#yeah yeah preaching to the crowd

[alectoperdita]

I wanna protect everyone who's still willing to draw joukai art in this day and age while braving how it's increasingly the fandom black sheep ship and tumblr's shitty reblogging drought

[chrissv4mp]

im on the bleachers🦈

basketball player!matt × gn!reader

warnings: minor injuries, vulgar language

author's note: okayyy, i know i said this was fluff & the warnings seem otherwise, but i swear there's fluff!!

_____________

matt breathed in deeply, looking at himself in the mirror before muttering, "final game of the season, you got this."

"stay calm." he added on, knowing that every time he was on the court he would get a little crazy.

but it's not like it was his fault, the referees were just blind as hell and didn't even know the difference between pivoting with the ball and traveling.

or maybe it was him. whatever, even if it was he wouldn't dare to admit it.

"hurry up, boys! gotta get you kids out there for some warm-ups," coach yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of the locker room.

matt sighed, closing his eyes and taking one more deep breath before throwing his jersey on.

04, under the number was the name of his school, WESTFIELD HS.

"matt!" chris's voice broke the brunette boy out of his trance, looking over his shoulder before turning around fully to look at his brother.

matt couldn't help crack a smile at the excited expression on his brothers face, his eyes bright and his smile big.

"what's up?" matt said, running a hand through his hair.

chris straightened our his jersey, number 03, before looking back up at matt and speaking, "oh. nothing, just wanted to check up on you, you nervous?"

matt nodded, "yeah, but i'm still hopeful. the other team isn't all that, either, but we still need to be strong. and aggressive."

chris nodded, his facial expression serious now, "yeah. hey, let's go to the team, give them a pep talk?"

_____________

"bring it in wildcats!" matt called, and the team was quick to get together, chris going over to matt's side immediately.

the players looked around at one another, giving knowing looks and muttering quiet encouragements.

"hey, today isn't any different than our other games. we always come to win, and what do we always do?" matt asked, and the team responded proudly:

"win!"

matt smiled, "yes, exactly! we need to play with energy and sportsmanship, no matter how pissed the other team gets you. and above all, we need to play aggressive and fast." chris nodded at his brother, his eyes scanning his other teammates.

"so, we're gonna play all the basics. 2-3, box, etcetera. now, everybody knows that the other team isn't that good, they've lost a majority of their games this season and the main reason for it was them not being on defense."

matt inhaled deeply, "some of us have a bit of a problem with that, too, so, we need to always, and i mean always be on our man. everybody just goes to the ball and leaves the other team open."

a boy on the team nodded, knowing that the comment was mainly directed to him.

"even if we don't win, we're still the wildcats, and we'll always have our confidence. no matter what." matt encouraged, giving soft smiles to his team.

"preach, matt." chris laughed, earning some smiles from his teammates.

matt rolled his eyes before putting his fist out, leading the whole team to do the same thing, "wildcats on three!"

"1, 2, 3, wildcats!" the team roared, voices echoing off the gym walls as they parted ways, some players going on the bench and some going onto the court.

coach smiled at matt, giving him a thumbs up before matt went to jog on the court.

matt's attention was quickly turned to the crowd on the other side of the court, his eyes immediately landing on you.

you waved, giving him a thumbs up with your free hand as he waved back.

chris was in the middle, his eyes never leaving the ball as the referee raised it in the air.

matt went into his defense position, getting low and in front of a player from the opposing team.

the tension was high as the gym fell silent, only the sound of quiet buzzing from the scoreboard heard.

then, the referee put the whistle to his lips, and blew. he dropped the ball, and chris swiftly smacked it behind the opponent and into his teammates hands.

"let's go wildcats!" was heard from the sidelines, and as matts teammate dribbled the ball up court and shot a lay-up, the crowd erupted in roars and screams.

well, this was gonna be an easy win.

_____________

this wasn't gonna be a very easy win.

matt groaned in frustration as the ref called a foul on him. he hadn't even touched his opponent!

the wildcats and sharks were neck and neck, 30-30, the scoreboard read.

the opponents coach had waited until they were losing by a lot to put in his best players, and now the wildcats were on the brink of losing a game.

"shit," matt muttered as number 08 on the other team ran up the court.

he pushed himself to run with all his strength, and as nunber 08 went to score, matt jumped up to try and block the shot.

number 23 on the opposite team pushed matt with all his strength, sending him flying onto the floor face first.

he landed on face, his knees sliding on the freshly waxed gym floors.

a loud roar of anger was heard from the wildcats, and the whistle blew many times before the gym was shut up.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" matt groaned in pain, holding his nose as he breathed heavily.

nick, taking the pictures of the basketball team for school, quickly raced down the bleachers and to his brothers aid.

chris did, too, worry evident on his face as he patted matts back, "you're okay, matt, c'mon, get up."

nick helped matt to sit on his butt, carefully grabbing his chin and noticing his bloody nose.

