m not asking because I’m interested. Because trust me, I’m not.” He says with that proud, troublemaking smirk. 

“Oh, my god.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Perfect! I’ll take that as a no!” Roman practically leapt out of his chair in the most chaotic way possible. He pinched your arm once he was out of his chair as he grabbed your arm to pull you along. 

“Ow!” 

“Come on, I barely touched you. I want you to meet someone.” Roman said as he held your arm in his grip leaving to navigate the crowd. “You have treehouse access right?” 

“I was talking to Rava, Rome!” You said trying to squirm your way out of his grip. 

“She’ll still be there and if not, you can get brunch and get drunk off mimosas and cry over those really mean but rich Roy men.” He teased as he said the last half of that sentence in a mock crying voice. 

“Jesus, Rome!” You sighed. “Who are you introducing me to?” 

“Lukas Matsson.” 

“Wait what?” You halted in your tracks making Roman stop his walk, he turned to face you looking irritated that you’d delayed his plans. You weren’t too familiar with the name but you recognised it, certain that Kendall had mentioned it earlier in the week. 

“Kendall won’t give me fucking  treehouse access!” Roman practically shouted, loud enough to be heard over the party, and then his voice quietened down to a more reasonable volume. “And Matsson’s like a weird, bored giant apparently so I’m introducing you two. I don’t know, maybe money once removed from the family business is new money’s type?” 

“Before we even get into what you just said, did you only come to Kendall’s party because of that guy?” You sighed and asked looking at Roman. He scoffed and looked down for a moment, kicking at nothing.

“It’s in our name isn’t it?” He looked back up, with a smirk on his face.

“Oh my god Rome.” 

“What, come on. You’re my little sister, not my mom so maybe quit that tone, yeah? And maybe Matsson will be a philanthropist and you can get off your moral high horse and you two can fuck it out and I’ll be namedropped in your wedding speeches. Doesn’t sound too shabby for a Roy does it?” Rome quipped, in his cartoony, douche voice, signalling that talking to him was a losing battle. “Just get me in, maintain a conversation for a couple of minutes and I won’t tell everyone about that summer with mom.” 

“You’re such a tool.” You huffed out and started walking towards the treehouse.  

“You adore me.” Roman teased as he held your arm less tightly than before as you made your way over. 

“So, as the adored older brother you are, you’re trying to pimp me out for a business deal?” 

Roman just laughed at that and didn’t answer. But that verbal silence minus the laugh was more than enough of an answer. You entered the treehouse with surprisingly little fuss. You looked around and raised an eye at Roman.

“The Swedish giant over there. Come on, get that award-winning therapist smile out. If you diagnose him with something in five minutes, I might say happy birthday to Ken-doll.” 

“You’re literally the biggest jerk of my brothers right now, you know that right? And I have three, so that kind of says a lot.” You said quietly, as Roman and you made your way over to the tall blonde man that looked bored out of his brains. “Full disclosure, I’m telling Ken about this.” 

“Ugh, you’re such a bitch. Do you really need to be a narc?” Roman said as you both continued to walk over. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, as you got closer you were able to fully see the tall blond man. Personally, you thought it was almost rude, the way he was sitting and playing some crappy game on his phone, looking the most bored you’d ever seen someone. He was like a child dragged along on errands with their parent but wanting to be anywhere but there. Roman started the conversation with him, he said your name as a means of introduction and the Swede visibly perked up slightly. 

“The youngest Roy finally comes out to play!” Lukas said with the look of an overexcited child. 

“I suppose so.” You pause for a second. “It’s nice to meet you, Lukas.” 

“Romey, I think you should get your sister a drink, she looks thirsty…” 

You shudder at that, he hadn’t given you good vibes and this was uncomfortable, you looked at Roman to beg him not to leave you alone with Matsson but he completely ignored you and went off. 

“So you’re not in the family business essentially at all, right?” Lukas asked as he quirked his brow as he looked you up and down. 

“Nope, my involvement is pretty non-existent.” You paused for a moment watching him. Rome would owe you big time for whatever the fuck this is you thought. You hated it. “But based on my brother’s eagerness over you, I’m assuming that you’re looking at an in?”  

“To the business or the family?” He has a large smirk on his face as if he’s said the wittiest thing ever. Lukas leans forward in his chair watching you intently. 

“I was meaning business but I guess there’s not much separation in family or business matters there.” Lukas raises an eyebrow briefly at that, he’s not surprised at that observation but he is a little taken aback at your air of candour. 

But that’s how you are with everyone. You tell yourself that if Roman didn’t want you to say such things, he wouldn’t have left you alone, he knows you. He was practically asking for it by bringing you into this awkward mess of an interaction. 

“The business potentially, I suppose the family is a bit more complicated…” He teases. 

“Buy into Waystar, you’re in the Roy’s den somewhere.” You respond somewhat cynically and absentmindedly as you look away trying to find Roman or well any familiar face. 

“Well, Miss Roy-” The way he says it makes you shudder and you immediately correct him. 

“Dr. Roy.” His eyebrows raise again, he looks borderline amused and laughs a little. He has the nature of a spoiled child in a tall, 40-something-year-old’s body you think. 

“Dr. Roy. Sorry, you’re not quite what I was expecting.” 

“Why, did you meet my sister first? Then Rome?” You quip back with a dry chuckle. 

It wasn’t the first time and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time that somebody had said something to that effect, often because of what they’d assumed based on either their interactions with your family members or the general reputation of your family. 

“I haven’t met her yet. But no, you’re just different- which I’d heard of course, but still. It’s different seeing different in the flesh you know?” “I guess so.” “Not a bad thing though.”

“Well thanks, I really needed that ego boost.” You sigh. 

He licks his lips and leans even closer, “Did you maybe want to head out? I’d love to pick your delightful brain amongst other things-” 

“How the fuck did Ken get you here Matsson?” Stewy’s voice cuts in, more serious than usual. 

Lukas doesn’t seem to notice and they must be acquainted you think, it doesn’t surprise you though. If Ken knows him, Stewy’s bound to, and regardless of Ken, Stewy magically knows everyone. You look up at Stewy, feeling slightly more relaxed as he stands near your chair. He doesn’t look at you, not even for a second which is unusual for him, even at public events. There’s always some acknowledgement in his eyes at the very bare minimum. 

You knew that Stewy was coming tonight but you didn’t expect to see him so soon. Like every event you both attended, your entrances and exits were perfectly timed. Coordinated flawless, unsuspicious executions. You’d come 3 hours earlier than Stewy to this and you’d leave with at least an hour gap between you both. That had been the plan but you didn’t think it had quite been the 3 hours yet, just over 2 hours you thought. It made more sense optics-wise for you to be here longer and Stewy to just pop through.  

“Oh, Hosseini- what a sight for bored eyes you are man,” Matsson says as Roman appears.

“There, slurp up.” Roman’s eyes hesitantly shift to Stewy as he hands you the mysterious alcoholic drink for your ‘thirst’. 

“I’m not drinking that.” You quickly respond, giving the drink back to Roman and he rolls his eyes, nonchalantly taking a generous sip from the glass as if to prove a point. 

“Shouldn’t you be in a bathroom with Kendall somewhere?” Roman directs at Stewy. 

“No, unfortunately, we’re waiting. They’re all occupied.” His eyes meet Roman’s but before they do he finally makes eye contact with you, his gaze is firm and he doesn’t look impressed. 

The whole energy of this interaction is making you severely uncomfortable. You’d seen and heard of Stewy giving others non-impressed glances and quips but you’d never seen him make eye contact with you before with an expression like that. That paired with Roman and Matsson playing some weird business game of chicken at Kendall’s birthday was not how you wanted to spend the night. You wished you were still talking to Rava or chatting to Willa wherever she and Connor were. Or that you were home. That was the ideal situation here. There’s a tense air between everyone and despite it being earlier than being agreed upon, you’re ready to head off now. You’d already talked to Ken and given him a present, seeing him and showing face for a bit for his sake was the priority of the evening.

“I need to go-” You start to say before you’re cut off. 

“Don’t abandon us, Dr Roy!” Lukas exclaims playfully like a spoilt child. 

“Sorry but I need to hit the powder room, I’m on my period.” You lie in a manner as if you’re just bluntly stating a fact as you stand up. Stewy chuckles softly, it's the softest you’ve seen his eyes look all night, well for all of the duration of your awkward interaction with Matsson. While Stewy sees through the lie and you’re sure that Roman does as well, the false candour, unfortunately, intrigues Lukas more. 

“Regular? Super? Wait, just bring me back your tampon please?” Roman asks looking up at you. 

“I don’t use tampons.” You sigh as you start to walk off. Immediately regretting your genuine candour this time. 

“Right, sorry.” Roman then looks at Lukas and Stewy. “Well you’ve seen my mum’s vagina tonight but here’s a secret about my sister’s, it’s that tight she can’t use tampons.” 

You glare at Roman who looks absolutely chuffed with himself, he starts to giggle like the child he still is inside and you roll your eyes. Stewy looks at you with a very tight lip smile, struggling not to laugh, even with jealousy coursing through his veins. 

“Maybe stop talking about your family’s vaginas Rome?” Stewy raises an eyebrow at Rome. 

“I don’t know how I always forget about your condition, always snapping dicks. Serial pad user this one.” Rome says to you, directing it at Matsson and completely ignoring Stewy. 

“I don’t have vaginismus which is a very real and not a birthday tech/finance bro over drinks discussion, so stop implying that please and go back to your weird networking.” You say as you walk off, not looking back at the trio of the men. 

“Moderna vagina dentata!” Roman calls out after you. 

“She’s like a diplomatic firecracker right?!” Lukas laughs looking at Roman who smirks and shrugs. 

************** 

You finish washing your hands and unlock the door, getting ready to leave. You’ve gone toilet and you know Roman will be busy sucking up to Matsson and you can make a quick, silent, unnoticed exit. You’ve stepped out and are leaving the bathroom but as soon as you do you feel hands immediately pounce on you, it’s a blur at first and you initially flinch but quickly see it’s Stewy. 

“Get in.” He says as he holds your hips firmly, guiding you back into the bathroom. 

Stewy’s hands leave your body for a moment as he locks the door behind him once you’re both in but they quickly return to where they previously were. 

“Somebody might’ve seen-”

“I don’t fucking care.” He says as he presses his lips against your neck, pinning you to the wall. “Everyone can know baby.” You scoff slightly at that. 

“Well, that’s interesting and surprising, considering you wouldn’t look at me two minutes ago.” He stops kissing your neck and sighs, he tilts his head against your shoulder. “What was going on Stewy? We’re always amicable in public…” You gently probe. 

He nods as his head is still pressed against your shoulder, he sighs again and tilts his head. You can feel his breath on your collarbone and his fastidiously trimmed beard brushes against you, it’s a brief little burn. In another moment it would probably feel more ticklish than it does right now, you’d probably giggle at it like you have in the past. 

“What if we weren’t?” Stewy implores. You pause for a moment, deciphering his meaning. 

“And be what…hostile?” You question somewhat incredulously. 

A change in the method of the public side of your relationship now would surely draw more attention, it certainly would raise eyebrows and questions from those closest and it would become ridiculously complicated. Even with you not being involved at Waystar. 

“No, no. Just open. No more running around, hiding, game of fucking cat and mouse. We don’t even need to say anything, we can just do it. It’s so simple.” He’s moved his handsome head so he’s now looking at you with those wide brown orbs. You exhale slightly and move your hands so that they’re now combing through his hair. It’s handsomely styled but you like it when it has less product and his natural curls are freer. 

