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nerdieforpedro · 10 months

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You're not Broken

Frankie Morales x plus size female reader

Fanfiction: Teens and up

Masterlist / Francisco “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Approx word count: ~2200 (I edited a bit after starting my draft post.)

Warnings: references to smut, descriptions of past violent traumatic events, depression, PTSD, minor physical altercation (wasn't intentional), anxiety, self-deprecation, Fluff at the end

Notes: I'm happy to finally have a fic for Frankie Friday! In many of my fics as of late, the angst has been HEAVY, this one is no exception. I tried to include all the warnings I thought would apply, please let me know if I need to add anything. I think at some point depending on what weird, painful, happy or fun path life has taken you down, we all may feel broken at some point.

We're not, we're just humans in an imperfect world just trying to figure it out.

The same question had been nagging your thoughts for the past month, “Why doesn’t he let me sleep over at his house?” You’d been with your boyfriend Frankie for three months, getting to know each other, having mind-blowing sex and having a great time so you thought. You’d even met his daughter, Camilla, who was an adorable two year old toddler a few times. Frankie would sleep at your place, playing big spoon to your little spoon, his strong arms wrapped around you, his chin and scruffy beard against your shoulder and neck. You’ve been to the man’s house, just haven’t stayed overnight in it. You realize it’s dumb, thinking too hard about this, you’ve only been together three months, it’s not that long, but it’s also not that short either, at least to you. He makes sure you get home safe from your dates and calls to let you know he’s in his house safe.

One night, you decide that tonight you’re going to ask him why, why he doesn’t want you in his house overnight. Frankie doesn’t offer an explanation, only that he didn’t realize that it was that important to you. Instantly, you feel like an idiot for bringing it up. He assures you you’re not and you both go off to bed, sleep soundly and he cooks you breakfast. Slowly, you spend more nights at his house, but it was one particular night within the week you had been staying overnight at Frankie’s house why he was hesitant to have you over.

It turns out, Franscico Morales is a man with layers, like an onion. He hates that analogy because his friend Santiago says it too often and Benny mentions that his feet smell like onions, anyone’s feet would after wearing heavy boots all day with no breathable material. He’s a kind man, a loving partner and a doting father. He was also a soldier in the Special Forces of the US Army. This left him with blemishes on his mind and frayed his soul, he tries to remember he’s not that man anymore and has moved on, left that behind. As a concept, he understands, but his body and soul never forget what he did in the name of his country. Most times, he can keep busy to stave off the intrusive thoughts, the fears, the self-loathing, the guilt of surviving, the blood he can still see on his hands and head shots he made. Even flying, something Frankie loves doing which lead him to the army, reminds him of his past, moving his comrades bodies to and fro, sometimes they were alive, sometimes not. Frankie has talked to some people about it, some at the VA, and those he served with, but it’s a struggle each day. He is happy though, his daughter lights up his world and so do you, his new girlfriend who he does want to see when he wakes up.

Instead, Frankie sometimes sees the faces of those left behind, those who he couldn’t save, other times, it might just be blood or his old comrade Tom on that damn mountain a hole in his fucking head. He doesn’t want to burden you with this quite yet, things are new, they’re good. He can’t bear for you to walk away as others have, scared of him, feeling he’s defective in some way. Even Camila’s mother felt that way about him, she told him he’s a wonderful father but a haunted man that can’t let anyone in. That stuck with Frankie in the subsequent years.

Now he’s here, happy that you’re lying next to him, but wondering when it will happen. When his mind will fail him again and he’ll see the past horrors taunt him once more. Thankfully you’re a heavy sleeper, he was sure that he had woken you at your place when he got up in the middle of the night and went for a walk, sat on the couch, read one of your books, scrolled through his phone and then when he was near exhausted, he climbed back into bed. You were never the wiser though, you’d wake up with that gorgeous smile and ask him how he slept, give him a kiss and ask him what he wanted to eat. It was as it should be, no nightmares, no horrid dreams, no violent visions, maybe he got three or four hours of sleep tops, but it was next to someone who treated him like he was normal. He had found that he slept slightly better at your place so he was hoping to keep that going as long as possible. The veteran would get up to four and a half hours of sleep consecutively at your home

Tonight in Frankie’s house was fine, better then fine actually because once again, he made you say nothing but his name for at least an hour. After you both came down from your highs, your boyfriend wiped you down per his routine. If there was one thing you had learned about Frankie, unless he approves, don’t disrupt his routine. He takes special care to wipe you down first then himself, encourages you to use the bathroom followed by himself. Then the pair of you got into bed, his big spoon to your little spoon. A lovely end to a lovely evening.

Except at one in the morning, you heard whispering. Frankie’s large hands weren’t on your round belly or wide thighs, instead, he had them wrapped around himself as sweat dotted his brow. An unfamiliar grimace was on his face as he mumbled something you couldn’t make out, it didn’t sound like words. You reached to touch his shoulder and he snapped back, he looked at you but his eyes were wide and unfocused. One of his hands grabbed your wrist as he draped you out of bed, he crouched behind the bedroom door. You didn’t say anything at first, shocked by what was happening but you started calling his name, first Frankie which he didn’t answer to, then you tried Francisco, he still gave you nothing. He was rattling off numbers now which were nonsensical. Finally you tried Sergeant Morales which got him to focus on you finally.

It took him a minute, but he recognized you and gasped in horror. Frankie didn’t remember getting out of the bed or grabbing you, ‘a new horror has happened’ he thought as he released your wrist. You actually hadn’t felt your hand for the last few minutes and now that he wasn’t putting any pressure on it, your wrist throbbed in pain, you winced but didn’t want to scare Frankie more than you already assumed that he was. He turned to head toward the kitchen but you stopped him.

“Wait, don’t go. I’m alright Frankie.”

“No you’re not cariño. Look at your wrist…I…”

“You didn’t mean to. I know you would never mean to. Is this…” You paused, taking a deep breath before asking. “Is this why you didn’t want me to sleepover?”

Frankie looks away for a moment, closing his eyes. Is this the moment he loses you? You say it’s fine but like hell it is. He knows your wrist hurts and you’ll be lucky if it doesn’t bruise by morning. You’re one of two people he wanted to be his best self for, you and his daughter, but he’s failed. Shown you what the outcome can be if his mind plays serious enough games with him. He looks into your patient eyes and nods. “Yes. Though not as severe as tonight was, most nights I…I don’t sleep well.”

You surprise him by embracing him, wrapping your soft body against him with your arms around him, massaging his back. “I’m glad I now know Frankie. We’re supposed to be up front with each other right?”

Frankie laid his head on your shoulder, placing a soft kiss on your round shoulder, he was in your arms and felt better, still guilty but better. Maybe you wouldn’t leave right away, he’d have time to convince you to stay at least.

“Frankie, let’s go back to bed, but I’ll be the big spoon this time.” His body stiffened, that was not part of the routine, his regimen with you. Before he could mention this, you’d pulled him back to bed and laid down, patting the pillow beside yourself. The man sighed and laid next to you in bed, giving in to your whim. He rolled on his side and felt your body against his, though your arms, especially your sore wrist didn’t quite make it around him due to the broadness of his back.

“Cariño, I think we should switch positions. Doesn’t your wrist hurt like that?” You knew Frankie wasn’t wrong, it still pulsed with pain, though slightly less since it had been a few minutes. You decided to turn on your back and patted your chest.

“Lay here then. No funny business though, we have work in the morning.” A playful grin spread across your lips. Frankie let out a happy huff and laid his head on your tender breasts as his chest lay across half your plush belly. One hand patted your head, his fingers rubbing your scalp as his other hand squeezed your hip.

“This is a lot better. You sure you can sleep like this though? Are you comfortable?” Your boyfriend asked, that was the man you knew, always concerned for your well being, even when you’re trying to get him settled.

“Yes, I can sleep through you having horrible dreams most nights.” You closed your eyes, realizing that may have been a cutting statement to make, but it was mainly directed at yourself. He’s been suffering like this and you didn’t know, slept happily without a care because you don’t remember your dreams but he does and it’s detrimental for him. “Sorry, I just…I would have tried to help you sooner you know. I get why you didn’t tell me. It’s a hellova thing to deal with Frankie.” You feel his body start to relax and to put more of his weight on you, he’s accepting of the position at least, you’re hopeful that it can get him back to sleep with minimal issue.

“Thank you cariño. I don’t deserve your understanding or your kindness.” A small acknowledgement comes from Frankie, though it makes you frown. He shouldn’t speak of himself that way, it’s not his fault his mind is in this state, it took years to become this. You had an arm that was laying across the pillows, above his shoulder, you bent it to place his scalp in your palm grasping and releasing his soft curls.

With a kiss placed on his forehead you told him, “You’re not broken Frankie. You’re entitled to so much from life. I love you and I won’t hear you talk about yourself like that. You’re too important to me.” A heat rose from your cheeks and spread throughout your body, you might burst into flames. You just told this man you loved him and you’ve only been dating him three months, that seems a bit soon. Even if a real tender moment is happening right now, that could sour it a bit or weird it out. You stayed perfectly still, closing your eyes to avoid the look on his face whatever it was. You worry too much.

Frankie is ecstatic with this turn of events. In fact, he too was wondering if it was too soon. Your plush body he loses himself in, your melodic voice where it always sounds like you’re singing his name, Camilla appeared to like you - she didn’t do the stranger danger and waddle away, you make him laugh, his friends liked you, you were aware of his past transporting discretion and although you didn’t excuse it completely, understood that he was trying to make ends meet at the time, enjoyed how comfortable he could be with you even in silence. Why shouldn’t he tell you that he loves you, especially now that you’ve said it first, though he did want to beat you to that originally. Francisco popped his chin up to look at you, your eyes were closed and he snickered, he had horrible dreams and you spun too many things inside that pretty head of yours.

“Look at me, Cariño,” he waited until you made eye contact with him. This was important after all, “I love you too and I also thought it was too soon. We’re on the same page most of the time. Stop spinning and sleep.” A small peck landed on the top of your breast before he laid his head back down.

Soon both of your respirations slowed and you slept until the morning. Frankie did not wake during the night or need an early morning walk. He had the best sleep he’d had in years. You were ecstatic to see him the next morning actually looking well rested for once, sitting on the side of the bed as he said good morning to you. Your hands pressed against his back as did your cheek - a wonderful start to the day for you both.

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #Frankie morales angst #ptsd #anxiety #frankie morales fluff

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sailorsplatoon · 3 months

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bit more of a edgy(or whatever) question here: what would each ship do if their loved one was shot and killed right infront of them? (both ways of course) dont have to answer if you dont want to lmao

Okay, first of all, never hesitate to send me edgy or angsty asks, I love them!

Second, this is going to be really long, so I apologize in advance.

Third, after writing this I’ve realized I might need to put a few trigger warnings on it so uh… trigger warning for mention of guns, mention of shooting, breif suicidal thoughts, mention of hallucinations, light gore, and character death.

Acht would break down if Four or Harmony was shot in front of them. They would just entirely fall apart. Crying, screaming, all of it. Four would react very differently if Acht or Harmony was killed in front of them. They’d go into a fit of rage, and probably end up killing whoever did the shooting in the most painful way possible. If Harmony whitenessed one of her partners get killed, she would go into full on denial. Even though she watched them die, she’d somehow convince herself that they’re not gone, like to the point of hallucinating that they’re still there.

If Marie had to watch Shina die, she’d just kind of stand there, frozen in shock. She doesn’t know what to do, her mind is racing so fast that she can’t possibly move. Shina on the other hand, would react very similarly to Four. She’d immediately seek to avenge Marie’s death on the person who killed her and on anyone who they are remotely affiliated (John Wick style).

Shiver, upon seeing Birch die, would react very similar to Harmony in that she’d go into denial. However her’s isn’t as strong as Harmony’s, and it’s more like she’s trying to lie herself over and over rather than being fully convinced. In reality, she knows that Birch is gone. Birch on the other hand would react similarly to Four and Shina (agression in the face of mourning runs in the family). However, rather than going after simply the shooter, they’d attack anyone in sight, taking out their rage on whatever poor target happened to be nearest.

If Frye saw Elle get shot and killed, I think she’d have an even harder time believing it than Harmony. Since Elle’s soul is inside a robot body rather than an organic one, she’d convince herself that only Elle’s robot body died, and that Elle’s soul must have entered the Memverse and is still alive in there. She searches the Memverse endlessly to try and find them, no matter how much everyone tells her that Elle is gone. If Elle had seen Frye die, the emotional pain would be too much for them to handle and she'd just pass out right there. When they wake up, she starts crying uncontrollably.

If Elita were to get shot and killed in front of Callie, she’d do that thing that characters in movies sometimes do where they cling onto the dead body and refuse to let go, getting covered in the person’s blood as they slowly die. Callie can’t bear to let go, because she knows that then it would mean Elita’s actually gone. If Elita were to see Callie die, she’d do something very similar in that she’d refuse to leave Callie’s side. She’d stay there until she is physically forced to leave.

Pearl, similarly to Marie, would be frozen in terror if she saw Marina die. She’d be in so much emotional turmoil that she wouldn’t be able to move. However, a part of it would also be that she’s hoping if she stays still, she’ll get shot too. If Marina saw Pearl die, she’d rush over to her, convinced that she can somehow find a way to fix it. She’s fixed every problem that’s come her way, she just has to be able to now. But she can’t, and it’s impossible for her to accept that. And then it just turns into Romeo and Juliet.

Thank you for the ask!!! I had a lot of fun writing this, but it turned out way darker than I had intended…

#agent 4 #acht splatoon #harmony splatoon #p4ruf1sh #splatoon oc #oc x canon #marie splatoon #callie splatoon #frye onaga #shiver hohojiro #pearl houzuki #marina ida #pearlina #tw: shooting #angst #asks #ask box

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somestorythoughts · 5 months

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Eldritch Echo Pt6

I come bearing more Eldritch Echo. Now with more fanged clones!

