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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

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"No Looking, No Touching, No Nothing." Ethan Landry X AFAB! Reader.

Well finally, here we are, the first smut for the new boy! I know, two fics of him in a row but hey, this is what love is! I adore this guy, expect me to revisit him many times! Now this is an idea that hit me hard and I couldn’t let it go, so, let's not waste time and get into this!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.7K. Ethan Landry X AFAB! Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Established Relationship. Rope Play. Restrained Ethan. Masturbation. Toy Use. Some Praise. Taunting. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Gagging. Cum Eating. Denial. Ruined Orgasm. Dom Reader. Mean Reader. Punishment. Crying. Begging.

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Ethan was a good guy, a great boyfriend, really, but sometimes, just like any person, he could annoy you or do something to hurt you and the pair of you could clash. The issue was minor in the grand scheme but when it came down to it at times emotions and tempers flared and made even small issues get blown out of proportion. You stayed upset longer than he did, and he folded sooner than you did.

You expected it.

He was a needy guy, not being around you for even a few days while you had this spat was unbearable for him, and so he conceded. He pleaded to meet up, you allowed it and when your hands were in his, he asked, “What can I do to make it up to you?”

It should have taken you longer than this to come to this idea but you had thought about, (masturbated to), this very idea a lot and thus here we are.

Ethan, wearing nothing but the ropes tied around his wrists and ankles and anchored to the posts in each corner of your bed. You were still mostly dressed, and had taken your time tying him up. He was watching your every move with great interest, you were securing his right wrist last, leaning over him, chest very close to his face and you could tell he was fighting the urge to press his face, feel you against his cheek, smell you, him trying so hard to be good was cute. You slipped a finger into the ropes hugging his wrist and tugged, “Too tight?”

A shake of his head as he responded quickly, “No, no it’s okay.”

“Good.” You withdraw your fingers and then lean away from him, in favour of leaning over to your nightstand, you open the drawer and start rummaging through, you find the first item in no time.

You pull it out and move it to your other hand, the first one still rooting around for what you wanted next. Ethan’s gaze was fixed on that first item in your grip, he recognized it of course, your favourite vibrator and he couldn’t help but wonder what you were planning on doing with it. You glance at him, a simple move of your eyes and a small smile plays on your lips, “Curious?”

“Very.” He admits, he was already hard at the mere suggestion of you dragging him back to your place and tying him down to show how serious he was about earning your forgiveness.

Painfully so when you’d stripped him down without so much as a kiss, again with a taunt that he could get that when you’d forgiven him. Now with your clothes partly gone, him trussed up and held down, and you, gripping that toy that you’d cum against countless times, was dying for any kind of touch. You hadn’t even really laid a hand on him, it was all mere suggestion, teases, and here he was leaking pre-cum against his stomach, desperate for real contact. He always had an active imagination and during times like this he seriously felt it wasn’t always a good thing.

Your fingers catch on the next item you were after, “Too bad. You’re gonna have to wait.”

The object was fished out and you held up and that made him snap out of his mental train of thought while watching you, gaze tears away from the vibe and up to the new thing you were holding and his eyes got wider. Explaining it was unnecessary, he recognized it was a blindfold. He wanted to protest but would never dream of it and still, not like he could stop you either way. You moved closer, you slipped the blindfold over his eyes, secured it behind his head before you left him entirely. He felt you get off the bed, you left him alone on the mattress and next he heard the scrape of the legs of the chair you kept at your desk along the floor.

You stop then. One hand on the back of the chair, the other still holding onto your vibe, looking over the criminally hot view of him tied to your bed.

His voice cuts through, asking, unsure, neediness already colouring his tone, “Are you still here?”

A laugh breaks out before you then tell him, “Yes, I’m still here. I'd never abandon you.”

"Good." He responds, clearly soothed by your admission.

You drop your panties and take your seat then. Settling back, legs spread, you reach down and begin to touch, slow, and soft, wetness already flowing. The pleasure starts low and easy and you begin to lean into it, an adjustment, shifting your hips, leaning in closer to your own touch and letting a small sound slip out. You weren’t sure he heard it at first until your gaze flicked to him, seeing his body react, a sharp inhale, a tug so minute on the restraints you almost missed it.

God, he was really going to have a rough time with this.

Soon fingers and quiet sighs weren’t enough and real flesh gave way to well placed silicone, one press of a button and it springs to life, the humming of the constant vibration filling the bedroom. You don’t waste more time, all warmed up, hands come down, the tip of the toy touches your clit and your legs jerk from the sudden and extreme jump in sensation and you let out a gasp.

He was trying to picture how you looked at this moment. How would you be positioned in the chair, did you get totally naked? Were you squirming? Browns pulled together, bottom lip tugged by your teeth, back arching-Fuck.

He wanted to see you. He listened hard, trying to commit every sound to memory, using each part as a clue to parse what you are doing to yourself that he wasn’t allowed to be privy to. He can almost see which is the most maddening thing, can kind of see but not really through the bottom of the blindfold. He shifted on the bed as your moans kicked up, it did feel good, but of course you had to play it up just a bit to really make it really hurt. Speaking of hurt he was beginning to ache, a dull but steadily increasing throbbing, a hard tug that made him want to wince. His cock was bobbing the same way his Adam's apple does when he takes a harsh swallow, sticky strands connecting inflamed red tip to pale taut stomach snap from the involuntary movement.

Your hips move, pressing yourself closer to feel the vibration stronger, holding the toy more snugly and you moan, loud, his name and that makes him want to beg. Instead he allows himself to curse and that makes you smile, a truly indulgent smile, a deep breath before you ask, voice clearly laced with pleasure, “How you doing over there?”

Horribly, terribly, in pain, wanting to touch you, taste you, but most of all he was feeling very, very fucking sorry.

He sugar coats it, still doing his best to earn his way back into your good graces, underselling how rough he was doing with a half shrug, “Not great.”

“Awe, no?” You played dumb, asking him in a tone that was sickeningly sweet and bordering on condescension. The end of your taunting question was punctuated with another moan, your head tipping back as you ground yourself harder. Next you said, as if you couldn’t help it, more hushed and on an exhale, “God, that feels good.”

Unfair, it’s all so unfair, he should be the one making you feel like that. His next response came out shakier than he intended it to, confirming what you said, “No.”

A coo of mock sympathy pours out of you, “Poor baby.”

He wants to whine but any sound he makes takes away from yours, he is still lost in his own head fantasising about what you are doing to yourself. He wondered if that sound, the one that sounded just a tad tortured, meant you were rolling a pert nipple between your fingers as you swirl your hips just so which then led to that sweet sounding moan leaving you? That slick patch on his stomach was growing steadily larger as he continued to ache for you, he was struggling to remember the last time he was this hard.

If you had realised previously what great masturbation fuel Ethan tied up and helpless on your bed was in real life as opposed to just your mind, you are pretty sure you would have tried it out ages ago. No point in lingering on that now when you can make up for lost time. The pleasure was building, you were moaning more, and his resolve was breaking under him, being crushed under the weight of his own desire. He tugs on the ropes restraining him and he can’t help it when he says the weak, “Please?”

The grin almost splits your face in half as you ease up, lifting the toy just a hair off your clit as you ask, “What was that Ethan?”

He doesn’t respond right away, clearly not having meant to say it in the first place, and you sing song his name out, “Ethannnn-”

A huff and he asks louder, “Please?”

Delicious, his tone was positively edible, “Please what? You have to be clear.”

Another tug on his ropes and he admits, “You’re too far away.”

You laughed, then you touched the vibe to your clit for a moment, the jolt of pleasure up your spine making another moan tear out before you ask, “I’m too far away?”

“Yesss-” He practically whined, “Please? Wanna feel you.”

“Awe, lovely, lonely, Ethan.” You hum in consideration before you pull the toy away again and start to get up, “I suppose I can be a little nicer.”

You push the chair aside and start to get on the bed, he feels the mattress shift and licks his lips in anticipation, waiting with an almost un-Godly amount of anticipation. He wonders where you will touch, what you will do and then, he feels it. Your legs brushing over his as you are getting comfortable on the bed and then nothing. He wonders for a second till it becomes clear, you chose to sit yourself at the end of the bed, between his spread legs. He could feel the barest hint of you on his calves so you were still technically touching him but it was yet again, another tease.

You are back to touching yourself in short order, vibrating silicone pressed back in place with another moan and a shudder he can feel now with you on the same surface as him and you are going to kill him.

His head tips back, chocolate curls splay across your pillow and he groans, this was too much fun. You tsk, “Now, now, no complaining, or you won’t get anything.”

Easier said than done of course. He bites his tongue as another melodic little moan pours out from your mouth and into his ears, syrupy and maddening, akin to honey. He is sweating far too much, his fists are clenching as you are working yourself over, a stuttering exhale as you curse makes him pulse again, him still leaking all the while.

As you look him over in his current predicament it makes the pleasure spike and more heat race through you. He was trying his best for you, neck and chest flush, dick so stiff it looks agonising for your boyfriend as he keeps attempting to tug on the ropes, as if they would magically give way any second and allow him to touch you or himself. The restraints easing to allow him escape was something you both know was an impossibility from how well you tied him, your knot practice had developed too far for something like that to happen. He was so sweet, so endearing, you soften slightly and place blame on how much pleasure is running through you for even considering it.

An idea strikes, leaning over, he feels your chest brush over his skin and his leg twitches under you as he feels hard nipples graze over him as you reach down over the edge of the bed to the floor, “I have a proposal.”

He hums in question and you continue, “I’d hate for you to ruin any chance you have of getting off so how about I make it so you can’t complain at all?”

Agreement comes lightening fast, a nod as those two words fills the space between you as he begs, “Yes, please, please, please-”

Your fingers snag what you wanted and you sit back up right, adjusting onto your knees you lean forward and ask, “Ready?”

A second and more confident nod and when he opens his mouth to respond you take that as your in and shove the damp lace between his lips, making sure the soaked gusset is pressed down to his tongue, effectively gagging him on your own arousal. You pull your fingers out and you sit back between his legs, hands totally off him and it took him no time to know just what you’d done. He moans into the wet and soft fabric, his eyes roll back behind the blindfold, another heavy bob of his shaft, slapping against his stomach.

His hips squirm, thrusting up uselessly into the empty air and you enjoy the sights of him so much it pushes you further, you turn the toy up higher, your moans get louder in pitch and deeper in passion.

The sounds of you were killing him, the wet slip of you moving it around on yourself, circling your clit probably, the creaking of the bed, the constant humming and the smell, Christ you were so close and so messy he could smell you.

He wanted you to climb aboard, bury your fingers in his curls and ride his face for all he was worth, he wanted you to take it, his tongue giving you what you needed instead of that vibration and having his nose buried so deep he would smell you hours after you parted. Another groan into the makeshift gag against his tongue, the taste of you is invading his senses, he wants it from the source, this wasn’t satiating his hunger at all, it was making it worsen, wrapping around his belly and tugging, causing another futile rock of his hips.

You were getting close, he could tell from the frequency of your moans, the panting of your breathes, the inability to stay still, you sounded fucking perfect and he craves and hurts in desperation.

“Oh fuck, Eth-Ethannn, M’ almost there.” You cried to him.

He knows, he knows, dear fucking God does he know.

There is not a thing he can do about it, he can only listen and continue to throb as you keep repeating his name, a chant, a hymn, a prayer interspersed through gasps and moans and then that hitch, that damn hitch in your breath. It tells him everything, you are on the razors edge and you suck in that last breath before ecstasy takes hold and he is forced to listen to the worst torture of the day thus far when he cannot do a single thing about it, he has to listen to you cum all while whimpering his name and about how fucking good it feels.

It feels incredible, electric and revitalizing, it spreads through you, washing over you beautifully, totally in sync with yourself and lost to the feeling of the moment. Perfection.

By the time you have rode out your bliss, his nails were hurting his palms from how hard they bit into them, the sheets below him felt damp from how much he had been sweating, his limbs a touch sore from how much he’d been yanking on the ropes attempting to do something, anything. In short, he was a wreck, the way he was breathing was as if he was post orgasm along with you but now, he was still thoroughly unsatisfied.

Your voice cuts through his deliciously horny haze, a pleasant sigh as the humming stops, the toy turned off, “Mmm, that felt soooo good.”

He is so sure. You were being mean, very mean and he wanted to tell you as such but with your balled up underwear still in his mouth he could not.

You take him in again, the sight of him, the utter mess that was your boyfriend, his chin was wet, he’d been drooling. You know he is obsessed with the taste of you and the idea of him unable to help himself from licking and sucking the very essence of you from the material normally pressed to your most intimate places makes you want to go for another round already.

You think that he has almost suffered enough, there was one last thing to do, to really drive home the point and make sure he doesn’t pull that shit again, that he is truly sorry and contrite. Another adjustment, you reach out, tug the panties from his mouth, they are drenched between you before and his spit, you toss them aside as he works his jaw out and you ask, “You sorry?”

“So, so sorry.” He nearly hiccups and you hum, “You really are?”

He pleads, you are sure if you could see his eyes they would be positively beseeching, “I am! I really am! I’m sorry, please, please believe me.”

“Okay, okay I believe you. So…Do you want to cum?”

The answer was obvious, his excitement was immediate, “Yes! So bad, need it, need to cum, need you, please-”

You giggle at his frustrated urgency and say, “Alright, I’ll help you out, I’m gonna stroke you till you cum and won’t stop till you're done.”

The words you picked were purposeful, carefully crafted to put him at ease. A false sense of security because you however had other plans. He’d take whatever you had to offer, and this was more than generous to him all things considered, “Thank you, fuck, thank you, thank you.”

“Of course, anything for you.” Hands start low. You are sitting on your knees between his ankles and your hands start there, begin to slide up, teasing touches of your fingertips and passes of your palms and he squirms. Short and soft pleas of, "Baby please, M' dying-" Go unheard as do soft calls of you name.

Your hands continue your ascent, up and up until your fingers pass over his inner thighs, intricate patterns drawn, so close but so far from where he truly wants them, he tries to remain patient, to wait but you make it a difficult task. Your hands don’t stop moving, gentle strokes and then two fingers, one on either side slide up, missing the base of his shaft but impossibly close to it before tracing along his hip bones. He groans in disappointment and you bite back your grin. You don’t relent, you watch it all happen, as you continue to tease, touching him, legs, arms, chest, stomach, hips, everywhere but where he wants it most, it all mounts.

He was already very worked up from your little show and so it didn’t take much until you knew it was inevitable and you timed it just right.

One finger is all it took. One long, languid stroke of your finger, starting right at the base of the underside of his shaft, dragging up and over veins and the blushed and hot velvet of his skin, your nail catches on his frenulum before your fingertip circles the tip once, twice, three times before your hand pulls away all together.

His reaction was nothing short of gorgeous, back trying to arch, a gasp, his breath stutters before he bites his bottom lip in response to your first touch of the afternoon on him in any real way that matters.

Your hands are back on his hips, keeping your promise, your hands don’t stop stroking, just not where he wants it and you get your reward, you watch.

Eyes don’t leave as it happens, his dick is straining, his chest rising and falling with quick and shallow breaths and he whines, begging anew, “No, no, please, no, kee-keep touching me, please! Shi-shit, shit, shit, I cah-can’t stop it, fuck!”

And as if on cue, poor, desperate Ethan cums without a single thing touching his dick, your hands still on his hips, nails scratching lightly at the end of each indulgent stroke of your fingers. His dick is twitching jerkily against his stomach, cum not even shooting out, more dribbling, an agonising ooze coating his happy trail and leaking down his sides in short order as he struggles in his bonds, his head pressed to the pillow under it, heels digging into the mattress below. He whimpers out your name as the lack of sensation sinks into his bones, the heavy weight of the lack of pleasure as he leaks his cum out, the physical response of his orgasm happening, cock pulsing, sac pulled taut to his body but none of the actual amazing sensations to accompany it.

You technically didn't lie. Your hands continued stroking him throughout his orgasm, even if it was a ruined one.

It takes a while for him to settle down. For his body to go slack and his dick to stop spilling white all over himself, and you feel accomplished, truly proud and also very hot and bothered over the fact that you did this to him, no one and nothing else. Just you.

You reach out, your finger runs through the puddle of cum, dipping briefly into his belly button before going lower and lower and then running over his spent and slowly softening shaft, it makes him suck on his teeth, a sharp inhale that makes his body go taut again from overstimulation. Your hand lifts and when it does he relaxes slowly again, you suck on your finger, tasting him before you go in for more, he begs you to stop, tells you it hurts, you pay him, and his pretty promises no heed and press on.

You continue your pattern until you hear it.

A sob.

Heart wrenching, show stoppingly stunning, you glance up, finger pausing on his body, and you see his cheeks are wet underneath the blindfold, you made him cry.

You halt, he feels you get up, you come forward and sit up near his head, you reach down and tug his blindfold up, sad brown eyes are looking up at you, a pout on his wet face and you lean down. You kiss him and he leans up into it, impossibly needy, you smile into the kiss, nip at his bottom lip before pulling back and saying, a hand stroking down his face you tell him, “Now I forgive you.”

#WOOO #THE BOY #Scream 6 x reader #Ethan Landry X reader #BHF writing #ENJOY THIS #slasher x reader #I fucking loooove him AH

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kpopsexstories · 4 months

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The Return of NCT/WayV Lucas (The "Freeze" Documentary)

Like many of you, I assume, I jumped when I saw the Lucas documentary pop up on my YouTube feed earlier today. It came out 13 hours ago as I write this, and already has over 700,000 views!

The first thing I want to say about that, and the overwhelmingly wonderful comments the documentary has received, is that Lucas has certainly not lost his fan base.

youtube

I'm not going to comment on the scandal of three years ago, but will say that I was sad when Lucas suddenly disappeared from public view. WayV in particular hasn't been the same since. Whether he has himself or society to blame for how things went down has been debated ever since.