“What’s prompting this?”

“And that’s relevant?” 

“I’m just surprised, can you please talk to me?” You ask softly, pleading with him as you continue to gently run your hands through his hair. His hand is rubbing a burning circle on your waist. His eyes are wide and there’s something there that you don’t think you’ve seen before, he almost seems manic. 

“I didn’t like that discussion out there baby.” He says, his tone becoming a bit more serious. 

“This might come as a surprise to you honey but I also am not a fan of when Rome talks about Shiv’s and I’s reproductive systems.” You reply, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“No, I-I didn’t like that but I was meaning with Matsson.” 

“Oh, he’s a creep.” You immediately respond. 

“You’re telling me.” He kisses your lips softly but quickly deepens it, his hands firmly grip onto your hips. You lightly tug on his hair as you moan into his mouth. “He was eye-fucking you like his goonie life depended on it.” 

You chuckle at how he describes it but his face is serious, similar to how it was when he came over during that awful interaction. You don’t know why it took you so long to pinpoint it, it’s jealousy. Stewy Hosseini was jealous. 

Stewy Hosseini was jealous of that interaction, even though you’d both immediately agreed Lukas Matsson was a creep. You kiss him softly and move one of your hands to his shoulder. He eagerly returns the kiss back, filled with hunger. 

“Stewy?” You ask quietly. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you jealous…?” 

His brow noticeably furrows at that question, it’s quite a sight. His hair was now tousled and curlier from your tugging and raking through them, his eyes wide with lust and the aforementioned jealousy and his lips kiss-swollen. He was painfully handsome and you wished that you two weren’t in a bathroom at a party. 

“Did you only just put that together baby?” He asks after watching you for a moment, a cocky smirk on his face. You sigh with a small nod and roll your eyes, which just makes his smirk grow even more. “I don’t want anybody to ever look at you like that again and nobody ever gets to touch you but me.”

He immediately presses his face against yours for another passionate and extremely hungry kiss, you open up your mouth for him and he immediately accepts the invitation. It’s a fiery clashing of teeth and lips, you quickly get lost in it, one hand gripping onto his shoulder as the other one tugs on his hair not so gently this time. 

He groans out against your mouth as you tug on his locks. His hand pinches your hip before he moves it down and then pushes up your dress, his hand then dances along your thigh while the other bruisingly pinches your hip. 

You moan out against his lips as his fingers press against your underwear, you can feel him pressing his fingers against you and dancing along the clothed area. You writhe slightly against him at the pressure. 

His lips leave yours and he kisses along your jaw, trailing the kisses down your neck. He sucks and licks softly around your pulse, then as his mouth gets closer to your collarbone he nips you teasingly. You whine out at the sensation as your fingers dig deeper into his hair and he immediately kisses over where he’d bit you. 

As he does this, he pushes your underwear to the side so that his fingers can slip through. Your arousal had already started to quickly build between your legs and now he was able to take advantage of that. You moan out as his fingers now run through your folds without the barrier of your underwear, he slips a finger inside of you as his thumb gingerly traces over your bundle of nerves. He kisses your shoulder as he hears your breathing quickly change. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, you know that right?” Stewy asks. His voice was slightly more gentle. “Nobody else ever gets this.” He says more firmly. 

“Only you Stewy.” You breathe out as calmly as you can manage as he inserts a second finger into you. He continues on with his ministrations as he kisses along your neck, reaching that spot he knows you cannot ever get enough of. 

“That’s my girl.” He chuckles as he leaves your neck to kiss your lips again. You're desperate to feel him, it can’t have been more than 2 minutes since his lips left yours but you need to feel him there again. Especially when he’s having his way like this with you. You need Stewy in every sense of the meaning. 

His kiss to your mouth is firm and hungry, you get lost in the feeling of his plump lips as he continues to overwhelm you and provide the most delectable of sensory overwhelms that you could ever imagine. But it is of course, unfortunately not long enough. The world’s longest kiss wouldn’t be long enough with Stewy though, which you of course know but it never stops you from wanting, needing longer, needing and craving more. 

When he breaks the kiss, Stewy slides down to his knees on the floor of the bathroom. In your right mind, you’d probably be too focused on the unhygienic nature of this environment but you don’t even think of that. You are just desperate for Stewy, aching for him in any and every way in which you can have him. You don’t think anyone has ever felt as desperate for someone as you do for Stewy.  

He expertly but gently spreads your legs out, putting one over his shoulder as he softly kisses along your thighs. The kisses are soft and hot and as you feel his breath against your sensitive thighs, you feel your core clench and every nerve ending of yours tingle in desire and anticipation for him. 

Stewy continues to pump his fingers in and out of you as his kisses get closer to your core, you squirm slightly as he does. He gives a few gentle kisses to your vulva, your arousal is covering his fingers and running down his hands and he licks through your folds. Softly groaning at that as you let out a whimper at the contact, the noise coming from you is so beautiful, melodic to Stewy. 

The noise spurs him on and his tongue gingerly circles around your bundle of nerves, the pressure is so perfect and the build-up from his teasing and the making out just adds to the feeling. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, gripping it for leverage and as a way to communicate just how he makes you feel. He continues to lick and kiss at your clitoris and you know it won’t be long till you reach your peak at this rate. 

Stewy’s fingers continue at their work, getting deeper and reaching that spongy spot that makes you sharply gasp. Stewy smirks against you as he hears that, he hums against your bundle of nerves and the vibrations make you shudder, bringing you so much closer. 

“Oh my god, Stewy!” You moan out as you roughly tug at his hair. 

“Come on, come for me, baby. I want to taste you and feel it all over my face.” He says in between kisses to your bundle of nerves and around it. You nod and he continues to finger you and to give your clitoris attention, it isn’t much longer until you feel your climax coming on. 

“I’m going to- oh baby!” You whimper out, and he continues at the same pace as you shake against him as your peak arrives and you ride it out. He smirks against you as he tastes you. 

After your orgasm, he stays there, looking up at you in awe for a moment, supporting your body as it’s still somewhat weakened from that orgasm. He then stands back up, he pulls your dress back down and smirks.  Stewy holds your hip gently and his free hand comes up to gently stroke your cheek. The pad of his thumb feels so soft against your cheek. You can’t help but smile at him, so absolutely in love with him and he returns the grin. 

“You might want to clean that up, honey.” You say with a smirk as you lean against the wall, enjoying the feeling of him pressed against you so intimately. 

“Nope.” He immediately firmly says. 

“Nope?” 

“I don’t care who knows, honestly I want everyone to know. Everyone should know about us and that I’m the only one who gets this baby. Fuck Matsson, fuck anyone else.”

“I think a decision like this should have a proper conversation, one that isn’t just jealously induced sweetie.” You respond as softly as you can, as you close your eyes for a moment. You hear a small scoff.

“Such a tease.” He says and you can’t help but smile when seeing the devilish expression on his face. He’s simultaneously charming, and handsome but also arrogant and you love it so much. 

“I don’t want you to regret it.” You genuinely mean it. “I never would.” He immediately responds. 

“I love you.” 

It’s not a conversation you can have right now, the bathroom at your brother’s 40th birthday party is not the right environment for this. It needs to be one at home that isn’t post-sex acts either.

“I love you too.” He says as he rubs his forehead and sighs briefly. “Go home, I’ll leave fifteen minutes after you. I know- small risk but it’s worth it.” You chuckle and kiss him on the cheek. “I expect you to be in bed waiting when I get there though.” He says earnestly but still playfully. That’s your Stewy, always playful and blunt. 

“Sure thing Mr. Hosseini, maybe write me a love poem on the way home?” You tease with a small giggle. 

“Oh baby, you didn’t get my love poem?” He has that loveable but chaotic, cocky smirk on his face. 

“What?” You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“That was my love poem.” As he delivers that line his smirk somehow grows by ten times. You roll your eyes at him as you kiss him on the lips softly. “Wait, do I need to better emphasise next time?” He teases with a wicked grin and laughs. 

“Get better material, Hosseini.” You immediately quip back with a smirk as you leave the bathroom stall to make an Irish Goodbye from Kendall’s birthday to go home, our home you think. 

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

(Sorry if this is too weird for you. You can just ignore it if you like.)

So...what's it like to drink the Ghoul's piss? I'm wondering about taste, smell, temperature, and side-effects.

*blush*

(*Homelander voice* Go ahead...let's light this candle, huh??)

Friend, when I said this blog is kink-friendly and I don't judge, I meant that this blog is kink-friendly and I don't judge. I've yet to get a single ask/question/request that's made me uncomfortable, or even made me look at it funny, and this certainly isn't the point where I'm gonna start. With that said...

The taste? Oh babe, lemme tell you, it's not good. Don't get me wrong, I don't think anyone in the Fallout universe would have inoffensive-tasting piss (chronic dehydration is too widespread and frankly these people have fucked-up diets, plus constant radiation exposure for most of them). But I fully believe that ghoul metabolic processes are streamlined to utilize any beneficial resources with maximum efficiency (chiefly, calories and water; this would fall in line with characters like The Ghoul being put into situations where they survive for years and years with no food or water). To be blunt, I don't think his kidneys are producing a ton of urine, save for the bare minimum of biological waste that comes from them simply operating.

Long story short, I think the man maybe pisses once every few days if he's had enough water, and it would be dark and STRONG, both in smell and taste.

I also have a headcanon that ghouls run noticeably hotter than regular humans due to the sheer amount of energy that gamma radiation produces. The radiation alone may not produce much measurable physical heat, but I think a human body plied with it down to the cell level would basically work as a space heater. I don't think most ghouls worry about thermoregulation in the heat.

You know what that means, though? Incredibly hot piss. Like, steaming hot even when it's not cold outside. Hot enough to make you gasp when it hits your skin, startling without actually burning you.

In terms of side-effects from contact or ingesting, I'm envisioning the same sort of deal as with ghoul cum (which I elaborated on in an almost-equally unhinged post here); it's incredibly radioactive and will make you very ill if you fuck around too much. Getting a little on you probably wouldn't be any worse than trudging through your average puddle of nuclear waste, but if you're intending to have it inside you in any way, especially swallowing it, you need to be careful. Prep with Rad-X (which reduces the amount of radiation that "sticks" to you, up to a certain point), finish up with Radaway (which removes already-accumulated radiation) if you're determined to be a piss queen or a ghoul cum dumpster. No judgement! I just want to make sure you know you're in for some pretty severe nausea, open sores/burns (especially in your mouth), bleeding from the nose, and bruising if you're not careful. We love nasty fun around here, but we also love safety.

Also, you didn't ask about this, but based on what you DID ask, I'll assume you'd also be interested in knowing what his reaction to you bringing up such things would be.

And honestly? I think you'd get essentially the same reaction from Prewar!Coop and The Ghoul.

I think he'd be hesitant. Not because he finds it too gross or off-putting or anything, but he'd worry that it'll be disrespectful to you in a way that he, as a man, shouldn't engage in (moreso Prewar!Coop), and because he's worried it could be harmful to you (moreso The Ghoul). Don't get me wrong; I think he'd certainly be intrigued, and I think you being both bold and vulnerable enough to ask for such a thing would make his head spin in the best possible way. What a display of trust! As I've said before, I think this man had (and has) lots of weird kinks himself, he just hasn't had the opportunities to explore them that he needs. Many of those kinks he doesn't even realize he has.

But even though you can see that intrigue in his pretty eyes, see the forming bulge in his pants, you may have to be persistent if you really wanna try it out. He's very firm about not doing anything that'll really harm you, and he isn't initially convinced this won't.