For reference. When I mention "needle teeth" I'm picturing a dragonfish or an anglerfish. Take those teeth, put it in a person's mouth, and get something I would not want to find unexpectedly two inches from my face.

Enjoy!

The twins Tech had reminded them of are waiting for them when they arrive.

“Echo!” One of them shouts and Echo pushes past Hunter with a fanged grin and is wrapped up in two pairs of arms without hesitation.

“How have you two been?”

“Eh you know. Same shit different day.” One snorted before abruptly turning solemn. “We heard about Fives. It’s never right when we’re separated.”

Echo smiled, something that could have been wild or sad. “I think he’s marching elsewhere rather than ahead. But I’m only as sure as I can be without seeing him, and I miss him more than I miss my arm.”

“We’ll hope he’s still around then.” One, Cobalt that’s Cobalt, replies. “But for now, we’re supposed to be taking you to the General. And all of you avoid the medbay if possible, almost everyone who isn’t injured is sick and I’m sure you don’t want to catch it.”

“This is a twin thing then?” Crosshair asks as they follow the troopers. Hunter makes a note to ask Crosshair what exactly he saw that made him ask, because he isn’t sure whether the rippling under their words was only audible to him.

Cerulean spins, walking backward without any apparent trouble. “What are you asking about? I mean probably but also what in particular?”

“They’re trying to figure out why my eyes change color.” Echo replies, and even with his helmet on no one could miss the smirk in his words. Certainly not any of the clones, who grew up communicating in armor. The twins laugh.

“Yeah it’s a twin thing.” Hunter can hear Cerulean’s smirk too. “If you can get further than that without getting straight answers out of another trooper I’ll be impressed.”

Hunter catches Tech’s hand before he goes for his datapad. Mystery or not, they have work to do.

…

A Few Weeks Earlier:

Twins had a knack for recognizing each other. There was often an added kinship there, and any pair of twins – and it is always pair because all know in their bones that they are not to be separated – upon seeing another pair will introduce themselves as soon as possible.

You just don’t separate twins. The vod who had met twins learned that quickly, the vod who had heard of them knew not to do so either, and those two groups numbered more than half the army. As for the vod who had never heard of twins, they could recognize a matched set of troopers that did best together. Even the Kaminoans had rarely separated them, and since they didn’t truly know what twins were the vod can only assume it’s either accidental or instinctive.

But rarely isn’t never.

Blood feels the absence of his twin every day. At least he knows Bones is alive, he can’t imagine his twin’s death would do anything other than rip his soul in half, but it hurts that he isn’t there, that they can’t seek each other out when they’re overwhelmed by the people they couldn’t save. He doesn’t have his batch either. They’d all become medics, and all found themselves stationed in different companies.

But solitary or not, worn to the bone or not, Blood knows another twin when he sees one. And maybe it’s because he’s a medic as well as a twin, but he knows even before he brings out the scanner that this ARC trooper in unpainted armor isn’t dead. So he takes care of the injury and waits.

It takes a while. Fox is a good shot even when he’s horrified. Blood is morbidly curious as to whether his commander deliberately missed the ARC’s heart or not – and he’s probably going to need an answer at some point. But he has too much to do for just watching to be worthwhile, so he works while he waits.

And then hours later when he’s too tired to fight a regular twin much less an ARC, he turns around and finds a maw overflowing with needle teeth and five eyes burning golden violet inches from his face.

“Nice to meet you ARC trooper Fives.”

#yup he lives #@mezmatch #eldritch echo #eldritch clone troopers #fics #clone wars #writing #clone troopers #eldritch #arc trooper echo #bad batch echo #tbb

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seasidesandstarscapes · 3 months

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Right in the Numbers - Chapter 3

Prev - Next

Summary: Don's having a hell of a time but hey, at least Bobby's streams are a good distraction right?

Words: 2015

AO3

Don is trying his best, goddamnit.

Yes, he did go for a blind pass that led to interception and a goal for the Wild, but it’s just the second period. There’s time to catch up.

Speeding after the sliding puck, Don goes to block, get it over to Shorty but the opposing center slips around him, then Johnny before winding up for a shot in the wheelhouse that Don knows Bobby won’t be able to stop.

By some miracle, he does. Don’s heart leaps in his chest, almost ashamed that he ever doubted Bobby. He can’t help flashing a smile at him and that’s when the center from the Wild gives Bobby a snow shower.

Bobby’s the first to charge, but Chuck is right there too, ready to give the player a piece of his mind. The ref steps in as Bobby and the center yell at each other and Don makes a bit of a rash decision.

He takes hold of Bobby’s arm, tugs him to make their stares meet. The anger in Bobby’s eyes is terrifying but it calms the moment he sees Don. His shoulders drop and Don breathes a sigh of relief. There’s always a tinge of worry–that one day, Don won’t be able to stop Bobby’s rage. For now, though, their wordless exchanges are enough. Bobby mutters to himself as the potential fight comes to a close and Don skates close to the net before he’s supposed to join Shorty and Joe.

“Thanks,” Bobby sighs. “It’s not my fault he can’t score though.”

Don laughs a little at this and it’s good to see Bobby’s own smile grow on his face.

“Give ‘em hell, baby.”

Well, Don can’t disappoint Bobby now. When he’s with Joe and Shorty, they all nod, a spectacular play already forming in their minds. Joe gets a wrist shot just before the end of the second period and cheers hit Don’s ears. His confidence is over the moon now, he’s a charging bull the Wild can’t stop. They’ve got this game in the bag.

The boys eke out a win tonight and Don goes to Bobby first to celebrate. The bear hug is crushing as Bobby grins up at him, the rest of the arena fading away. If only he could tear off both their helmets and kiss Bobby right here, right now.

A cloud passes over Don, chastising him and his fantasies. He’s letting himself go too far. Something has to be done.

As reluctant as he is, Don turns down Bobby’s invite to get drinks that night. It’s just his imagination when Bobby frowns, when his eyes turn dull.

Instead, Don rounds up the three people he knows will set him straight. He drags them to his apartment, not explaining a thing until they’re all sat in his living room. He’s sure he’s rambling when he tells his story but he has to get it all out.

Joe, Chuck and Roger are silent as Don fidgets, taps a knuckle against his teeth.

“So you’re not dating?” Roger dares at last.

“Isn’t that clear?”

Don’s a bit frustrated. He’s just spilled his heart and soul out to his friends and all they’re giving him are blank stares. He just needs someone to tell him to get his head out of his ass.

“Okay,” Chuck shakes his head. “You’re friends with benefits but you’re feeling something more and the problem is….?”

About to explode, Don throws his hands up in frustration. “Obviously he doesn’t feel the same and I don’t want to fuck up a good friendship.”

“Have you even asked him if he likes you back?” Joe butts in.

“No,” Don admits and stares at his hands.

“Well, that’s step number one,” Chuck states.

Don sighs. It’s not that simple. Every time the thought of talking about this to Bobby enters his mind, his body freezes and his voice dries up.

He’s tried once and decided that was enough.

“Write him a letter,” Roger senses Don’s apprehension.

That’s an idea and Don mulls it over. His friends watch him expectantly, leaving Don in a state of doubt.

“What?” His eyebrows knit together.

“Have you done it in the showers while we’ve been changing?” Roger asks.

Don throws a pillow at him.

Writing a letter doesn’t work.

Don has balls of crumpled paper surrounding him and he holds a hand to his forehead.

Every word he writes is garbage. Nothing sounds right and he gives up, tossing his pen across the room. He’s tempted to forget about it, to just continue with Bobby like he always has.

It’s easier that way. Sure he has feelings, but if Bobby doesn’t reciprocate, he can move on. They can just be friends.

Don’s phone pings and he chuckles at the notification from Bobby’s channel.

Coming? A text comes in a second after.

If you can make me.

Bobby sends back a middle finger and Don grabs his laptop. He just needs to enjoy himself for now. Maybe he’ll have some clarity afterwards.

The chat is already speeding by, Bobby answering a few questions while he gets his setup going. Don’s not sure what Bobby has planned tonight. He’s been a bit elusive, teasing Don when he can during practice.

“Oops, almost lost track of the time. Gotta change,” Bobby winks at the camera.

The sleeve of Don’s shirt covers his hand and he chews on the hem as he waits for Bobby to come back. When Bobby does, kneeling on his bed, his “outfit” is nothing more than panties.

That is, pink lace panties that leave little to the imagination.

Bobby’s not small, Don can attest to that, and he thinks to grab the dildo Bobby gave him as a gag gift.

“DH22, go grab it.” Bobby somehow reads Don’s mind through the screen.

Unable to fight against Bobby’s whims, Don scrambles to dig it out of his closet and throws it onto the bed. He grabs his bottle of lube, takes off his clothes before settling back on the sheets, shoving another pillow behind him.

The chat is a little confused about Bobby’s casual manner towards Don’s username but it’s forgotten when Bobby snaps the waistband of the panties against his skin.

He rubs the flat of his palm against his strained cock, bites back a moan. “Gonna use the clear flesh light tonight,” he shows the camera.

Don pours too much lube over his fingers but he doesn’t care as he spreads his legs. His hole is tight and his impatience causes him to tighten up.

“Mm, relax for me, baby,” Bobby coos.

There must be a camera on Don too. Taking a deep breath, he sinks into his mattress, just prods and swirls at his own hole.

“Can’t wait to get inside you,” Bobby is already breathless, one hand braced behind him as he keeps stroking his cock through the lace fabric.

Don whimpers as his finger finally slips in. After today’s stress this is just what he needs. Bobby keeps flirting through the camera and Don finally gets his hole stretched. He brushes against his prostate, a low moan leaving him. If Bobby were here now, he’d keep testing the spot, make Don beg. And for Bobby, Don would be a dog if he asked.

Bobby pulls the panties down, tucks the fabric behind his balls before he grabs the flesh light. He winks at the camera and heat rushes to Don’s face. He tries to remind himself it’s just for show, there’s nothing behind it.

Reaching blindly for the dildo, Don reluctantly pulls out his fingers to lube up the toy. He still can’t believe Bobby made a dildo that matches his own dick. That birthday was one for the books.

As Bobby thrust into the flesh light, Don shoves the dildo inside himself, knowing just how Bobby would be fucking him. It’d be harsh, yet tender, marking Don, reminding him who he belongs to. Don’s hole stretches even more as he pushes the dildo all the way in and he gasps as it rubs against his prostate.

“Bobby,” Don moans into the empty space of his room.

“So tight, so perfect,” Bobby pants. “All mine.”

Don pushes, pulls the dildo in time with Bobby’s movements, his orgasm impending as he uses his other hand to fist his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Bobby tells the camera.

That’s all it takes for Don to be overwhelmed and he shouts as his orgasm wracks through him. Don’s vision goes white, his body falling limpless against the bed as he catches his breath. He barely manages to catch Bobby pulling off the flesh light and pumping his cock amongst whimpers, breathless swearing. Cum spills over Bobby’s sheets and his torso, his moan loud and dramatic.

Bobby shakes his hair out of his face while his chest heaves and Don wants to lick him clean. Instead, Bobby runs a finger through the cum, sucks it off while batting his lashes at the camera. Don’s cock twitches with interest, but he’s much too tired to go again so soon.

“See you next time,” Bobby grins. “I had fun.”

The stream is quick to go dark after that and Don starts to drift as he eases the dildo out of himself. He sighs but it’s not out of contentment. The cold wash of the situation slips into his mind just to torment him some more. To remind him that this doesn’t solve a damn thing.

His phone vibrates and without opening his eyes, Don manages to slide his thumb across the screen.

“Hey.”

“What did you think?” Bobby sounds tired, but eager.

“That was good,” Don winces at his attempt at a compliment. “You gonna wear those to practice?”

Bobby laughs. “Not this pair. They’re no good now, but maybe I’ll dig out the white ones.”

Don can only imagine the chaos of the locker room if the guys caught wind of Bobby wearing panties under his gear. He wants it so bad.

“So,” Bobby’s smile is clear through the phone. “You really liked it, huh?”

“I like everything you do.”

“Famous last words.”

Don is brought back to reality for a moment. He means what he says. Bobby is wonderful in so many ways and Don just wishes he had the bravery to say so.

“Hey, lover boy, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah,” Don shakes away the chaotic thoughts. “We still on for Friday?”

“Don, we’ve been doing this for months now. I’ll never miss a dinner with you. You know that.”

Don’s heart leaps in his chest. Bobby has a way of making him feel special, that he doesn’t give this attention to anyone else. And maybe it’s true. Don’s social media is filled with pictures of him and Bobby, it’s no wonder the hockey fans have speculated.

But, it’s not who they are. Not what they’re supposed to be.

“Just making sure,” Don says. “You might have a hot date or something.”

Bobby’s laugh is cynical and Don can feel the pillow smacking his head.

“Yeah, I do. It’s Don Hume, one of the top centers in the nation.”

This is all just joking around. Poking fun. Don tries to convince himself of this.

“You flatter me,” Don bites his tongue.

“And have sex with you too.”

Now this makes Don laugh. “Alright get to bed. Coach won’t be happy if we’re both dead tired.”

“Ugh, don’t make me think of him after jerking off.”

“Would you rather have Ulbrickson or Bolles find your channel?” Don can’t help poke.

“Good night, Donald.”

Bobby hangs up after that and Don laughs to himself. A frown morphs on his face then, his mood dipping. This feels so good, so right.

Why can’t he just be honest? If Bobby is truly his friend, it won’t ruin a thing. Fear has settled deep in Don’s soul and he is losing the fight.

He hurts. His head is a fractured mess. All Don wants is…

What he wants is an impossible dream. It’s better to keep it secret.

It has to be.