Having watched the documentary, I have a few thoughts I want to share:

Though it's only done indirectly, I love that Lucas admits to his mistakes. We didn't really get much info three years ago, and the documentary doesn't reveal anything at all about the scandal itself, but today, this is a man who (today) doesn't put blame on anything or anyone other than himself. At least that's the public image the documentary shows. I'm sure he has blamed external factors in the time since the scandal, but he genuinely seems to be a different person now. More than anything, I respect Lucas for how he has matured, how he reflects on past mistakes, and how open and honest he is about how he's been (both before and after the scandal).

As a publicity move, I think this documentary is absolutely brilliant. Many celebrities – particularly in China but also Korea – have fallen victim to public opinion following their mistakes, and never recovered from it. I think internationally Lucas could have made a comeback sooner and survived, but to break through on his home turf, this documentary is probably a crucial first step. I'd go as far as to say that this move could help change idol life culture for the next generation, in the same way Jennifer Lawrence changed things the way she handled the leak of her nudes (compare the damage control of that incident to how Vanessa Hudgens (High School Musical) was forced to handle a very similar situation just a few years prior to Jennifer).

Of course it remains to be seen what Lucas will do from here, but I'm glad that the true end of his hiatus is signaled by the release of a documentary designed to shape public opinion, rather than his potential suicide (mentioned in the video). This documentary surely dictates the direction Lucas will go from here for years to come, and I think it's a great step to his return.

I need to completely rethink the story I was going to write about Lucas. It's a great coincidence that the documentary came out the day after my post yesterday, which was specifically about Lucas. The idea I had was indirectly about the scandal. It didn't take sides but told a story, one that at the end of the day didn't paint Lucas in the best of light (to put it lightly). Now, having seen the vulnerable man in the documentary, I can't in good conscience publish what I was going to publish.

I'm curious, what did you think of Freeze pt. 1?

EDIT: I realized now that I didn't include an option for not supporting Lucas/anyone who might think what he did is unforgiveable, but it's not possible to change polls after publishing 😕 I guess use the "Who's Lucas?" option if that's your opinion 🙂

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #wayv #wayv lucas #nct lucas #lucas wong #lucas nct #lucas wayv #Youtube

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justforbooks · 1 year

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Daniel Ellsberg, a US government analyst who became one of the most famous whistleblowers in world politics when he leaked the Pentagon Papers, exposing US government knowledge of the futility of the Vietnam war, has died. He was 92. His death was confirmed by his family on Friday.

In March, Ellsberg announced that he had inoperable pancreatic cancer. Saying he had been given three to six months to live, he said he had chosen not to undergo chemotherapy and had been assured of hospice care.

“I am not in any physical pain,” he wrote, adding: “My cardiologist has given me license to abandon my salt-free diet of the last six years. This has improved my life dramatically: the pleasure of eating my favourite foods!”

On Friday, the family said Ellsberg “was not in pain” when he died. He spent his final months eating “hot chocolate, croissants, cake, poppy-seed bagels and lox” and enjoying “several viewings of his all-time favourite [movie], Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”, the family statement added.

“In his final days, surrounded by so much love from so many people, Daniel joked, ‘If I had known dying would be like this, I would have done it sooner …’

“Thank you, everyone, for your outpouring of love, appreciation and well-wishes. It all warmed his heart at the end of his life.”

Tributes were swift and many.

Alan Rusbridger, the former editor-in-chief of the Guardian, said Ellsberg “was widely, and rightly, acclaimed as a great and significant figure. But not by Richard Nixon, who wanted him locked up. He’s why the national interest should never be confused with the interest of whoever’s in power.”

The Pulitzer-winning journalist Wesley Lowery wrote: “It was an honor knowing Daniel … I’ll remain inspired by his commitment to a mission bigger than himself.”

The writer and political commentator Molly Jong-Fast said: “One of the few really brave people on this earth has left it.”

The MSNBC host Mehdi Hasan said: “Huge loss for this country. An inspiring, brave, and patriotic American. Rest in power, Dan, rest in power.”

The Pentagon Papers covered US policy in Vietnam between 1945 and 1967 and showed that successive administrations were aware the US could not win.

By the end of the war in 1975, more than 58,000 Americans were dead and 304,000 were wounded. Nearly 250,000 South Vietnamese soldiers were killed, as were about 1 million North Vietnamese soldiers and Viet Cong guerillas and more than 2 million civilians in North and South Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.

The Pentagon Papers caused a sensation in 1971, when they were published – first by the New York Times and then by the Washington Post and other papers – after the supreme court overruled the Nixon administration on whether publication threatened national security.

In 2017, the story was retold in The Post, an Oscar-nominated film directed by Steven Spielberg in which Ellsberg was played by the British actor Matthew Rhys.

Ellsberg served in the US Marine Corps in the 1950s but went to Vietnam in the mid-60s as a civilian analyst for the defense department, conducting a study of counter-insurgency tactics. When he leaked the Pentagon Papers, he was working for the Rand Corporation.

In 2021, a half-century after he blew the whistle, he told the Guardian: “By two years in Vietnam, I was reporting very strongly that there was no prospect of progress of any kind so the war should not be continued. And that came to be the majority view of the American people before the Pentagon Papers came out.

“By ’68 with the Tet offensive, by ’69, most Americans already thought it was immoral to continue but that had no effect on Nixon. He thought he was going to try to win it and they would be happy once he’d won it, however long it took.”

In 1973, Ellsberg was put on trial. Charges of espionage, conspiracy and stealing government property adding up to a possible 115-year sentence were dismissed due to gross governmental misconduct, including a break-in at the office of Ellsberg’s psychiatrist, part of the gathering scandal which led to Nixon’s resignation in 1974.

Born in Chicago on 7 April 1931, Ellsberg was educated at Harvard and Cambridge, completing his PhD after serving as a marine. He was married twice and had two sons and a daughter.

After the end of the Vietnam war he became by his own description “a lecturer, scholar, writer and activist on the dangers of the nuclear era, wrongful US interventions and the urgent need for patriotic whistleblowing”.

Ellsberg contributed to publications including the Guardian and published four books, among them an autobiography, Secrets: A Memoir of Vietnam and the Pentagon Papers, and most recently The Doomsday Machine: Confessions of a Nuclear War Planner.

In recent years, he publicly supported Chelsea Manning, the US soldier who leaked records of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan to WikiLeaks, Julian Assange, who published Manning’s leaks, and Edward Snowden, who leaked records concerning surveillance by the National Security Agency.

On Friday, the journalist Glenn Greenwald, one of the Guardian team which published the Snowden leaks in 2013, winning a Pulitzer prize, called Ellsberg “a true American hero” and “the most vocal defender” of Assange, Snowden, Manning and “others who followed in his brave footsteps”.

Steven Donziger, an attorney who represented Indigenous people in the Amazon rainforest against the oil giant Chevron, a case that led to his own house arrest, said: “Today the world lost a singularly brave voice who spoke truth about the US military machine in Vietnam and risked his life in the process. I drew deep inspiration from the courage of Daniel Ellsberg and was deeply honored to have his support.”

In 2018, in a joint Guardian interview with Snowden, Ellsberg paid tribute to those who refused to be drafted to fight in Vietnam.

“I would not have thought of doing what I did,” he said, “which I knew would risk prison for life, without the public example of young Americans going to prison to make a strong statement that the Vietnam war was wrong and they would not participate, even at the cost of their own freedom.

“Without them, there would have been no Pentagon Papers. Courage is contagious.”

Three years later, in an interview to mark 50 years since the publication of the Pentagon Papers, he said he “never regretted for a moment” his decision to leak.

His one regret, he said, was “that I didn’t release those documents much earlier when I think they would have been much more effective.

“I’ve often said to whistleblowers, ‘Don’t do what I did, don’t wait years till the bombs are falling and people have been dying.’”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Daniel Ellsberg #Pentagon Papers #Vietnam war #in memoriam

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n7punk · 8 months

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"Roses & Thorns" Fic Notes

Roses & Thorns is finally done! It really slowed down there at the end as my life got busy, but I had a lot of fun with it. No playlist this time since I was mostly listening to random stuff as I felt like it.

Epilogue Life:

Catra moves to Bright Moon so Adora can keep cheerleading, which she does professionally until her mid-thirties before switching to cheer coaching for middle schoolers. As mentioned in the epilogue, they get married two years after the show. One day they looked at how much of the tapestry they had done and were both suddenly like, oh, I’m ready to be married. Within a few months they had everything thrown together for the wedding. Someone working with their wedding planner leaked news of their wedding to the press, which is what led DT to digging around and finding their date, but aside from a few tabloid stories like Former Bachelorette Couple Tie the Knot and a carefully curated Instagram post on Catra’s page, the public doesn’t learn much about it. They mostly get added as a statistic to the show’s wikipedia page as a successful relationship that made it to marriage and is still together. Catra slowly transitions into more all-encompassing graphic design work until she follows through on her speculation from Fantasy Suites and starts working with a charity dedicated to providing equipment to hybrid children and schools. She still does other work on the side sometimes, but she’s happy with the direction her career has gone, and she keeps up a sparse public Instagram to make some posts promoting her work — pre- and post-charity shift — and to flaunt the life and relationship that she really can’t believe she has now. Adora’s old Instagram is still up and public but she abandoned it and only uses a private one now because she really just wanted to leave the show behind. Adora and Catra go down as an odd and rare case in the franchise. The show never risks casting an ex again even though it would certainly go closer to the way they intended the next time. The casting directors insist that they knew the love story could work if given the right encouragement and that’s why they brought Catra in. Adora and Catra are always brought up in discussions of odd or adorable Bachelor couples, especially after they get married. They were also, yknow, the only queer couple to come from the show until Melendy’s season, so that made them stand out a lot too. Adora’s seasons did end up being as positive when it comes to representation as something like that can be and she’s proud of what she managed and what came of it in the end.

Chapter 1: Opening Ceremony

⦁ I was, like, really nervous to do this fic. I didn’t want to step on any toes but I really loved the idea so after sitting on it for a few months I decided fuck it, I’ll start writing it just to see if I like it. Once I realized it was definitely going to be a whole fic, I went poking around for socials and found petty_labelle’s permission statement and was like oh thank god XD Obviously some tropes don’t require credit to anyone (celebrity AUs, there was only one bed, etc), but this was a case of direct inspiration no matter how wildly different the fics were once you pass the word “bachelorette,” so I’m really glad they were down for it.

⦁ Speaking of, having to type bachelorette so many times might just have driven me insane. I hate spelling that word.

⦁ Usually the bachelor/ette is cast from the one of the fan favorites of the last season. So whatever girl the bachelor didn’t pick would become the next bachelorette, etc (it isn’t always that clear cut; sometimes it’s a girl that got sent home sooner or a girl from a season further back). In this case, there was an open casting call because none of the contestants from previous seasons who they knew/thought were sapphic were willing to either come back or come out, which is how Adora ended up on the show as a nobody to the franchise but a strong contender thanks to her prominent cheerleading career (and being hot. Let’s be honest it’s a third charisma, a third being willing to play ball, and a third being hot).

⦁ Finding out this show usually films in just 6-9 weeks was less surprising than it should have been but still insane. I thought it was three months since most seasons are 10-13 episodes (I think) (and also the fic that set this off was literally called 12 weeks) but I looked it up and. Nope. So I gave Adora like 7-8 weeks in the middle range. That shorter time range actually worked better for the fic, it’s just an insane premise for the real show. 90 Day Fiancee has more realistic expectations! Come on!

⦁ Okay, I know the women pull up to the mansion in a limo, but for some reason while writing it I thought it was all in different limos which doesn’t even make sense. Anyway, after I verified that I edited the language around it to make it more clear they were coming from the same car.

⦁ I also think the host is usually there to greet the women too, but it doesn’t matter how those greetings normally go in this case, because it was a unique moment and Hope was going to be there regardless so she could partially guide it.

⦁ I also have no idea if someone’s ex coming on the show has any precedent, but I’m saying for Etheria it’s a first.

⦁ “-a dashing magicat’s body” Listen, Glimmer is aware that Catra is hot.

⦁ When Glimmer asks “how could you not tell us” she isn’t meaning in a hurt “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me” way but in a “how did you hold that in?” kind of way.

⦁ Canned phrases I know from this show are “Can I steal you away?” (to get one-on-one time), “Here for the wrong/right reasons” (when someone is ‘suspected’ to only be there to get famous rather than get married), “I want to focus on us” (focusing on your relationship with the bachelor/ette instead of all the other contestants and drama getting in the way), and then something like “Trust the process” (you know, cult mindset cutting out questioning the establishment and contrived doctrines).

Chapter 2: Here of the Wrong Reasons

⦁ That first night at the cocktail party I imagine as being a lot like Princess Prom, with Adora trying to focus on getting to know all these new women and figure out who she has the best chances with but she keeps getting distracted by glimpses of Catra through the crowd. The other contestants didn’t know what to make of it, but the ones that overheard Catra was Adora’s ex told others until it spread through the crowd. The consensus among the women at first was this was a TV thing and they probably didn’t have to actually worry about Catra too much. That slowly changed.

⦁ Damn near every season DT goes undercover at the first cocktail party. One of the lead’s brothers did this as a bartender once and I think it would be an interesting way to gather a bit more info to further their storylines. Because of this, Adora barely saw them on the first night.

⦁ I went back and forth on how I was going to handle the other contestants: if they were going to be the other princesses, or largely a blank mass, or a more detailed cast of originals. I ended up somewhere between those last two. I also considered having the other characters from the show working on set, but when the idea for a watch party came to me (because I really wanted to show what people at home were seeing here and there), that cemented where the other characters would be and left me with OCs for the other women.

⦁ Names came from… All over. I hate coming up with them, so I did the lazy thing and scrolled through the characters list on Wiki Grayskull (I know, fuck Fandom [company], I’m sorry). Elmora is a minor character in the OG series. Veena was Grayskull’s queen in the He-man reboot I saw 5 minutes of in 2002. Serenia is a folk hero in the reboot (and the name of the constellation that helped them locate Darla). Swen is the (fake, but presumably real somewhere else given DTs impersonation tendencies) piano player from the Enchanted Grotto. Faith is a recurring Random OC Name in my fics and also just ironic. Melendy Britt was the VA for OG Adora and Catra. That one is honestly an homage since she voiced like a fourth of the women in the OG series.

⦁ Originally the fic was supposed to roll straight from the first chapter into the confrontation night, but that pacing seemed too sudden and I wanted to explore more of the TV side. Also, Adora needed a horse riding date and there wasn’t one anywhere in the other plans so I put it in here.

⦁ When the horse riding date idea came up I had to be like “wait… could Tali do this?” and that’s when I found out that prosthetic arms have come a lot farther than they were the last time I looked into them. Tali can absolutely go horse riding.

⦁ For years after the show, Adora will joke that being on it was worth it just for the horseback riding day, even when she’s literally holding hands with her wife.

⦁ Storm is the actual name of Catra’s horse in… the toys at least? I’m not actually sure if that made it on-screen in the filmation version but it’s from the OG canon regardless.

⦁ Catra did not intend to sabotage the horse date. At first. She was mad at Adora for bringing her somewhere she knew Catra would be scared, but said fear meant she fully intended to spend the entire date refusing to play ball. That lasted until she saw Adora and Serenia kissing, and especially how excited Adora looked, realizing that if she wasn’t going to play along Adora might turn to someone who was.

⦁ The horse debacle got cut so it looked like Swift Wind just bucked for no reason and it gave Tali and Adora a cute moment together. They could have made it into a whole thing, but once Catra won, they cut the interviews implying anything happened there. The other girls never really knew if anything happened, but the crew definitely did. They caught a little bit of it on camera (although not well), they goaded even more of it, and one of the staff retrieved the crop afterwards as the smoking gun.

⦁ The first group date of the week (horse riding) was mostly people Adora wanted to connect with, the second was production’s orchestration (the softball date that didn’t make it into the fic because Catra wasn’t on it), and then Erika got a one-on-one “because she hadn’t had time with Adora yet” (actually because she and Lauren were making out the night before and Catra was onto them, but only had a hunch, so she could look all jealous and spurned on camera when Erika got picked). Adora also gave Lauren a rose because 1) production told her she should and 2) she actually did want the resulting one-on-one time with Lauren to sus her out.

⦁ Glimmer eating popcorn with chopsticks was actually in chapter one but I was worried people were gonna call it stereotyping or something when I know people who do it IRL, and then I talked to them and they said it’s the superior method so I just stuck it in anyway. I eat popcorn with a spoon sometimes for the same reason, but chopsticks really are better if you can use them, my hands just shake too much to be reliable.

⦁ Melendy was one of the last girls to arrive at the mansion because production didn’t want to muddy the waters for Catra’s arrival. Catra assured them she and Adora were very serious for a long time before it broke bad and Adora would remember her immediately, but they wanted to get that moment of instant shock from Adora with her hopefully not even thinking about Catra’s existence and suddenly being faced with her. If Catra was telling the truth about how important they were to each other, even the sight of another magicat might have put her on Adora’s mind.

⦁ Melendy was supposed to be a potential rival, but in a less orchestrated way than Lauren where she was playing out a storyline at production’s direction. Melendy was an actual potential relationship they thought might stand a chance with Adora, and in that case Catra would have really hated her and it would have been great drama, but Catra could tell from the beginning that while Melendy would be sticking around for a while, she wasn’t exciting or challenging enough for Adora. Which is good, because production was absolutely right about the kind of rivalry they would have had and it would have made Catra look a lot worse than getting defensive over someone “cheating” on Adora.