If I'm quite honest? Prewar!Cooper would be even more turned on by it than The Ghoul once he came around to the idea. I think it would arouse him so much to see his favorite pretty little plaything so enamored with him that they'll do anything to please him, for him to make them feel good, including debase themselves completely. I think that you being so into him that you want him to piss on you, in you, would both stroke his ego and feed his most primal, possessive urges.

Best bet to get him started? Hop in the shower with him, get him all worked up as per usual, and then drop to your knees and start blowing him. Once you get him worked up enough that he could very nearly cum, pull back and keep stroking him slowly while you beg for it. Provided you've timed things right, there's no way he'd be able to say no...just give him a second. It's difficult to piss with a massive, throbbing erection. Maybe if you played with the head (with your tongue) while he tried, that would help. Who says you have to pull away when he finally starts if you don't want to?

Hope you're ready for an engagement ring after that.

The Ghoul mostly finds appeal in how filthy it is, in seeing this clean, gorgeous young thing having to dirty themselves to survive. Eventually, fully embracing the filth because they're part of the Wasteland now, coming to enjoy filth to some degree. I think that aspect of it would really get him going. Remember that scene where he watches Lucy drink the contaminated water that ultimately makes her sick? I saw a post on here when I first started the blog (I can't find it now!) about him offering Lucy an alternative to that when she was begging for some of his water...it really awakened something in me. Enough said.

I think he'd enjoy it as much as you, when it came down to it, but I think he would also make you beg for it, loudly and fervently, every single time you want it. From the very first time, it's gonna rile him up like no other that his pristine little companion is begging him to dirty them in such a disgusting way. I don't think he'd be too keen on letting you swallow it, honestly, much like I don't think he'd be too keen on letting you swallow his cum because of the radiation. But I think if you ask pretty enough, nasty enough, he'd be more than happy to piss on you or in your other holes. Only if he knows you're set up with plenty of Radaway, though.

People don't really get "engaged", or even married anymore, per se, but if you think you're getting away from this man after you let him do that to you, you're sorely mistaken.

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Taglist Form

Summary: For Josh, home is where you are. | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Pairings: Josh x Wife! Reader (Josh POV) | Genres: domestic fluff, angst, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 3k | Warnings: a little mention of spice

A/N: I loved Josh's most recent insta caption about the stage being his ethereal living room he gets to share with us, but I also love hurt/comfort, so I made it angsty and fluffy for Josh and Baby. I hope you like it! ♡

“The stage is your ‘ethereal living room’?”

Josh looked up from the charcuterie board he was meticulously arranging to see you on your phone, presumably scrolling through the concert pictures he’d posted half an hour ago. He smiled.

“Yeah, you know.” He tapped a row of crackers into line until they were perfect. “The shows are a place where people come together to enjoy each other’s company. Somewhere that feels like home.”

You didn’t say anything. He glanced up at you again.

“Ethereal means — ”

“I know what ethereal means, Josh.” Your face went pink. “It’s just not usually a word you use to describe a living room.”

He was a little surprised at your tone; it bordered on sounding upset, but maybe that was just because he’d embarrassed you, though he certainly hadn’t meant to.

“I was just trying to help, baby,” he said gently. He tried for some humor. “And you’re right, it’s not usually a word you’d use to describe a living room. Definitely not our living room in the state it’s been in lately.”

That had the opposite of the intended effect, and he wished he could take it back when your face fell. “You don’t think it’s ready for tonight?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “It’s ready now. Everything looks great. I just meant that we haven’t been as good about tidying every night, so it’s been a wreck recently.”

“Right,” you said, but it was doubtful and tense. “Well, I tried to get most of it done while you were at work — ”

“I know, baby.” He felt that he’d botched this conversation pretty badly, but you also seemed much more sensitive than you usually were. “It was a huge help, and I’m grateful that you did most of the cleaning when we made the mess together.”

“I didn’t make it quite as ethereal as a concert, though,” you said, and your laugh was a little strained.

He wondered at your fixation on the wording of his caption, but maybe you were trying to make it into a running joke.

“The Kiszkas wouldn’t know what to do with a living room too perfect for this world,” he teased. He set the board on the other side of the island and went hunting for the wine glasses. “Could you grab me the corkscrew, honey?”

You did as he said, but there was a pensiveness to your body language that made him worry. You’d been in a great mood all day, his happy bubbly girl, spending the day shopping and tidying and preparing for the dinner party you were hosting. Jake, Sparrow, Sam, and Danny were due to arrive any time now, and Josh had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with you after work getting your home ready for your family. He didn’t know what had brought on this sudden change in mood, and he racked his brain for what could have caused it and what he could do to fix it.

“Dessert smells really good,” he said sincerely. “Did you end up putting the strawberries in there too?”

You handed him the corkscrew and stood uneasily as he opened the Riesling, toying with the sleeve of your pretty dress.

“No,” you said quietly. “It’s just regular blackberry cobbler. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

A frown tugged at his features. “I don’t,” he said. He popped the cork out.  “Of course I don’t mind. That sounds great, honey.”

“It’s not very exciting,” you said apologetically.

He didn’t know where this was going. Surely you weren’t upset about the dessert you’d made, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what you really were upset about. He decided to stick with his usual strategy, which was mostly just continuing to be sweet to you. 

“I don’t need exciting, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek. “It’ll be perfect. I can’t wait to try it.”

Working together, but without your usual quips and jokes back and forth, you and Josh put the finishing touches on dinner before the doorbell rang. Josh put his dishtowel over his shoulder and went to welcome your guests in, and he was happy that you joined him.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said. “I love that dress on you.”

You touched a hand to the neckline of your summery black dress patterned with little red cherries. “Oh, well, it’s only a sundress. But... thank you.” The usual enthusiastic enjoyment of his compliments he loved hearing was nowhere in your voice. He wished he could wait to open the door and ask what was bothering you, but the doorbell was now accompanied by rhythmic knocking the type of which only a drummer could deliver. 

“I’m telling you,” Josh said, trying one last-ditch attempt to coax a smile out of you. “This ethereal living room business — it’s better if it’s just our plain old living room with these hooligans.”

The smile you gave him was clearly only for his sake, not even reaching your eyes. Discouraged and unable to stall any longer, he turned the door handle. 

“I didn’t mean to push this on you,” you blurted. Your expression was anxious and regretful. “I’m sorry, Josh.”

By the time he’d processed what you’d said, the door was already open, and your family was coming inside full of laughter and bearing gifts of wine and appetizers and card games to play. He wanted to jump right into the festive atmosphere his brothers and sister-in-law brought with them, but he was completely preoccupied by your blurted-out apology for... what? What could you have to be sorry for? He looked across the foyer and felt his heart twist when he saw your strained smile as you welcomed your family inside.

“Alright, Kiszkas,” he said with more levity than he felt. He ushered everyone into the living room, pointing out the drinks and snacks on the kitchen island. “Eat, drink, and be merry. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

He asked Danny to watch the sauce simmering on the back of the stove, wanting to try and get a moment with you before dinner. He left Sparrow and his brothers chatting and snacking in the kitchen and found you in the dining room, double-checking the place settings you’d already made perfect an hour before.

“Baby,” he said gently. “What did you mean, you’re sorry for ‘pushing this on me’? Did you mean dinner?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I should have asked you before I planned it.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “You did ask me. Didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said sheepishly. “I think I just told you I was doing it, and you went along with it.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t mind,” he said sincerely. “I’m glad you planned it.” He debated giving you space or pressing a little deeper, and he risked the latter. He came around the table to the side where you stood.

“I’m glad we’re all spending time together,” he said. He took your hands in his. “I’d like to enjoy it with you, too, but I wouldn't be happy if you were unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy,” you lied.

“Baby,” he chided tenderly. “You’ve been out of sorts for a little bit now, and I want to help you get back into sorts. I just don’t know how.”

You looked up at him. “Are you sure you’re happy with... all this?”

He raised a brow. “Dinner? Or, like, the universe as a whole?”

You sighed. “No, I mean... do you like being home? Maybe it’s a little lackluster after touring.”

“That could not be farther from the truth,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. Was that all that was bothering you? 

“Silly girl,” he said with a smile. “Of course I like being home. I love being home.”

“But it’s... it’s just... me,” you said lamely. “Just our house.”

“I’m still not seeing a problem,” he said, affectionately teasing. “I love you, and I love our house, especially when it has all the people we love in it drinking all our wine.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Then — “Are you sure?”

For a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He felt a surprisingly sharp flash of hurt at your doubt. He tamped it down to focus on you, his sweet wife, who apparently felt that his homecoming had been spent wishing he was back out on the road.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he finally said. He cupped your face in his hands, reading something sad and needful in your expression but unable to figure out how to fix it. “I love being home with you, baby. I miss you so much when I’m away. You don’t know that?”

He saw your eyes sparkle with tears and wished desperately he could understand how it had gotten this bad, wished he could figure out how to fix it.

“Hey,” he said softly. He kissed you. “I love you. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“But it’s not — ”

“It’s perfect,” he said, gently cutting across your protest. “And though I love the way you open our home to our family, even just being with you, eating takeout in our pajamas, would have been perfect too.”

You gave him a watery smile at that, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“There’s that smile,” he said tenderly. He brushed the tears from your face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, baby. You're everything to me. You’re my heart. You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded and kissed him, and he was so happy to have helped even a little. He’d probably ask about it again, try to understand what had made you think such a thing so that you'd never have to think it again. For now, though, your family was waiting, and you seemed eager now to get back to them.

“Don't tell them I was crying,” you said, running your hands over your cheeks, trying to hide the telltale signs. “Tell them we were having a quickie or something.”

He chuckled. “I'm not sure I’m skilled enough for that to be believable, baby. Less than five minutes is a lot to ask.” He kissed your cheek. “And I won’t tell them you were crying. That’s between you and me.” To his way of thinking, a husband's job was to protect his wife at her most vulnerable, not to expose her. These moments between you, the words and soft touches and intimacy you shared — those were just for the two of you, and Josh treasured the privilege of being the one you shared yourself with when you needed a little extra love.

You took his hand, and when he was sure you were ready, he led you back out to where your family waited. 

He saw you return to your usual self as the night went on, and he loved to hear your laugh and watch your smile light up your face as you spent time with your family. Sam, Danny, Jake, and Sparrow — they never failed to bring warmth and light with them wherever they went, and Josh knew that there was no better medicine than their terrible jokes and affectionate bickering and safe, easy love. You were always beautiful, but joy made you ravishing; you shone as brightly as the sun when you were happy, and he felt a weight come off his shoulders as you came back to yourself.

After dinner, you found a spot on the couch; as Josh went to fix glasses of wine for both of you, he watched the drama unfolding in the living room. Catty corner to you, Sam and Jake were playing guitar, Sam casually and Jake with characteristic seriousness; Sparrow sat perched on the arm of Sam’s chair, and Danny sat on the floor.

“Watch him,” Danny said, slipping a hair tie from his wrist and aiming it like a slingshot at Jake. “I bet he won’t stop playing.”

“No, Danny!” Sparrow giggled around the straw stuck in her wine glass. “That would be so mean to my poor Jakey.”

“He wont’ even notice,” Danny said, unable to hide an impish smile. “Watch.”

He shot the hair tie at Jake, and it popped him on the forehead before tumbling down the guitar and landing on the floor. Jake didn’t miss a beat.

Danny and Sparrow dissolved in uproarious laughter, and Jake merely rolled his eyes with a telltale smile.

“You’re all idiots,” he said.