#bobby moch #don hume #bobby moch x don hume #don hume x bobby moch #coxstroke #salix's sideblog escapades #don is not doing okay lmaooooo

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femalehieronymusbosch · 2 months

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how special friendship is so pure and so sinful at once, it feels like poison fr, you were right. it's like 1 season cesare and lucrezia, you know where it's going but it hasnt yet, and their love is as pure and all consuming as the love of god

i see you're a person of culture as well! i didn't see similarities before but now you mention it i can't unsee - their scenes together have this tunnel-vision on each other and slow honey-like quality as if the time stops when they're together. check! their desire to compare themselves to historical figures too. check! they have enchanting love theme that plays over their scenes too. check! however, notice how Georges and Alexandre's theme is quite sombre and reminds more of season 3 "Cesare and Lucrezia spend the night together" rather than season 1 "Cesare and Lucrezia's love theme (by the fountain)". and the whole vibe you describe so well, of course.

Georges is dreamlike romantic hero, Romeo, beautiful, elegant, noble, softspoken, with patrician bearing and quiet charm, Alexandre is cute and soft but lit from within with his unbreakable spirit, he truly has “not of this earth” charisma, fire burning too brightly is destined to went out quickly. Their first date is dreamy, sweet, cute… the way they instantly cling to each other! The moment when they exchange blood is subtle eros incarnate, Alexandre’s gaze is full of love and tenderness as he looks at Georges licking his blood, and Georges’s enigmatic and sensual flutter of eyelashes as he looks down… Humans are equally body and soul, true love is both heavenly and earthly, you know.

Alexandre’s unshakeable confidence in Georges’ feelings, he knew that “you love me and I love you” before they ever spoke to each other from glances alone, “glances that are like kisses, and words are like caresses” he’s sure of it and he won’t back down. Only in childhood we can ever be this devoted, without considering anything else. That’s why after Georges’ presumed betrayal he’s got nothing to live for anymore. Georges is older that’s why he can see the benefits of pretending to comply, to lay low, to play along with well-meaning holy fathers (and they do mean well and while being nosy and insistant, that’s their job, they’re teachers, parents entrusted these boys to them).

Georges no matter how much of a lovesick poet he is, lives in the real world, while Alexandre doesn’t, he’s uncompromising, it’s either love or death for him, and if Georges doesn’t love him… with Georges’ love Alexandre was willing to be against the whole world, but if Georges has forsaken him… As father Lauzon says “give me back his soul, it was yours for too long”. And gives Georges a photograph of Alexandre, taken before he was wounded and forever changed by love, “when his heart was untouched. when there was nothing, no one”. Love for Georges was his religion. One shouldn’t look for love and death, for they find one on their own. Georges was looking for love, he wanted to fall in love and tried it with Lucien first, when he was shot by Amour’s arrow at the sight of Alexandre, and Alexandre was looking for death when the love he thought was as strong as death failed him.

They properly meet on a train but even before they’re introduced to each other they already know they love each other and are connected by the string of fate. Are you acquainted? – No, but we are in love. they speak with their eyes, melting, basking in their shared feelings. They’re saying words, but they don’t need them, it’s just a lovers’ meaningless babytalk to enjoy hearing each other’s voices. You love me and I love you, we’ll be united forever, run away together and don’t care for anything else, I will never forsake you, I don’t care if we’ll be caught, as long as we are together and never separated… murmurs like an endless stream. There’s no internal torment, they instantly give themselves to each other. I like the way Georges always positions himself lower as if putting Alexandre on pedestal, sitting/standing on the stairs slightly below to look up at him with adoration. When father Lauzon catches a whiff of Georges’ lavender perfume on Alexandre’s hair... What implication is more damning, the gifts – exchange of perfume and perfumed locks of hair, or frolicking together in a haystack?..

Book’s moment when Alexandre confesses “I love you more than life itself” is omitted, but there is another equally important one added. When Alexander sneaks into Georges’ music lesson, he looks at him with eyes full of tenderness and sorrow, and touches his hair with gesture too familiar. It’s when “I love you more than life itself” is palpable, even if unspoken. The realization, the surrender to feelings. It’s unusual and unsettling to see such an expression on the face of young boy, this expression is kind of reserved for romance heroines in specific moments when her hero is weak (wounded in attempt to protect her for example) and she’s looking at him slowly realizing how much she loves him, caresses his hair with “now it’s my turn to be stronger one and protect you” notion. And it’s after they got caught! So Alexandre is doubling down on their love. Showing that he’s unafraid. He felt that he can lose Georges and it made him brave, made him feel that they have to seize every moment they get. It made him understand himself and acknowledge the fact that he’s found the meaning of life now. And that meaning is Georges. It’s as dramatic and life-changing and deadly as only first ever love can be.

Then Alexandre's demise is ambiguous on purpose. Georges is left with this eternal bleeding wound, guilt. Was it an accident? If it wasn't - did Alexandre repent in his last moments? Was he saved and forgiven? Where is his soul now? Georges cannot even follow him in death because what if Alexandre did repent and went to heaven? And if he didn’t? And Georges won’t meet him even if he drags through life till the natural end? There's no answer.

#фильм #you send ask you get a wall of purple prose for free #the power of yaoi

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dark-frosted-heart · 2 years

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Is there a difference between Keith and his alter as a lover to Emma. Can you give us a scenario in the game... If there is.

It’s kind of hard for me to explain but I’ll try my best

Yes and no. What the Keiths have in common are how much they love Emma, find her really cute (take a shot every time they call her cute), are greedy, and love to have her close to them whenever possible. Lots of hugs. Alter!Keith and Keith low key competing with each other. Very protective over Emma. Also, both Keiths fuck 😌 (separately!) They’re two sides of the same coin and sometimes Emma sees a hint of the other Keith in the Keith that’s in front.

Alter!Keith is physical, bold, pushy, and a biter. He likes having Emma close to him, always holding her in some way and likes to reward her with kisses on her cheek. He even does this when she first realizes that Alter!Keith is another personality. His kisses are full of biting and tongue, and can be described as being devoured by a beast. Oh, and a big thing for Alter!Keith is Emma’s reactions to his touches. Bullying is how he shows his love.

Though Alter!Keith enjoys bullying Emma, he has his gentle moments and is attentive, though that’s not something he’ll ever admit. Even before they were together, when he took her out on a date (that he blackmailed her into going *cough*), he took her to all the places he knew she enjoyed, even if he didn’t have an opinion on any of them. He’d answer any questions she had about him. He doesn’t like to have her worry or blame herself for things that aren’t her fault and always tries to soothe her when she’s angry. I guess you can say that he’s the more empathetic Keith.

He loves any kind of attention Emma gives him because it means his existence is acknowledged. But he especially likes the kind of attention that Keith doesn't receive, even if it was hate pre-relationship. He gets jealous whenever Emma's mind's on Keith, even for only a moment, when he's in front.

🦌

Romantic!Keith is more confident and you’d be forgiven if you thought it was just Alter!Keith pretending to be Keith. Emma often says he’s sneaky and unfair whenever he looks dejected or has puppy eyes. Of course, Keith being the kind and gentle soul that he is, he always makes sure that Emma's comfortable. Whether it's being by Emma's side when he's not working and making sure that's she's comfortable while adjusting to life in Jade or during intimate moments. He does still have his moments of uncertainty but when Emma gives him the go-ahead, he finds it hard to control himself. But he’s still gentler than Alter!Keith. He’s not innocent of leaving marks all over Emma, but it’s not as excessive as Alter!Keith. And according to Emma, the way Keith and Alter!Keith touch her is different.

He's not shy with displays of affection in front of people he knows if him having Emma sit on his lap while Licht is present or him kissing Emma several times in a hall of Jade castle while his butler's standing off to the side are anything to go by. Going back to Emma sitting on his lap, she wanted to sit on the floor but he said it was dirty and uncomfortable. He then apologizes, he just wanted to see her embarrassed face. He looks at her with puppy eyes and she gives in

🦌

Dramatic route Keith is actually slightly different from Romantic route Keith but the Dramatic route’s an alternate route so not “canon”.

Dramatic!Keith I think is more shy and lacks confidence. He did have his moments where it suddenly felt like Alter!Keith took over, Rather than talk to Emma when he notices something off about her, he either talks to Alter!Keith about it or writes in his notebook. While Alter!Keith knows what’s up with Emma just by observation, Keith worries that she’s grown tired of him and his gloominess. He can’t bear the thought of letting her go if she wanted to break up and would cling to her if he had to.

His first kiss with her is gentle and slow, as if he was savoring her. And when they finally confess, Emma kisses him and he feels like he’s going to evaporate. Dramatic route Keith doesn’t fuck. At least, it’s never shown.

Going forward, the Keith that we’ll be seeing is Romantic!route Keith since the both end clear epilogue continues from there.

#great prince of jade #ikepri ask #ikepri spoilers #keith howell #ikepri keith

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heliads · 2 years

Text

All By Design Chapter One: sharp enough to kill a man

Y/N L/N is Icarus incarnate, a falling star of a singer who only feels bliss when she's burning down. Nikolai Lantsov is what becomes of golden youth when finally forced into harsh reality. Both of them need something to save their reputations. The solution? A relationship to turn the tide of the tabloids. The only problem is that they really, really can't stand each other, and that makes faking endless love impossible to bear.

this chapter's song: vigilante shit

series masterlist / chapter two

This is going to end badly. Of course it will. How could it go any other way?

Looking back, you probably should have seen the signs as they flashed before you. People were worried. Your reputation was splintering with every passing second. You used to be good. No one sees it now. No one had for a while. It makes perfect sense that they would try to do something to stop your image from fracturing any further. You just didn’t think they’d resort to something like this.

Besides, it wasn’t as if you were totally out of control. The world loves to watch its stars burn to ash and dust, to gawk and point as you lose the last of your principles and let it all go in one last hurrah. You weren’t quite so close to your own dying days to to think you were anything but untouchable, but you weren’t blind either. Everyone has their end date. Yours was coming up.

It wasn’t like you were going to die. You didn’t think you were there yet. No one thinks they are until it happens, but still. The only wars you had were internal. You don’t make mistakes when it comes to business, you keep your books clean. You play by the rules, and they hate you anyway.

That’s alright, though. A bit of good-natured sniping never hurt a soul. You’ll sell your songs by the dozens, and a thousand people will read into every word in the hopes of grasping your true meaning. Maybe they’ll find it, maybe it never existed at all. Regardless, you’ll stay up there on that stage until it burns you out, and then at last you will be able to rest.

Until then, you stay with it. The game of the famous is a tempting one, you have never been able to keep away for long. You make yourself a promise that you’ll stay out of the melee, maybe treat your wounds for a month or two, but soon enough you’re creeping back towards the clubs and the nights out and all is lost once more. You’ve got people you know who are out every night, certainly more than you. They’ll write your name in scarlet letters until you join them once more.

That’s how you can excuse this to yourself. Blame it on others, never on yourself. In truth, maybe you were falling off the deep end. The journalists were certainly scrambling to chase down every sordid truth about your life, and you gave them enough to fill a thousand books and news broadcasts. It all came to a head with a meeting in your label’s office. PR wants to talk, the email said. Say no more. You know what this means.

Or, you thought you knew what it would be. A slap on the wrist means the same thing as a warning shot in the dark, you’ll ignore both until they’re aiming for the whites of your eyes. There will always be people gunning for you. Saints know the amount of times they’ve tried to stage your death only for you to come out smiling. Not even Kaz Brekker, that godforsaken up-and-comer from the Barrel’s scraping skies and burning bridges, could devise a plan to drag you down forever.

That’s how you stay alive in the business, you know. You choose your enemies better than you choose your friend, and throughout all of it you develop a skin thick enough to carry you through every rumor, every lie. That’s why you didn’t stress that PR meeting all that much. They’d tell the same story about starting to get worried, and then they’d cut you loose for another month or two. It had happened before. You were sure that it would happen again.

Instead, you walked blindly into their game plan. You’re not sure how long they’d been thinking about this, but it must have been long enough to get all their pieces in order. You were locked in checkmate before you even opened your mouth, you just didn’t know it yet.

They did, though, and that was enough. Your lead PR specialist is a terror of a woman named Zoya Nazyalensky. She’s well known in the industry for taking the most hopeless of cases and turning out martyrs and heroes by the dozens. Even if they don’t last all that long, you’ll be damned if you haven’t heard of her clients by the time she’s done with them. Zoya is ruthless and utterly without sentiment, but sometimes that’s what you need. You know a few others who were made anew by her. One was a young woman who’d left a previous agency in Keramzin, but her stories come later. Yours is now.

Zoya waited for you to take a seat and delivered your fate at last. She spread out a variety of damning evidence across her desk: magazines, newspapers, all to do with you. You’re a demon, one claims, twisted and hell-bent on ruining every good thing you ever touch. Another article claims you’re an angel. A third says you’re neither, just a temptress everyone has been entertaining for far too long.

“This needs to be fixed.”

That’s how you know you’ve crossed a line. Usually, Zoya doesn’t present solutions, that’s up to you. If you can execute brilliancy in coming up with song lyrics, surely you can brainstorm a way to pull yourself out of the quagmire of bad press.

Now, though? You must have gone too far. Maybe you have for a while. It’s enough for her to make up her mind about you.

Zoya clears her throat and continues on. “We have analyzed what people are saying and decided that it all stems from the fact that you’re too wild. The public needs to know that you can be serious. At some point, the games were going to have to end. You know that, don’t you?”

You incline your head once. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

Zoya’s gaze remains cold. “After this, we shouldn’t have to have it. Do you know how you convince the world that you can settle down? You actually do it.”

You arch a brow. “So what, you’re retiring me? I bring in too much money to the label for you to do that.”

Zoya scoffs. “Stop being so self pitying, it does neither of us any good. I was hired to turn you into a tool for selling records, that’s what you wanted. Don’t get cold feet on me now.”

The corners of your lips prick up into a smile. Even if the world was falling to pieces, you can always count on Zoya’s prickly personality. It’s nice to have a constant in all of this.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you assure her. “Alright, I’m curious. What’s your strategy this time?”