⦁ I kind of assume bedroom locks are a no-go on reality shows in general because, well, what if they lock the camera out from some drama? But they’re also renting places like the mansion and it seems like those houses would Have Locks and they wouldn’t install different doorknobs just for the show. Idk, but I am saying that if they don’t usually have them they gave Catra and Lauren rooms with locks so they don’t actually kill each other. (Although, conversely, they put Catra and Melendy in the same room partially to up their drama — and partially so they only had to worry about one room that could accommodate magicats).

⦁ I’m not actually sure on the use of mic packs vs boom mics on reality TV. I know there’s pool/beach/bikini dates on the Bachelor though, which by necessity require a boom mic since you can’t put a mic pack on a bikini without pulling it off, so I’m leaning towards them usually using a boom unless a mic pack is required. Initially I had them using mic packs and throwing them out the window, but I decided that was just a little unnecessary.

⦁ I mentioned the window both because of that and as a hint towards how Catra saw Faith getting up to some business.

⦁ Catra looks uncomfortable not because she’s telling the truth, but because she’s finally confronting the fact that she doesn’t want Adora to send her home.

Chapter 3: Can I Steal You Away?

⦁ This and chapter 2 were supposed to be one as I said, but then it got reeeeeeally long, and cutting to the watch party meant reshowing — from the TV perspective — some stuff that had already happened, so it seemed a good place to cut them and use that as a “recap.”

⦁ The “we need to talk” was actually a dub-over that Adora recorded later and they just modified to sound muffled but still understandable. They kind of just barely picked up the “no cameras” part but the rest of the conversation was murmuring at best. Part of how Adora kept from getting in (much) trouble was giving them the voice over and just generally complying with all the fall out that came from it like interviews and reshoots.

⦁ The shots of Catra pacing were in fact reshoots, but that did happen, it was just behind a locked door first.

⦁ Catra was up in the room for close to an hour, only coming down when she thought she might be in danger of missing their chance to talk (or at least making it seem natural). She spent that time having a small crisis over how much she didn’t want Adora to stop chasing after her, even if she was doing it with suspicion.

⦁ I actually have no clue where the bachelor/ette stays when the girls are at the mansion, so I just kind of went, eh, guest house? I know they’re not allowed in the main house without a camera, but it seems like a hotel would be pretty far.

⦁ “I’m not an ***hole who can’t see my ex happy,” that is exactly what Catra told herself she was the whole time, but if she can lie to herself she certainly can lie to the camera.

⦁ The rose reshoot cut from the real footage at the moment Adora went off screen, then to the new footage of her walking up to the vase and selecting a rose, then to real but carefully cropped footage of Catra’s reaction so you can’t see the flower she’s really accepting, and then to a further back reshoot of Catra holding the rose as Adora redelivers her line. They used the initial audio and reactions where they could.

⦁ Melendy was nesting because she was anxious after the Very Weird night. There was also a part of her that said “well, if Adora and Catra patch things up, then I’m out” because she was used to things like this only “needing” one token magicat, but obviously Adora doesn’t feel like that. They did look a little similar in human eyes (IDK if the description of Melendy ended up staying in the fic, but: brown coat, dark brown hair, two yellow eyes, no stripes) so Melendy thought it might also be weird to Adora from that angle if she did end up rejecting Catra.

Chapter 4: Right Choices

⦁ I found out that strip dodgeball exists on the Bachelorette and went, yeah, so I can use that. People didn’t refuse to answer often so “Bare Your Soul” never got too racy, but some clothes did come off.

⦁ Tali just calls Jewel “queer” because he is gay, even though what he realized back in middle school was actually that he was trans. She wasn’t going to say that on television, though, because he wouldn’t want her to. He didn’t mind people knowing he was generally queer, though.

⦁ Glimmer’s comment about Veena not posting proves that she did follow Veena before that happened, because otherwise she would have no idea. She actually followed all of them from the moment she knew the casting but tried to resist the urge to do too much digging on them since the show had already wrapped shooting and her research could just end up taunting her with knowing someone is super wrong for Adora that she then had to watch go all the way to final three. And well… that still ended up happening in a way.

⦁ They did cut the exchange about how the show was crazy, but they did use Catra’s “I’m only here for you” audio for some promos which some eagle-eyed fans noticed was never actually in the show. I’m sure that’s not uncommon though.

⦁ Hope didn’t question Adora’s request for two reasons: 1) Adora actually asked to do it on camera rather than trying to sneak down for whatever it was, 2) if she stopped Adora to ask questions, Adora might think about what she was doing, and having someone in an emotional fugue state usually makes for better TV. Everybody could tell the vibes died as soon as Sylvia implied that she didn’t want to date a cheerleader so it was obvious that Adora was questioning something when she called her up.

⦁ I learned a lot about the show listening to that recap podcast (which covered a few seasons of the Bachelor, the Bachelorette, and Bachelor in Paradise until… that summer), but it’s also been years since I’ve listened to it/it was canceled. I based most of the pacing for women getting eliminated and when hometowns and shit would happen off of the episode summaries for recent seasons I found online. I wasn’t worried about doing it exactly since this is Etheria and it varies between season (see: Clare running off with “her future husband” in episode four), but I didn’t want to do something wildly wrong either.

⦁ My general (not set in stone) idea for the show’s timing was week one was obviously introductions, week two was horseback riding, football, and Erika’s one-on-one, week three had the confrontation with Catra, week four had the coming out date (amongst others), week five had the Sylvia drama and cheerleading date, week six was the two-on-one, and week seven was hometowns. Week eight was fantasy suites, the women tell all happens (I don’t see a lot of people saying they like the wo/men tell all specials. There’s a reason I mostly left it out of the fic. It’s a boring rehash), and then week ten was the long-ass finale. I’ll be honest: the coming out and cheerleading date were supposed to be the same week but I think you’re not supposed to give the same person two dates in one episode. Showing that transitioning perspective from the viewership angle was important, though, so the whole Sylvia thing and an extra week got added in for it.

⦁ Melendy was actually still sharing a room with Catra during the night visit, they just kicked her out before Adora got there and no one brought it up until Adora was leaving and noticed the second bed.

⦁ No one says anything after Adora says she was letting the other girls sleep because she was admitted that Catra was staying without realizing. Now, this was incredibly obvious, but Catra still needed to process it.

⦁ Adora stayed awhile just cuddling and murmuring a bit to each other, but eventually she started feeling really tired and reluctantly left Catra’s arms for her own room.

⦁ Adora sent home Serenia, Elmora, Swen (mostly cut character, but she was supposed to be the main butch rep that season that Adora still kept when there was little chemistry was, again: representation!), & a rando I guess. I didn’t want to introduce twenty women’s names to keep track of, so I tried to come up with enough to have variety in the date composition without bogging things down or getting confusing. You can tell which ones you’re supposed to remember by the fact you could recognize their names going in lmao.

Chapter 5: The Dragon Slayer

⦁ Chapters four and five were also supposed to be one chapter, so I’m really following in 12 weeks’ footsteps with the two-part chapters LOL

⦁ Production was fine with Adora letting a bunch of girls go at once because it was dramatic and she was explicitly doing it to focus on the girls she felt better about (she had actually hung onto girls a bit more than they expected until then), but they couldn’t let both of Catra’s rivals go at once because then there would have been no conclusion to that plot at all and it would have felt really weird from a TV perspective, so they put their foot down on Faith.

⦁ The reason they planned for Catra and Melendy originally, though, was that they did expect Faith to be gone already. Adora cut so many girls at once they had to pick their battles, so they decided to keep the biggest villain rather than worry about the rest of it. If Catra and Faith went on a date together, it would have been fireworks, but at that point it would have been obvious who was going home. Catra and Melendy, on the other hand, would be two girls who were final four material, so people Actually Invested In Adora’s relationships would have been highly invested in the date.

⦁ Originally, Adora went into this chapter with Serenia still on her roster too (she stuck by the rules and let her keep her rose) and Catra, unaware of what had happened between them, included her on the list of girls she gave Adora, in the same category as Melendy. Adora then worried about Catra giving her four names, implying she was ready for Adora to send her home, but Adora couldn’t help offering a rose to Catra anyway, and she was obviously happy to accept. This whole exchange still happens, just with a little less weight since Catra going to hometowns was obvious with only four non-cheaters left. However, last chapter got more dramatic in exchange with Adora taking her rose back from Serenia and seeming to invest in Catra emotionally instead, and I just thought it made more sense for Catra to intend to go through hometowns to really get her message out there before going home.

⦁ Lou (the vineyard owner) is named after Lou Scheimer, a VA for a lot of the male characters on the original She-ra, namely Swift Wind and Light Hope (who was like a sentient beam of light. Listen, just go with it).

⦁ Catra’s allergic to grapes in this because I randomly give her cat allergies when I feel like it and I recently remembered cats and dogs are Kind of allergic to grapes where sometimes One is okay and other times even that is toxic so it’s best to not. Absolutely make sure they never get a hold of a second one, though, and in general you should protect grapes from them.

⦁ Okay, in general, I think the girls are responsible for their own wardrobes, but I do think production probably intervenes here and there, and in Catra’s case she kept wearing suits and the like. For this specific date, DT dropped a hint that she should show up in something ravishing, so Catra borrowed a dress Melendy was saving for Fantasy Suites because she wanted to make it harder to mic her so she could try to get some whispers to Adora. Since they were dropping back home first, Melendy could swap for something new and didn’t mind the loan knowing exactly what Catra was going up against since she told her the night before and Melendy was also mad at Faith for it.

⦁ The “losing focus” comment was both a play on the canned phrase previously mentioned and a reference just for me and my friend.

⦁ Production, in general, was trying to get the clout of a queer season while changing as little as possible, which is a bad call for several reasons, but part of that meant making sure all the women were conventionally attractive and dressed in the way viewers had come to expect. They had all of Three butches on the season, Catra qualifying as one of the soft butches who put her foot down and wore a suit or similar in almost every episode. Adora didn’t mind wearing a dress most of the time even if it wasn’t her usual, but she also insisted on wearing pants sometimes as part of her representation thing (and also just being authentically herself).

⦁ Okay, so villains on the show often end up with a “nemesis” (or just a self-appointed good guy) who eventually warns the lead about their bad behavior. This is the dragon slayer: they don’t win, but they provide a character role and help the lead with things that they wouldn’t know otherwise because production certainly isn’t telling them. This season plays the jealous ex angle at first (for its own drama as they originally intended, and to try to make Catra’s behavior “understandable” once she turns over a new leaf) but as her feud with Lauren grows, Catra starts to seem like the dragon slayer, especially once Adora goes to her for advice on what to do with the other girls. People read that one of two ways: the way the watch party did, or the “oh, they’re not feeling the romance coming back so Adora is going to her for advice like you would with a friend.” This date coming up seems to reinforce the dragon-slayer narrative, but it’s the rare case where telling on someone works out. It helps that what she was telling on wasn’t just something like a hunch about someone wanting to get famous.

⦁ “All this because Catra got horny” Mermista you should see the stuff that happened in other universes because of that. This is nothing.

⦁ I did googling on the spelling of mic as a verb and mostly I got a lot of people with loud — incorrect — opinions. And by incorrect opinions, I mean people saying “it should be this, ‘mic’d’ is stupid,” which is completely missing the point. Language and spelling is not about what “should” be, mic is the accepted term used in the industry. Niche words like this come up all the time and it’s the people who invent those words and use them day in and day out that decide what those words mean and how they’re spelled, not loudmouths on Reddit. Because of all that though, I couldn’t find a consensus. I had to phrase it as “mic’d” though because that’s what the industry says. The people filming wouldn’t have phrased it another way (another suggestion from people on forums online) so I had to find a way to spell it. Consensus seemed to be either mic’d or miked, but the latter does Not look right, so I ended up settling on mic’d.

Chapter 6: Hometowns

⦁ Adora and Teela really had a more kinda “big sister” relationship, but they were both only children and Adora had no concept of family, not to mention they were on a show all about finding romance, so they were kind blinded to it. On the hometown date, they didn’t really talk that much about marriage despite production prompting them around it because they were kind of subconsciously blocking that and also having so much fun together they didn’t question it. Adora wanted to spend time with Teela and thought she was super cool, Teela had a lot of fun and wanted to show Adora all the cool things she experienced and open her up to a new lifestyle she was clearly enamored with, and no one questioned that further because they were getting the gushing confessionals they wanted. Teela’s parents saw such a small cross-section of them they just saw them having fun together and didn’t second-guess it.

⦁ By the time of Catra’s hometown, production had figured out that Catra was going to be final two (even though Adora hadn’t). Adora hadn’t even fully processed that Catra was going to Fantasy Suites with her since Melendy got cut. Production knew they really had to humanize her, which had been a slow shift in narrative behind the scenes the more it became clear Adora was actually giving Catra a chance now, but this was when the scramble happened. They were lining up their editors and ready to get Catra anything she needed for her hometown, even if it ended up untraditional. This was their mold-breaking season, after all, and even though they followed the formula pretty well for most of it, there were some big moments, and this ended up being one of them.

⦁ I’m like 99% sure volunteer dates have been done on the show before when the star was an activist or something but I can’t think of any examples so I can’t back that up. Either way, it’s definitely not common, but it was Catra trying to get a positive message out there, like she talks about in her Fantasy Suite.

⦁ Adora weird texts were because she needed Glimmer to at least be open to being in Catra’s corner considering the bombshell they were going to get later.

⦁ Usually hometowns are for sussing out 1) if someone is being real with you because what their families are like and what they say around them tells you a lot, 2) if they’re ready for marriage (it seems like every season there’s someone in the family who tells the lead their child/sibling/nibling/etc isn’t ready for marriage or doesn’t seem like themselves around them), and 3) if you’re really in love. Sometimes people do get left dramatically mid-hometown (like the one in season 19 where the bachelorette realized she wasn’t ready to meet his family when she got there and left him on the street to VISIT THEM ALONE comes to mind oh my god. Like she wasn’t wrong to not lead him on but that sucks. I found out about this after writing the Melendy shit btw lmao) but usually someone is only cut at the end.

⦁ I didn’t include Tali’s hometown, even though it could have included some good angst, because 1) I really wanted to end on that line about disappearing into the trees, 2) all the internal debate Adora had during it was just a Less Aware™️ version of the angst from the Final Rose chapter so it felt repetitive. I know that made it “more obvious” who Adora was going to choose but… if you didn’t know that from chapter one I can’t help you.

Chapter 7: Fantasy Suites

⦁ The conversation during the watch party speculating about the order the show was using for the girls is kind of the prelude to them picking up the subtext in chapter 9.

⦁ The mentions of their final dinner tie into a cut scene I might post separately, but then I came up with new context which is my actual in-universe explanation: their first date didn’t involve dinner. However, there was a family restaurant the football team would go to for victory dinners sometimes, dragging some of the cheerleaders along, and of course wherever Adora went Catra did too, so they had eaten there before, just never on their own.

⦁ It wasn’t until I was editing this scene that I realized you might not know what the date cards are if you hadn’t watched the show but like. I was too lazy to add an explainer lmao. I’ll do it here though: basically the host (or the lead) gives out date cards every week with a little ~teaser title~ on it and the list of names for the people going on in (for instance “Bare Your Soul”). Kinda punny/foreshadowing names like that come up. For Fantasy Suites, it’s basically a card inviting them to go up to the Fantasy Suite together.

⦁ I was picturing a specific hotel in Thailand for their resort, but I don’t know what this hotel is or when or how I saw it. I remember seeing video touring the whole thing at some point though. Anyway it quite literally backed onto the forest with monkeys running all over and stuff. I don’t know what the technical difference between forest and jungle is but my brain says if there’s monkeys and a bazillion percent humidity it’s probably a jungle.

Chapter 8: Interlude

⦁ The reason Light Hope is the host and not DT is two-fold: 1) I cast Hope for the host/producer role because of her manipulative role in canon, before my brain caught up with the fact that hey, this is reality TV, why isn’t DT here? And 2) the in-canon reason is DT needs to manage all these story lines, which means they are the one that needs to be available off camera at all times to prod someone at just the right moment or manage things to create dramatic moments, and they have more opportunity for that if they aren’t the one hosting. I did consider having them be the host of just the Wo/Men Tell All special, but tbh Adora would have accidentally blurted out spoilers if DT was around to goad them so it had to go this way lmao.

⦁ I watched a bunch of Bachelor/ette anouncements on YouTube (again, having never seen the show, recaps usually sum it up as “[the host] announces [x] is our new Bachelor/ette”) and wow there is no consistency to them. Almost every single one was a little different and set up differently, but a common model was “Your new bachelor/ette, [x]” followed by applause as they walk out in evening wear, so I went with that but added in a bit like the contestants normally do when coming out of the limo because that felt fitting both with the franchise and with the fact that this was Adora’s introduction to the franchise. In the announcements I saw, not once did they use a last name because everybody watching already new who “Joey” or whoever was from watching the season, but again, Adora was brand new to the franchise, so a full name and bit made sense for her.

⦁ Deena was one of my “potential names” that I didn’t end up using/needing, but it was some… IDK, Twiglet or NPC or something in the original. The real reason I picked it is because I has used “Dee” as a random generic background character name before (for those curious: it was in OTOS’s sequel, BYLM).

⦁ I know the show has discussed stuff that happened on Instagram and shit repeatedly so I decided they would probably be willing to acknowledge things that happened “off camera” if they were important and alluded to in the show like the cheating.

⦁ A lot of people were speculating on who the “other two” on the camping trip were but the real reason it was a four-bed cabin is I’ve never seen a three bed cabin XD The ones at the park near me are all four-bed in the sense they all have two bunk beds lol. It were just Adora, Teela, and Catra.

Chapter 9:

⦁ I don’t remember if I ever said this in the fic at this point, but Catra has short hair in this one because she gave herself a dyke cut after coming out to rub it into Weaver’s face.