“Not me!” Sam protested. He watched Jake’s fingers, invested in learning the tune now. “I’m trying to play with you, but geez, can you dial it down from rock god so I can figure it out?”

Jake slowed his playing, talking Sam through the notes, and good-naturedly accepted a kiss on his forehead from Sparrow. Danny tried to find the hair tie again and hit Sam with it when he did, earning himself a nudge with Sam’s foot that made Danny laugh and lean his head against Sam’s knee in apology.

Josh brought your drinks over to the couch and handed yours to you. “For you, baby.”

You accepted it gratefully and patted the spot next to you. “Thanks, honey. Come sit with me.”

He did, draping one arm over the back of the couch behind you, pleased when you scooched closer to him. He gave you a sweet, chaste kiss.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asked gently.

You couldn’t help a dull blush, but you gave him a bashful smile. “Yes. I’m sorry I was so... tearful earlier.”

“That’s alright, honey. Would you mind telling me what it was that got you so upset?”

You ran the pad of your thumb over the bottom of your wineglass. He was patient as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“It’s silly,” you said finally. “You’ll either laugh or be annoyed that I made such a big deal about it.”

He considered that. You usually took things in your stride, and neither of you made a habit of being offended or upset over trivial, accidental things. Whatever it was, it had hurt you, and he would validate that feeling no matter what it turned out to be.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” he said. “And I don't think I’ll be annoyed.” He really just wanted to know what it was, and he told you so.

Your nervous, wandering fingers found his, and he was content to let you play with his wedding ring. You brushed your thumb over the shiny gold surface.

“It was your caption,” you said. ���You know, for those pictures you posted.”

He was bemused for a moment. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “There’s no greater feeling in the world than returning to the stage. It is my ethereal living room. A place where things feel lighter than air. I love you.”

If anyone had asked him to recite from memory the caption he’d written himself, he couldn't have done it. The fact that you knew it word for word told him you must have been saying it over and over again in your head since you’d read it.

He thought of the wording in light of your feelings and saw how it could have hurt you. It had been their first show back after a long break spent at home, and while you were in your plain old living room at home and missing him, he’d apparently been away in a much better living room doing much more exciting and wonderful things without you. Of course he hadn’t really been comparing a concert to the home he shared with you — it was only an Instagram caption, after all, and not a serious commentary on his life. But even though he felt it was reasonable for you to have known that, he also knew that sometimes the heart wasn’t reasonable.

He twined his fingers with yours. “Sweet baby,” he said. “I’m sorry it hurt you. It wasn’t my intention at all. I don’t know if it helps, but I wasn’t thinking about our real life living room when I wrote that. I just thought it sounded clever.”

“I know,” you said. You gave him a wobbly smile. “It was clever. It’s sweet. And the fans deserve a little love note from you. I just...”

“You just missed me,” he said, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I know, baby. I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry I made such a big deal out of it. I could have just been honest that I was upset. But really, I should have just taken it like you meant it and not started catastrophizing, thinking you weren’t happy at home.”

“Well, sometimes our imaginations run away with us,” he said, patient and kind. “For the record, I am happy at home with you, baby. You in your old sundress making regular blackberry cobbler is the kind of thing I dream about when I'm away from you. And if I could only have one, I’d pick our less-than-ethereal living room and be glad to share it with you for as long as I lived.”

You touched his cheek. “Why are you so sweet to me?”

“Because I love you very much,” he said simply. He kissed you. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know that,” you said softly, tenderly. “Of course I know that. I love you very much too.”

He kissed you again, taking his time, drawing you closer to him. You tasted like sweet wine and sounded so pretty when your breath caught, your fingers brushing through his curls, your heartbeat light and fast under his hands, almost ethereal.

From the other side of the living room, there was a vague commotion and contagious laughter from Sparrow and his brothers. 

“Should we check on them?” you asked, your voice muffled and smiley as you kissed him.

He chuckled. “They’re fine. Hush and let me kiss you.”

You did, and when you threw your arms around his neck to pull him even closer, he decided you weren’t ethereal after all. The two of you together, surrounded by the ones you loved, laughter and joy and music filling your home — it was something better than ethereal, something earthy and imperfect and steady. For all he loved his work, this right here was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, Mrs. Kiszka,” he said gently.

You smiled and set everything right in his world. “I love you too, Joshy.”

@wideminded-dreamer and @spark-my-nature were particularly excited for this one so hey here you go <3

[chthonic-cassandra]

what vampire musicals are there? asking bc of the tag meme you posted a few days(?) ago where you said it was pretty accurate aside from no vampire musicals... i know wildhorn dracula, but what else? (and which are good?)

Thank you for asking a question which allows me to indulge myself by recounting all this. The question of "good," however, is rather fraught, and I ask everyone to remember that these opinions are just my own.

The (probably) first, and the only one to achieve significant success, was Jim Steinman's Tanz der Vampire/Dance of the Vampires, first stage in 1997. Tanz was an adaptation of Roman Polanski's comedic vampire movie The Fearless Vampire Killers, and features "Total Eclipse of the Heart," a song Steinman always intended to be about vampires. Tonally, the musical veers wildly between the broad comedy of the source film and something approaching sincerity and the comedy sections have never really worked for me, but it's certainly the most musically sophisticated of the vampire musicals and at its best, like in the major ballad sung by the lead vampire character about the loves he has killed (here sung by original cast Steve Barton, and here by Drew Sarich, who is in all the major vampire musicals and who we shall have more to say about anon) it's spectacular gothy camp glory.

Tanz was incredibly popular in Austria, where it was first staged, and then throughout Europe and in Japan. However, when it was brought to Broadway it was drastically rewritten, partly at the behest of Michael Crawford, starring in the show and anxious about changes in his body and being compared to his career-making performance in Phantom of the Opera. The comedy was foregrounded and the show was constantly being rewritten, to the point that the actors didn't know how their parts might change performance to performance. I didn't see the Broadway production, but it is accounted by all to be a colossal failure. The show remains popular worldwide to this day, but has not received another major staging in North America.

Next comes the Frank Wildhorn Dracula the Muiscal, which I know you know about, but as it is vital to this narrative I must give some explanation. Wildhorn is a sort of mid-tier musical theater composer, known for melodrama and period pieces. After the popular (though not critical) success of his Jekyll & Hyde musical (1997 on Broadway) he co-wrote Dracula with lyricist Don Black, premiering on Broadway on 2004.

While I maintain that Dracula the Musical has been unjustly maligned by comparison with some other works of musical theater, it is admittedly a mess, and the Broadway production, which was, despite highly publicized special effects, shockingly static, did it no favors. It tries to do far too many things, combining sections of relatively close novel adaptation (Christopher Hampton's book is often quietly strong) with a messily shoehorned Dracula/Mina romance. The score is variable, ranging, even just in Dracula's material, from the rousing "Life After Life" as Dracula welcomes the transformed Lucy, to his cringe-inducing "The Longer I Live". (I still think almost all of the music and lyrics are better than those of Les Miserables but then again I think most things are better than the Les Miserables musical.) The Broadway production had a reasonably strong cast, including Melissa Errico as Mina and Kelli O'Hara as Lucy, but it failed nearly as badly as the American version of Tanz had, if not quite so dramatically.

Wildhorn subsequently brought DtM to Europe, where it enjoyed significantly more success, first in a stripped down modern production in St. Gallen starring Drew Sarich and then in Vienna where the role of Van Helsing was expanded for popular star Uwe Kröger. It's continued to be performed in Europe and Asia, and in some USA community theaters.

Next up was Elton John's Lestat in 2007. One would expect that this musical would have been wonderfully over-the-top glam rock, but somehow Lestat ended up being one of the most staid things I have ever seen. Filled with forgettable music (even if we all do want to see Sam Reid and Jacob Anderson doing "Embrace It". It was further brought down by a lackluster performance of the title character by Hugh Panaro, previously known for his mediocre (sorry Panaro fans!) turn in Phantom. It was enlivened slightly by Carolee Carmello as Gabrielle earning one of the show's only Tony nominations and Drew Sarich (there he is again!) playing a decidedly not book accurate but very entertaining Armand. It also involved a Buddhist monk Marius de Romanus, but I constantly question whether this was a fever dream of mine. Lestat was yet another failure on Broadway and, as far as I can tell, has had no real subsequent afterlife, though I've been wondering if that might change with the IwtV show (and Sam Reid's evident enjoyment of the musical!).

Those are the major vampire musicals, for what they are! But there are also some others which never got even this level of attention, including:

Two dueling French-language Dracula musicals with almost the exact same name, Dracula - L'amour plus fort que la mort and Dracula - Entre l'amour et la mort

A Nosferatu musical which is a strong contender for the worst lyrics I have ever heard but also entertains me

another mysterious Dracula musical made in the UK with songs of wildly varying qualities, but containing the only Mina hero ballad with which I am familiar

There are also edge cases like Bat Boy and Rocky Horror Picture Show, which I would not call vampire musicals but someone else might.

Anyway! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share some of the truly disproportionate amount of information I have about this topic in my head. I hope this brought some entertainment.

[cyborg00-why]

3/25 Cyborg 009 The Stage Short Recap

Spoilers ahead for those who haven't watched the announcement themselves.

Right off the bat we got a sneak peak at the theatrical poster! Not sure how I was expecting 005 and 008 to be handled, but the brown face is disappointing and certainly alienating to global fans of color.

However, the costumes are beautiful and the contrasting pant/coat combo works great. I really love the athletic cut and quilted details on the coats. Ivan is not surprisingly, a prop doll in this production. Personally to me this means we have a 50/50 chance of him either being occasionally lifted by stage ninjas for 'levitating' effects or they just hook him up to wires and let him free like Asamov intended. Only time will tell...

We also got our first glance of the new cyberpunk redesigns of 0010+ and 0010-!

With stage adaptions especially I think it is good to treat them as their own canon. With that in mind I am curious to see how they flesh out the rest of the plot through costume design. My initial reaction was that they reminded me of Team Magma and Team Aqua grunts from older pokemon games. They are very fresh and stylish though, which I think is a good contrast to how formal and outdated Gilmore is presented.

Performance After Event Schedule:

5/18: Special Curtain Call*

5/19: Action Curtain Call*

5/19: After Talk with Nanami Hiroki x Toshiya Sakai x Hiroo Otaka

5/21: After Talk with 001, Interviewer Hiroki Nanami

5/22: After Talk Hiroki Nanami x Daisho Sakuraba x Kazuma Kawahara x Toyota

5/23: After Talk Hiroki Nanami x Minori Sonic x 001

5/24: 009/Joe Shimamura Only Curtain Call*

5/25: After Talk Shunichi Takahashi x Masamichi Satonaka x Ryo Takizawa x Rita Aizawa

5/25: Action Curtain Call*

5/26: Special Curtain Call*

*Photos are permitted at these events

It was revealed that certain performances will also conclude with character specific special events, and include character postcards as well. Very jealous of the folks who get to see this live, and more so for those that attend a photo op!

The interviews with Ivan are sure to be interesting... I am curious to see if they have Nanami interviewing the doll or Ivan's voice actor. I guess we will have to wait and see lol.

To wrap things off the main cast did a short introductory performance, and boy did I try to get some good screen grabs.

How are we feeling about twinkified 002? His lil ponytail moment was a surprise but seems more appropriate for complicated choreographed fight scenes.

Francoise seems to be the newest siri update in this canon, but damn if she doesn't make it look good.