For some reason, she hesitates as if knowing that you’re not going to like this. “Keep your complaints until the end.”

“What are you going to have me do?” You ask, slightly alarmed. Zoya has never given you a shred of kindness. You started young in this business, she was the one who got you through it. The fact that she seems to dislike what is about to happen to you is a bad sign for sure.

Zoya folds her hands on the front of her desk. “You’re settling down, but not from music. Just your free time. We’re arranging a relationship. You’re going to be seen in public with a young man and convince the world that you’re in love. They’ll believe that he’s keeping you in line and stop talking about how you’re a loose cannon.”

You want to laugh. “That’s your strategy? Convince some guy to date me and hope that my soul is cleansed from not running around doing what I want?”

An idea occurs to you. “This was Aleksander’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Zoya doesn’t answer, but a flash of irritation in her eyes lets you know. Of course it was. Aleksander runs the agency where both you and Zoya work. He chose you as a client when you were just getting started as a singer. Some would say that his methods are wrong, that he hurts his stars more than he saves them, but Aleksander has never cared about what people feel, only the results he gets. As long as his sales stay through the roof, he will do what he wants.

Right now, that includes marketing you as someone who is kept in check by some stranger. It wouldn’t be the first time Aleksander has done something like this, either. Rumor has it that he encouraged a young model, Genya Safin, to spend time with one of the wealthier and older actors in the world. Alexander Lantsov is a king around here, and Aleksander needed something from him. Genya was a pawn. You all are.

No wonder Zoya is furious. She keeps it to herself well, though. Saints know what happens to those who cross Aleksander. It would not do to lose her so quickly.

You have no choice in the matter, but that doesn’t stop you from making your frustrations known. “Alright, sure. Someone up top is going to play matchmaker. Who’s the poor fool who has to put up with me for the purposes of this plan?”

Zoya’s lips just purse. A voice answers for her, one coming from the back of the room. You hadn’t checked to see if anyone else was there when you walked in, assuming that you’d be in and out in a matter of minutes. As it turns out, there is someone here, and you can tell from his gilded tone alone that he’s going to be trouble.

“That would be me, I suppose.”

You don’t bother to turn around. The young man who has the pleasure of being forced to court you walks forward until he’s standing somewhere to the side of Zoya’s desk. Arms folded across his chest, he dares you to say what you really want to him.

Instead, you direct your stare at Zoya with ill concealed vexation. “Him? Really?”

Zoya seems unconcerned with the choice of men now that her grievances with Aleksander have been made clear. “He needs this just as much as you do. What, is there anything about Nikolai Lantsov that upsets you personally, or just the idea of him?”

Nikolai. Of course it would be him, now that you think about it. You don’t think anyone expected Ravka’s golden boy to fall from grace, but his popularity is starting to slip anyway. Call it connection to such a family as the rest of the Lantsovs, call it envy that someone can seem so perfect when the rest of you are clearly not. Regardless, Nikolai needs a little something to redeem him in the eyes of the public once more. Turns out you’re just the right card for him to play.

You had seen him once before this outside of movies or tabloids. Your friend had hosted a party a year or so ago, and that had been where the ill-fated meeting had taken place. Not a real friend, of course– to say that anyone in the Ravkan side of Hollywood truly has your back is the most pathetic sort of self deceit that could ever be imagined. No, you were only there so it didn’t look terrible if you weren’t. The world’s most dazzling stars would hand you all sorts of drinks with a smattering of white lies as a garnish. If half of the sips you took were only of water, no one would believe you.

They know what they expect of you, and around here, human error is non-existent. People believe wholeheartedly what they want to believe. To suggest that their wildest imagination might not be proven fact is something akin to betrayal. It would certainly be the sort of stuff to start a war, but the rich and famous do that all the time over something as microcosmic as a broken nail.

Anyway, that was the sort of place where you met Nikolai Lantsov for the first time. In an attempt to cross a crowded room, he had trod upon your heel with such precision and grace that you almost thought he might have done it on purpose. When you had turned around to scold him for it, his face had spread with a smile so sincere it had to be false and he had apologized. So charming, so insensitively legitimate compared to the rest of you. That was Nikolai and no one else.

He had moved on after that, floating between groups of partygoers with all the natural grace of an eagle soaring through the air. You had watched him for some time after that, and at last concluded that he had to have been stone cold sober throughout the entirety of the evening. Perhaps that was the excuse you gave yourself for hating him then. If Nikolai could remove himself from the humiliating task of getting drunk in public when you couldn’t, who were you to idly praise him? Nikolai did not make mistakes. Everyone else did. It was all the proof you needed to despise him.

You have a better reason now for animosity, of course, but at least it gave you a head start. You don’t know if Nikolai has thought about you twice since that night, if he even realized it was you at all. And here he is now, still leaning idly against the wall, soon to be your lover. How delightful.

Zoya taps her hands against the table once, abruptly dragging you back to reality. “Well?” She asks. “Are you going to do it?”

You fight back the urge to laugh. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” she says crisply.

Across the room, Nikolai grins. His teeth flash in the fluorescent lighting, and it looks as if he’s baring his fangs at the world, daring it to try and take him down. “You know, I think most people would be perfectly happy to date me. I’m almost hurt to hear that you think otherwise.”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t do that. I want no part of this and you know that.”

Nikolai spreads his hands. “Hey, in the spirit of honesty I don’t want to do this either. We’re both suitably desperate for a jolt to our public image, though. I can affectionately say that you are my best bet right now.”

You sigh and look back at Zoya. “Alright, then. I’ll do it.”

She nods, and then, as if sensing how much this is going to bother you, Zoya does the impossible and smiles. “Excellent. This is going to be absolutely fascinating to watch.”

Do you know the worst part of this? You think she might be right.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy

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snowbellewells · 1 year

Text

Self Promo Sunday: “Nothing Stands Between”

This two shot was a spec fic I wrote during the summer between seasons 4 and 5, when we didn’t really know where Emma had disappeared to after taking on the Darkness, or what would happen next, or how the rest of them would find her again or get her back. Though it didn’t end up playing out this way, I still had fun writing it, and thought it might be fun to revisit and give some art as well. Hopefully someone else out there may enjoy seeing it again as well...

Summary: Killian and Henry will go to any length find Emma and bring her home again. There's nothing in all the realms more powerful than True Love, and they're counting on that to help them no matter what they face.

Also available on AO3 or ff.net, if one of those is your preference

by: @snowbellewells

1. you never said goodbye

“and in between the soul and the sky…

I know we can make through the night,

‘cause you never said goodbye…”

The metallic clang of the heavy silver dagger striking concrete still rings in his ears like the door of a prison cell slamming shut around his heart. Killian Jones feels his legs give – his muscles water as all the strength drains from him – and he falls to his knees in the middle of Main Street mere feet from where his Swan has vanished. He is unable to turn his eyes from the empty space where she last stood, nor from the curved edge of the infernal blade now bearing her name on its cursed surface, and all that now appears in the place she has vacated. At first, the stricken pirate doesn’t even realize that a guttural noise akin to the cry of a wounded animal is escaping from his own throat; then, Killian senses a presence near him. He feels a strong hand that must be the Prince – her father’s – clamp firmly on his shoulder. Killian’s mouth snaps closed in surprise at the gesture of comfort from this man who has now lost his cherished daughter a third time, and when his teeth clack against each other and the keening ceases, he realizes the wail must have belonged to him.

His head bows, and shame momentarily stains his face, before he raises his visage, and glances over his shoulder to gaze into his friend’s pained royal face. Only 300 years of struggle and accustoming to hurt allow Killian to bring his features under control and to nod at Dave in assurance that he has mastered himself again.

Oh, it will be a fleeting calm; he knows this all too well. Torment still churns and surges just beneath the surface, under his skin. He may be a fearless captain, intrepid adventurer, and survivor; he may have an image to uphold and a reputation to maintain, but he has never felt pain, fear, or anger equal to this. In his long, long life and all his loss and brushes with death, nothing has rocked him to the core and left him as helpless as he feels in this moment. His love, his true anchor, is gone, and what is more, Emma has taken on a curse that may do gods know what to her before they can reach her. That she did it to save them all is as selfless and brave as he has always known her to be, but it leaves him feeling even more impotent in his inability to aid or support her in her sacrifice. It is only realizing he is not alone, that others have lost her too and are also grieving, that enables him to shoulder his agony and stand again on shaking limbs, at least until he can indulge his agony again in private. He has a duty now – to her family as well as Emma herself. Gods help him, she has made him part of something as she offered to do when he took them to Neverland and began his ascent out of villainy following his golden-headed angel. He will stand by her parents and her boy (Henry, his heart squeezes at the thought of what this will do to Henry) and together they will find her in the darkness and bring her back.

*************88888888888888888888********************

As he had feared and yet anticipated, the lad he has grown to care for as he once did his father too, is crushed by her loss. Killian can see the creases of pain and undeserved guilt on Regina’s face as the boy leans into her embrace at the end of her labored, halting explanation. He, the Charmings, Robin and Regina, staggered wearily back into Granny’s dining establishment where they had left Henry regaling Roland, Archie, Marco, August, Leroy, Ruby, and Belle, who is holding his gurgling young uncle, with the tale of his time within a story – a hero in his own right – with success and pride, and a twinkle of mischief that is all Emma. None of them want to ruin his happiness, but neither can they keep him in the dark, nor lie to him.

As Henry finishes recounting his tale, he looks up at the group who have re-entered the diner and spares them having to find a way to broach the difficult topic by asking, “Where’s Mom?” curiously.

Snow’s pretty face falls and she buries her face in David’s shoulder, trying to hide her tears. Regina’s eyes fall to her feet, unable to meet her son’s until Robin places a gentle, steadying hand on her arm and she steps forward and finds a way to begin.

Killian never lets his gaze stray from the lad, watching the emotions flicker over Henry’s face: the hurt, the confusion, the bitterness over the fact that his mom is once again caught up in a fight she did not begin or deserve to weather. Then Killian sees something take over Henry’s face, an expression he did not know he had needed to draw on until it had appeared. Steely determination, and the unwavering hope which has carried them all this far, takes over the boy’s features, and the lad speaks firmly after clearing his throat and setting his shoulders. “Then we’ll find her,” Henry says simply, looking up at each of them in turn, as if swearing them to his quest. “That’s what this family does.”

Dave lets out a choked sounding bark of a laugh, but then nods, letting Henry know that of course he is right.

Killian hates to overstep his bounds, but he knows that Henry has included him with his words, both in his family and in this venture. “Aye, Lad,” he affirms, speaking gruffly past the lump in his own throat. “That is exactly what we will do.”

***********8888888888888888888*******************

The next morning finds Killian and Henry bent over the desk in his captain’s cabin, studying the numerous maps of the realms that he has collected in his centuries of travel and exploration, realizing what a frustrating and daunting task they have set for themselves. Killian brushes an agitated hand through his already disheveled dark hair, staring down at the particular aged piece of parchment currently holding their interest. The map is of Camelot, which seems the most practical place to search for the famed sorcerer Merlin; however, there is no guarantee that it will lead them any closer to Emma. Granted, she had admonished them to free her from the darkness just before she vanished, and according to the Apprentice, Merlin is the key to them doing so, but doing anything that does not directly bring them closer to her is the opposite of what either he or her boy want.

Nevertheless, he is diligently attempting to show Henry how to map a course, and finding with a pleased sense of pride that Emma’s boy is proving to be a natural. The lad is sharp, inquisitive, and has an excellent memory for all that Killian has previously shown him. They are presently embroiled in finding the best way to reach King Arthur’s legendary castle once docking in his kingdom, and seeing that it may take much more time than either of them would wish, when Henry suddenly clutches the map in his hands, as if to rip it in two.

The young man’s shoulders shake silently as he leans forward to brace himself on the desk, head bowed as if hiding his emotion from the pirate. Though the tears that must be falling make no sound, the lad is obviously trying to hold onto his control for all he is worth. Killian wants to reach forward, to gather him into a masculine embrace and offer comfort of some sort, but he does not know if it will cause the lad more pain or if it will do any good at all, when his comfort is certainly not what the boy truly needs.

Finally, Henry draws in a heaving breath, and the words coming rasping from his throat in great gasps, “She’s gone….Killian…My mom…she’s just gone! She brought…all of you…all the way…to Neverland…to save me…when I was taken. …And we…we’re just waiting! …Not going after her…she could be hurt…she could be dying! ...We need to find her!”

Unable to stop himself, Killian pulls Henry in and holds on tight, clutching the lad against his chest awkwardly, but in a hopeful attempt to soothe, rubs his good hand over the boy’s shoulders. “We will, Lad. I swear it. She will not be lost from us forever – no matter where she is, we will reach her.”

2. bring me home

‘will you let me follow you

wherever you go,

bring me home…”

“Emma, no!” the hoarse cry is ripped from his chest before he can think, and is echoed in Henry’s pained exclamation behind him. Killian is already moving, dashing toward her in the next instant, even as the very fabric of the forest glade around them and the air they breathe seems to ripple and wave with expelled energy. It may be only because he is in motion that it doesn’t knock Killian off his feet. He hears Henry stumble, but as concerned as he is for his young compatriot, he cannot take his focus from his Swan now. They have come too far, and she is finally within reach. He knows without question that her boy feels the same.

His vision goes hazy for a moment as the sky above them darkens, wind whips up in buffeting crescendo, and thunder rolls overhead. Even as he is about to touch Emma, something stops him. Killian watches in a near trance as she gives him one last, quick look, then closes her eyes and does as Merlin had instructed her. He sees her lips moving fervently, though he cannot hear her words, and then is shocked when an immense, foreboding black cloud is expelled from her mouth. It rises quickly, and he recoils a bit in apprehension. However, unlike the grasping, hungry ropes this darkness was in Storybrooke when Emma offered herself and it wrapped her in its talons, this cloud is disintegrating, disappearing into nothing before his astonished eyes.