⦁ Adora was picking up on the vibes and griping about it, but Catra said she wasn’t bothered and then climbed in Adora’s lap to “distract her.” And yeah she was too distracted for Glimmer’s next text lol.

Chapter 10:

⦁ There was voice over as Adora went through the ropes and their meanings both explaining some details on what they meant (since the concept is familiar, but in a mostly abstract way, to mainstream audiences). The narration talked about how important the tradition was to Catra and how Adora could never take her this far and not look over the meanings. It made it kind of ambiguous whether she was legitimately considering the ropes or just showcasing this thing that was important to her once-best friend.

⦁ Adora looks at the camera after Hope mentions keeping Melendy because she’s thinking about Melendy (potentially, she would totally understand if she wasn’t) watching along at home and what she would want to say to her that she didn’t get to before.

⦁ Hope’s “sometimes you follow your heart” line is 100% canned and something she regularly regurgitates from a script when the moment calls for it. In this moment, however, the follow-up was a quiet disapproval for picking Catra. Hope was never going to directly interfere with Adora’s final choice — it seemed obvious that Adora had to decide independently or the relationship was going to blow up fast and make them look worse than Adora picking the “wrong” option for their preferred narrative — but she still didn’t want Adora to pick Catra, so she has occasionally let slip something to that effect in private conversations off camera. Usually not to Adora, but Adora has long figured out what production actually wanted out of the season.

⦁ The camera suddenly cut to Adora and Tali after Tali mentioned Catra because Hope twitched from someone spoiling her show (even if like, come on, everyone knew Adora was going to ask Catra Something and Catra would say yes). There quietly controlling her inner rage was something Adora could detect after working with her for so long, which is also why Adora was giggly (well, that and relief). That’s also why Hope was so aggressive jumping back into the conversation, because she was trying to take control of it again.

⦁ Adora looked more serious/neutral because she had her whole speech prepared about the things they needed to work on and the fact this was, in essence, conditional, so she was gearing herself up for that and didn’t want Catra to think that she was ignoring everything she had planned to do.

Chapter 11:

⦁ I went back and forth on Catra’s phrasing following the “Rebuild with me?” because Catra’s response doesn’t work as well from Glimmer’s perspective, but it’s so important for her to respond like that because it’s Adora saying “Rebuild and try with me” and Catra saying “Yes, I want to change” so I kept it.

⦁ Adora told Catra about the whole ropes debacle that night and Catra was both annoyed — at production, and sy how much the delay made her worry — and found it funny. After Catra pulled her into the limo following the proposal, they went back to the hotel, packed up, and Catra joined her in her suite again that night before they had to fly back home at 4AM. They did some catching up and making out but mostly they just held each other and were Done.

⦁ Okay so they haven’t told their therapist how the show ended, it’s just incredibly obvious. They’ve told her they can’t legally tell her anything that happened until after the corresponding episode has aired, but then they’re going to therapy to build a healthy relationship together and work through past obstacles like Catra’s jealousy and Adora leaving her behind and expecting Catra to follow her along — especially since that’s kind of still happening, only for better reasons now and when they can both be more mature about it — so it’s kind of really obvious what the end result was lmao. Their therapist watched two episodes for context but with how heavily edited it is, it wasn’t actually that helpful.

⦁ I never brought up their jobs because… they weren’t working for months lmao, but Adora works for Angella as he day job so she could get the time off and at the start of the fic Catra is a graphic — and website, to some degree — designer primarily working for Entrapta’s robotics business, though she does work on the side for other clients.

⦁ Glimmer’s ambush wasn’t actually coordinated, Perfuma just saw it happening at a volume that seemed calm and quietly assisted letting it play out. She wants them all to have healthy relationships now, but she wants to protect her friend too.

⦁ This final chapter took so long despite being written before I even posted chapter 9 because I knew something was missing from it but I’m so busy I’m kind of creatively stalled out so I couldn’t really pinpoint what vibe was off. It turned out to be a rehaul of the confrontation and adding in the party scene to have a bit more closure on that angle since it felt like Glimmer accepted it too quick for her. It allowed circling around on the marriage aspect before the final scene too. It ended up making this the longest chapter of the fic though.

⦁ Melendy… deserves a break. She left Adora’s season knowing she had to focus on her own happiness and getting to a good place with her family. After her parents drove Adora away, she had a fight with them about them preferring to ruin her happiness over it coming from something they didn’t approve of. Things were really tense with them for a while but they started trying to work on being more open so Melendy would be comfortable sharing her life with them even if it didn’t go how they wanted. When Melendy had a few awkward dates that didn’t work out and then eventually decided to go on the show again, they were hopeful that they wouldn’t have to confront any of it further since she was going on a man’s season. Obviously that didn’t work out, and it was upon meeting the bachelor and him being a lot less concerned with things like Melendy’s ear positioning that made them face themselves a bit more given how parallel the situation was to how they met Adora. Melendy sat them down and had a really long talk before her season about how she was going to have guys and girls on it and they had to be prepared to meet and support both in the finale or be prepared not to be there at all. They tried to open themselves up to it more. Melendy was really excited about being the bachelorette and having one last shot at happiness. Despite being near all the manufacturing of the show twice now, she believed in the love story still, and she was the kind of person who liked structure around dating. It was easy back when she was in school, but once it was down to meeting random strangers out in the world and on dating apps, she struggled with it a lot more, so she really thought the show could bring her happiness if she gave it one last chance as the lead. It did, btw. Her final three were Duke, one of the fighting girls, and another girl who was kind of a surprise to her but things suddenly started to heat up with her near the end. Duke pulled an Idiot and basically eliminated himself when one of the producers talked him into going to her after their Fantasy Suite and telling her on camera that he wasn’t comfortable with her sleeping with the other girls. Melendy was seriously considering him and might have been willing to decide on him and make that concession if he brought it up in the privacy of the Fantasy Suite, preferably before they had sex so she could really consider the whole picture without a fucking camera on her. It felt manipulative — probably because he was manipulated into doing it when a producer caught him stewing over the upcoming dates — so she told him she wasn’t making that promise and they parted ways really tensely. He basically knew he was going home when the next girl stayed the night with Melendy. There wasn’t any dramatic early exit, which gave him and some of the viewers hope, but it was an eventuality when she gave the roses to the other two girls. Her parents were disappointed, but they’d prepared themselves for this situation and were a lot more open than they had been with Adora. They ended up endorsing the surprise contestant — half because she seemed really sweet, and half because she was a magicat — and Melendy was thrilled to make that decision with her parents’ support. She wanted to be proposed to, so the girls went with it, and though Melendy personally would have been happy either way, the surprise girl passed her parents’ final test when she brought ropes rather than the ring the other girl picked out (which, to be fair, she did knowing Melendy was okay with it since she was unsure about the rope thing in general and asked Melendy about it). They have a much more whirlwind married in nine months kind of relationship the producors are really looking for, but luckily it worked out for them too.

Original Outline:

This fic was originally a lot shorter. Basically, I had a few big moments and then not more plan of what (if anything) would go in between. The original idea was the limo entrance, cocktail party confrontation, the coming out Bare Your Soul date, a later addition of the vineyard date, Catra’s hometown, and then Catra’s fantasy suite, the ropes, and the proposal.

Originally, it was a lot more ambiguous how Catra was feeling about Adora until the Fantasy SUite. She was a lot cooler to her throughout it and they didn’t get stuff like the soft moment late at night in Bright Moon that they ended up with. In the original outline, Catra’s plan was a bit more manipulative, with her original (conscious) idea being to try to make sure Adora got her heartbroken however she could, even if that meant luring her in again and breaking her heart at the end herself. That lasted about five seconds, and as I thought about the idea I realized that wasn’t really how I was picturing the intent or function of Catra’s plan, but it did mean I lost the line of “The plan was to break your heart on national television.” I did my best to get something close because I loved that line.

Catra was also supposed to be a lot more cagey after the reveal because she held onto her plan for longer and thus had a harder time sorting out the actual feelings she buried beneath it, so she couldn’t say what she did for the show and what she did for her plan or when she stopped trying to hurt Adora, but when the plan softened, so did the fallout from it too. The show was then supposed to roll right into the ring/rope selection with Adora’s time with the final girl specifically not shown but its absence making it clear she didn’t make up her mind regardless of what happened in the Fantasy Suite, but it needed more fleshing out by the time I reached there in the story, especially since I knew who the other girl was at that point. The fic was supposed to basically end with the proposal, but I couldn’t have stopped there once I reached it and it wouldn’t have been the right call anyway lol.

Upcoming:

I might have more meta coming for this (see: cut scene mentioned above) but aside from that I’ve got some ideas competing and a low creative pool at the moment so I’m not sure which fic will be next. I’ve got some fun ideas and some specific ass weird ones.

#r&t #fic notes #ficmeta

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groundcontrol21 · 2 years

Text

A Little Help from My Friend (M, Musketeers)

So the hindbrain wrote this one. CW for: inducing, contagion, mess, stuffy-talk, character with the kink, and absolute desecration of characters from classic literature. Very glad Mr. Dumas is not around to see what I've done here. How far we've strayed from the light.

This is a marked departure from what I usually write and I honestly don't know what came over me. I'm very nervous about posting it for some reason (?) so please be kind.

“Hehh… uhhh…” For the umpteenth time that day, the sneeze which had been building and dragging Aramis to the precipice now abandoned him there, snuffly breaths hitching as he rubbed his hands over his face with a groan. “Snf!” His nose squelched as he rubbed at it, in one last vain attempt to coax the sneeze forward. He huffed miserably. “I’m so ill, Porthos.”

As attractive as it was to watch Aramis’s face go through the slow, agonizing permutations of readying to sneeze time and time again, Porthos felt terrible for him. “I know,” he said, biting at his lip. “I didn’t have it half as bad as you.”

Aramis coughed, the sound wet and congested. Porthos’s own cough hadn’t sounded that bad, had it? He thought back to when he’d been sick with this cold. The first couple days it hadn’t been bad enough to keep him from duty, so Aramis had merely hovered beside him like a worried nursemaid, urging him to drink often and offering his own waterskin when Porthos’s had run dry. Then when Treville had taken him off duty to prohibit him from sneezing on the royal court, Aramis had been with him in his every spare moment, pouring him tea and washing his sodden handkerchiefs. Really, Porthos supposed, he should have expected that just as soon as his own sniffling diminished, Aramis’s increased, as though the cold had just seeped from his head into his friend’s.

Aramis’s croak drew him back to the present. He flopped his arm around miserably on the bed. “I’m beginning to think I’ll ne-eh’hehhh—never be well again. Snf!”

Porthos couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “Well, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Aramis shot upward, curled in on himself in what Porthos was sure would end in a sneeze, only for his nose to be left a dripping, flaring, unsatisfied mess as the sensation abandoned him once more. “HEHH...ohh.” He pressed the back of his hand hard against his nose with a set of marshy sniffles. “If I could only sneeze, the world would look so much brighter.”

In more ways than one, Porthos thought, making a concerted effort to swallow down the fluttering feeling in his stomach. He felt bad enough that he was enjoying his friend’s misery in a way; he would be damned if Aramis found out about that fact. Whereas the day previous Aramis had been veritably unable to stop sneezing, each expulsion somehow leaving him sounding more congested than the last, today he was many times taunted but never satisfied. Yesterday had brought its own challenges when Porthos had come to check on him, namely the need to hide any untoward reactions to his friend’s desperately ill sneezes, but when Porthos had agreed with Aramis’s plea for the heavens to make him stop sneezing, it hadn’t been with this new misery in mind. Misery for Aramis, but also for Porthos, because these near-sneezes were hardly any better.

Aramis coughed again, rubbing at the swollen glands near his jaw. “Oh, and my throat,” he moaned with a harsh swallow. “And my ear.” He winced as the coughs continued and Porthos felt his heart split in two. No sooner did the coughs cease than did his breaths begin to hitch again–

“Hehhh…Ihhh…IHHHhh–”

–only to fade away into nothingness once more. Poor Aramis let out a hoarse, throaty groan, and that pitiful noise not only increased Porthos’s concern but also must have banished whatever sense he possessed, for he suddenly heard himself saying, “I think I know something that could help you with the sneezes.”

Luckily, Aramis’s eyes were closed as he pinched and rubbed at his leaking nose, for Porthos was sure he looked like the portrait of a mortified man. His hands shook slightly and he blinked; help him? Dear God, what was Porthos thinking, exposing himself like that? Worse, what if Aramis accepted? How could Porthos pretend to be normal in that?

A second passed in which Aramis said nothing, and so Porthos rushed in with a fumbling attempt to somehow explain his offer. “It’s something I’ve done–uhh, it’s a bit unconventional… but…” Good Lord, Porthos thought, he was merely digging himself deeper into this godforsaken hole.

“Porthos,” Aramis sighed, cracking open a tired eye at him, “at this point I would join the Cardinal’s Guard if it would make me feel better.”

Porthos gasped in mock scandal. “You don’t mean that.”

He was stalling, this much he knew, but he also knew he would rather be trampled by every horse in the garrison than continue this conversation, even though Porthos had been the fool who brought this whole predicament upon himself in the first place.

Aramis said nothing in reply, merely fished his handkerchief out from beneath the blankets and gave a liquid blow into it. He fixed his gaze balefully on Porthos when he finished, rubbing at his nose with the corner of the cloth in slow, slurpy circles. He looked so utterly miserable, his cheeks flushed, his nose chapped, his eyes bruised with purple, that Porthos knew instantly he would swallow every inch of his pride to make him feel better.

“Sit up, then,” Porthos said, and said a quick prayer to nothing at all to help him, for surely this was out of God’s domain. “I have a feeling this might help you.”

Aramis grumbled and groaned but did as Porthos bid him, dragging himself into a seated position and swaddling the thickest quilt from his bedsheets around his shoulders. Meanwhile, Porthos went to the post at the wall where he had hung his own hat and plucked one of the feathers from it. He cared far less for his hat than Aramis did, and anyway he knew that Aramis was planning to give him a new one for his birthday that year, as the man could really be horrible at keeping secrets sometimes. As such, one feather now could be sacrificed to the cause.

Porthos returned to the bed and took a seat across from the bundled, shivering Aramis. His heavy-lidded eyes fell upon the feather which Porthos twisted nervously between his fingers and he grinned, even as Porthos wished the floor would swallow him whole.

“Ahh, I see,” Aramis murmured, and Porthos nearly lept to the ceiling.

“You-you see?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve done this before, too?”

At this, Porthos’s heart nearly stopped. He felt dizzy, felt his mouth drop open, unable to believe what he was hearing. Aramis continued. “With a feather, I mean. I used to know a woman who was quite, shall we say, fond of sneezes.” Porthos could already feel his cheeks burning, but then Aramis’s eyes took on a far-off sparkle, glimmering with pride, and the words which accompanied them were almost his undoing.

“Especially mine, so she said.”

I’m inclined to agree with her, Porthos thought. His cheeks felt positively aflame now, and Porthos hardly knew how he managed to keep his voice from being a croak as he asked, “By fond do you mean…” He licked his lips, almost praying that Aramis would spare him completing his question. “Aroused?”

Aramis smiled. “I was trying to be discreet, but yes.” That same faraway look of pride gleamed in his eyes again, and Porthos wished he could slap the man for it. “Ah, I wonder if she’s found a better sneezer than I.”

At once, Porthos’s mind supplied him with I doubt it, and wished he could slap Aramis for prompting that, too. To hide the tremble he felt rising in his voice, Porthos scoffed. “You,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Discreet.”

“I am very discreet, dear Porthos.” Aramis laid his hand across Porthos’s, the one which held the feather, and Porthos could feel the man’s fever even through his fingers. “Notice how I have not so much as disclosed her name.” Removing his hands, Aramis pressed his thumbs beneath his eyes, near the bridge of his nose and massaged himself lightly. He groaned softly at the contact. “Snf! Now, enough reminiscing. My nose is positively stopped full and it n-n-eh-needs your help. Snf!”

If the Lord did exist, He must have been very displeased with Porthos, for He was surely testing every mite of Porthos’s resolve this day. Porthos raised the feather slowly, his hand trembling so badly he was worried he might jab Aramis in the eye with it. He was almost unable to look Aramis in the face but he forced himself to, trying to distance himself from the thought that he was really doing this, that he was really putting a feather to his friend’s blocked, sniffly, cold-ridden nose just as he’d always–

“I don’t think it’ll take much,” Aramis said thickly. “Snf! I’ve been hovering on the brink all day.” He caught Porthos by the wrist, stopping the feather a mere hairsbreadth from its target. “I might—snf!—I might sneeze on you.”

Porthos cursed the stirring he felt in his trousers. “That’s alright,” he managed, hoping he didn’t sound quite as breathless as he felt. He tried to don an air of uncertainty; it wouldn’t do to seem to be enjoying it so much, for God’s sake. “I-if it was my cold first, that means I shouldn’t catch it again, right?”

“I should hope not bc I—snf!— I feel miserable and I’d feel even worse if I made you this miserable too.”

Porthos made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and worked to push aside any thought that wasn’t of concern for Aramis. The man was freely admitting to feeling miserable, for God’s sake. Porthos could help him, would help him, and would not let any silliness get in the way of that. If this is what it took to alleviate the smallest bit of his brother’s discomfort, so be it. Porthos could deal with himself later.

Porthos brushed the feather delicately beneath the red, chapped skin of Aramis’s nose, and the man gave a full-body shiver at the contact, bundling deeper into the blanket tucked around his shoulders. He coughed lightly, his nose already beginning to twitch and flare, and Porthos knew the man had been right, it wouldn’t take much. He inserted the very tip into one of Aramis’s nostrils, gave it a slight wiggle, and that was all it took before the man’s breath snagged on a ragged inhale.