I know the first thing the costume department is doing is adding velcro to that scarf! It just couldn't keep up lol

,':^/ I just want to know who decided the patchy brown face was fine but drew the line at his hands matching. I just want to talk

Changs actor has a few stage position issues but carried on with so much confidence it was almost a non-issue. I am also so impressed if that is a) a hairpiece or b) his real hair he committed to have for the play.

The bloke himself, had an intro as exciting as Francoise but you could tell they were also very excited to play the part. I am probably the most excited to see 007 and 009 perform from this intro alone.

,':^/ if someone doesn't take the bronzer away from him I will get the spray bottle...

Would love to hear others impressions, opinions, and thoughts! Do you like the styling of the play or is it too many degrees removed from the source material? Are you excited to see it or was the news of a play for the 60th anniversary not what you were hoping for?

[mysticstarlightduck]

Get to Know my OC Tag!

I was tagged by @doublegoblin for this! Thank you so much (:

I've done this, a long time ago, for Raelen - from my WIP, The Last Wrath. This time, I'll do this tag for Ahren Ellara - from my WIP, Tales of Wilted Flowers.

Ahren is Faellyn's stern but caring, cousin and adoptive brother (when their House - and their entire family legacy - fell they became the only family each other had to rely on, it had some effects on Ahren's psyche, making him incredibly paranoid)

(You see a tall, lanky young man with long, unruly silvery blond hair, walking towards you. His head is held high, proud, though he fidgets anxiously with his hands as he sits down in front of you. Posture immaculate, though the nervous fidgeting doesn't quite stop, he looks at you, wary and haughty at the same time.)

Are you named after anyone? 

No, I do not think so. Though my father was rather sentimental, I don't think I was named after anyone - at least, not after anyone whom I know or whose name is on our family records. If I was named after anyone else though, there's just no way I could know - and currently, it's too late to ask, wouldn't you say?

When was the last time you cried? 

Why do you ask?! (He blurts out, a bit louder than he'd intended, before sighing, though his eyes narrow, suspiciously) Oh for the love of Gods, fine...When those awful dreams started, a couple of weeks ago. I think - it's all rather blurry, really. (Leans forward, suddenly dangerously serious, showing a hidden dagger) No one else knows, and I am not above making sure it stays this way.

Do you use sarcasm? 

The answer is yes, I think so. I usually don't do it extremely on purpose, it mostly comes out naturally - especially when I'm dealing with annoying company or unexpected situations. Some people think my remarks are quite funny, but I still don't know why.

Do you have kids? 

If you count Faellyn... kinda? I mean, of course, I'm not her father, I'm her cousin, obviously, I'm not that much older than her - but I think I did raise her? I don't know if it really counts, as I was a teenager who didn't have many options and she was an insufferable kid (he chuckles), and later on we got a bodyguard. One could say we raised one another, but given the slight age difference and the assassins on our tracks, I think I did most of the work.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

If they're lying to me, or trying to deceive me or use me in any way. Because most people are, especially when you've got royal blood in your veins and a bounty on your head. I also notice whether or not they're an immediate threat. If not, I mostly notice their quirks, whether they have a sense of humor, if they're assassins working for the King - you know, the normal stuff.

What’s your eye color? 

Dark Greyish Blue, but it does seem to have a slight green hue. I like my eyes.

Scary or Happy Endings? 

(With a mischievous smile, leans forward). Why not both? There's nothing wrong with the right amount of terror and fun!

Any special talents? 

I've been trained in sword fighting and archery, and I would say I am pretty good at it. I also like to write poetry I never let anyone read and I can embroider/sew somewhat adequately.

Where were you born? 

I was a child/ward of House Ellara, whose castles were hidden in the Far Reaches of Ravaryn, so I'm pretty sure I was born in one of the royal chambers of one of those castles. I don't quite remember which one though, it's been a while since I was there.

What are your hobbies? 

Uh, I draw and write random stuff in my journal, sometimes? I guess poetry like I mentioned before, but I'm in no way that good at it. Those are the only things I could honestly think of - I've never quite had a routine or hobbies, that is, and certainly never quite had the time to actively pursue interests like that.

Do you have any pets? 

No. Though, when I was a young kid, I distinctly remember that my elder brothers had a hunting hound named Sundew. She was quite adorable, but I never quite knew what came of her, after everything happened.

What sports do you play/have played? 

I'm not a huge fan of sports, but I guess sword fighting and archery do count as some form of that, don't they? So yeah, I think that's an acceptable answer.

Favorite subject in school? 

I was educated by the best tutors on the land, and my favorite subjects were philosophy and the art of politics. I was also quite good at chess and literature!

Dream job?

... Being a Lord again. Does that count? Oh, it doesn't matter. Does it though? I've done my fair share of working while traveling through these rather accursed lands, and for all I care, what I really want is to go back to what I was. But, honestly, as if that's ever going to happen.

Tagging: @lassiesandiego, @gummybugg, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @clairelsonao3, @unstablewifiaccess, @liv-is, @aziz-reads, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs and @anoelleart

[verbforverb]

Eurovision ranking, part two! The set of entries I have stronger opinions about. You will note this post is uh somewhat more verbose than the last.

AGAIN, PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG

Cat2: Your choices are not my choices, but I respect them

Croatia: My initial note on this was "I appreciate that they are trying to make a point which I’m sure will be clearer when I can look up the translation but also this is, sort of, 4 different songs in one, and not in a good way." And I still stand by all of that. Love the energy! Love the mood! Parts of it are even catchy! Unfortunately, do not actually enjoy the experience of listening to this song.

Finland: This has grown on me more than I expected. I still wouldn't say I like it, but I don't mind it as much as I thought I did, the live performance is extremely compelling, and I do at least respect its choices. While I wouldn't seek it out, but it's definitely not forgettable, and I could see myself liking it eventually, maybe. But whichever way it definitely brings a certain something to Eurovision.

Ukraine: I am so close to liking this song. It's got that Bond energy, momentum, lyrically I've certainly heard worse. But the synth is just a bit grating to me still. There are also several parts where I swear it sounds like a Wilhelm scream, extremely distracting.

Israel: On first listen, the hysteria set in somewhere around the first "power of the UNICORN" and did not let up at any subsequent point. What IS the power of the unicorn? The first thing that comes to mind is the power of being an attractive young bi woman who is happy to be a no-strings third in an otherwise straight relationship. For all I know that IS what she means, it certainly adds another element to the song if so. I loathe the attempt to make "femininal" happen like few other things in this competition and resent this song for making me hear it multiple times. Musically it's all over the place, it feels like at least two and maybe three different songs trying to be one thing. And yet. AND YET. It is catchy! Noa Kirel blows the performance out the goddamn water! I guarantee I will not forget about any element of it, not for want of trying! Makes no goddamn sense. Compels me though.

Spain: So I do get the appeal. The layering of the sounds, the repeated lines, the almost sampled-sounding chanting which is a cool effect. Maybe this just needs longer to grow on me. For whatever reason, probably a large part underexposure to the style, I find this hard to listen to. Which is a shame, because it's the most interesting thing Spain has entered in years.

Serbia: I want to like this so bad. I love the aesthetics, the energy, the ridiculous 90s video game synth intro, and I can get behind what it's going for, thematically. Unfortunately I cannot deny the experience of my ears, and I do not like listening to this song. But I very much appreciate its existence!

And finally, Cat1: songs I feel positively about! With an actual ranking!

15 Cyprus: This would have faded into the mush of broadly-forgettable Eurovision ballads for me if it had not been extremely, inescapably reminiscent of Britney Spears' If You Seek Amy. But, like, a lounge version intended for background listening in a fancy restaurant. Once heard, this cannot be unheard, and that definitely gives the whole experience a certain indescribable something, the only reason I've ranked it so high.

14 Romania: Unfortunately there was no way to divorce this song from what I watched in the national final. This is a real shame, because I like this song! It's a jazzy waltz, we never get those, it has drama and range, and the guy can pull it off, vocally! In another universe I could see this making my top 10. Unfortunately, this is the world that we live in, and it contains... that whole situation.

13 Czechia: This was so close to being in the "I don't like it, but I do respect it" category, but you know what? I do sort of like it! The spoken word / chanting is just about on the right side of annoying for me, and you can't deny it is memorable. And you have to have a deranged song about feminism and/or national solidarity from central europe, it's the rule.

12 Poland: LOOK. I am not immune to a thirst trap bop. Is this song and its background as an entry ridiculous in all ways? Yes, absolutely. It's still stuck in my head now and forever. Plus I find the "VISIT POLAND. WE HAVE SWIMMING POOLS AND HOT GIRLS AND... FRUIT" music video extremely funny.

11 Slovenia: I'm not saying this is good. But I am saying a solid chunk of the foundations for my music taste were 00s pop rock, and this is a pitch perfect example. In Slovenian. It's upbeat! It's catchy! It's got a drop! If the lyrics are bad I can't tell! Just a fun time all round.

10 Moldova: Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you just want to go apeshit? God I love a good flute/whistle line. Sometimes you are creeping through the woods towards a giant bonfire circled by sillhouetted dancing shapes, human? more than human, or perhaps just somewhere off to the side? you are unseen yet all-seeing, and you crave the perfect soundtrack to that moment, and you know what? Moldova have you covered.

9 Belgium: This is great fun, it's got those synthy disco vibes, and it's lyrically touching as well. A bit of a dark horse in that it's crept up my rankings every time I've listened to it. It's just a little too one-note - not a unique problem for Eurovision songs, but to me it kinda feels like listening to the same song two or three times in a row.

8 Norway: Sometimes, a song can just be a good bass drop and a fun hook. It's not clever, but it is absolutely a good time. Similar to Belgium, it just doesn't do quite enough to climb higher - feels a bit repetitive - but what it has is very pleasing.

7 Sweden: I do fully enjoy most things about this song. The tune is good, love the synth, Loreen is a fantastic performer and I'm here for any staging which can be described as "surprise! you lift up a paving stone and discover a eurovision performance". There's just one problem, which is that it occasionally falls back on the most godawful rhyming, and then hits it as hard as possible complete with musical emphasis and pauses. Like, first listen, "It will come a - day, when we will find our ..." "don't say way" "WAY". And then by some combination of singing style or mixing choice those rhymes were all I could make out at first, like "mumblemumble PAIN mumblemumble RAIN mumble YOUUU mumble TATTOOO", and, just, infuriating. It's a real shame because I really do like everything else about the song but those bits are so incredibly distracting. The only other note I have is that the repeated "all I care about is love" just makes me think of the song from Chicago, which is a VERY different vibe.

6 Portugal: Love the energy, love the high-tempo cabaret feel, catchy as hell, and god, what a performance! I don't know whether to be impressed, terrified or both. The only place it falls down for me is that it just doesn't lend itself, really, to humming or singing along, because it is SO high energy and high range in every sense. Instead I'm just sort of watching open-mouthed, so the song itself doesn't stick with me the way some of the more conventional entries do. But without doubt a great entry.

5 Australia: First things first: it is incredibly weird to me that I managed to straight up forget these guys existed after listening to their music quite a bit some 8 years ago. I do like them! And this! They have this crisp progmetal sound that really works for me, and you always have to love a keytar. Add to that, I think these guys can pull off a performance, god knows they've been hyping up crowds for long enough. My only complaint aside from the harsh vocals (see also germany - why?? you can do metal without them! they won't take away your hardcore card!!) is that repeatedly asking "have you ever done anything like this before?" completely out of context - and not given more context that I noticed - is one of the most baffling ways they could have chosen to open the song, and mostly makes me want to yell "like WHAT, voyager? anything like WHAT?" But that's a detail.