The old wizard was right after all. The key is in the recipient of so much tempting, intoxicating power willingly giving it up after not taking it on in an evil way that adds to its hold. He knew his princess was strong and true, but that she has done what no others could bring themselves to since the Dark Curse’s creation is mind-boggling. Every time Killian thinks he cannot possibly love her more, or be more astounded by her, Emma proves him wrong again.

He is so thrilled by this moment of triumph that he almost manages to forget his concern at the warning Merlin had given along with his advice. Emma has done it! She has freed herself of the darkness and defeated it so it can never be visited on another in such heinous fashion. Surely, she is safe now and they can go home.

Killian’s eyes turn back from the sky to his love, already speaking to her with joy and relief. “You did it, Swan! Bloody brilliant, Lass, as always…” but the words die on his tongue at the sight of her.

Emma gives him a brief, tremulous smile, a gentle sheen of tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Killian…” she breathes out hoarsely, her voice rough and raw, but hers again, not the horrifying rasp it had been when they first found her in true Dark One form in Camelot’s forests, hiding where she would not come into contact with anyone she might harm while she sought control over herself. She doesn’t continue though, and Killian reaches his hand out to forestall her, to make her save her strength. She is deathly pale, trembling like a leaf in a stormy gale, and almost seems to fade away in front of him.

Her eyes roll back in her head, and her breath whooshes from her body. Killian barely manages to dive forward and catch her in his arms as she crumbles lifelessly. He gathers her shockingly light form to his chest, trying desperately not to think of Merlin’s dire warnings now racing through his brain. Henry is at his side in the next instant, reaching out to touch Emma and whispering, “Mom?” so hopefully it nearly breaks the pirate’s ancient, scarred heart.

Emma looks as though the very life has been drained from her along with all the darkness and excess magic. He can only bury his nose in her golden hair, breath in a strengthening whiff of her comfortingly familiar scent, and carry her back the way they have come, hoping against hope there will be something Merlin can do. She has to hold on just a little longer; she must. All her bravery, her sacrifice, her fight to survive, cannot be in vain. He will not survive without her.

*********************88888888888888888888888********************

“It is as I feared,” the learned mage of Camelot sighs, sitting back in his chair from where he had been leaning over Emma’s frighteningly still form. Though his eyes hold the knowledge and experience of the ages, his face and body appear almost youthful – nearly as handsomely well-preserved as Killian himself, despite how long Merlin has truly lived. “So much leaving a person at once takes an immeasurable toll. She has truly conquered the Darkness, which none have ever been able to achieve. Yet, as others have found, the human thirst for power, control, and influence feeds on such power. It wove itself into the very fibers of her being; she expelled it, but as these powers have never been rejected before, it is hard to know if the damage can be survived. The force of the Dark Curse has been feeding on evil and desperate souls for ages.”

Killian bows his head, fighting to retain control, if only for the sake of Henry sitting across from him holding his mother’s hand. The very real desire to attack one of the world’s most powerful magicians almost overwhelms him, but it will do no good. Moreover, even if he had stressed the risks before giving Emma the possible solution, Killian knows within himself that it would not have changed her course of action. He bites his lip, holding back harsh, disparaging words or howls of pained despair. She is still hanging by a thread; her light is not snuffed out completely, and so he cannot give up hope.

“There must be something you can do,” he grits out in a tone that manages not to be overtly hostile. “Are you the fabled Merlin of Camelot or no?”

Henry’s big brown eyes rise to seek his, incredulous that the pirate would question such a legend, and then flit over to Merlin as well, pleading in them if there is any possibility the wizard is holding back.

The wise, knowing eyes show deep sympathy, not wanting to hurt this man and boy who have come so far for this heroic, self-sacrificing woman, this Savior. He is truly impressed by their faith and belief, the sheer force of the love that has carried them this far. He does not dissuade them to injure; he only wants them to understand the very real chance that it might be too late, beyond what any of them can do.

Sighing, he passes a hand over Emma’s brow, his forehead wrinkling in thought as if he reads something below the surface which cannot be heard aloud. “Alas, it is not up to me,” he states gravely, meeting and holding both pirate and young prince’s gaze in turn. “Whether she will wake again rests entirely upon Miss Swan.”

*******************8888888888888888888888888888*******************

Emma stirs restlessly in her unconscious state, head tossing from side to side on the flat feather pillow of Merlin’s cot. She murmurs ceaselessly, eyelids twitching as though she sees things moving behind them at all times, but nothing that either Henry or Killian can decipher as they keep vigil by his side. They can’t know that within her own mind, Emma is seeing one distressing, horrible scene from her history after another – scenes that she had hoped never to revisit…

She is three years old and looking on as Beatrice Swan hugs her goodbye, regretful sadness in her eyes, but still firmly turning away from the little girl she had professed to love, leaning into her husband’s side and resting her hand unconsciously on her stomach. Even at three, Emma feels a stab of jealousy at the unborn being stealing the closest she’s ever had to parents and a place to belong; her foster mother’s hand rubbing that slightly distended area seeming to mock her even as they already do the most hurtful thing they could. They’re leaving her behind – alone – as people always do. And once they get in the car and disappear down the driveway of the group home, Emma stands a long time before she goes in, not wanting anyone to see her until she’s sure they won’t see her cry.

She’s six and lies curled up in her bed, the single blanket covering her is threadbare and doing little to keep away the chill in the room she shares with four other girls. The others already don’t like her, a few years older and already buddied up when she’d come to this home a few months back. They are sleeping soundly in the bunk beds, oblivious to the way she tosses and turns on her cot in the corner. At this moment, it doesn’t even occur to her to be bothered by the fact that she’s always left out, always expected to make do with what’s left over. The cold that keeps her shivering this late November night isn’t even what is stealing her sleep. They sent her to bed without anything for supper again. She hadn’t meant to talk back; she’d only been trying to explain herself, but a slap across the mouth and the gnawing hunger she’s suffering now makes her bite her lips against the whimper that keeps trying to escape. It feels as though her stomach is twisting around trying to eat itself. She will live – these particular foster parents aren’t stupid enough to starve them for long enough to attract attention – but she’s still growing and the lack of food is a particularly cruel form of torture.

She is twelve and hiding in a middle school bathroom stall as her two supposed friends giggle and cackle over how easy she has been to fool, how naïve she is for thinking they could really want to be seen with her, how pathetic she looks in her thick, ugly glasses and patched, borrowed clothes…

She’s fourteen and cringing in the closet of her bedroom, hoping the drunken lumbering footsteps of the monster she’s been assigned to this time will pass by her closed door…

She’s seventeen and handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser, shaking with fear and knowing that this time there won’t be any running, any escape, knowing they’re taking her to jail where they’ll lock her away where no one can be bothered with her inconvenient presence anymore. Even Neal has left her behind; she knows without the proof the next few years will bring that he isn’t coming back for her…

Merlin, Henry and Killian can see her agitation growing worse; even as Emma lingers in a nether world they cannot see. Her brow creases, soft, whines of distress escape her, and tears run in rivulets down her cheeks from under her closed eyelids. As much as her son and her love want to offer comfort, she still seems unaware of them, and they are helpless to bring her back.

Another flashback washes over her…this one more heartbreaking than all the others. She is barely eighteen and she watches, clinging to the last vestiges of her will and courage, fastened to a prison hospital bed, as they take her little boy away. She barely saw the top of his head, covered with the barest wisps of soft brown hair and already his cries are fading as he is carried from the room. She couldn’t bear to look on him, knowing her resolve to give him his best chance would crumble if she let herself see his innocent face. Still, to never know what her little boy will look like, what he’ll be named, hear his voice…It isn’t just his tiny body that has been pulled away from her; it feels if it a piece of her soul has been ripped out as well…

The endless, nightmare rush of images ceases at last. Lost in a dim fog, Emma doesn’t really know where she is or what has caused the change, only that she is vaguely aware of a comforting pressure on her left hand, when before she could feel little else, and a similar warm press at her forehead touches her for a lovely, fleeting moment. She draws in a shuddering breath, then another, and slowly, surely feels a bit more of herself coming back into focus. For the first time in the seemingly endless floating eternity she has been lost in, Emma wants desperately to open her eyes. If only she could make them obey…

A coaxing voice reaches her ear, wrapping her up, urging her to come back to the speaker with beautiful, lilting tones. She wants to desperately to reach him, can feel the desire rising within her, even as his face remains frustratingly beyond her reach. Another joins, younger, more hopeful, but no less convincing. This one calls her ‘Mom’ and she feels her heart flutter, not understanding for a moment how to reconcile that with the terrible memory that fleeing darkness had just forced her to relive.

Suddenly Emma finds she wants desperately to return to the people who own these voices, to herself, to her life, even if the visions which have been visiting her are a part of its past. Struggling mightily, she begins to move, enough so that those watching over her can see her valiant effort.

“Killian!” Henry exclaims, breathless excitement in his voice and joy on his face. “Look! She’s starting to wake up!” He clutches her hand tightly in his again, calling to her more urgently. “Mom! Mom! Can you hear me?!”

Killian leans forward, watching his Swan avidly as more animation begins to flit across her face than he has seen in the several days they has spent at her side. He hardly breathes, barely daring to hope. He wants those lovely green eyes looking back at him, to see her again, more than he can remember ever wanting anything before. “Emma?” he asks, so softly only she would be able to hear him.

She shoots upward as she finally claws back into reality; her eyes flying open and scanning everything around her, chest heaving wildly as she draws in quick, fevered gasps of air. Her worried movements only still when she sees first her little boy – not so little anymore – and then her pirate. Their faces are both marred with fatigue and worry, but all the same looking awestruck with happiness to see her again. Her memory rushes back to her; she knows where she is, what she was fighting against, and how far they must have traveled to be sitting on either side of her. The painful reminders of her lost childhood settle back into their places as the rest of her life and the good that have begun to temper the bad return to her as well.

Shakily, she raises a hand to lovingly rest in Henry’s hair, then trace along the side of his face, biting her lip at the sheer love that wells up in her, seeing him safe and well and with her. Killian doesn’t begrudge her the moment with her boy, doesn’t interrupt, he simply bends his head to rest against the crown of hers, as if he’s content to simply have her awake and to breathe her in.

However, it doesn’t take long before that’s not enough for Emma. Gathering Henry to her side, she turns to study Killian, wanting to look on his beautiful face after so long apart. She sucks in a breath, not sure what to say, how to express the ache missing him has been, how to tell him that holding onto he and Henry in her mind is all that kept her sane, all that kept her from letting the Darkness take her over once and for all.

In the end, she doesn’t say anything before he swoops in and captures her mouth with his in a firm but tender kiss. “I love you as well, Emma Swan,” he affirms, having had to wait too long to say it back to her.

There is no response she can make to that without falling apart, so instead she nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, relishing the feel of both of them in her arms at last after so long alone. None of them notice the gentle, approving smile on Merlin’s face as the old sorcerer stands to leave them, knowing all will now be well.

“I hoped it…but I was afraid I’d never see either of you again…” she murmurs, trying not to let her voice crack. The reunion still feels so sweet that she doesn’t want to spoil it with what she has been through.

Killian interrupts her, smoothing her hair back from her face and soothing her with his quiet voice and gentle touch. “Don’t think on that anymore, Love. Not now. We’re together once more…and we’re going home.”

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @bdevereaux @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @cosette141 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @anmylica @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @drowned-dreamer @blowmiakisscolin @let-it-raines @caught-in-the-filter @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @mie779 @cocohook38 @motherkatereloyshipper

#self promo sunday #cs two shot #ouat s5 spec fic #nothing stands between #captain swan angst #captain swan fluff #captain cobra

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asteria7fics · 8 months

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The Brainrot ™ has become too much to bear, so I fear it’s time for Grandma Asteria to go on a rant.

Today’s topic: Songs that give ✨STYLE✨

These are from my personal collection of brainrot tracks. Maybe give ‘em a listen? Or whatevah.

#1: Navy Blue by Nightly

I can’t really explain this one, so I definitely shouldn’t be starting with it, but here we are! This song is truly pure vibes, and honestly it feels like the kind of song Stan would write when he’s mad pining but doesn’t want it to seem obvious. The irony? I hear it more from Kyle’s perspective (because duh, blue is Stan’s representative color so of course???) Idk man there’s just something about it that feels simple and sweet, but somehow a little sad, too? Yah feel me?

Yeah I can’t really justify this one with words. The girls that get it, get it.

#2: Anything For You by Ludo

Don’t talk to me about Ludo. I fucking LOVE LUDO. So slept on. This song in particular feels so Stan coded. Just listing all the things he’d do for his SBF. So fucking sweet and dorky, and feels so true to the lengths that Stan has gone to for Kyle. And the final lines of the chorus; ‘But the best story that I could tell is the one where I’m growing old with you’ UM HELLO??? SOULMATES??? UGH. Honestly the whole song is a masterpiece and deserves to be heard by more people.

#3: Bang The Doldrums by Fall Out Boy

I’d be remiss not to include FOB on this list, considering they were all I listened to while writing TSOB. This song in particular really fucks with the chorus, but y’all already knew that. I’m not the first person to associate this song with Style and I hope to God I won’t be the last. So so so good. I could literally talk for hours about how FOB just GETS IT. It is a love song, in their own way.

Seriously though guys listen to Fall Out Boy they’re really good and they aren’t just for recovering millennial emos I swear HEY WHERE ARE YOU GOING-

#4: 0X1=LOVESONG (I know I love you) by TXT ft. Seori

I know, it’s Korean. I’M SORRY but Tomorrow by Together absolutely FUCKS with this one I fear. The way Taehyun hits us with his ‘I KNOW IT’S REAL I CAN FEEL IT’ sends me into the stratosphere, and though I loved this song before getting into SP/Style (it’s co-written by my favorite member of BTS so of course I love it), it really shines in the context of Style angst. The gut wrenching ‘I know I love you’???? ‘Use me like a drug’?????? TXT fucking gets it, and they deserve so much love for giving me this banger to cry to while writing some depressing ass shit.