“P-hhhooo’ohhh’ISHHHUHHH! Ihhh’KSSHHH! Ihh’HESHHHH!”

The dam finally broken, Aramis sneezed and sneezed, collapsing forward with each expulsion. Porthos could see the wetness hang in the air between them, could feel it land on his cheeks. Mess trailed down in ropy tendrils from Aramis’s nose and he cupped his hand in a futile and retrograde act of containment. “Heh’KMMPPFF! Hehh’RMPFFF!”

His hands shook with the fervor of his movement, and he was not successful at keeping them plastered to his face. As they broke away they brought with them a strand of mucus, clinging to his fingers, but still Aramis was far from finished. “Heh’ZDSHHH’ooo! Ihh’GSHHH’ooo! Hehh’ihh’INGSHHHH!” He sniffled almost convulsively between each sneeze, desperate for air. Porthos felt a mist on his cheeks and for a moment he was paralyzed.

Porthos wouldn’t have minded if the man kept releasing a fountainous spray upon him, but to preserve his friend’s dignity he cast around feverishly in the bedsheets. “Damn it, Aramis, where did you put the handkerchief?”

Aramis was pinching his reddened nose, his fingers glistening with the mess which had spilled onto them. Already his hair was wild and framed his face like an unholy halo. “Udder the pill-Pshhh’IEEWWW! Pillow? Heh’DSHHH!”

It was not under the pillow, nor tangled in the bedsheets, but had rather fallen to the floor halfway beneath the bed. Porthos scrambled to retrieve it as his friend released sneeze after sneeze of the wettest, fullest sort, as though they had been building in his head the whole day. They probably had been, the poor man. He started to cough, only for more sneezes to cut him off.

“Heh’RSHHH! Heh’TSHIEW! Oh, thagk you,” Aramis sighed as he hurriedly took the cloth from Porthos. Their hands brushed, and Porthos swallowed heavily at the dampness he felt on Aramis’s fingers. He watched as Aramis took a deep breath before blowing what must have been every bit of fluid in his nose into the handkerchief. Once he had finished, he folded the cloth, turned it over, and blew again, before seeking out a dry corner and nuzzling into it, massaging his nose between the folds and making stuffy noises of relief.

He lowered the cloth for a mere moment before his eyes clouded over again. “I’ve got… sdeeze! Ahh’TSCHOO! HEHH’TSHHH!” He blew his nose again and coughed throatily into the handkerchief, before his breath crescendoed into one final, massive sneeze. “Ahh’hihh’HITSCHHOOO!”

Aramis buried his nose in the folds again and simply held it there as if to let gravity drain away the rest, shutting his eyes in the utterly exhausted aftermath of such a display. Porthos was grateful for the man’s distraction, for he was finding it increasingly difficult to sit still.

“Oh, Porthos,” Aramis groaned in a positively sinful manner as he finally lowered the handkerchief. “Snf, snf! Snf!” The sneezing had clearly shifted the congestion in his head, but already he was beginning to sound all bunged up again. His cheeks and nose were flushed scarlet, his hair a tangled mess, his eyes streaming, and before Porthos could stop himself he squirmed and gave a minute groan of his own.

Then, to Porthos’s horror, Aramis smiled at him. “Am I wrong in saying that you appear to be enjoying this quite as much as Ju—my friend?”

At once, the room began to spin. Had he really been so obvious? Porthos’s breath quickened as thoughts and curses jumbled together in his mind, his hands beginning to tremble, his legs starting to bounce in agitation. He would have to leave and hope Aramis would forget this; he was not some oddball lover who–

Aramis’s hand was back on his thigh, stilling its motion. “Porthos, mon ami,” he said lowly, and Christ Almighty, every ounce of congestion was back weighing on his voice. Porthos could not look at him. “I will not judge you. I—heh’TSHIEW!”

As if on reflex, Porthos found his head snap up at the sound, and he damned himself. Aramis had twisted away to sneeze at his shoulder, but he turned back to Porthos with a bleary sniffle. He smiled at him again, and though his eyes were tired, they held nothing but gentleness. “What a man likes in bed is between him and the parties in it.”

Porthos could hardly believe what he was hearing, could hardly believe what had happened and what was continuing to happen. He spluttered, choking over thank you for not thinking I am a deviant, and I hope I haven’t made things odd between us, until all he could think to say was, “But I–we–we’re not in bed!”

Aramis gestured to the mattress on which they sat with a laugh. “In any case, I am glad someone is eh-enjoying my… my cold. Hhhh’KSHHHH’uhh!” The sneeze burst from him too quickly to be adequately covered by the handkerchief, and so Porthos saw a heap of wetness slide out from his nose before being sniffled back. “Snf! Guhhh… Because it certainly isn’t me.”

Aramis gave his nose a haphazard swipe with the cloth. “We could do some more if you’d like. There’s still a lot—a lot…” Aramis trailed off as though forgetting his train of thought, but the true reason for the pause became apparent when his breath gave an almighty hitch and his eyes flickered shut. “Hhhh’RSHHHH!” He sniffled thickly and gave a rueful little smile. “A lot left in there.”

Warmth pulled at the base of Porthos’s belly, but he dared not hope. “Are you sure?”

“After a day of being clogged up with no respite, sneezing like that was nothing short of divine.”

You can say that again, my friend. Porthos smiled, anticipation thrumming in his veins as he picked up the feather once more, the realization washing over him that he would get to see that divine display again, that he would be able to watch his friend’s beautiful sneezes crash forth and not need to look away for fear or propriety’s sake. It was dizzying, and Porthos felt as though he might burst with it.

Again, Aramis took him by the wrist. His eyes were alight, but serious. “Tell me how to make this more pleasurable for you.”

Porthos must have been dreaming. “P-Pardon me?”

“My l-friend, she liked it when I tried not to sneeze after she’d tickled me.”

Porthos’s voice, when he found it, was naught more than a rough whisper. “I—uh—I’d like that too.” If he ever found this woman, he would fall at her feet and kiss them.

“Noted,” Aramis said with a grin. “Snf!” He slid a knuckle beneath his nose. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold back given how congested I am, but on my honor as a Musketeer I will try.” He patted his breast proudly, and Porthos thought he might love the man for it. “What else?”

And if Porthos thought he loved the man before, he was surely infatuated by that comment. What else, the man asks? As if this weren’t already everything and more. The heady thrumming pulsated in his ears, and he could hardly feel his lips as they moved. “Tell me how you feel.”

Aramis blinked at him blankly, and for a moment Porthos feared all was lost. Stuttering, he pushed ahead. “Y-your symptoms. How miserable you feel.”

“Oh, you like it when I complain?” Aramis flashed him a sparkling, devilish grin, and in that instant Porthos saw what every woman must see in him. “You are in luck, dear Porthos, because I feel awful.” He frowned, shaping his features into a dramatic pout. “Every part of me feels run-down and achy—“

Porthos danced the feather ever so lightly across the man’s septum, marveling at how much it quivered at such slight contact.

“Snf! And sh-shivery. Snf! Like I have a-a f-fehhh… a fever.”

Porthos pressed his hand gently to Aramis’s warm forehead, his fingers stroking back the sweat-damp hair. “I think you do, poor Aramis.”

“Poor me, indeed!” Aramis cried hoarsely, breaking off into a few sharp coughs directed at his shoulder. Porthos’s fingers slid to Aramis’s jaw and he guided the man’s face back to him. Porthos ran the feather against his septum again. Aramis’s entire face twitched, but he soldiered on.

“My throat… my…” His expression went lax as the feather ghosted against his skin and his eyes fluttered to half mast. He gripped Porthos’s thigh, his fingers flexing and relaxing, his nails digging into the flesh. “Oh, I have to sn-sneeze. Hehhh—“

Were it not for the iron grip of his friend’s hand, Porthos felt as though he might float away into the ether. “Keep holding on,” he croaked, sounding almost as wretched as Aramis. “Keep talking.”

Aramis doggedly blinked away the tears which had begun to form in his eyes. “Oh, snf!” His nose was red, chapped, and quivering, and yet Porthos taunted it more with the feather. Aramis squirmed. “My throat feels like I’ve choked on my sword. My ear feels hot and full. Snf! Hehhh…. Oh, and my nose. Snf! How is it possible for it to be so stuffed up and… and so runny… HEHhhh… Snf! At the same time?”

And indeed, Porthos could see the evidence of such a predicament, a line of mucus dripping from one of Aramis’s nostrils no matter how forcefully his nose twitched and sniffled. It wouldn’t be long now, and so Porthos made the final gesture, inserting the feather into the snotty nostril inch by inch with a tantalizing slowness. Aramis squeezed his eyes shut and moaned, his breath already beginning to hitch. Porthos wiggled it a couple times and then withdrew it at the same pace, drawing with it a thick rope of slime.

“Ohhhh…” Aramis was trembling, his breath shaking as he fought against his body’s urge with every ounce of strength. But he was no match, this Porthos could tell; he was going to lose this battle, and lose it quickly.

“I’b really…hehhh’EHHH...huhhhh—Snf, snf!” His voice was rapidly taking on a breathier and breathier quality with each word he spoke, and Porthos’s heart raced. “Really dot feelig—HESHHHOO! Ihh’TSSCHHH! Uhh… I’b dot feelig well at all, Porthos. Heh’TSHIEWWW! Oh…”

They were both done for now, Aramis lost in a violent haze of sneezes, even more vigorous now than the first, and Porthos swirling in his own private ecstasy. “Heh’ZDSHHH! KSHHH’uhh! Hehh…Ihhh..HEHISHHH! Hhhh’ITSCHHH! Snf! Huh’TSHHHH’ooo! Nggghhh…”

Aramis rubbed at his nose with the handkerchief as he sniffled and sneezed, letting it fall to the side with a sigh of irritation upon finding the cloth utterly soaked. Mucus dribbled down his lips no matter how many times he sniffled, and the sharp inhalations made him cough.

“Let it all out,” Porthos rasped, “you’ll feel better.”

“I deed–de-heh’HESHHH’oo! Snf! Oh, Porthos… Heh’KSHHHIEW! Snf, snf! A haddkerchief–snf–please! Ahh’TSHCHH!” It was true, Aramis’s face was a mess of fluid from his eyes to his chin. Porthos dug out a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and passed it to Aramis, before flopping back against the bed and tending to himself as Aramis blew and blew. All the while, Porthos lay on his back, panting, staring at the ceiling as visions of what he had just seen danced across his view.

“Ugh, I’b exhausted,” Aramis said upon finishing, before dropping abruptly onto Porthos’s chest, pillowing his head against his breast and curling up beside him. Porthos stroked the top of the man’s head, gratified when the man let out a hoarse and congested, yet content hum at the contact. He pressed a long kiss to the hot skin of Aramis’s forehead, suffusing it with the thank yous and I love yous and my heart breaks when you aren’t feeling wells that he could not put into words. Aramis turned and pressed his nose into Porthos’s shirt, drawing a long breath in before muffling his next sneeze into the fabric, though some still spilled over onto Porthos’s exposed skin where the shirt came undone at his chest. “Ehh’KMPFFF! Oh…” He sniffled and laid his head back down on Porthos’s chest, before murmuring tiredly, “You’d best hope you can’t catch this again.”

#groundcontrol's sin #my writing #snzfic #mess #inducing #coldfic #the world needs so much more historic snz fic #what's a musketeer feather for if not this huh?#sick ara/mis

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jewbeloved · 2 years

Note

Team Stan with an S/O that is capable of stopping time

Team Stan with a time stop! s/o⏱️🛑💞💞💞💞

Warnings: None

Gender: Neutral

💙❤️ The Main Four 💚🧡

You had the ability to freeze time ever since you were born.

That means you had the power to decide whether to continue or stop a process on the basis of the present position and past events whenever you want.

You were trying to keep your power hidden because who knows what will happen if word gets out about you having a special ability like this.

But you didn't learn how to control it yet so it would be a little more difficult.

When the boys came over to your house they overheard a strange noise coming from your room.

"Mphmmmmmmm?" (Woah! What was that noise?)

"I think it was coming from Y/n's room, let's go check it out guys"

You were in the middle of trying to control your powers, you had a bucket full of water on top of your head.

When the guys walked in your room they saw you throw the bucket in the air, before the bucket could land on the ground it was sitting still in the air without any movements.

The boys were shocked and confused at what they just witnessed.

They all ran out of your room and hid behind the wall near your door.

"Guys, I can't believe what I just saw"

"I don't think I can either dude"

"Mphphm mphhmmmm?" (Y/n had powers and they never told us about it?)

After they all calm themselves, they went back into your room to confront you.

They weren't going to tell anyone about what they had just discovered from you, but they were mildly upset at you for not telling them sooner.

But they did understand that you hid it for a reason and they won't judge you for that (Cartman maybe will a little)

They are very impressed by your powers though.

You and the boys would have this advantage to screw with people for fun.

But in the end you will still have to make up for them by giving them cuddles or they will leak your powers to everyone.

Just kidding, they wouldn't do it even if you said no <3❤️💚💙🧡

Ahhhhh I hope this post wasn't too confusing.

And I better dip before Thanos kills me for giving half of his powers to Y/n in this scenario 😓💅😭

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #stan marsh x reader #south park #southpark sp #sp x reader #southpark blog #x reader #southpark x y/n #time stop #main 4 x reader #main 4 #southpark scenarios #south park headcanons

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dreamdropxoxo · 10 months

Note

Ohhh i just saw the smuty list Haha Can I ask you for the 69) "l'll take care of you" 😈 and maybe (if you want) make Laurent say it to Damen?

Okay.. now Im def going and leaving you alone! Haha 🍓 Take Care! 🍉

Hi dear!

So sorry it took me SO LONG to actually complete this prompt. I hardly wrote these last few months and when I did it felt a bit like a fever dream lmao. But finally I made it.

Thank you so much for this amazing prompt. I absolutely loved writing it and I hope you like the result.

The prompt is from the list here, where you find an overview over all my answers. (Original post of the prompt list here).

69. “I’ll take care of you.” (Lamen) sub Damen

Laurent was aware of the responsibilities that came with being the one in control, the one deciding on his partner’s pleasure. It was easy for him. The planning, the attention to detail but also to his partner, it came to him naturally. The giving and taking his role demanded of him, even easier. He took his pleasure in his partner while giving him exactly what he needed. He gave him comfort and attention after and took this full satisfaction that he couldn’t get otherwise out of it.

A muffled groan made him look away from his book. It wasn’t particularly interesting or demanding, just engaging enough that he still had room for his thoughts to drift. The interruption was a welcome one although he acted like it wasn’t. He fixated the man bound to the bed with his eyes, letting impatience that he didn’t really feel into his tone.

“Now, didn’t we have an agreement, love?” He wasn’t expecting an answer. How could he? The gag in the other man’s mouth made any type of conversation impossible.

“We did, didn’t we? You were supposed to be good and silent for me, weren’t you?”

A loud breath through flared nostrils and Laurent couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

“I know, love, it’s hard, isn’t it? You’re not one for silence, never were and here I make you wait and wait without being able to complain about it. How cruel of me.” He marked his page and slowly put the book away.

“Considering how much I’m asking of you, I think I might be persuaded to give you an out, love.” He advanced on the bed and loomed over his husband, carefully keeping his tone level.

“You have a choice. Either I keep you gagged and you get to come tonight or I undo the gag and you don’t get to come tonight. What would you like, love? One or two? Show me with your fingers.”

Damen balled his left hand to a fist with only his pointer finger extended and Laurent smiled, pleased. “Good choice, love. I’ll take care of you.”

He petted his husband’s sweaty hair and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.

“You’ve held out remarkably well. I would have expected you to break much sooner, if I can be honest with you. You can take it for a bit longer, can’t you, love?”

Damen nodded weakly. Spit was leaking from the corners of his mouth and Laurent gently dabbed it away with a tissue.

“Messy,” he tutted, “but you can’t help it, aren’t I right? Leaking all over.”

His fingers brushed over Damen’s cock, light as a feather, it jumped at the contact and Damen tried to gasp in air inconspicuously. It didn’t work and Laurent laughed, fingers dragging over the mess on Damen’s abs. “So desperate for touch. I bet you could come in under a minute if I touched you properly. How useless. I bet you couldn’t even fuck me properly. What use is such a big cock if you explode the moment I let you anywhere close to my ass?” He wrapped his hand around said cock and gave it a hard squeeze.

Damen whimpered. He shook his head almost desperately.

“No? You think you could make me come before you do?”

Frantic nodding.

“Hm. I don’t think I believe you, love.” He dragged his hand up over the hard, hot member. Damen’s back arched off the bed.

“See? So easy. You would come the moment I had myself seated.”

Damen’s moan sounded like he was in physical pain and Laurent hesitated for a second, let his gaze flicker up to Damen’s hand, where he held a silk cord safely cradled in his palm. All good then. Still, he wasn’t that cruel. At least not in right that moment. He still pumped Damen’s cock slow

“You think you could come twice, love? Maybe if you came now you wouldn’t have such a hair trigger the second time around.”

Frantic nodding again. Laurent chuckled.

“Alright, love. Come whenever you want, just make sure you can still fuck me after.”

#captive prince #lamen #laurent x damen #damen x laurent #dom/sub dynamics #established relationship #mature #my writing #smut prompts #smut prompt

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somuchyoudontknow · 1 year

Note

In the beginning I was the first 💙 I sent a random post about celebrity and the entertainment industry culture…..no info, no sources, nothing pertaining to Chris and then I noticed a few days later a new 💙 who eventually became the infamous 💙💚 who claimed to have and send them inside info pertaining to Chris and what not. I was alarmed that Capt would possibly think this was all coming from me, so I sent an anon trying to explain how I know nothing and I’m not sure who this blue heart person is giving them info is but please don’t mistake them for me……she never posted nor responded to my ask.