4 UK: To anyone accusing me of pro-UK bias, I would say that this year and the previous year are the only times in the past decade, or maybe more, I would have ranked us above the bottom 5. I would not go so far as to say this year's entry was worth the wait, or worth having had to know that Teenage Life exists, but I do love it a lot. It's a bop! A minor key bop! It's catchy! It has deranged energy! It's got an inexplicably London spoken word bit that I even think adds to the song! Ranked only on craft, it wouldn't make the top 10, but on sheer enjoyment I have to have it up here.

3 Austria: When we first listened to this, I was making noises about how it was just kind of a meme, while my wife was fully into it, proving that ultimately she is right about all things. This has grown on me so, so much to the point where I love it both as a song and a meme, and we do just occasionally say to each other in the worst attempt at an american accent imaginable, "who the hell is EDGAR?". It's catchy, funny, it has a great synth line and it's about creative control and reward in the music industry! What more could you want? No idea how this will play on stage, but I'm officially a fan.

2 France: Ough. The moment I saw this I said "that's @docholligay bait" and you know what, I don't even care because it's fantastic. The confidence? The voice? The BASS? It's simple, elegant, and it could not possibly be more French if she was holding a baguette and smoking four cigarettes simultaneously. Even the fact that she's Canadian adds to this, because there's somehow something even more French about leaning into it all so hard despite not actually being from France.

1: Germany: You knew it was coming. Germany has hosted the biggest metal festival in the world for over 30 years, and is just now thinking "hmmm, we could send some metal to Eurovision." It was worth waiting for. This is maybe the only time I've ever been pleased Germany will auto qualify, because I do NOT think this will play well with the general public, but I love it.

Brief interlude while I'm a nerd: extremely Nightwish-esque instrumentals - to the extent that I spent the first two listens just trying to figure out which song the instrumental line reminded me of, maybe Bye Bye Beautiful or Storytime? - with the crisp vocals. I don't love the harsh vocal parts, but they're a minor enough part of it that I can deal. Lyrically excellent, love a song about the duality of humanity and the ways people choose who to be and how to act from the same set of parts. There are exactly two songs this year where I still find myself mulling over the words and the other one is a criticism of the music industry through the medium of spiritual possession, so. I didn't even think until @keyofjetwolf put it in her comments that the piano / rhythm playoff mirrors the lyrics, but I like it even more now if possible. One of my first comments was "never thought we'd get metal in eurovision, the guitar solo would take up most of the 3 minutes" and then Lord of the Lost released an extended version with an extra minute-long guitar outro, so I feel especially vindicated. To conclude: hell yes.

[chartreuseian]

Hi! 😁

For the writing shop talk game: 🫂, 🐍, 😍, 🫀, 🎓

Hi hi! Thank you!!

🫂- What was your inspiration for your WIP?

Lol, which one!? Train fic? No clue (started it too long ago). Lessons: an image I had in my head of Helen, John and James on the couch by the fire. Modern AU: it's sort of inspired by the Out of the Blue rewrite I did in the Olden Days that I tried to transform into an original story (still in the Olden Days) that just didn't come together. This bears very little resemblence to either of them, but it's where the vibes come from.

🐍- How do you deal with it when you come across a plothole?

Complaining bitterly to myself about my own stupidity? To be honest, I'm not great at seeing them. Most of my stories come together as fairly complete ideas before I write them (and I almost always know what the main complication is and how I intend to resolve it) so I find a lot of the plot holes end up being small and more workable. The thought of starting something without a clear end goal freaks me out too much, I think!

😍- Post one sentence you think is really great.

Alright, I don't think this is really great but it made me laugh when I wrote it on my walk today...

And then she was kissing him and his cheeks were burning hot because 1) he hadn't even thought about that and 2) she had which meant that 3) Helen was very much intending to have sex with him.

🫀- Do you have an abandoned project? Why did it get binned?

Hmm... Not so much in the fanfic space. A few oneshots where I had made a single line an an outline of an idea, but nothing meaningful. Generally if I like something well enough to start writing it, it's because I've gone and hyperfixated for long enough to produce something that'll keep me working at it for a while!

🎓- Did you have formal training in creative writing? How do you feel about that?

Yup. Majored in Creative & Professional Writing at uni. Loved every second of it. Some of the courses were ridiculous, but some absolutely changed the way I approach writing. One of my courses in particular still informs a lot of the way I write, and I actually use the activities and writing prompts from it when I'm looking to play with creating particular effects in a story.

Honestly though, I went into the course pretty new to the whole idea of writing. I'd only been writing for about 4 or 5 months when I changed my major so it was a pretty drastic step (and looking back, risky given how ridiculously expensive university can be). Creative writing actually isn't my strength as a writer, but studying it really did change the way I approached the idea of writing and narratives. Certainly don't regret it!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 9

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades Sneaking this up early because it's the only free time I have today. Loving the reactions to the last chapter - now it's time to see what's going on in Hades' head! I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 8

HADES IX The Impertinence of Rivers

The Phlegethon was not particularly impressed with Hades for wading through it, its frigid flames searing at his essence, but it could not burn the souls of the dead, and while Hades certainly was not a soul of the dead, several of them were woven into his armour, giving him a layer of protection from the worst of the fire river’s wrath.

That was not to say that the crossing was at all pleasant, but it was hardly a significant trial to wade through; the worst part was the fact that he either had to magnify his size multiple times or scramble ungainly up the bank to exit on the other side.

Needless to say, he elected for the former, although despite considering it, he elected not to remain that size once clear.  It seemed more likely that his presence would be allowed to pass unchallenged if he stayed the seemingly-meek size of a mere human, rather than allowing his power to spread out like a self-important god, and Hades had no desire to confront certain, powerful, denizens of the Pit if he could avoid it.

He and his brothers had managed to evade that particular encounter on his last visit to Tartarus, and he was fully intending on repeating the feat.  Hopefully, Apollo was equally reluctant to come face to face with the primordial whose body they were walking across and wouldn’t do anything obnoxious to gain unwanted attention.

It suddenly occurred to Hades that Apollo was definitely not one for keeping a low profile, whatever the situation, and that separating from the younger god had meant losing the ability to at least attempt to keep his more outlandish reactions contained.

Then he remembered why they had separated and scowled, some of his essence leaking out and stifling a monster that had foolishly tried to enter his vicinity.  Asclepius had done nothing at all to endear himself to him throughout his existence, and having the god banished to Tartarus where he could cause no more disruption to the order of things had been an appealing prospect.

It still was, no matter that Apollo had thrown a temper tantrum over the revelation.  Why he had thought Asclepius would escape punishment for breaking his oath, Hades did not care to imagine – that he did it on Apollo’s orders did not overturn the fact that he still did it, against explicit commands to the contrary.

If Hades encountered Apollo’s son again, he certainly would not be going out of his way to assist the young god.

Tartarus was a vast mass of writhing death and the stench of constant respawn – almost an offence to Hades’ domain if not for the fact it was not mortals who languished and resurrected again and again, but immortals in the form of monsters.  There were proper processes to rebirth from Elysium, complete with protocols, permissions, and a liberal use of the River Lethe.

The Pit, meanwhile, allowed any monster a do-over so long as its essence remained.  Hades grasped the hilt of his sword firmly, feeling the comforting tug of Stygian Iron against his essence.  It would not hurt him – would not dare hurt him – but for lesser immortals it was a true end of the line.  He had not wanted the sword, and Olympus knew his youngest brother’s paranoia-induced fury had been immense at the discovery of his wife’s creation, but down here in Tartarus, it would make an effective deterrent.

There would be no respawn for monsters touched by his blade, and they had – for the most part – enough self-preservation to keep their distance from it.  He wondered how many had seen first-hand the damage such a weapon could do.  Much to his displeasure, it had been barely a year since the last wielder of a Stygian Iron weapon had passed through Tartarus, and while Nico had eventually been overwhelmed, Hades had full confidence that many monsters had met a permanent end to their existence at his son’s hands before that had happened.

Beneath his feet, the sharp glass tearing continuously at his feet had slowly reduced in intensity, shifting from a constant attack to incremental, and then occasional.  The prison was not, despite expectations, at the deepest, darkest part of Tartarus, but it was not in the upper levels, either.  A more naïve individual might have thought the lessening of the glassy assault on his feet was a good sign, a suggestion that he was leaving the dangerous zone and entering one less likely to actively hinder those that passed across.

Hades would, not that he would have ever admitted it to anyone, have far preferred to remain in the glass-strewn upper levels, near enough to the Underworld that he could still feel faint vestiges of his domain reaching down for him and offering what assistance and boosts it could offer from so far away.  The continual vicious bites of glass were inconsequential at best and a mild irritant at worst to a god of Hades’ calibre – indeed, Apollo, despite being a weaker god and also separated further from his domains, had seemed entirely unconcerned by the constant tearing and healing of his feet.

Now, however, Hades had entered the first layer of what he considered to be the false sense of security.  He remembered it well from his time down in the Pit with Poseidon and Zeus, his brothers breathing a surprised sigh of relief as the ground stopped attempting to tear them to shreds (and Hades along with them, although he was at loath to admit his naivety from back then).  They’d still been a little on edge, a little paranoid, but there was no denying that they had dropped their guard, just a bit.

Just a bit had been all the Pit had needed to remind them where the true power lay.  The denizen himself had not come out to play, but he hadn’t needed to.  Not when he had minions galore, and not all of them simple fodder to be tossed away like toys he had grown bored of.

Beneath their feet, any semblance of sure-footedness had been quickly stripped away.  The skin of Tartarus was a soft membrane, giving yet never yielding, and more than once it had moved, unexpected and terrifyingly, sending them staggering down to one knee, or both knees.  The monsters, though mostly small fry, had taken advantage of any weakness, and Hades had not had a Stygian Iron blade back then.

Not all of the monsters had been small fry, either.

Hades was not allowing himself to be lulled into a false sense of security this time.  Better armed, with his sword and of course his Helm, yet alone, he kept a close watch on the skin beneath his feet, the membrane heaving and stuttering with apparent randomness as it attempted to off-balance him the same way it had once succeeded (there had been no room for rivalries between brothers back then, let alone feuds.  It had been the three of them, together, against the Pit and Hades didn’t quite have fond memories of their time in Tartarus, but perhaps he missed the feeling of a brother’s hand clasping his arm as one of them pulled the other to their feet while the third covered their backs).  He was older – far, far older – and wiser than the young trio of gods who had just defeated their tyrannical father and felt the need to check on the prison down below.

He descended slowly, heading more across than down as Tartarus thrummed beneath his feet, seemingly not consciously aware of his presence but certainly subconsciously aware of Hades walking across his skin.  This time, unlike the last, he knew where the prison lay – that there was a prison within Tartarus and that the Pit was not simply one entire holding pen for enemies of the gods who should never be allowed to see the Overworld (or Underworld) again – and while it was not at the deepest level, it was a long way from the entrance they had used.  That was hardly surprising – putting a prison so close to an exit was a recipe for disaster – but it meant for a difficult time when one wanted to access the prison in question.

Especially alone.

The timelessness of Tartarus had unsettled Hades the first time, and he was not comfortable with it the second time around, either.  It reminded him too much of his father, and the way he could never be certain if seconds were really seconds, or if they were minutes, hours, days, or if hours were really hours, or if they were minutes, seconds, milliseconds.  Not in the presence of Kronos, and certainly not in his stomach.

Hades had no fond recollections of his time in his father’s stomach.  Nor did he know how long he had spent in there before Zeus had forced Kronos to expel him at last, and it was knowledge he could likely never gain.  At least he knew that, no matter how long he spent down in the Pit, when he departed – and he would be departing, once he had established what was attempting to summon his son and put a stop to it – and returned to the Underworld, he would know how much time had passed.