#5: Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel

Another massively under appreciated band, Saint Motel always hits. This song? Upbeat bop. Sunshine shot directly into my veins. The chorus feels like a warm hug, and I can just see those fucking DORKS serenading one another in the kitchen with it, living their sweet domestic life and just loving each other like God intended. Maybe the most perfect love song in history, so of course I’m gonna associate it with the most perfect Super Butt Fuckers. Obsessed.

#6: Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

I cannot be the only person that knows this song is MEANT FOR THEM. The quintessential best friend song, growing up together in a small town and knowing every inch of the other’s life. Shit gets complicated as they get older, but of course they always come back together because they’re SOUL!!!!MATES!!!! ‘This could be the end of everything, so why don’t we go somewhere only we know?’ Don’t speak to me. The fact that this song is NEVER utilized for Style angst on TikTok is my Roman Empire. I need old man yaoi set to this song IMMEDIATELY. Or some real angsty apocalyptic shit. I’m actually begging you guys, seriously.

PHEW! That’s all for now. I’ve compiled these songs into a playlist that you can listen to here, but every song is individually linked, too. I’ll eventually add more songs, so suggestions are welcome!

Anyway, thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

#I needed to get this off my chest #I feel better now #rant #south park #music recs #style #stan marsh #kyle broflovski

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rockislandadultreads · 11 months

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2024 Andrew Carnegie Medals for Excellence: Fiction Longlist

Introducing a handful of nominees from the fiction longlist for the 2024 Andrew Carnegie Medals for Excellence! To see the entire longlist, click here.

Witness by Jamel Brinkley

What does it mean to take action? To bear witness? What does it cost?

In these ten stories, each set in the changing landscapes of contemporary New York City, a range of characters - from children to grandmothers to ghosts - live through the responsibility of perceiving and the moral challenge of speaking up or taking action. Though they strive to connect, to remember, to stand up for, and to really see each other, they often fall short, and the structures they build around these ambitions and failures shape not only their own futures but the legacies and prospects of their families and their city.

In its portraits of families and friendships lost and found, the paradox of intimacy, the long shadow of grief, the meaning of home, Witness enacts its own testimony. Here is a world where fortunes can be made and stolen in just a few generations, where strangers might sometimes show kindness while those we trust - doctors, employers, siblings - too often turn away, where joy comes in snatches: flowers on a windowsill, dancing in the street, glimpsing your purpose, change on the horizon.

With prose as upendingly beautiful as it is artfully, seamlessly crafted, Jamel Brinkley offers nothing less than the full scope of life and death and change in the great, unending drama of the city.

All the Sinners Bleed by S.A. Cosby

Titus Crown is the first Black sheriff in the history of Charon County, Virginia. In recent decades, Charon has had only two murders. After years of working as an FBI agent, Titus knows better than anyone that while his hometown might seem like a land of moonshine, cornbread, and honeysuckle, secrets always fester under the surface.

Then a year to the day after Titus’s election, a school teacher is killed by a former student and the student is fatally shot by Titus’s deputies. Those festering secrets are now out in the open and ready to tear the town apart.

As Titus investigates the shootings, he unearths terrible crimes and a serial killer who has been hiding in plain sight, haunting the dirt lanes and woodland clearings of Charon. With the killer’s possible connections to a local church and the town’s harrowing history weighing on him, Titus projects confidence about closing the case while concealing a painful secret from his own past. At the same time, he also has to contend with a far-right group that wants to hold a parade in celebration of the town’s Confederate history.

The Water Outlaws by S.L. Lunag

In the jianghu, you break the law to make it your own.

Lin Chong is an expert arms instructor, training the Emperor's soldiers in sword and truncheon, battle axe and spear, lance and crossbow. Unlike bolder friends who flirt with challenging the unequal hierarchies and values of Imperial society, she believes in keeping her head down and doing her job.

Until a powerful man with a vendetta rips that carefully-built life away.

Disgraced, tattooed as a criminal, and on the run from an Imperial Marshall who will stop at nothing to see her dead, Lin Chong is recruited by the Bandits of Liangshan. Mountain outlaws on the margins of society, the Liangshan Bandits proclaim a belief in justice—for women, for the downtrodden, for progressive thinkers a corrupt Empire would imprison or destroy. They’re also murderers, thieves, smugglers, and cutthroats.

Apart, they love like demons and fight like tigers. Together, they could bring down an empire.

Wandering Souls by Cecile Pin

There are the goodbyes and then the fishing out of the bodies—everything in between is speculation.

After the last American troops leave Vietnam, siblings Anh, Thanh, and Minh begin a perilous journey to Hong Kong with the promise that their parents and younger siblings will soon follow. But when tragedy strikes, the three children are left orphaned, and sixteen-year-old Anh becomes the caretaker for her two younger brothers overnight.

In the years that follow, Anh and her brothers resettle in the UK and confront their new identities as refugees, first in overcrowded camps and resettlement centers and then, later, in a modernizing London plagued by social inequality and raging anti-immigrant sentiment. Anh works in a clothing factory to pay their bills. Minh loiters about with fellow unemployed high school dropouts. Thanh, the youngest, plays soccer with his British friends after class. As they mature, each sibling reckons with survivor’s guilt, unmoored by their parents’ absence. With every choice they make, their paths diverge further, until it’s unclear if love alone can keep them together.

Told through lyrical narrative threads, historical research, voices from lost family, and notes by an unnamed narrator determined to chart their fate, Wandering Souls captures the lives of a family marked by war and loss yet relentless in the pursuit of a better future. With urgency and precision, it affirms that the most important stories are those we claim for ourselves, establishing Cecile Pin as a masterful new literary voice.

#fiction #fiction books #reading recommendations #reading recs #book recommendations #book recs #library books #tbr #tbr pile #to read #booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog #readers advisory

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abbatoirablaze · 2 years

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SDAU, Raised By Bears, Chapter 8

Word Count: 633

“You okay baby?”

She stopped dead in her tracks as she looked at Thor, who’d just come from one of the rooms. He’d had a few stitches on one of his hands, and a cut on his brow. She frowned, knowing that it was her fault that he was hurt, that he’d put himself in harms way coming to blows with Andy.

“Thor…”

She took a few more steps towards him and he gave her a soft smile, “I heard some commotion out here…made the nurse stop stitching me up…are you okay?”

Andy growled, knowing that Thor was lying to the woman he loved. He could smell the human nurse all over him, and it wasn’t because she’d been stitching him up. Thor’s fly was still undone, but she never even seemed to notice. Andy wanted to go feral and attack Thor all over again.

But she’d heard Andy’s growl. She turned and shot Andy another look and Thor smirked over her shoulder.

“Which is why I’m so proud to be graduating,” Thor grinned as he held his beer up. Everyone celebrating did the same, cheering to his graduation before tipping their drinks back. Chris and a few of the other graduating brothers had already made their speeches, talking about what they wanted to accomplish after graduating, and what they were looking forward to, but now it was Thor’s turn. Andy sat on the deck, ignoring everyone but her. He’d watched her most of the day, nursing his drinks, and his ego, “But I do want to make a special announcement. Baby, where are you at? Can you come up her”

She nervously made her way up to where Thor was, a blush creeping across her cheeks as Thor encouraged her to come up to him.

“PUT A CUB IN YOUR GIRL, DIDN’T YA?”

“GONNA NEED THOSE JOURNALIST DOLLARS NOW, BROTHER! DIAPERS AIN’T CHEAP!”

A few of the guys chuckled, laughing at the jokes thrown out by some of his other graduating frat brothers. But Thor only shook his head, “we’re not having a cub. No…but I wanted to take this moment and do something special with it…while I’m surrounded by my brothers and family, and friends. Everyone’s been talking about what they’re going to do after next week, and I wanted to show you all!”

“Thor, what are you doing?”

“Sweetheart, you know that I am moving to the city, and I know we’d talked about moving in together, and you transferring out to a college closer to the city,” he reminded her softly. She nodded, a silly smile on her face. Thor reached into his pocket and dropped to one knee. She gasped as he opened the box, “but I can’t imagine my life without you as an equal partner…I want us to live together, yes…but I want you to be my wife one day as well…would you do me the honor of marrying me and having a mating ceremony to official become my mate?”

Andy watched in horror as everyone began clapping and cheering. She didn’t answer, but everyone celebrated around them as Thor quickly placed the engagement ring on her finger. His heart ached as his biggest worry became a reality. She wasn’t going to be his. She would be moving away this summer and get engaged to Thor.

And his mate would bear Thor’s cubs. And take his last name. Andy shuddered at the thought, his heart aching even more as his chest tightened. She stood, frozen in time, her own heart breaking as the ring was a symbol that she was moving on from her true mate, from Andy.

And their eyes remained locked on each other as they each only craved one another; two souls lost in a party that was celebrating another pairs love entirely.

Tag List: @evanswife1918, @lohnes16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @alexakeyloveloki, @eralen

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fresa-schnee · 2 years

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Day 30: Silhouetted Nightmares

The Dark Mother, and Noctuelle belong to: @chrono-vi

There was a suffocating darkness that pressed against the chest of a man. He found himself drifting, but his feet were also firmly planted on a ground of nothing. As he tried to gain his bearings, he found himself unable to focus on any one thing. As each time he tried his eyes turned against him and failed to see anything as they should. One moment, he saw a figure but the next it disappeared into nothing.

He let out a low growl, and tried his best to focus on one of the silhouettes in the distance… Yet paused as that one became much more clear. A woman staring back at him, a bright smile on her face. Raven black hair, almost like a crow’s feathers. Red piercing eyes staring at him.

He quickly tried to throw his body forward, but he found that his body wouldn’t move at all. He tried to scream to say something, but his voice was caught on something within his throat. He tried to cry, but the tears never found their way to his eyes. The man struggled, his entire body aching as it tried to do anything as the woman slowly turned her head away.

An overwhelming tidal wave of despair washed over him as she slowly disappeared from his sight… Then he gasped as he shot up from his bed, covered in sweat. Tears poured down his face as his breathing was harsh.

Kelftis slowly raised his hands, and pressed them against his face… As they covered his mouth he let out a stifled scream that could possibly wake up the dead. This same dream had been plaguing him for months, night after night.. Visions of people he could never see again.

…Wiping away his tears, the demon of envy slowly got himself out of his bed, and went about his normal routine. Though at a much more sluggish pace than usual. He still made sure he was dressed to perfection, but he found it difficult this morning. Every few minutes his mind wandered.

To the dream… To those that he failed to keep safe. To broken promises, from himself and others.

Eventually, Kelftis found himself before a mirror. Staring at himself as he realized something. This wasn’t his normal attire he dressed himself in.. But something different. Had he done so without realizing it?

His hair was combed, and put together well. Though there was no braid, he did have it’s length thrown over his shoulder, but letting it swirl downwards in a small spiral. His normal pinstripe suit changed for that crimson red jacket, with a vest of pure black underneath. A white ribbon wrapped around his neck, with a blue gemstone sewn into it.

The ribbon being a gift.. One he never wore out of respect. Yet now he was wearing it.. He pondered as to why, but he already knew the answer. It had been months since he had last seen her.. Since she was forced to leave everything behind.

Leave him behind.. He sighed and stepped away from the mirror, not bothering to hide his scars with any sort of cosmetics. He was too tired, and he was running late as it was. He couldn’t afford to be late..

—

As Kelftis made his way downstairs he stopped as he heard the sound of small children running about. “They’re up early..” Kelftis thought to himself, but a smile formed on his face as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He peeked around the corner, and saw a group of small children, all demons.. Either naturally born, or formed from mortal souls, playing.

He stepped into the room, and immediately the five children stepped up to Kelftis, smiling brightly. He knelt down and smiled to try and hide how tired he still felt. “Now, what are you all doing up so early?”

The oldest of the orphans spoke up first, a small child with bright blonde hair, and neon-green eyes. A matching green spade-shaped tail behind her. “I wanted to surprise you, but everyone woke up because of me.. So now they helped too!”

“Surprise me…?” Kelftis asked, but was quickly pulled by the small demon. He stumbled back up to his feet and followed her into the kitchen.. As Kelftis stared at the mess made by the children. Though that was his second concern, as he saw a rather.. Strange looking cake placed on the table.

It.. looked completely inedible, but he was pushed forward by the children. The one with the blonde hair is already taking a piece for Kelftis to try. She handed it to him, and Kelftis took it.. Taking a stealthy deep breath before trying a bite.

The overwhelming sweetness hit him like a truck, as not much else was there for the cake itself. The frosting itself felt more like a solid block of sugar he just bit into, but he managed to swallow the bite enough despite his mind protesting.

“Hrrk.. It’s.. It’s good Viola!” Kelftis said as he placed the plate down slowly. Viola staring at him confused for a moment. “I’m sorry but I can’t stay for long.. I’m going to have to head out for a meeting, but I promise to be back in just a few minutes.”

“But we worked hard on it!” Viola protested, and Kelftis smiled as he looked at the cake.. It did warm his heart to see that the children he’s taken under his care make something for him.

“..I’ll have some more when I get back, alright? I won’t be gone for more than just an hour. I promise.”

Viola looked at him clearly not satisfied with the arrangement still. “..Alright, you promise?” She asked, and Kelftis gently patted her head again.

“I promise, watch after your brother and sisters while I’m gone. I’ll be back soon V.”

With that he turned and made his way to the door. Waving goodbye to the kids as he picked up his cane, and left through it. Twirling his cane, the nightmare was the last thing on his mind as he made his way to his work..

—

As Kelftis made his way through the winding halls of the Council’s headquarters, he hummed quietly to himself. Allowing himself to click his heels against the ground in a nice rhythm to his humming. Yet as he went farther and farther down he noticed how quiet it was.