But all of a sudden due to other blogs sending in fake stuff using the different color hearts….they stopped the hearts crap.

I also noticed how they’d say something would not happen and then at the last minute twist and turn things to an “if”

Example: the Ghosted Premiere

They claim Alba and Chris would NEVER be seen in public ever again and how he could not stand her.

Days before the premiere the 💙 anon came and said the fandom should prepare…she “might” be there.

Then the day of the premiere they got bold and claimed she’s not there and she’s not allowed to be there, then boom pics came out and all of a sudden there she was and they claimed she forced her way into the premiere.

This is what they do because they know absolutely NOTHING, then when whatever happens, happens they run a new narrative to go along with real life.

It went from Alba isn’t coming to she forced her way to the premiere and Chris was mad ….yet there’s video of Alba laughing with Chris and Megan. Yet others claimed Chris was “angry”, …..he looked fine.

Tell me where they were right about something SPECIFICALLY BEFORE it actually happened.

They wait for the actual outcome and then twist the story to their benefit.

I had been iffy of them and never let my trust fully go into them especially with the way they’d respond to others. I’m like if you have legit sources and you want to share the info you either post evidence that won’t give away your source or you speak your truth and move on like Edwin Jusino did.

But these blogs stayed online all times of the day arguing and name calling, these are sad women who took their obsession with Chris too far.

They claimed in April a breakup would happen and the main media has a breakup article written up or outlined ready to go.

There is a reason neither of the blogs have an archive, people would see the discrepancies and call it out. They are vile people and I’m glad I never trusted them. They seemed knowledgeable on the industry in the beginning up to a certain point and that’s when I went….hmmm 🤔, but seeing this current mess proves they know nothing.

First of all no one and I mean NO ONE from Chris’ team is spilling things about him online or else they’d be let go.

Chris personal life and his family should be off limits.

These blogs, lonesome and others running around screaming sources told them this and that are all gullible individuals who fell for trolling.

Chris’ legit life details are not getting leaked, PERIOD!!!!

"First of all no one and I mean NO ONE from Chris’ team is spilling things about him online or else they’d be let go."

I think the sooner the people start believing this, many things will become clear to them.

#fandom bs

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aroacemisha · 2 years

Text

Restless Prince

A Retired Leaders AU fic, taking place after Hunter and the Hexsquad end up staying at the Noceda house post-Day of Unity.

Don’t tag as ship.

---

It was the first night the Hexside friend group, along with Hunter, were spending in the Noceda house, now that they were stuck in the Human Realm.

Willow had woken up not long before 1AM to go to the bathroom. Rather than returning to the living room right away once she was done, she went to the kitchen to drink some water, or perhaps even get a snack, if she felt like it.

To her surprise, she found Hunter sitting at the table, surrounded by various tools, scraps, and a table lamp, tightening a screw on some small device. He was sitting on the other side, and was thus turned towards her, but he didn’t seem to notice her presence. His hair was messier than usual, his brows were drawn together, and he looked quite tired and stressed out.

She knit her brows in a concerned expression as she came closer.

“Hunter? Why are you still up?” - she asked, while pouring herself a glass of slightly cold water. Her tone was soft, without a hint of judgement. She took a sip, while she listened to his response.

“I’m trying to create a device than can detect anything magical that spilled over from our realm, so we could hopefully find a leak and go back through it” - the blonde replied, not taking his eyes off his work even for a second. - “The sooner, the better. Every minute counts. I couldn’t help Belos, but I can still help everyone else” - his speech was fast and determined, but his voice trembled slightly.

Having witnessed the demise of the Emperor, Willow wasn’t surprised by how much it impacted Hunter. Mere hours ago, his beloved uncle was killed right in front of his eyes, and all he could do was stare in horror at what had remained of him - a large black puddle of mud.

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to overwork yourself. We’re all in this together, and we still have time” - she reminded. - “I’m sure people on the Isles will figure something out while we’re gone”

“But I could’ve prevented this. I could’ve returned to the castle and tried to sabotage the plan from the inside. Now my only relative is dead, while the rest of my family is in danger, and they don’t even know where I am” - the anxiety in Hunter’s voice became even clearer.

“Hunter, it’s not your fault” - Willow asserted.

“Even if there’s nothing I could’ve done then, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be trying now” - the prince stated firmly. - “Aren’t you worried about your family?” - he looked up at her with furrowed brows.

“I am. We’re all worried. But we’re not gonna help anyone if we’re tired and barely standing on our feet” - Willow countered. - “If we want to stay strong and think clearly enough to come up with a good plan, we need to rest”

She fell silent for some time, staring at Hunter. His posture had become more relaxed, but he didn’t seem fully convinced yet.

“..If he was here, he would’ve wanted you to rest too” - she added softly.

A quiet pause followed.

“..He would...” - Hunter mumbled.

He didn’t move for a few more moments. Then he put down his work and stood up. Although his tired gaze was still filled with sorrow, he was able to put on a weak smile.

“Thanks, Willow” - his eyes met hers. Being almost a whole head taller than her, he now had to look down to do that.

She smiled as well, put her empty glass on the table, and opened her arms. Hunter hesitated at first, but then accepted the offer, pulling her into a warm embrace. She tightly wrapped her arms around his waist, while his arms rested on her shoulders.

“Go to sleep now” - she told him.

“Fiiine, fiiine” - he chuckled as they let go of each other. - “You win this time, Captain. I’ll just clean this up first” - he pointed at the table with his thumb. - “And I’ll wash the glass too”

“Okay” - Willow shrugged as she headed out. She paused in the doorway and looked back at Hunter with narrowed eyes. - “But I’m staying up until you lie down”

“Fair enough” - the blonde sighed tiredly.

It’s been several minutes. Willow was lying on her back in her makeshift bed, with her eyes closed and her hands locked together on top of her stomach.

Finally, her ear twitched as she heard quiet steps, and then muffled noise coming from the direction of Hunter’s bed. She opened one eye. She couldn’t exactly see in the dark, especially not without her glasses, but once the sound stopped, she knew he had gone to sleep.

A smile crossed her lips, and she breathed a sigh of relief. This was far from the last of their worries, but now she could rest, knowing that all of her friends were doing so too.

---

Don’t tag as ship.

Please reblog my work. And feedback is also appreciated.

#misha's creative stuff #the owl house #toh fic #toh fanfic #toh au #retired leaders au #willow park #toh hunter #hunter toh #hunter wittebane #the golden guard #she's aroace and he's aspec gay

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spaceclefairy · 1 year

Text

The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, Ch. 16

Pairing: Michael de Santa/ OFC; Trevor Philips/OFC; Michael de Santa/OFC/Trevor Philips; Michael de Santa/Trevor Philips

Summary: Los Santos is a hellscape, but if you’ve got brains and a little determination, it can be a real hell of a playground. Michael needs money, Trevor needs whatever Trevor wants, and Franklin’s moving up in Los Santos. Jen’s just along for the ride.

This is gonna be fun.

Author’s Note: I’ve been writing this beast of a thing since 2013. It’s been through a thousand different incarnations, but it’s been in my drafts for the last six years. I realize this fandom isn’t as popular as it used to be, but I might as well have a little fun and finally start posting it.

Also, not to be that bitch, but this is on Ao3. I would very much appreciate kudos/comments, if you’re so inclined!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 || Part 15

--- --- --- --- ---

Lester’s contacts came through beautifully.

When Jen arrived at her office the next morning, the only people in the office were her own employees, peacefully doing their jobs. There were no IAA interns rummaging through her files, no IAA agents stalking her employees through the halls, no IAA agents sniffing and smirking or lauding their hierarchy. Possibly better still, absolutely no sign of an FIB agent could be found.

Jen grinned as she strode through the office, clicking away in her tall, tall heels - there would be silence today, for at least a brief little while. Mary at the front desk handed Jen a stack of mail as she entered the office, smiling politely. She’d seen the news that morning, pleased that she no longer had to keep tentatively looking for a new job. The rest of Jen’s employees waved and greeted her as she walked by each office heading to her own.

Absolutely beautiful.

Wonderful, beautiful silence for a brief little while. Brief, being the operative word.

Jen had no sooner sat down to begin her day when her phone started ringing. She grinned as she looked at the glass screen - Dave Norton, right on time.

She answered. "Howdy, Dave."

Dave's voice crackled out as a scandalized huff. "What did you do?"

Jen stifled a chuckle. All the years of maintaining decorum despite immense displeasure had given her a stellar poker face. "What are you talking about, Dave?"

"The shitstorm going down on Weazel News? Breakdown of election results being published? Covers blown? Ring a bell?"

"I haven't turned on Weazel this morning, so that’s news to me. Come to think of it, though, it's awfully quiet in the office for once," Jen observed. "Look, Dave. I've got a massive murder trial in a few weeks. It’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning some days. Where would I find the time to do all that? Or get the resources?"

"Oh, stop. I know who you know," Dave snapped. "Good Lord, Jen! We told you we would handle it!"

“Well, it’s been handled now,” Jen replied simply, stifling a giggle with the back of her hand. "What are you complaining about anyway? I’m watching Weazel now. Looks like it was only IAA info that got leaked, not FIB."

"Be that as it may," Dave huffed, "But now the higher-ups are talking about a government-wide review of all personnel."

"Wouldn't hurt, I'm sure."

"Need I remind you that if I get tapped, so does your boyfriend?" Dave grumbled.

To be fair, Dave had a point. His career-making takedown of one Michael Townley hadn’t come without a price.

"More threats, Dave? Come on, we’re on the same side. That’s not your style."

Dave sighed. “It’s a warning, Jen. You should have let me handle it."

"I had nothing to do with it,” Jen lied. “Check your sources."

"I will,” Dave snapped. "Now, I’m going to go clean up this mess. You better pray Steve doesn’t start snooping around in my files. And be careful, please."

"I'm always careful."

Jen hung up the phone and cackled while she dialed Lester’s number. She really liked Dave, truly. If he put half as much work into actually being a good agent as he put into pretending to be a good agent, he might have had a shot at being director once upon a time. But Dave, deep down, wanted glory without putting the work in. And that mindset, in Jen’s experience, was easily exploitable.

Lester picked up on the first ring. Jen could hear the crackle of Weazel News in the background. No doubt the nefarious little nerd was enjoying the spectacle that was the product of his handiwork.

"Lester, I could kiss you!"

He snorted. "Keep it to yourself. I don't want your boyfriends beating down my door."

"You'd let me if I tried."

"Probably,” Lester conceded, “Oh, and you’re welcome."

“As always, my friend, I appreciate our time together,” Jen replied in her sweetest voice. "Also, I'm sending you the recording of the call Dave Norton made just now in case we need a little… insurance. Thanks again."

Jen hung up and tossed her phone onto her desk. The pleasure of silence was golden. She could focus on actually doing her job now rather than monitoring agents and babysitting her staff. She could get ready for all the cases coming up, get this mess of a murder trial off the ground… She might even get to go home on time today.

Huh. Now, there’s an idea. Getting home on time meant Jen might be able to get Michael to come over, maybe even spend the night. He had been back in Los Santos for a week, having successfully gotten the price on his head rescinded. He hadn’t come over yet for want of a little relaxation.

Jen grabbed her phone and texted him, asking him to come over tonight. To her surprise, he responded in short order with a quick sure (Michael wasn’t known for his texting skills).

Excellent. Jen could get everything ready for tonight. A little wine, some candles… She could get that whiskey Michael likes and order some movies, relax for a while. Wonderful.

MaryAnn threw open Jen’s office door, yanking Jen out of her euphoria. Never let it be said that MaryAnn practiced proper work etiquette.

MaryAnn’s manic grin was contagious. “What did you do? How did you get them out of here?”

Jen shrugged, matching her grin. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Bullshit,” MaryAnn laughed, taking a seat in one of Jen’s cushy office chairs. “I know you better than that. Did your creepy old boyfriend have someone killed?”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said.” Jen shook her head, but the grin never left her face. “Wasn’t me - pinky swear. Some internet do-gooder pulled the records and leaked them last night. Check Weazel.”

“And you didn’t even point them in the right direction?”

Jen shook her head. “Nope.”

“Well, I’ll be,” MaryAnn said, crossing her arms. “Someone really likes you.”

Thanks, Lester.

Jen snorted. “As much shit as I get on the daily, I’ll take any win I can get.”

“Well, that means we can get down to business prepping for this trial.”

Jen eyed her whiteboard over in the corner. It was covered in notes and crime scene photos - a gruesome collage of a trial plan. “Finally. I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

“You and me both,” MaryAnn agreed. “Well, as much as I’d love to let you bask in your victory, we need to get started.”

“You pull the file, I’ll start calling witnesses.”

“Done.”

--- --- --- --- ---

Michael spent most of the week following the fertility idol debacle moping in his sedan. A week after yelling he loves Jen, he sat in the Burger Shot drive-thru, moping in his sedan. One full week of Burger Shot Depression Specials, blitzed out of his mind at 11AM on the good cognac, while Franklin shakes his head at him from the driver’s seat of the sedan.

Michael had texted Franklin maybe an hour before requesting Burger Shot, not for the first time this week, after downing about a hundred dollars’ worth of good cognac for breakfast. He was resolutely ashamed of himself, but too depressed to stop. Franklin, bless his soul, agreed to drive him, if only to ensure Michael wouldn’t drunk-drive himself to Burger Shot in Los Santos lunch traffic.

“Jen calls the sedan the Saggy Balls,” Michael hiccuped from the passenger seat while Franklin contemplated his life choices. “She says it makes me look old.”

“You are old, dude,” Franklin replied, accepting the reeking, greasy bag of double-doubles that will surely incite The Widowmaker, the final heart attack that will send Michael to an early grave, from the window cashier. “Why don’t you just call her?”

Trevor had already given Franklin the run-down of what happened on the beach, from the fertility idol right down to Michael’s duh-moment revelation. Therefore, he already knew why Michael wouldn’t willingly call Jen. It’s not like the man was an expert at dealing with his feelings in a healthy, sensible fashion.

“I’d rather fuckin’ die, Frank,” Michael moaned, taking a bite of his double-double cheeseburger with bacon. Grease beaded up in shiny specks on the bun, and Franklin wished Michael would eat a salad, for his own sake. “I got a plan. I’m trying to get my life back. I want my kids back. I want Amanda back.”

“You sure about that last one, man?” Franklin asked. He really shouldn’t complain about what Michael eats (why was he even concerned about it in the first place?). He was chowing down on greasy ass fries while idling at the red light.

“I want my life back.”

“Whatever you say, bro.”

Not a moment later, Michael’s phone vibrated. He groaned and laid his head against the headrest. “It’s from Jen.”

“Why are you complaining? Don’t you love her?”

“Yes,” Michael said flatly. That much has been established. He flicked through his text messages. “She wants me to come over tonight.”

“Maybe I’m missing something, but I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“I can’t keep seeing her if I want to get my life back.”

“Ain’t you been seeing her for, like years? Just go-” Franklin stopped, huffing. “You know what - you’re not gonna listen to whatever I tell you. You’re gonna drunk dial me at 2AM and ask me to come get you from Tequila-la’s and take you to Cluckin’ Bell.”

Michael was lost in his own thoughts. “You know what, I’m gonna go see Jen tonight. I’m gonna go tell her I can’t keep doing this.”

Franklin shook his head. “You’re gonna be diggin’ your own grave…”

--- --- --- --- ---

Jen answered the door dressed in a black button-down and her underwear, a glass of wine clutched in her hand and a grin on her face. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and she'd tied her mass of puffy orange hair up out of the way. An empty bottle of wine rested next to another full bottle, belying that she’d already started enjoying her night.

She had to be drunk. She wouldn’t have answered the door in a button-down (his button-down, one he’d left here before) and her underwear if she wasn’t at least tipsy. He’d surprisingly never seen her drunk before. Or, at least, she never let on that she was drunk.

It was… nice. She looked happy, kind of like the morning after the first night he’d stayed here, like she’d actually been able to let loose and relax. She wasn’t often this happy, always stressed about everything and exhausted and even more harried and harassed than usual with the election issues hanging over her. And that trial she’d mentioned - the serial killer one. He’d followed that story himself - seen some of the crime scene photos on her computer once, too - and it looked like a doozy.

Looking at her made Michael’s heart ache. He was going to ruin a perfectly good night by just being himself.

Or, at least he was, until she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Oh, fuck him. Michael’s hands were latched onto her waist in half a second, kneading her soft flesh with the tips of his fingers. She tasted like bad decisions, like he was about to really fuck up his life if he stayed here any longer.

The button-down was a stupid idea; she should have just answered the door naked and put him out of his misery. He’s got it so fucking bad for her, and there’s not a thing he can do about it.

Jen pulled back with that wicked grin on her face that let Michael know, in no uncertain terms, that she had his number. Guiding him over to the couch, she sat him down and shoved a drink in his hand. "I bought that good whiskey you like, the entire Richard's Majestic catalog, and snacks, Mike. Snacks. So, get cozy because we're celebrating!"

Michael reclined back against the couch, crossing his legs. The glass of whiskey in his hand was cold and sweating lightly. "What are we celebrating?"

Jen flopped down onto the couch next to him and slung a muscled leg across his lap before curling up against his side. "The death of my IAA annoyances - not literally, of course. Lester leaked the election results and blew all their covers."

He instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Good enough reason to celebrate, I guess."

Jen tipped her glass in salute. “Any reason to celebrate is a good reason. But this reason is an especially good one.”

Michael had to agree - any reason to celebrate was good enough for him. He’d never been one to turn down a good time, for whatever good it did him.

Jen snuggled closer into his side. "Plus, it's your first night back here since Madrazo called off the hit. Figured we could have a night to ourselves."