It still did not make the current uncertainty any more bearable in the meantime.

Hades did not know how long he walked.  The glass shards kept decreasing in number beneath his feet until they fully gave way to the unsettling sensation of walking over the skin of a greater being, but he could not say how long it had taken for that to occur.  He did not look back the way he had come once, but he could see the bright flickering flames of the Phlegethon cutting across the distant landscape in his periphery as it headed near enough straight down towards the Heart of Tartarus.

Apollo was somewhere the other side of that river, or at least that was where Hades had left him.  If he had crossed it since, there was no sign of a golden light to betray his position.  Hades told himself that that didn’t matter, and kept forging his way onwards.

If his memory did not fail him, and Hades was determined that it did not, mostly because if it did that would make Tartarus even more of a trial to cross, but also because he found it unlikely that he could misremember such sheer terror and other such unwelcome emotions, three of the other Underworld rivers still lay between him and the prison.

He was also uncomfortably aware that compared to them, the Phlegethon was effectively harmless.  They did not attack the body, but the mind, and even a god’s mind could be made vulnerable.  Not as vulnerable as a mortal’s, that was true, but even so, Hades did not recall his crossings of those rivers last time with fondness.

Another brash moment of naivety – that the rivers that ran through his domain mostly docilely, with no serious designs of disruption or disloyalty, would be equally calm and docile outside of his domain.

Cocytus had harshly disabused him of that notion last time, and from his recollection, that would be the next river between him and the prison.  It did not flare brightly like the Phlegethon, announcing its presence visually in such a way it could not possibly be missed, but Hades was familiar with the other warnings, subtle but very much there, if one knew what to be aware of.

Tartarus was not warm.  Even its fiery river was a searing frigidness rather than a sweltering heat.  Still, there was a specific chill that came not from the Pit itself, but from one of the five rivers that ran above and below the surface of the skin, subtle to those who did not recognise the warning signs, but for Hades a vibrant declaration.

The River Cocytus was close.

How close, Hades was not sure, but as he continued advancing, the chill crept up his form, seeking a chink through which it could assail his essence with his many failures – failures Hades usually would not even acknowledge had occurred in the first place, let alone allow himself or others to think of.

After the chill came the scent.  Others might have noticed that first, but for Hades the scent of sulphur was more than just a single river – it was the scent of the fields of punishment, of souls in eternal torment, receiving their just retaliation for their crimes against the gods during their mortal lives.  That despair, of course, was culminated in the river of lamentation itself.

Finally, just as he spied the dark, glittering ribbon of deepest blue winding its way almost lazily down through the Pit, he heard the whispers.  Faint, almost on the edge of his hearing, the temptation was strong to strain to hear what they were saying, what the whispers might possibly contain.

That was another mistake he and his brothers had made the first time.

Now, Hades kept his attention firmly on where he was going and shut the whispers out as best as he could.  Unfortunately, the voices were familiar even without the words, and it was all too easy for his mind to slip back towards when it had been the five of them – him, and the four voices he could hear – and no-one else.

No-one else at all.

Hestia’s calming tones were resigned, any hope long gone, likely gone before Hades had ever met her.  Demeter’s voice was determined, no nonsense and focused on survival, while Hera’s was fierce and sharp, lashing out at anyone who frustrated her.  Most often, the subject of her ire was the youngest, Poseidon full of temperamental fury and insistent that they would not be trapped forever, that if they just kept trying, one day they would break out.

The four voices, overlapping and arguing and washing over Hades like the river itself wished to – like saliva and stomach acids and other horrendous liquids had done for so, so long, eternity after eternity after second – brought with it a feeling that he had once fought so hard to shake.

Hades was the god of the Underworld, seeing the light of the Overworld only on rare occasions and stepping foot there even more rarely.  He was not claustrophobic, was not bothered by enclosed spaces and the idea of the world closing in on him.

Warm bodies pressed against him, constantly moving and fighting and writhing as their surroundings gurgled and convulsed near-constantly, periodically drenched in more disgusting, soft, half-digested items that he then had to consume lest he starve – more than once items shoved straight into his mouth by his older sister, Demeter determined even that early that starvation was not acceptable.

Unless it was on her own terms, but that was a whole other issue and the soft whisper of his beloved wife’s voice mostly-concealed behind the sound of his four siblings’ was a shock that had Hades almost losing his concentration.

Persephone had not even been born the last time Cocytus had dared to inflict its powers upon Hades.

He had been expecting a reprise of his time in his father’s stomach, in the well of despair that had made up his first real memories, of his siblings (barring Zeus) pressing down and around him as their Kronos’ stomach tried and tried and failed to digest them.  That, he had heard last time, had fallen into the water alongside Poseidon and needed hauling out by Zeus, who had never known that horror but had other horrors of his own to face, horrors that Hades and Poseidon had in turn had to pull their youngest brother away from.

The sound of his wife’s voice, soft but harsh like the times she’d called him nothing but the vilest of things, lashing out against him despite all the kindness he had lavished upon her because even then she was a queen who deserved no less, even if she was not yet his queen, made him falter.

And Cocytus struck.

The feeling of elation being pulled out from beneath his feet, victory and company suddenly snatched away and a loneliness even worse than before, because he’d been so, so certain that he had won but then everyone had turned against him and he couldn’t defeat them all.

The cavernous hollow of despair as he’d loved and lost, when the decree had come down to him from Olympus that he was to surrender Persephone back to Demeter, that his sisters, his brothers, would not even let him have one soul by his side in a sea of subjects that depressed far more than they cheered.

Hades knew that, in the end, he had been half victorious.  Persephone had eaten from the pomegranate, had tied herself to the Underworld enough that Hestia had proposed an everlasting compromise, but those memories were overwhelmed by the instant of despair that had grasped him and nearly led him to do something equally as dramatic as Demeter’s own temper tantrum in the Overworld, flooding his domain with more and more and more work as she starved humanity to death.

His reputation was, mostly, undeserved, but Hades was aware that he could so easily lash out if he wanted to, and Persephone’s hissed words of revile overlapped with the firm tones of a woman who was just as stubborn, yet far too mortal and had her existence snuffed out like it was nothing.

Love was something he had learned early on not to give out.  He had been lucky, with Persephone, that he had at least half-won her hand and in time she truly had come to love him, and with a wife to dote upon and the strong, strong despair of loss circling him, never so far out of reach that he didn’t know it could come back, he had kept his heart close even on the rare occasions he dallied with mortals.

Maria’s voice laughing dismissively, insulting Zeus and seemingly not realising it would seal her doom, reminded Hades that his heart had not always obeyed his insistence that it stay close.  His most recent mortal dalliance, as Persephone had disparagingly called her, had coaxed it out, and then destroyed it.

Gone, in a single flash of lightning, and Hades could smell the ozone, feel the tears down his face, hear the confused cries of young children who didn’t even realise what had happened, just that something was very, very wrong.

The grief, still fresh and raw, crashed over him, his daughter’s voice joining her mother’s.  Bianca was gone, hidden from him once more as her soul circled around somewhere on the Overworld again, his daughter but also not his daughter, not this time, and he didn’t know who had that claim to his girl but someone did, because Bianca had left him.

Gone.

His lovers, his children.  Gone.

Persephone on the surface for half of the year, leaving him alone in a way he truly, truly hated but could do nothing about.  A daughter he couldn’t acknowledge, never acknowledge because acknowledgement meant death, meant he would be the reason for her death, and Hades would not, could not, do that.

Even now, he was alone.  Apollo had stormed off, no loyalty to his uncle, abandoning him without a second thought for his son, and Hades was completely, utterly, alone.

His own voice was next, a memory as he pushed away the last one, told his son he’d wished he were dead instead, grief overtaking logic, turning truths into lies, and Hades did not dwell on regrets except he did, he always did, and Nico was-

Nico.

His son’s name halted the waterfall of lament, because it was Nico’s fault he was down here, Nico’s fault he was suffering again despite never intending on stepping foot in Tartarus ever again, Nico’s-

For Nico, he corrected, to protect the son he had hurt, the son the world had tried to hurt.

Cocytus faltered, and as the voices faded away into a startled silence, Hades realised that he was in the depths of the river, surrounded by the dark blue glitter of water that was trying to pull him down, drown him in sorrows once and for all.  Rage simmered in his essence; Hades was a god of the Underworld, Cocytus was a River of the Underworld.  Even here, even in Tartarus, it had no right to try and destroy him.

With a single thought, he exploded out of the river, water droplets falling away from him as he stormed the rest of the way across and onto the other bank.  He did not look back, did not give the river of lamentation and its invisible god the satisfaction of affecting him.

Furious with himself, as much as the river, for falling prey to its wiles despite knowing what it could do, Hades stormed onwards, across the membrane of Tartarus, determined that nothing else would catch him unawares.

Chapter 10>>

[shinakazami1]

Honestly I'm so sorry about how you were treated this past while, I can sympathizes with u cause something similar happened to me like 3 years ago too with a bigger audience. Its unfortunate alot of ppl take things at face value and never looks deeper into things, you didn't deserve to be treated like that and hopefully after some time you'll gain some trust back that the fandom broke with you. I wouldn't blame you if you are furious at some people. When I first saw it I didn't even realize you had more socials besides AO3 (very dumb of me ik lol,, also I love your "a good luck charm" fic sm it makes me naw at my enclosure) and was BAFFLED at the accusations with the lack of proof, and I really wish more people thought like that too, but alas people follow blindly. You definitely did everything right, taking accountability of your mistakes and fixing them. I wish you the best and hope the rest of this year treats you softly and warm <3 if you ever wanna just scream and let out some of those built up emotions u probably have dont be afraid to reach out cause ill be like those drunk bitches at a party who back u tf up<<333

Thank you for coming here. I'm glad you can enjoy that work - Since my collab partner left the fandom, I have been having a hard time returning to it but I do hope to give Good Luck Charm justice :]

I don't really know if I want the trust of people who chose to judge without any proof but, I know they got the information from a figure many look up to.

I do know my trust for them had gotten smaller. The effects of everything on me isn't exactly something many considered - during the whole thing, I couldn't eat for several days and had gotten sick for a few weeks. But I didn't intend to really inform folks openly about it as my health was not important in the moment and certainly I wouldn't want to seem I use it to get pity. I really didn't want yes men in all this, I wanted folks to at least listen to the actual proof of what did happen.

I do feel my privacy was never respected, as stated otherwise by them. If that were the case - this would have been discussed privately and details would have been ironed. And with how many people got involved due to being pinged in the server, I feel it should have accounted by people who in charge. While in the end it seemed to have been discussed - I feel it was a bit too late. And the responsibility wasn't taken in the other side.

Had I done well with my response to the situation? I think so, but I don't know if some things couldn't have been some better but I certainly don't want to have round two to figure that out.

But thank you kindly, for your support. It truly means a lot.

And even if I'm angry at many people who kept silence - I get it, to some extend. But I'm most glad for those who did decide to break it, like you.

Thank you for the wishes, hope the same for you!