He hadn’t seen a single soul as he made his way to the large chamber door to the council’s personal meeting room. While strange, it wasn’t uncommon to worry over it. He placed one of his gloved hands on the door, and gently pushed..

As he walked inside he was met not by five other demons, but instead only four.. The holders of the seats of Wrath, Pride, Sloth, and Greed.. Gluttony was mysteriously absent. Lust… Lust was vacant for the time being.

Kelftis stared at them all for a moment.. Not sure what to say from the strange sight. The one directly ahead of him was a woman, the one holding the seat of Pride. Novilia Caroline. Her stark, banshee like white hair tied together in an elegant ponytail that draped itself across the floor. Wearing a form fitting icey blue dress, with flakes of white glitter thrown about it. Her lips were stained with a whitelipstick, and her face fairly colored despite her cold aesthetic.

“Greetings, Kelftis.” She spoke.. Her voice rang in the large chamber like a songbird. Her voice alone could call down the Angels to worship her if she wished to try..

“...Hello, Lady Caroline.” Kelftis responded, tapping his cane as he stepped towards the table. Taking his seat on the opposite end of the four.

“Glad you could come, Kelftis.” The Sloth demon spoke. Viran Erasch.

He was perhaps the most plain dressed man. A simple t-shirt thrown over his body. A tired look in his eyes. His misshapen hair showed he didn’t even try to pamper himself up when he had awakened this morning. His soft green eyes staring at Kelftis.. Not his original body, no. Perhaps one he stole from some unsuspecting mortal. While Kelftis didn’t enjoy the idea of body stealers, he had to admit Viran had a knack for such actions..

Kelftis grunted in response, and refused to look the man’s way. The chuckle of another man made him look over, seeing the Envy demon..

“Oh come now Kelftis, no need to be harsh. We’re friends here, no?” The tall demon had a mischievous smile on his face. The snake was named Calvian Westirn. He was the Greed councilman, and Kelftis trusted him the least of the four. Unsavory business deals, the disappearance of his predecessor… And more souls than one could even fathom.

His head was covered in a large hat.. Most likely to cover his receding hairline. His entire attire screamed his wealth at others. Rings of gold, silver, and diamonds covering his hand. He was dressed as if he was attending a royal ball. Wearing an admittedly beautiful suit that was made to perfection. The dark greens not enough to draw attention away from his several flashy accessories..

Kelftis stared Calvian in his burning yellow eyes before speaking. “Apologies.. I’m just a little tired, this morning there was a lot to take in.”

Kelftis felt a shiver run up his spine as the final demon talked. The Wrath, and one he legitimately feared. A warmonger, and known to have killed several people competing for his spot.. His eyes matched Kelftis with their piercing crimson. He was dressed rather simply compared to Caroline and Calvian, only in a simple vest with an undershirt underneath it. Brilliant reds and blacks contrasting against Caroline by his side. His hair was greying, and a matching beard was growing across his chin.

“I can assume as such Kelftis. You run an orphanage, do you not?” Tryian spoke. Kelftis had never learned his last name, as he was the reason Kelftis never revealed his.

Neither wanted their pasts to be exposed. So only their first names were given at all times.. Even to their closest confidants.

“...Indeed.” Kelftis said planely, suddenly feeling as if he was being interrogated. The piercing gaze of Caroline felt like ice. “...Where is-”

“Zacian? He’s away on business at the moment.. So he won’t be able to attend.” Viran interrupted Kelftis, leaning back in his seat with his legs propped up on the table. “So sorry your friend couldn’t come by Kelftis.”

“...” Kelftis stayed silent, the strange feeling not diminishing at all as the four council members stared at him. A silence fell across the room, but Caroline was the first to speak again.

“Kelftis, dear,” her voice sang, “you understand this isn’t a normal meeting right? We weren’t meant to reconvene till next month.”

“I… I am aware. I had thought it’d because we were to discuss Noct-” he paused for a moment, and bit at his tongue… “...The Lust councilor’s replacement..” That stabbed at his heart, but he couldn’t let these hyenas have any purchase to his emotions.

“Yes, well.. People are concerned that she may have had some benefactors. Some people that might want to get her out of her imprisonment.” Caroline continued, and Kelftis stared at her with confused.

“Why.. Yes I’m sure there are, she was well beloved by many. Perhaps even still despite.. Her lies.” Kelftis was trying his best to keep his emotions under check. These four understood what Noctuelle was to him, and he wasn’t about to fall to their prodding.

“Yes yes that appears to be the case..” Calvian hissed out, and Kelftis turned to him, shocked. “We have found out that many people wish for her to be released. Or that she be given a chance to speak to the Dark Mother personally..”

Before Kelftis could respond in any way, Tryian raised his hand, and glared at the Envy demon. “We know you have been advocating for her release Kelftis. To not just the public, but to the Dark Mother herself. That you believe her imprisonment was unfounded.”

It was in that moment Kelftis rose from his seat, knocking it to the ground. His hands slamming on the table, and the echo of it resonating across the entire room.

“Now just wait a minute!” Kelftis growled, catching three of the four of guard. Tryian remained calm, staring at Kelftis intently. “Are you trying to say I’ve done something unlawful?! All I’ve done is speak my mind, nothing more!”

“Indeed you have… Yet the council has.. Concerns.” Viran spoke, now wide awake from the sudden anger. “...Concerns that you mean to do more than just speak out in her defense.”

“What in the Creator’s name do you mean!?” Kelftis shouted out, and Viran backed away. The spineless coward…

“You are going to try and free Noctuelle. We have spoken about it in private… Zacian voted against it, so he is not here.” Tryian spoke, and Kelftis felt his blood run cold.

“...What did you just say?” Kelftis asked, looking at Tryian, and for the first time he felt true genuine horror. For this was the first time he was in the path of Tryian’s wrath…

“You have always been a wildcard, Kelftis. You do what you wish, and do not ask the council. You only spoke to Noctuelle, and heeded only her thoughts and opinions.” He spoke, and slowly rose from his seat, and walked over to Kelftis. “So we have deemed you a threat. To the council. To the Dark Mother. To the Veil.”

Kelftis backed away from the much taller man, trembling. Genuine fear filled his heart as he felt his back hit the wall. The other three demons rise and move to Tryian’s side, trapping him against the wall.

When was it he last felt this kind of fear? How many years had it been? Since he was completely powerless. “...What are you going to do?” Kelftis whispered, and Tryian snapped his fingers..

It wasn’t even a contest of strength. Kelftis felt all of his strength suddenly vanish as chains of silver wrapped themselves around his body. Glowing runes sapping away at his body as he fell to the ground. Gasping as the chains choked the air out of his lungs, he tried to struggle.. But his arms and legs failed to move.

“...You have been deemed threat enough to be imprisoned. You will be placed in Alcatraz, and remain there until the Dark Mother decides you have completed your sentence.” Tryian spoke in a low voice, and Caroline giggled as she covered her mouth. Viran suddenly having the confidence to kneel in front of Kelftis, and smirk. Calvian only laughed at the sight before him..

“You can’t do this..! I haven’t done anything wrong, I wasn’t-” Kelftis let out a choked gasp as he felt Tryian’s foot slam into his chest. He could feel a few of his ribs breaking apart from the strike as he curled up.

“Your sentence has already been decided… Viran, Calvian, take him to Alcatraz. Caroline, prepare to search for TWO new council members.”

With that, Calvian and Viran lifted up Kelftis by his arms, and started pulling him away.. Caroline only chuckling as she watched Kelftis get dragged out. Tryian knelt down, and picked up the cane that was left on the ground, and looked over it..

…With a quick swing, he snapped it against one of the pillars lining the wall.

—

Kelftis had already forgotten how much time had passed. He was placed in a cell alone… Pure darkness as his only companion. The chains had been removed from his entire body. Yet they were replaced with shackles around his ankles and wrists, still sapping away at his strength so he couldn’t try to break his way out.

He had spent a large part of his time crying. Crying for what had happened. For how he had failed to help Noctuelle. He only wanted the Dark Mother to hear her side of the story. To listen to her testimony. Yet now, in his efforts.. His enemies had turned that kindness against him.

A kindness she had fostered in him, to try and be the best he could. He might be a demon, but he could still have made a difference… And now he was imprisoned. Alone. He was scared. Scared for Noctuelle. Scared for himself.. Yet what scared him most was the orphanage.

What was going to happen to the children? He had promised he’d returned, and it’d most certainly had been past an hour like he assured them… Would the four take care of them? Would Zacian?

—

Kelftis found himself dreaming.. Mostly to pass the time. The nightmares had only worsened. He couldn’t ever find himself when he was in that void. He could never catch the silhouettes that appeared. Joining them was Noctuelle… Same with his mother, the woman with the raven hair, reaching out to him to embrace them. Waiting.

Yet no matter what he did, he could never find his way back to them. It was an endless cycle. He’d see the faces of Viola, of Zacian, Noctuelle, his mother… All of them. Yet he could do nothing to reach them.

Yet one night, the dream was different… He could… Feel. He could see, and hear. Yet the void still surrounded him, and due to his senses returning he felt overwhelmed at first. Everything was too loud, too cold, and too dark. He couldn’t see anything, not even the normal silhouettes. This dream was similar in so many ways.. Yet different.. As if.. As if.

As if it wasn’t his mind conjuring it.

The moment Kelftis realized the danger, he turned around and clenched his fist… As he threw it, he heard the pained gasp of a familiar man. The man was sprawled across the floor, groaning in pain, and Kelftis watched him.. His vision slowly focusing enough to see Viran standing before him. His nose bleeding.

“What the hell…!? How did you see through that?!” Viran hissed, trying to rise to his feet, but found himself tackled to the ground. Kelftis’s hands wrapping around his throat, and squeezing with all his strength. “What the fu-?!” Viran gasped as the stranglehold of Kelftis suddenly shattered the dream.

Kelftis woke up with a start, gasping for air… As he looked he saw the faint outline of Viran in the room. The Sloth demon trying to flee… Yet Kelftis reached out and grabbed his leg, and quickly pulled him closer, and grabbed at the Envy demon’s head.

“How did you break my drea-guh!” Viran gasped as Kelftis slammed the back of his head against the floor. Despite the pitch blackness, Kelftis could feel the blackened blood drip across his hands. Viran let out a choked gurgle, concussed from the strike.

“You… YOU!” Kelftis hissed, his crimson eyes piercing through the darkness, and staring deep into Viran’s own eyes. The Sloth demon having the look of a cornered animal, terrified.

“You took EVERYTHING from me!” Kelftis growled, and his grip on Viran’s head slowly tightened.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry! Just let me go, and I’ll leave! I won’t come back, just let me go!” Viran cried, tears streaming down his face as Kelftis hissed like a snake.

“Let you go…? Let you go…” Kelftis suddenly let out a soft chuckle, and pulled Viran’s face close to his. “Oh… alright… But I want you to do something for me. Tell those three you teamed up with that I will get out. That I will be coming for them. And when I do… They best hide, because no force they can summon will stop me.”

“Okay, okay, I will! Just let me go Kelf-” Kelftis hissed, forcing the demon silent.

“I’ll let you go… But you tried to break my mind. Tried to destroy me so you could eat my soul… Steal my body. Am I right?”

“Y-Yes! I-I thought with your soul I could overpower them! B-Become the ringleader!” Viran whimpered.

“Smart idea Viran… for such a pathetic coward. But I can’t let you go without some sort of recompense…” Kelftis’s eyes started to segment… Suddenly becoming four. Then eight. Then sixteen. “I’m going to have to break you, like you wanted to break me… Maybe afterwards, you’ll be something more than just a coward.”

Kelftis covered Viran’s mouth to hide his screams, as he peered into the Sloth’s mind… Viran was powerful, yes. Powerful in the ways to slither and destroy someone’s mind. To destroy their sense of self. Yet Kelftis was worse. He destroyed who you were. And made you into something completely different.

What Caroline, Calvian, and Tryian saw again wasn’t Viran, but a new mind that Kelftis made to torment them.

—

Kelftis had forgotten the time once more, and the nightmares had returned. Yet he found himself slowly growing used to them. Whenever they had arrived he simply closed his eyes.. Whenever he heard their voices, he pushed them out.

He had eventually grown to stop caring about them. About Noctuelle, about Viola. About anyone really. It was easier… To stop his heart from hurting anymore. Yet he still felt a warmth in his heart. A warmth fed by the idea of one day breaking free. One day being able to see the look of terror and horror on the traitors’ faces.

Yet those thoughts were suddenly interrupted. For the first time in perhaps a century, Kelftis was blinded by pure light. A vine of pure ethereal light had broken through the wall, shattering the chains to the shackles around his wrists and ankles. He stared at the pure white tree-like appendage that had shattered his room apart… At first his eyes struggling to readjust to light. His entire body struggling in fact.

As he tried to move himself past it, he gazed past into the room next to him… The vine that had struck through the wall was in fact part of a whole. An entire structure had suddenly been planted in the middle of Alcatraz… A giant tree, a tree made of pure light.

Kelftis stumbled his way through the debris, following other prisoners that had taken this chance to flee.. And for the first time in so long he found himself outside. His body atrophied, but he could feel it’s strength returning as the runes on his shackles began to fail.

He peered around, trying to find some sort of source for the tree. His eyes eventually fell on a couple that were standing alone.. A man with a white porcelain mask staring at a woman dressed in a black garb. Her green hair flowing over her shoulder as she spoke with the man..

…He would have to thank them later.

For now, something else had taken hold in his mind… He felt fear. Worry. An overwhelming concern for something he had thought he stopped worrying over long ago.

Kelftis slowly stumbled forward, picking up a small branch of light, and using it as a walking stick to aid himself.. As he made his way back to his home.