That’s what was killing him. Michael knew he shouldn’t have come over. No matter what the situation, no matter what time it was, any time he walked into Jen’s apartment, he didn't want to be anywhere else. He should have asked her to meet him for dinner or something - made it easier for both of them. He could have called things off, let her blow up and leave, gotten drunk and forgotten all about the past… seven years.

Yeah, that totally would have worked… He totally, under no circumstances, would have ended up right back here in Jen’s apartment, in exactly the same position, completely brought to his metaphorical fucking knees.

There was no scenario in which Michael wouldn’t fuck this up in some way or another. He’s just gotta do it. He’s just got to open his mouth and do it.

Twenty years ago, this wouldn’t have been a problem. He’d never had a problem telling a girl to get lost (except for his wife, Amanda, who he married because he got her pregnant, in some chivalrous attempt to own up to his choices). Never had a problem being the asshole, the bad guy, the jerk… He could sweet talk right up to the point where he wasn’t interested anymore, when he got what he wanted (ass), and would tell them to get lost.

Not this girl. Not Jen. Michael knew good and well he couldn’t do it because Jen was Jen, and she was his. He just didn’t want to acknowledge he knew it.

Before Michael could blink, they’d finished the first movie. He couldn’t even remember which one they’d watched - he’d been lost in his own thoughts. One of the shitty action movies, probably, that comprised most of the Richards Majestic catalog. Jen crawled out of his grasp to grab the remote and press play on whatever movie was queued up next. The loss of heat next to him was jarring after being so comfortable for so long.

The next movie in the queue was a romance. Michael preferred action movies all day long, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at a decent romance. Especially not a Richards Majestic romance - they had just the right formula of hot and cheesy.

Jen crawled back up under his arm, another full glass of wine in one hand and a refill of his whiskey glass in the other hand. “I remembered you like Some Like it Hot - figured you wouldn’t mind watching this one next.”

“It’s one of the best, as far as rom-coms go.”

“Rom-coms aren’t so bad,” Jen teased, taking a healthy sip of her drink.

“Says the woman who almost exclusively watches mafia movies and B-horror.”

“I don’t want to hear shit from you, Mr. Action Movie.”

Michael pinched her side, earning him a gentle slap on the thigh. He shouldn’t be encouraging this, shouldn’t be playing with her and teasing her like he always does, but he wants to. And her lips are so soft when she kisses him, and she feels so warm against his chest, he just can’t make himself stop.

The minute Jen straddles his lap, he's done. Lost. No hope of holding out. She tastes like liquor and a lost cause when she kisses him, like communion at church, and he's the damned sinner clinging to the hope of salvation.

Michael damn near rips the buttons off of the shirt she's wearing - his shirt his shirt his shirt - just to get it open. He doesn't care to push over her shoulders or even try to get it off of her completely. He lets it hang open while he grabs her tits, pinching and pulling blindly while she kisses him. Fuck he loves these tits, these soft, heavy tits that make him forget how to think-

She didn’t have underwear on - how had he been sitting here half the night and not noticed?

Jen takes him by the throat. He fucking loves when she does that. She doesn't put pressure on his windpipe, it's just to force his head back so she can leave deep purple bruises on his neck that won't even be close to hidden by his shirt collar. He groans deep in his chest, and he swears he feels her smirk against his skin. He’d never admit out loud he likes being handled like this, loves when she leaves those dark bruises where everyone can see, loves when she puts him in his place. He can’t function like this, reduced to a groaning mess with every kiss and lick and touch.

She grinds down in his lap, stroking her naked pussy along his still-clothed cock. He could scream, he really could, but he doesn't. He lets her use him to work herself up, use him to get herself wet for him.

Michael’s searching fingers find her wet little cunt grinding down in his lap, and he wastes no time plunging his fingers into her. He crooks his fingers against the spot that makes her shake, and she howls against his neck. He can feel the muscles in her legs tense from the effort of hovering over his lap. Her nails dig into his shoulders, and it’s only the thin barrier of his shirt that saves him from red little half-moon bites in his skin.

Jen pulls at the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands while he fingers her. “Get- get this off.”

“Get it off me, then.”

The way her eyes flash at him, that dangerous little warning of don’t test me, makes Michael’s cock twitch. He twists his fingers, adding a third finger to stuff her full, and the shaky whimper she lets out makes him grin. She works faster, though, almost ripping a couple of his shirt buttons right off.

“That’s right, princess - you don’t want to be the only one naked, do you?”

Jen yanks his shirt open so she can get her hands on him, and Michael just lets her rake her nails down his chest. He loves testing her like this, loves when she gets rough with him. It doesn’t matter how much he likes to be in charge. Jen is Jen, and he wants this any way she’ll give it to him.

Michael can feel her starting to tense around his fingers. "Come on, princess, you know you wanna come for me."

Jen stops him with a hand on his bicep. "Don’t get mouthy. Stand up."

Michael is damn near bewildered, but he does as she commands and stands. His jaw hits the floor when she turns toward the back of the couch, knees in the cushions, hands resting on the top of the couch.

Jen doesn't do this. Hasn't done it, not once, in the seven years they've been seeing each other. She likes the dominant role, and Michael is more than happy to take the lazy route and let her use him any way she wants. Vulnerability and submission are not her preference - she likes to be in control, and getting fucked from behind isn't enough control.

And, for a long moment, Michael finally forgets himself. Forgets he wants Amanda back, forgets he tried to keep himself from getting in this position in the first place. This vulnerability throws him for a goddamn loop.

And Jen is impatient. "You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna fuck me, Mike?"

Michael’s pants hit the goddamn floor like they're on fire. He lines his hard, leaking cock up with her cunt and thrusts, and thank god he fingered her for as long as he did because she's tight and dripping wet and rocking back against him and-

He squeezes her ass and gives it a sharp swat before pulling her back onto his cock as hard as he dares. He's not gonna last like this - not by a long shot, but damn if he's not gonna get her to scream his name before he does. He leans over her, chest to her back, and guides her upright, knees buried into the couch cushions, with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand squeezing her tits.

Michael's teeth nip at Jen’s earlobe, his tongue tracing the outer shell of her ear. He thrusts up hard, pinching her nipples. "Gonna come for me, princess? Gonna come for Daddy?"

Oh, he knows she wants to sass him, wants to fight him, wants to shove him back down on the couch and take back control for that comment, and he fucking wants her to, but he can feel her hot cunt start to tighten and flutter around him. No, she’s not going to fight him for control. She wants him to fuck her stupid, take her like he wants to take her.

"That's it, let Daddy make you come."

“Don’t-” Jen jerks the hand squeezing her tits down to her clit, where he circles her presses and dips his fingers between her folds. Her nails dig into his forearms, searching for stability and balance while she falls apart in his hands. "Fuck, Mike-"

"Try again."

And Jen plays his game. To his amazement, she plays his game. "Come on, Daddy, make me come-"

He does. With quick, rough strokes, and his fingers pressing down and circling and teasing her swollen clit, he makes her come. Long, and hard, and slow, until Jen is howling his name like he’s never heard her do. It breaks him, and he comes in hard spurts, twitching and rocking up into her.

“That’s it, princess,” Michael groans into her neck, “love your cunt, love you, baby-”

Michael grabs Jen’s chin, twisting around so he can kiss her. She’s still fluttering around him, still coming all over his cock, and he feels like he’s never going to be able to stop.

And when Michael finally softens enough to pull out, Jen collapses down on the couch in a sweaty, satisfied little heap.

From that moment, it takes approximately five seconds for Michael to freak the fuck out.

Because he said it.

Michael had never gotten dressed so fast in his life. His hand is on the front doorknob before Jen even really realizes he’s leaving. He doesn’t know if she comprehended what he said, and he’s not sticking around to find out.

“Michael, where the fuck are you going-”

The door slammed behind him, and he could hear her yelling. He’s in the elevator and on the way down to his car before Jen can even grab a robe.

He let his phone ring and ring as he climbed into his car, and he ignored every call.

#grand theft auto #Grand Theft Auto 5 #Grand Theft Auto V #gta #GTAV #GTA5 #michael de santa #michael de santa x oc

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maddrmatt · 2 years

Text

The Gift From Beyond (SoKai Week 2022)

Greetings readers and fellow SoKai fans! It is I, the Mad Doctor, finally posting some new material in quite awhile.

To those who have been following Kairi’s Epic Journey and long expecting the next instalment, I am sorry for not updating in over a year. I’ve sort of hit a block in that story and it’s still taking me a very long time to overcome it. But I hope to update that one soon.

But for now, here’s my contribution to this year’s SoKai Week, which I am participating in for the third year running. This one’s another multichapter story that provides a look into the future of Sora and Kairi that is also tied to last year’s A Beautiful Future. Expect plenty of speculation and headcanons on the future of the series in this story. I plan to post a new chapter for every day of this week if all goes according to plan.

So, without further ado, let’s join our favorite couple on what will be one of the best days of their future. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1: The Newest Happiest Day

Radiant Garden

To those who knew them best, it was not surprising to witness Sora and Kairi watching the sunset. Whether if it was with Riku and any of their other friends or if it was just the two of them, it was definitely their favorite way to end the day.

Of course, after the upgrade in their relationship, they now tended to enjoy the sunset more when it was just the two of them. This was on account of them getting the opportunity to be a little more openly romantic.

So, on one particular evening, this familiar sight was once again taking place. However, there were a couple of differences for this specific moment.

For one thing, they were not on their usual spots on the paopu tree on the Destiny Islands watching the sun disappear over the horizon where the sky and sea met. Rather, they were sitting on a bench in a garden outside of Ansem the Wise’s castle in Radiant Garden watching the sun go down behind the hills outside of the town.

And judging by the handsome white suit that Sora was wearing as well as the beautiful white gown worn by Kairi, they were not watching as simply best friends or even just as lovers.

For the first time, they were watching the sunset as husband and wife.

With his left hand gently intertwined with Kairi’s right one, Sora tried to keep his eyes on the sunset. But it was a futile effort because something else kept catching his eye.

He couldn’t help himself. The sight of his heart’s favorite view in her wedding attire, from the white dress with the elaborate golden design of a heart on the chest to the tiara with seven glistening heart-shaped jewels, combined with the light of the setting sun was a sight far more beautiful to him.

‘My Dearly Beloved. I can’t believe she’s my wife now,’ he thought.

Then Kairi turned toward him. But instead of teasing him, which she usually did whenever she caught him glancing at her in a lovestruck way, she simply smiled. A lone tear leaked out of her right eye and trickled down her cheek.

Sora was suddenly snapped out of his reverie by one of his most painful memories. The look on Kairi’s face was nearly identical to the one she gave him right before he vanished to Quadratum.

‘That was one of the worst days of our lives. I’ll never regret what I had to do to save her. But I will never forgive myself for the pain I put her through.’

Then Sora banished the thought from his mind. ‘No. Today is nothing like that day at all. Nothing is taking me away from her so I’m not going to let my mind go there. This day is too important for both of us to let a few bad memories ruin any part of it.’

But, as was his nature, Kairi’s wellbeing came first, and he still felt the need to check. “Kai, are you feeling all right?” he asked concernedly.

Kairi finally took notice of the tear. With an embarrassed chuckle, she wiped it away. But no sooner then she had done so that another one leaked out of her other eye.

“I-I’m fine, Sora. I really am. It’s just that I’m feeling so, so happy,” she said.

Kairi then raised her hand to show the gold band around her ring finger. “We actually did it, Sora. We got married!”

With a smile, Sora scootched closer to his wife and placed his arm around her. Kairi happily leaned against her husband’s shoulder.

“I know. I can hardly believe it myself,” said Sora.

“Feels like the most wonderful dream ever, doesn’t it?” asked Kairi.

“Sure does. But if it is that, then I never ever want to wake up from it,” said Sora.

“Well, you know, there is one way to make sure it isn’t,” said Kairi as she pulled away and gave her signature sly smile.

“How?” asked Sora causing Kairi to give her husband a look that she often reserved for moments when he acted a little dense.

But it didn’t last for long as her smile returned. She gently grabbed the sides of Sora’s face and pulled him in closer to her own. She then gently pressed her lips to his.

Sora was slightly taken aback by the sudden kiss. But he soon started to kiss her back with just as much love as she was putting into hers.

After about a minute, the kiss came to an end. The newlyweds kept their foreheads pressed together and gazed at each other with looks of pure bliss.

“Well?” asked Kairi.

Sora smiled. “This is real. Most definitely real.”

The Princess of Heart chuckled. “I knew that would convince you.”

Indeed, since becoming a couple, Sora and Kairi had shared many kisses in their dreams. They considered it to be the best part of their dreams and it was always infuriating to them when they woke up just before a kiss or in the midst of one.

But, as good as they were, they both agreed that kissing in their dreams paled in comparison to kissing in real life. And now that they were married, it felt even better.

“So, do you think they’re wondering where we’ve gone by now?” asked Kairi.

“Maybe. It might be a little unusual for a bride and a groom to step out from their wedding reception even for just a short time. But I don’t think it’ll be a problem. After all, Riku and those closest to us know how much we love to watch the sunset,” responded Sora.

“And we could not miss watching it on our wedding day,” said Kairi.

“Nope. We definitely could not do that. Besides, with us out of the spotlight for a bit, it’ll give all our guests a little more time to get acquainted,” said Sora as he turned away from his wife and in the direction of the castle with a smile on his face.

Kairi followed her husband’s gaze and together, they looked to a large room surrounded by walls made of glass which was the castle’s ballroom where the reception was still going on. Through the walls, they could see the silhouettes of the immense multitude of guests talking and laughing. It warmed their hearts to know that a multitude of new friendships and connections were being forged.

“It’s so wonderful that all of our friends could be here today. And it’s even greater to see all of them getting along so well,” said Kairi.

“A whole new world order and it begins on our wedding day,” said Sora.

“That’s not too hard to believe, is it, Sora? You are, after all, the Key that Connects Everything. You helped bring happy endings to so many people and their worlds. I think it’s only fitting that they be there at the start of our own,” said Kairi.

“Well, I never could’ve done anything for them if I didn’t have my friends by my side,” said Sora.

He then turned to Kairi. “And especially, my light in the darkness.”

Kairi blushed. “Oh, Sora.”

Sora reached over and took Kairi’s hands into his own. “I meant it then and I still mean it now, Kai. I’ve always felt I’m strongest when I’m with you.”

Kairi giggled. “After all these years, you still can’t resist using those old cheesy lines, can you?”

“You know you still love them.”

“Do I?” Kairi asked as she tapped her chin while pretending to think.

Then she smiled. “Why yes. I believe I do.”

The two of them laughed together before each putting an arm around the other’s shoulder and returning their attention to the sunset. There was only a small bit of sunlight peeking over the horizon as the stars began to dot the sky.

They sat in silence for awhile before Sora piped up and asked, “So, what do you think? Definitely the newest happiest day of our lives?”

Kairi smiled. “Most definitely. Though it doesn’t mean we treasure the previous holder of that title any less.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Kairi. But you’ve got to admit that only our wedding day could dethrone the previous holder. It was a tough one to beat.”

Kairi sighed happily. “Yes. Who could forget that day?”

“I doubt either of us will. It may have been so long ago, but I remember as if it was yesterday. I was still stuck in Quadratum and Yozora was making another attempt to ‘save’ me. I thought I could beat him again, especially since I had Riku and Strelitzia helping me then. But he was a lot more powerful this time around and it looked like he would’ve won,” Sora said with a hint of fear in his voice as he recalled the close call. ‘In that moment, it looked like I wouldn’t be able to come back to you.’

Sora then turned to face Kairi and smiled at her. “Then, in a beam of light from the sky, you arrived. Like an angel descending from the heavens. And you had gotten so much stronger that together, we managed to send Yozora packing.”

“It felt pretty good to actually turn the tide of a battle, Sora. My training with Aqua certainly paid off and I had even learned how to harness the power of the Pure Light within my heart,” said Kairi. ‘It certainly was about time it was used for something good unlike like what Maleficent and Xehanort planned for it and the other six.’

“Riku and I were so proud of you that day,” said Sora.

“Yes. But the best part came after the battle was over. Once we were sure Yozora was gone for the time being, it was time for us to have a proper reunion. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing,” said Kairi.

“Neither could I. I opened up my arms and, in what seemed to be less than a second, you rushed right into them. I don’t think I’d ever been hugged tighter,” said Sora chuckling at the memory.

Kairi laughed along with her husband. “And then you picked me up off my feet and you twirled me around and around. I hadn’t laughed that hard in the longest time.”

“Then we stopped. We parted slightly, gazed into each other’s eyes and then…”

“Our Love’s First Kiss,” said Kairi dreamily.

“Yes. All our friends say there’s something magical about it and after that day, I never believed them more,” said Sora.

“And you didn’t even care that both Riku and Strelitzia were watching the whole thing,” said Kairi.

“It didn’t matter that we had an audience. It had been far too long, and I just wanted to show you just how much you truly meant to me.”

Kairi cupped Sora’s cheek. “Well, I certainly appreciated it that day, Sora. But you should know, after everything that’s happened, there was nothing you ever needed to prove to me,” she said causing him to smile.

The two of them gazed at each other lovingly for a moment. Then they looked and saw that day had fully given way to night.

“Sunset’s over. Guess it’s time we headed back to the reception,” said Sora as he stood up off the bench and offered a hand to Kairi to help her rise to her feet.

“Yep. Back we go into the spotlight. But before we go…” said Kairi as she reached around Sora and cupped the back of his neck.

“Care to give your bride one more Sora Smooch for the road?” she asked with a mischievous smile.

Sora chuckled. “Well, I can never say no to that. Especially since I always get a Kairi Kiss in exchange.”

Kairi laughed as well. “Well, it’s lucky for you that this Princess of Heart has plenty of those to give for a lifetime.”