[s1ebren]

sigma and siebren are the same person but they are so vastly different. basically like two personas in one body. when the melody is at it's loudest and he is sigma, siebren is dead in that moment. (well, basically after the experiment, siebren de kuiper is classified as deceased anyways but that's a whole different story) sigma is ruthless, unforgiving which is what makes him so valuable to talon. at first, they had no way of controlling it but they figured it out.

his augments are used to control the melody. and no, he doesn't have a say in the control. they are controlled for him using the augments they have installed on his face, near his eyes. siebren, being the lovely, trusting man he is, has been assured that they know what is best and if he has any problems, he can report it and they will adjust accordingly. they always keep the melody at a "comfortable" hum. but when they need sigma, they remind him of what they do for him. that he owes them because they take care of him. they gave him his life back. they adjust his augments until the melody is blaring in his head and he becomes erratic. this is when he is ready to perform for them.

sigma is argued to be the most powerful hero in the overwatch universe. his powers really prove that. of course, he mostly prefers to use his hyperspheres, of course. they are simple and easily manifested. but, his powers go beyond the in game mechanics we see. with enough force and concentration, with a simple gesture of his arm, he can use his gravitic powers to tear down a building (within reason). he can tear up streets, and manipulate objects such as vehicles, boulders and the like. you will often see him in battles, picking up abandoned cars and tossing them at his enemies. if he can crush a building, or vehicle - imagine what he could do to a human. he knows what because he's done it. sometimes the melody is so loud and he already basically blacks out within the heat of battle, get him going enough, he can and will pick up anyone shooting at him or his allies. all it takes is him balling his fist and their bodies are crushed midair. i can imagine it being a similar fate as the occupants of the titan 2 submersible (sorry for the morbid comparison) but literally instant implosion. instant, painless death but certainly gruesome.

NOTE FOR WRITING THESE POWERS: never do i intend to use these powers against any muses. we don't even have to get into this graphic stuff either in any threads. i reckon these are not in game for a reason obviously. he would be VERY op to play against. but yeah!

after battle, siebren returns. the melody in his mind is usually stabilized. he often has a splitting headache. he remembers mostly everything at first, but he forgets with time. it is always very turbulent for him. siebren de kuiper isn't a killer, but sigma is. it scares him a lot knowing what he is capable of. he cries a lot. he feels helpless and this is also a time where those in charge of him are really trying to butter him up and tell him he did what he needed to do. i will probably expand a lot more on those conversations in the future but i want to stress that siebren holds immense guilt for what sigma does but cognitively, he might not always remember as memories fade. often, that is done on purpose. the melody being controlled does have an effect on his memory. (just trust me on this. don't question my science)

that's all my brain has for now but i bet i'll have a lot more to say in the future as well :3

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Hello, omg I just wanted to say that the essence you capture in your fics is straight out of a Sofia Coppola movie with Lana Del Rey on the soundtrack, and by that I mean, my god reading the small details in your work is, for lack of a better expression, like shooting up ecstasy. I can completely envision everything. And I feel better saying this now that it's been so long since the release, but I've noticed you use images/gifs from the film Priscilla (2023), and I think that you really capture visions of that film within certain snippets of your writing, as you also do with ELVIS (2022).

Both films have such different airs, and while I'm not here to debate which one is more accurate, better, etc. (as I believe they're just different characterizations of the icon that is Elvis, neither show him completely true to form.) I've gotta ask if you'd consider writing something with Priscilla's background/essence with Jacob Elordi's characterization of Elvis as you did with Austin's.

This is really just an excuse to yell at you about your wonderful writing, but also had to ask that as well <3

BESTIE YOU CANT JUST THROW COMPLIMENTS AROUND LIKE CONFETTI THINK OF MY HEALTH!

but truly, what a kind thing to read, I so often say my chief upset with my own creativity is how badly I want to capture an atmosphere, which if I had a camera and soundtrack I could do far easier than my chosen medium. I see things so visually and fully in my head, but then when you go to write it on paper, describing autumn leaves in depth can be all a bit humdrum.

to answer your question, I have not as yet seen Priscilla. I intend to to, I just haven’t got around to it but gosh how I love the visuals. So once I do, if it inspires me I very well might write it, until then most of my writing is my interpretation of the real man. Except for the few specified by Austin’s portrayal, which I love to tap into as it is most certainly different than even the real Elvis. Butler brought a different and interesting quality to him that may have been more of a capturing of an essence then a Word for Word, stickler impression. And obviously it was effective.

Xoxo thanks for popping in

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN: Day 32

Chapter 32: “Action, Part 1”

From the very moment Norman walked out that door, Emma didn’t give herself any time to grieve and began formulating plans straight away and if that’s not the definition of strength and perseverance then I dunno what is. (kinda wish the anime had showed us how her mind was working overtime but I get they wanted to keep us on edge. that and it lacks internal dialogue to being with).

WARNING: Master actor trope coming in hot! My love for this girl shot through the damn roof when I experienced ep11 for the first time. She is unbelievably clever and nothing thrills me more than seeing our sweet girl so pissed off like this.

Once again, thanks to Krone for this valuable piece of advice because it certainly works wonders on Isabella. Well, I’ll partially give her credit for telling Emma this, but most of the praise goes to our leading actress as she effectively kept up the defeated, woe-is-me act for two whole months while also planning the real escape on the side, leaving Isabella (and even Ray) in the dark.

I love them. I love my chaotic little duo so much. The fact they barely spoke to each other since Norman’s shipment yet managed to stay on the same wavelength by focusing on their respective escape plans and maintaining an effective false mask around Isabella is amazing.

I love Isabella with all my heart, but how could she not notice all the supplies that went missing from the house? I know she was solely focused on RE and Emma mentions “Even if mom was watching us like a hawk, she only has two eyes,” but not once did mom ever question anything..? Really? The kids most likely secured items one thing at a time so she couldn’t notice something missing here or there, but that’s still a lot of stuff. (And someone tell me why the house even had backpacks?? It’s not like the adults wanted the kids to actually go anywhere.)

Y’all don’t have time to chat! By now you got less than twenty minutes til midnight and Emma is already very aware of the crazy idea Ray’s hoping to carry out thanks to the note Norman left behind, but YEAH, sure! Let’s take a seat! Relax! Go ahead and fool us all sweetie, it’ll all contribute to the surprise factor later.

I voice this wish a lot, but I really wanted to see them use those molotovs. It would’ve caused some damage to the other plants too but who cares! Imagine watching the escapees run across the wall and setting fires left and right, oohh that would’ve been so sick. Ray prepared so much for the escape with these and the tracker breaking device yet they all go unused and it’s a shame!

I always loved this panel but recently I gotta admit it ain’t perfect. In my mind anyways. Of course it’s iconic and it sorta parallels that upcoming moment of Emma’s in ch33, but it annoys me that it breaks the 180 degree rule by suddenly having Ray on the right side! He’s been on the left for the majority of this chapter, so why switch our view of this entire scene now??

Of course Ray’s still against taking the babies since they’ll be more of a hindrance once outside the farm, but what matters most to him is that Emma escapes safely, so he drops the unspoken argument. The way he also tells her to leave so she doesn’t have to witness himself being engulfed in flames is so bittersweet.. aahh god he just cares so much about her well-being and emotions and that makes me so soft for them.

♫ Do you hear chidoroki scream? Screaming the name of an angry boy? It is the moment of the series that she’ll want not to witness again! When the beating of her heart echoes the laughter of his voice, she feared there will be no more Ray when tomorrow comes! ♫

Dear boy, I love you to the moon and back, but I dunno whether to be very proud, scared or concerned??

I always say that Ray used the camera for its intended purpose and took pictures to throw off any suspicions that Isabella could’ve had about the real reason why he wanted said camera as a reward, but the fact he kept every picture to give to Emma, the one person who loves this family more than anything, is so damn precious. (and it completely breaks my heart that the pictures eventually become altered at the end of the story thanks to demon bastard.)

This post already feels long as hell but aahhh, this is definitely a moment I’m glad I didn’t have to wait for the manga to update.. I would’ve been crying the entire week.

Favorite panel/moment:

My sweet boy I’m glad you had fun but noooo!!!!!

[lakesbian]

7, 9, 10, 19, 21 for worm ^^

ask game here

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

i do not do this i am not letting fandom alter my engagement w/ the text in a negative way LMAO if smth bugged me that bad i'd just block the ppl and continue on my merry way

9. worst part of canon

planned aisha & citrine killing heartbreaker interlude never got written :(

10. worst part of fanon

nearly all of any fanon for any media is based on reductive misinterpretations of the work vs compelling expansions of it in my experience tbh. there are certainly plenty of interesting fanworks out there, but i find that when a concept is just Wholesale Fanon, it's often because it's a flanderization or misinterpretation vague enough to appeal to everyone instead of something that genuinely enhances interpretation of the source.

the exception to this is the worm fandom collectively deciding that taylor lisa and bitch are all lgbt. that's good and you should keep doing it.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

n/a i do not have guilty pleasures because i am not catholic. i like everything i like furiously and unironically

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

no offense intended but that one post parahumans-online made abt how cool string theory is unfortunately gave me an inflated expectation for how thematically important she would actually be :( i think most of the post is really good but i disagree that the god-driver gave people hope--she does effectively no damage despite being one of the hardest hitters they had, she dies because of cauldron's refusal to risk opening doors, and everyone is left despairing and weak from how badly the attack attempt failed. hm. i realize that this is not a thing that is actually overhyped, but i do not think any parts of canon Are overhyped, so "i was slightly overhyped 4 string theory bc of a tumblr post" is the closest tangential response i can give you.

anyway. i still love string theory because Firmament-Driver and God-Driver are objectively unreasonably cool weapon names.

[thecrenellations]

6, 17, 20

(questions from here)

6. Was there anything you meant to read but never got to? Yes! So many books, as always. Books I checked out from the library (and returned without starting and/or finishing) or borrowed from friends include: When the Angels Left the Old Country, The World We Make (started!), The Wolf and the Woodsman, The Spear Cuts Through Water, Men at Arms, Last Night at the Telegraph Club, Little Thieves, King Lear, The Blue Sword, How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water, How to Turn into a Bird, and How to Behave Badly in Elizabethan England. And more. All the Diana Wynne Jones books I haven't read since I was 13, and several interesting-looking nonfiction and poetry books I checked out and have half-forgotten about...

I more intentionally meant and mean to finish rereading Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko (to follow it with the sequel), finish The Langya List/Nirvana in Fire by Hai Yan, properly begin Best of Friends by Kamila Shamsie, and finally read the Elizabeth Wein books I haven't! No real time limit on any of these. Someday, I hope!

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were? The Legend of Auntie Po by Shing Yin Khor is a graphic novel I read after finding the author through their zines and sculpture, and I really loved it. Beautiful and absorbing storytelling and a lovely balance of history/legend/personal narrative. That was at the beginning of the year, so now I want to reread it...

I also enjoyed A Power Unbound by Freya Marske more than I expected! I liked the first two books in the trilogy and had reread them, but the payoff in this one, especially all of the character dynamics as the gang is brought together, make it SUCH a good ride.

Annnd I'm going to count the Lymond Chronicles here, because I didn't expect them to consume me to THIS extent, and because I'm still surprised that I actually read the series after at least a decade of intending to! Thank you for that.

20. What was your most anticipated release? Did it meet your expectations? Probably System Collapse by Martha Wells, because I had been looking forward to it for more than a year! It didn't meet every expectation, because I'd had some idea that it would be as big of a shift forward (plot and scale-wise) as Network Effect was, and less of a direct follow-up. But it's very very Murderbot, and I loved the trauma chickens coming home to roost, and the way they all collaborated on Murderbot's [spoiler], and I'm looking forward to enjoying it even more on future reads (which will certainly happen).

[obligatory comment about how I'm still anticipating The Sword Dance 😭 ... Everyone go read the Lion Hunters series so we can experience it someday!]