—

Kelftis felt his legs ache and moan with each step he took. Yet he knew he was getting closer. He still remembered the route he’d always take to come back home. Just a few more steps…

“Please… Please let it be there…” Kelftis whispered, and as he turned the last corner, he felt his heart sink to a depth he had never felt before. A new overwhelming dread as he saw the vacant lot..

The scorch marks revealed what had happened. They were old, incredibly old… Yet they were still there. To show that the four hadn’t had enough to destroy his life. But to destroy the hopes and lives of those he cared for. Kelftis stumbled forward, eventually falling to his knees as he tried to find anything… Anything at all that could show that someone was here.

Yet, he found nothing. No signs of anyone. Kelftis let out a pained scream of anguish. He had lost it. He had lost everything. Again.

For the second time in his life everything was gone… He had hoped when he found his way out he could maybe continue his life where it left off. To care for those who lost everything. Yet he himself had lost it. Nothing remained.

Yet he knew exactly who caused this. The four people who had taken everything he loved and adored, and burned it to the ground. They had taken the only person to show him kindness since his rebirth as this demonic form. Reborn for a crime he regretted.

They had taken him from a family he had cultivated, to try and care for those who didn’t have one.

And even taken from him his own sanity. His life. Years gone because they saw him as a threat.

Well, now he was. He would have gladly left them alone… But they had taken all of it from him. So he would take all of it from them. Their empires, their riches, their very lives. He would take it all… And inflict upon them the same horrors they did to him.

“I’ll make them pay… Pay for this nightmare…” Kelftis growled, rising up… His eyes splintering and growing across his entire body. Each one starting to cry as he remembered Noctuelle, and the children who he failed to protect.

They would be avenged. And he would see to it that nothing like those four would ever rise again. Because he couldn’t stand the idea of such vile creatures existing.

#Keltis #Novilia Coraline #Tryian #Zacian #The Dark Mother #Noctuelle Adamantia #Viran Erasch #Calvian Westirn #Demon OC #Maelstone #Writing Prompt #Writing 2022

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rightpastnowhere · 2 years

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Photographer Perc'ahlia (Percy! Can shoot things! In a healthy way!)

JSJDKKCKD STOP LMAO-

okay so most people would go photographer percy and model vex, but @romeoandjulietyouwish already did that so i’m doing something different!! nature photographer vex, city photographer percy

also i went. so overboard with this jfc

AU a-z meme

vex is famous for her nature shots because she knows the woods so well. she grew up in a small town on the edge of the woods, and ran around them as a child - this is her turf. she finds these beautiful spots that no one else has gotten around to yet, and takes beautiful pictures without disturbing the area. but her most impressive shots are the ones of wild creatures, out in their natural habitats and lives - she knows the woods so well that she can track them down, and for some reason they’re less likely to bolt and run (aka: i like adding subtle class features and magic into modern aus, and vex is a ranger in her soul). her favorite photos are from when she managed to find a perch above a valley with a bear’s den, and shot a series of photos of a mother bear and her cub who lived there.

percy is known for cityscapes, architectural shots, and other pieces about the modern world. he’s got a lot of those, like, black and white photos of different skyscrapers and stuff - photos that are simple and quiet and stark. a lot of his photos are photoshopped, but only in the way that he gets them as close to what his eye originally saw as he can. he’s from a wealthy family who owns a lot of property in this old town, and got his start by taking pictures from the inside of an old clock tower (he wasn’t allowed to be up there). a lot of his favorite shots are of the inside of clocktowers.

the rest of this is below the cut because holy shit i got so invested in this

percy and vex meet at a gallery, once both of their careers have taken off. their exhibits are placed next to each other, something about the meeting of the wilds and civilization, according to the director of the gallery. vex is mostly just excited for a chance to poke at the broody, white-haired photographer dressed in a sharp navy suit. she’s expecting him to be like her brother, what with the dark clothes and dark photos, but he’s witty and sarcastic and charming, and they actually hit it off really well.

they keep meeting up at galleries here and there, and conversation eventually evolves from simple discussion about photography techniques to how they got started, their favorite photo subjects, how they both use photography to get away from the world for a while. vex shows percy the bear photo series, and percy shows her the pictures from old whitestone, including the clock tower. vex is immediately in love with the little town, and percy impulsively invites her out to come and see it. he covers it up quickly with mentioning the parchwood, a forest near whitestone that his family may or may not own the rights to (cue vex’s eyes getting so “what the fuck” wide) and may or may not turned into a national park to protect it (which is the way to get to vex’s heart). vex immediately agrees, and vax immediately invites himself along.

(also, vax is a city photographer as well, but he focuses instead on the people. candid shots of everyday city life. he just does it as a hobby, though, not as a career)

cue a trip to whitestone, where he shows her around town - which she absolutely adores - and takes her up into the clocktower that they’re still not technically allowed up into. and vex runs around and shouts up into the bell, just like percy did when he was a little kid. and he’s got this soft and tender look on his face as he watches her, and then they have a Moment. and then they kiss because i’m cheesy. and then the bell chimes and scares the shit out of them because i, am once again, cheesy. they agree to talk about it later, since vex leaves tomorrow, with shy smiles and loosely held hands.

and then the de rolo family comes down with a horrible sickness, killing all but two of them, and percy disappears for a year. vex keeps enough tabs to make sure he isn’t dead, too, but she leaves him his space. she wonders how he’s doing. she wonders about that moment in the clocktower, if it meant anything. and she wonders about the family he promised she would be able to meet “next time she was in town”.

and when percy shows up at one of her galleries after that year, looking tired and broken but like he’s starting to heal, she helps him create a gallery of photos of his family. when he can’t bear to present it himself, she stands in his place - and when he can, she’s right there anyway, holding his hand. they take a while to “talk later”, but vex doesn’t mind. she gives him all the time he needs.

(and a couple years later, they ask vax to be their wedding photographer)

#I AM SO SORRY #SOMETHING POSSESSED ME #WITH THIS. IDK #i want someone to write this #idk if it will be me #but someone please #ask meme #blorbologist #percival de rolo #vex’ahlia #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #perc’ahlia #percy x vex #critical role #vox machina

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red-letter-imagines · 3 years

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heyy there!! can you do another part of the “reaction when you suck on their tongue but with Mikey, Rindou and mitsuya?

You have no idea how happy I am that my work's so well-received! So there's been more than one request for a part 2, but for different characters. This little dove, however, is the first one so I'll be doing this, then the other characters in later parts, alright? Alright.

Now *cracks knuckles* let's begin!

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 2 (Sano Manjiro, Haitani Rindou & Mitsuya Takashi)

Sano "Mikey" Manjiro: (Bonten! Mikey)

You sure you don't need a chaser with that? Sanzu snickers from across you, pupils already blown wide from the pills he'd taken half an hour ago. The pure vodka sears your esophagus, a pool of liquid fire in your abdomen. Tears are springing up your eyes and you wince. Truly, it had been a horrible idea on your side to make bets with Sanzu, of all people. That man has had every drug imaginable enter his system and three overdoses later, is still standing. You should've known better than to order Spirytus, but Sanzu has a way of getting under anyone's skin, especially yours.

He knew you had more than several bones to pick with him after he coaxed Mikey into accepting a million-dollar drug deal with some shady Western cartel. Throughout Bonten's history, it was one of the more careless business trades you'd ever gone through, one that put Mikey in a precarious position. The cartel demanded Mikey's audience for the deal to be done, and while Sanzu reassured you that nothing would happen to their "King", that never stopped you from worrying your head off.

A part of you wanted the drugs and alcohol put him into a coma; you just had to hold your liquor until then. Yet this poisonous bastard is still standing, while you barely have the confidence to stand up straight. He's fucking crazy.

You eye the remaining shot glass. It's rim and ridges bounce the bright glow of the chandeliers above you, its crystal clear contents an elegant deception to those unaware. You suck air through your nose and grab it. Before you could down the last drink of your life, a slender hand slides to your shoulder.

You turn to face Mikey's lilac-rimmed gaze, the darkness swimming within sucking you in like a vacuum. Once he sees the flares of red across your cheeks and down your neck, his lips curl a little. Mikey hates alcohol with a passion; he told you early on that he abhorred its bitterness and how it hazed your mind.

Instantly, you cave under his disappointment, and none-too-gracefully drop your shot glass back on the counter. You barely had time to utter his name before he cups your cheek and kisses you. It's gentle, caring yet the pressure of his pecks stamp his dominance into your very soul.

He plunges his tongue into your booze-laced cavern, and you eagerly latch onto it like a hungry pup. He tasted of red bean paste, its sweetness a balm to your burning senses. He keeps a hand on your neck while you have your fill, biting your lower lip when you part.

You're panting, eyes glazed with wanton need. He strokes a thumb under your ear, and you smile.

You could drink all the alcohol you wanted, but nothing could make you drunker than Sano Manjiro's affection.

Haitani Rindou:

You frown to yourself as you waited outside the heavy steel gates of Roppongi's juvenile detention center. It's been six months since the Haitani brothers had been arrested because of Tenjiku. Along with the other Heavenly King named Mucho, they also scored a reduced sentence, and today will be their first taste of freedom in half a year.

You'd been forced to stay behind when the battle happened; Rindou told you that he didn't want to have to look after you while fighting. A cover-up for his worry, of course. The younger Haitani isn't known for being as emotionally apt as his older brother, yet somehow that rigidness of his is one of the things you love most about him. To this day, Ran still loves to give you both shit for it.

Rindou knew that you'd be pissed beyond belief once you got the news; he promised not to leave you alone again like last time. You didn't come to his trial nor see him when he got permitted for visitations. Ran is in a different cell, and he had nothing but time.

Of course, other than being absolutely furious with him, there were other reasons you couldn't come see your bone breaker of a boyfriend. With them detained, no one is left to defend their title as the Kings of Roppongi. No one except you, that is.

You're quite the force of nature yourself, even before meeting Ran and Rindou. Roppongi had been your stomping grounds since you were ten, and when they started making a name for themselves you refused to submit. Thinking back, it was quite a comical scene: a scruffy-looking little girl baring her teeth at two brothers who'd basically killed a man not too long ago. Despite how ruthless they truly are, they never stooped so low as to hit a girl, much less gang up on one to prove a point. Instead you became friends, and later on fell in love with the younger Haitani, and he with you. Together you ruled over Roppongi, and the rest is history.

So while your man stared at white walls in the slammer, you splattered blood across brick walls as warnings to those who thought they could conquer the city. All on your own, you reigned over Roppongi the entirety of their sentence, and now it's time for the kings to reclaim their throne.

You hear them before you see them; Ran's whimsical tones against Rindou's monotone rebuttals. They're wearing casual clothes instead of the jumpsuits, Ran's hair is in braids as always, but Rindou...

The extra inches of hair does something to you. It flowed around his face like a lion's mane, faded blue streaks shining in the noon sun. He's wearing contacts instead of his frames, and his jaw is sharper than you ever remembered it. Fresh out of prison, and he looks every bit the king of carnage you adore.

Licking your lips, you saunter over to them. The clacking of your heels turn their heads, and they smirk at you. You could see Rindou tense for a split second before reigning himself back in. Once you get close enough, you rear a hand back and slam it against his cheek hard.

Then you grab him by the collar and smooch him right in front of the jail gates. His recovery is quick, and he pulls you close in a vice-grip. You press a thumb down his chin and take his tongue right from his mouth. The light graze of your teeth against the flat of it earns a growl from Rindou. You left me again, you fucking asshole you hiss as you pull away. You doubted he really heard you though, because he dived right to your neck after your liplock. You sigh, meeting eyes with a disgusted Ran.

This man is going to be the death of you one day.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Throughout your relationship, Mitsuya is nothing but gentle. It almost gave you whiplash how different he is when he's with you and when he's with Toman. He's more than happy to bash some scumbag's face in, yet he couldn't look you in the eye if he shows up to school bruised the next day. You're one of the reasons he got so good at dodging blows in the first place-all of this just to keep you from remembering just how dangerously he lives.

His carefulness translated through his affections, most of all. He didn't hold you, he cradled you. When he kissed you, you could practically feel the repressed passion just burning beneath the surface. He treats you as if you were a dandelion on a windy day.

And while you thought his unspoken sentiments are nothing short of chivalrous and sweet, you also found it quite stupid. You knew what you were getting into when he sheepishly confessed, knew about him being a captain of Toman's second division. So naturally, you'd braced yourself for all sorts of chaos. Plus, only having to witness one side of him irked something inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. You'd made it perfectly clear that you loved him, bruises and all. Yet when he looked at you with such adoring lavender eyes, you couldn't bear to chide him for wanting to treasure you.

So, you decided to show him through other means.

You're waiting for him to finish inside the sewing club room. He's finishing the hemline of a kimono-a birthday present he's preparing for Draken early on. His eyelids hang low, but his gaze is as intense as ever. Nothing is said between the two of you, but you can't help staring at his pursed lips, now bitten red from his habit when focusing. You internally proclaimed your love for him yet again, unable to stop yourself from wandering over to his hunched form.

Just as he looks up from the sewing machine, you dive in with a kiss that, even you had to admit, is a little too intense to be this sudden. Yet you couldn't help it; even the simplest things he did could turn you into quite the sap.

He doesn't fail to reciprocate it, though. His lips, a little rough and a bit wet, switch from caressing your top and bottom lip each time you return to each other. Somehow, it ended up with you sandwiched between him and his desk, thighs on either side of his hips. His hands never stay in one place, smoothing down your uniform and rubbing your back. He never strays too far down your waist, and that tang of frustration sours your sweet little moment yet again.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, you grind down hard against him. His mouth drops open in a barely contained moan, and you close your lips around his tongue. The noise he made when you licked at it could've put BL voice actors to shame. His fingers rake against the sides of your hips, jolting you out of your sultry scenario and into a bout of giggles. And while you sit there steaming in your embarrassment at ruining such a delicious moment, he simply gapes at what just happened, his face stained a pretty crimson.

Well, that was awkward...but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

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