Then the bride smiled lovingly at her groom. “And that’s how much I want you for, Sora. A lifetime. And a lifetime and beyond is how long I’ll love you for.”

Sora sniffed and a tear rolled down his left cheek. After wiping it away, he let out a small laugh.

“Now who’s the one using the cheesy lines?” he asked.

“Well, I did learn from the best.”

“And I taught you so well. Come here, my bride,” he said as he pulled Kairi closer so their lips could meet once again in yet another kiss.

Throughout their wedding day, Sora and Kairi had shared many kisses. It started with the one after King Mickey had officially married them. Then, there were the many they had at the reception at the behest of their guests and their clinking glasses (though, in all honesty, they found that wedding tradition to be a little annoying). And both of them knew that the latest one they were currently sharing would likely not be the last one for them that day and they would not have it any other way.

After a few moments had passed, Kairi parted from Sora and her eyes widened in surprise. She noticed that Sora did not have his usual content expression that he often showed after sharing a kiss with her. Rather, he looked troubled.

“Sora, what is it?”

“Kairi, do you hear that?”

“Huh?” Kairi asked in confusion before listening around. “What do you mean? I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. It suddenly got too quiet.”

Kairi then realized Sora was right. The world around them had gone completely silent. She could no longer hear the sounds of the reception nor any of the regular nighttime ambience of Radiant Garden.

She then looked in the direction of the ballroom and let out a gasp of shock. “Sora, look!”

Sora looked and let out a gasp of his own. Through the windows, they could see into the ballroom and saw that all their friends were now frozen as if a Stop spell had been cast.

“What’s happened to them? And why hasn’t it happened to us?” asked Sora.

“Sora, I’m getting worried,” said Kairi.

Sora let out a sigh of exasperation. “Just our luck. I guess it was too much to hope that none of our enemies who were still out there would be stupid enough to attack our wedding.”

“Especially since we have so many heroes from around the worlds attending. Then again, I can’t think of any of our enemies who could do something like this,” said Kairi.

A determined look came over Sora’s face. “Well, whoever’s behind this, whether it’s one of our old enemies or a new one, they messed with the wrong couple’s wedding day,” he said as he summoned Kingdom Key to his hands.

Then he turned to Kairi. “Kai, you with me?”

Kairi gave a smirk and summoned Destiny’s Embrace. “When am I ever not? Were you not paying attention to my wedding vow? I’m by your side in everything now and forever. And especially when defending our most special day.”

Sora smiled at his wife and then turned toward the garden. “Whoever you are, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull by freezing everything. But if you think you’re ruining this day, you’ve got another thing coming,” he shouted to their unseen adversary.

“Yeah! So, show yourself and we’ll show you a thing or two about messing with these newly wed Keyblade Masters!” Kairi added.

Then, out of nowhere and unseen by either of them, a male voice piped up. “Oh, must you two always assume the worst?”

Sora’s eyes suddenly widened in realization. ‘Wait. I know that voice.’

“Where are you? Show yourself!” Kairi demanded.

“Well, I shouldn’t turn down a request from a bride on her wedding day,” responded the voice.

Sora and Kairi clutched their Keyblades and waited for the voice’s owner to reveal himself. But after a few moments passed, he had yet to do so. The bride and the groom gazed around in confusion.

“Why don’t you both try looking behind you?” piped up the voice.

Sora and Kairi turned around. Their jaws dropped in surprise as they finally beheld their visitor.

Standing before them, casually leaning against a wall, was a teenage boy. He had messy blonde hair and was dressed in a grey shirt and dark grey pants with white shoes. He had his arms folded across his chest and his face wore a smile that was a mix of amusement and smugness.

Joshua, the Composer of Shibuya.

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Notes from the Mad Doctor:

So, the enigmatic Joshua from The World Ends With You shows up! What exactly does he want? You’ll just have to keep reading to find out.

I’m so glad when I got a Nintendo Switch last year (had to when I found out Sora was coming to Super Smash Bros. Ultimate), I was finally able to play The World Ends With You since I missed out on the Nintendo DS version and the mobile version on iOS didn’t work completely. I was finally able to learn about Neku, Joshua and the other TWEWY characters that showed up in Dream Drop Distance in their original setting.

Anyway, my readers, I have a question for you (if you actually read these author’s notes that is).

Would any of you be interested in reading a full-length story of the Quadratum reunion that Sora and Kairi were talking about? I know some of the main details have been spoiled. But it is an idea I’ve been considering so if you wish, please let me know what you think.

I give my thanks to whoever reads this chapter.

Comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Stay tuned for we’ll find out the reason behind Joshua’s sudden appearance next chapter!

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Onto the next chapter!

#kingdom hearts #kh fanfiction #sokai #sokai married #sokai kiss #sokaiweek #sokaiweek2022 #sora #kairi #joshua #maddrmatt

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macil · 2 years

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State of the Inanis

When I opened Winamp to play some music while I was writing, the Phantom of the Opera "The Point of No Return" came up. Very interesting.

Never in my life have I ignored my emotions or thoughts. My rule since a very young age was to never leave a thought or emotion left un-examined.

Throughout my personal ordeal of 2022, that has certainly been true. So true, in fact, that this time I think the excessive introspection caused more problems than it solved. If I had just surrendered sooner, perhaps the suffering would have been less. But that is a pointless speculation. The opposite could also be true -- it could be I needed the ruthless internal checking and stubbornness to get through this.

I have been there before -- too much questioning -- not enough confidence. Why? Myriad reasons. Another post.

I am still stunned that the degree of suffering I experienced was possible without dying or being rendered unconscious. I am reminded how I am hyper-aware when drunk, except this time it was in excruciating pain.

I am grudgingly learning to let go of this recent experience as I remember lessons I had already discovered and let slip. At least that feels like where I am headed. I am still sorting out the mess. Thus the importance of continuing to work on Ex Inanis.

I don't like humble pie.

I feel as though I underwent a "life review" or an "integrity check." This has happened before -- I have humorously considered moments like these in the past "deaths." That perhaps I jumped a timeline or dimension. This can happen either when a paradigm is no longer sustainable or enters into an expansion period. (My friend, Mr. T, calls these "back testing.")

As the pain & suffering have diminished and a sense of normal oozes back, I may be finding the clarity that I have been missing for this recent "integrity check."

To continue this post, we need to have a brief tangent.

The universe is not a "singular" place. It resembles something much closer to a Massive Multiplayer Role Playing Game, except where every player is their own instance, with instantaneous-streaming matchmaking.

Individual consciousness is experienced through the intersection of the Will, Wave and Context (Collective). The "individual" part is none of these things, but an emergence that arises out of the mixture.

The Will is "bound" to the Wave, as it requires limitation to "see itself." Without limitation, there is nothing/everything (void/paradox/potential.) Raw awareness is incapable of experience because it cannot make decisions (observations.)

The Will, however, can change the Wave by deciding what it "puts in."

The Wave is not bound to the Context, but creates it or is drawn to it via its matchmaking parameters (frequency/vibration, if you want.) As the Wave is simply a conglomeration of choices, it goes without saying that Context is a "choice."

The Context is the intersection of Waves. Imagine a Venn Diagram of Waves. Waves do not need to be equal, but Waves are bound to the constraints of the Context. If a Wave is capable of more than the Context can process, the Context provides the "best viable story."

At this time, we are within the Human Context/Collective/Logos.

This will require future articles, but for the sake of simplicity the universe can be thought to contain two categories of Context.

There are Evolutionary Contexts and Prime Context(s).

Evolutionary Context are created by/for beings who have yet to achieve sufficient cohesion to graduate into the Prime Context. Evolutionary Context can primarily be identified by existentialism (in other words, doubt about one's existence).

By this very doubt, we can know, via the Infinity Principle, that other realties (Contexts) must be possible, because we can imagine realities where there is no doubt.

Evolutionary Context is usually conducted via reincarnation ; beings reincarnate over and over until they are able to achieve enough cohesion to create continuum. Prior lives "leak" into subsequent lives as a means of guidance.

When a being is able to hold continuum (being), they can move into Prime Context. Again, for the sake of simplicity, Prime Context can simply be considered Heaven, Nirvana, or whatever floats your boat. You are able to navigate to any Context or create new Context without restraint. Linearity no longer applies.

The Human Context is certainly within the Evolutionary Context category.

We are doing this little brief overview of some of the core ideas in Ex Inanis because I want to talk about a common pitfall I see in other philosophies/spiritual ideas. There is a prevalent idea that we are "returning to Source/God", or that we are "God meeting God", or that the universe moves in cycles ; that is, the universe "dies", reviews and rebirths (sounds like an integrity check, right?)

We are not returning to Source or God. This would be oblivion. As we mention often here on Ex Inanis, raw awareness cannot make decisions and thus is just a 'void' of potential. Ex Inanis thinks this is a poor idea for how to organize your Wave and does not recommend it.

These (very human) paradigms are attempting to create a Prime Context on the foundations of an Evolutionary Context. They are conflating the two. This cannot be done.

The destiny of Evolutionary Context is always the same -- it ends. Evolutionary Context is an entropy box "by design" (or if you prefer by low consciousness choice.) The Human Context is overladen with entropy concepts. You will never fix them all. It is impossible. That is part of the "existentialism" trick. It is contingent upon the beings within the Context to "rise above" the limitations of the Context.

No one in the Human Context is "human." They are just "afflicted" with humanness.

You need compassion in order to "unite yourself" and you need faith in order to disregard appearances -- to be in but not of, to be in the audience, but not on the stage. The cohesion of becoming a "continuum" is locked behind compassion/faith. If you continue to "play the game" by investing your soul, you will never reach escape velocity.

This is the lesson I think I am coming back to, I think. These recent events were to release the final things that needed to be released that I was stubbornly holding onto (still in the post-analysis stage) and I again reluctantly admit that I may never have come back around without the severity of the lesson.

youtube

Joshua learns "being."

#esoteric #subjective idealism #god #source #unity #rant #compassion #faith #metaphysics #collective consciousness #mastery #introspection #self mastery #pensieve #spirituality #philosophy

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twdbegins · 3 years

Text

Having Sex on a Run with Rick

Rick Grimes x Fem! Reader

Request: Hay, I recently became active on your blog; And I love it so much already!? Your work for Rick? 😤 It’s damn fine! We need more for him,,I was wondering if I could get something for Rick where Reader and him are on a run and Reader feels frisky? Lust comes over the two and they make out, getting each other off? Basically they’re having a quickie on a run? Because the adrenaline is pumping if you get my gist... @positive-squid

Warnings: Smut. Profanity. Sexual content.

Rick could tell that something was off with you.

You weren’t acting badly or mean or anything.

But you seemed...antsy.

At first, he assumed that you were getting a little stir crazy.

Things in Alexandria had been good for a while, and mostly everyone had been sticking around trying to improve camp.

Even though Alexandria was extensive, he could understand how someone could still feel a bit caged in.

So he suggested that you accompany him on a run.

The two of you were close friends, so he didn’t see any issue with it.

He almost felt bad at how excited you got over it.

Rick figured that the group could always use more resources, so he didn’t feel as if this run was just for killing time.

You were bubbly as you slid into the passenger seat, positively stoked to be getting out for a bit.

Rick knew of a few places that needed to be scouted, so at least the two of you could get a day’s work out of this run.

It started as business as usual.

The two of you chatted as you scrounged for food or whatever else you could possibly use.

“Does Carl still need a pair of bigger boots? I think I just found a pair.”

“Sure, thanks. Do you think that Daryl would use this hairbrush?”

“Very funny.”

It was a pretty textbook run. The two of you chatted while you looked for things, throwing anything and everything even semi-useful into your backpacks.

Not to mention...it was brutally hot.

While it was a bit difficult to really ever truly know what day it was...

It was always unmistakable when summer had come back around.

The days were blistering hot and even the evenings were sticky and warm.

Sweat dripped down your back as you navigated the abandoned building that was somehow trapping more heat that you would’ve anticipated.

You had glanced over at Rick at one point to check on him, when you saw that he was having the same problem.

Sweat beaded around his forehead, some of it sliding down his face and neck.

He glistened in the daylight, his hard work being proven through his perspiration.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

It was the strangest feeling to be so drawn into him.

Sure, you had always found him attractive. It was hard to deny.

But you hadn’t really ever had a chance to just...look at him.

You eyed over his hands and arms as they moved stuff around.

His muscles flexed and relaxed in the most captivating way.

The veins in his hands and forearms were prevalent from both the heat and all the strenuous movement.

His dark curls were damp with sweat, yet he still looked so clean.

Your sights diverted to his hips, watching the way his legs moved in such a calculated way.

All kinds of dirty thoughts plagued your mind.

The thought of his hands around your throat.

His fingers in your mouth,

His cock buried somewhere deep inside of you.

He looked perfect.

A little too perfect.

It didn’t take him long to catch your stare, a confused smile as a quirked brow appearing on his features.

“Something wrong?”

You snapped out of your trance, embarrassed that he had just caught you staring.

“Nope!” You had squeaked, “All good here.”

He brushed it off, thinking you were tired from the day’s work.

It wasn’t until you were loading up the vehicle with all of your found resources that he noticed it again.

He noticed the way your eyes followed his every move.

The way you were listening extra closely when he spoke.

Something was on your mind, but he just didn’t expect that he was on your mind.

The two of you climbed into the truck, him in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s seat.

But he didn’t start the truck.

Instead he looked over at you, catching your bashful gaze.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Rick asked, this time a little more determined to figure it out.

You refused to admit to him that you had been pining over him for the last hour and a half.

Deny, deny, deny.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Rick wasn’t buying it.

He wasn’t buying that at all.

“You know, if something is bothering you, you can tell me. I don’t want you to be unhappy if it’s something I can fix.”

Oh, it was definitely something he could fix alright.

But still, there was no way that you were telling him that.

“I really am fine, Rick. Honestly.”

He still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to push you.

He started the truck, thinking that he’d get through to you sooner or later.

The ride was quiet, both of you too caught up in your own thoughts to say much of anything.

You had tried to push your dirty thoughts aside, trying your hardest to control your feelings towards him.

But the way he looked in the late afternoon sun filtering in through the windows, mixed with the way he kept throwing side glances at you...you couldn’t.

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over, please.”

Rick obliged, worried that something was wrong.

He barely even managed to get the truck in park before you crawled over the center console into his lap.

He didn’t even have time to be stunned, because your lips crashed into his before he could speak.

It surprised you, but Rick didn’t really question it.

He kissed back with the same energy, fiery and passionately desperate.

His hand came to the back of your neck, keeping you close and allowing your lips to hover over his when you pulled back for air.

He could feel the heat pooling between your legs through his pants, and he knew it wasn’t from the summer heat.

“I never knew you felt so strongly about me.” Rick had chuckled, already breathless from the heavy kissing.

He groaned when you dragged your clothed cunt over his thigh while you worked on getting his pants unbuckled.

He caught you in another kiss while you stroked his cock to an erection, his spine shuddering at the feeling of you touching him like this.

You praised yourself for deciding to wear shorts, getting them off with your free hand and with ease.

You knew you had limited space, since you weren’t too keen on doing this outside of the truck.

Not that you minded being in close quarters with Rick.

This was going to be a quick fuck.

You knew that this was the scratch the itch and the address the tension that had been building for a while.

Rick didn’t seem to mind that.

His fingers dragged through your folds, collecting your arousal as he rubbed the pads of his fingers on your clit.

You moaned at the feeling, the waves of pleasure already beginning and he hadn’t even gotten inside of you yet.

“You were really happy to be with me, huh?” Rick teased, spitting into his hand and lubricating himself just to be sure he didn’t hurt you.

Before you could respond, your hips were lifted by his hands and he slammed you down onto his cock to the point where your hip bones touched his.

A synchronized moan fell from your and Rick’s mouths, both of your head lulling back in ecstasy.

Rick wasn’t even moving yet and he was already stretching and filling you perfectly.

Suddenly, Rick was taking charge, which only added to your arousal.

He gave you a second to adjust to his size, letting you wriggle in his lap until you found an angle that was comfortable.

His hand tapped the side of your leg, prompting you to start moving.

You rotated between bouncing on his lap and rolling your hips, making sure that the satisfaction went both ways.

It was intoxicatingly perfect.

The way he felt stretching you and hitting every bundle of nerves possible.

The hot kisses and the heavy touches were everything you had ever dreamed of with Rick.

Your bounces were met by his thrusts, hitting your g-spot in the most flawless way.

You knew it wasn’t going to take long to get off.

This had been building up for far too long for your climax to be drawn out.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Feel so good.” He babbled, cheeks flushed and pupils blown.

His head was reeling, and he wasn’t sure that he was totally comprehending what was happening right now.

All he knew is that he didn’t want this to be the first and only time.

His cock throbbed inside of you, his own release begging to be spilled out into you.

You felt the twitch, and that in and of itself is what caused your orgasm to break out all over you.

You came with a squeaky moan, your entire body tensing up around him as your head fell to his shoulder and your hands gripped the back of the seat.

He thrusted a couple more times before he came as well, his release spurting into you and milking his cock white as he groaned out your name.

Your bodies went limp, chests heaving with heavy breaths and post-coital sighs.

His hand rubbed up and down your back slowly, his cum leaking out of you and onto his bare thighs.

A few minutes of silence passed before you raised your head.

Your dilated eyes met his, and what you saw was pure lust and content.

Most importantly, you could see the anticipation through his eyes, all the way to his soul.

You weren’t sure why, but something in your gut told you that this wouldn’t be the last time that you fucked Rick Grimes.

#Rick Grimes #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes headcanons #rick grimes headcanon #rick grimes smut headcanon #rick grimes twd #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut #HC requests #positive-squid #twdbegins

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