"it's fine, you'll be okay. we're gonna get up on three, alright?"

matt nodded, groaning as he stood up on the count of three.

his knees ached and so did his nose. shit, there was no way he was going to be able to have more playing time.

sure, his teammates were good, but matt was the best player on the team.

nick and chris walked matt to the sidelines, letting him sit down on the bench before nick handed him his water bottle.

"you okay?" chris asked, tilting his head a bit.

matt nodded, his head fuzzy with frustration.

the game went on, and number 23 got benched & fouled. 1 more foul for the sharks and the wildcats would get two free throws.

1 more basket and the wildcats would win.

the game was getting heated, and people the opposing team were screaming at their teammates.

it had only taken a few missed shots from the wildcats to get matt stirred up, and he shot up from his seat, walking to coach with a passion.

"put me in." he demanded, and in any other circumstance, he would've crumbled in fear at the way his coach looked at him.

he cocked an eyebrow, "you're hurt, matt, we can't risk it."

matt grumbled, looking down at his feet as he balled his hands into fists. why not put him in? he was the best player, and the others were clearly not locked in. he needed to be in there.

"put matt in!" you and nick chanted from the bleachers, making the coach and matt himself turn their attention.

the chant caught on quickly with the rest of the wildcats, even the players that were on the court, currently on timeout.

matt smiled sweetly at you, and you just cheered for him, your heart melting at the way he looked at you.

the brunette boy turned back to his coach, not daring to break eye contact again. he took deep breaths, trying to control himself as he asked once more:

"can you put me in, coach? please." he asked, and this time, coach didn't hesitate to nod.

the people controlling the scoreboard wasted no time in subbing out a worse player for matt, and the brunette boy ran onto the court, determined to win.

the game started back up again quickly, and matt was quick to steal the ball when 06 on sharks were passing the ball in.

he ran down the court, his legs burning and his throat dry. the crowd cheered loudly, and so did his teammates.

even over all the other voices, the only one he listened to was yours, you were the only one he cared about.

he jumped up, the ball rolling off his hand and going up into the air.

matt drowned everybody out, his breathing heavy and his legs tired. the ball spun around the rim not once, not twice, but three times before it fell into the basket and dropped to the floor.

matts eyes widened, and he could finally hear everything. cheers erupted from the wildcats and the coach for the sharks threw his clipboard down.

"holy shit. oh my god!" matt yelled, the realization that he had won the game finally hitting him.

you didn't hesitate to scramble off the bleachers and onto the court, wanting to be the first one to speak to him.

you jumped into his arms, almost sending him falling to the floor, but he steadied himself and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

"you won, baby! im so proud of you." you muttered into his shoulder, and he smiled.

"thank you." he whispered.

_____________

matt and you sat at a booth in a local diner, drinking celebratory milkshakes.

you couldn't help but smile as he drank it, putting the cup to his lips before putting it back down, leaving whipped cream on his upper lip.

"what?" he questioned before licking his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh softly.

"nothing. just wanted to look at you. you literally just won the state championships, can i not be proud of you?"

matt smiled softly, hiding his face as he blushed.

"couldn't have done it without my favorite person." he praised, reaching his hand out to yours that was on the table.

...

☆

author's note: AHHH the support on my hcs are insane, I love u guys sm!! hope u guys enjoyed this and also, thank u smsmsmsm for 40+ followers🫶🏼🫶🏼

@chrissturnswife @latinasforchrizz @suyqa @mayhem-72 @sturn-wrld @mattsbbg

[redtsundere-writes]

Pillow | Cult Leader!Suguru Geto

cult leader!suguru geto x f!reader Sypnosis: suguru geto is your secret lover. Contents: Secret lover, i wrote this while listening lana del rey so yeah, that. Warnings: vaginal, raw, doggy, oral. Mdni. Minors Do Not Interact. +18 Word Count: 758 words. Author's Note: even tho my heart is owned by Sukuna (shame me i have an humiliation kink) this man makes me go ahasnhghsbdjs.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto was a busy man. Being the leader of a cult was not an easy task. Keeping a friendly mask on in front of his followers, preaching his message over and over again, ingesting curses to become more powerful, and leading a brainwashed crowd tired him every single week.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto could forget all about the cult once he came to your room every Sunday night. Geto had adopted you into his community when he first saw you tied up in that abandoned warehouse years ago. Your relationship had grown since then until you became his secret lover.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto knocked three times on your bedroom door. You quickly opened and he wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. His hands lovingly ran around your waist to pull you closer to his warm and tall body. "I missed you" he whispered in your ear, an electric feeling ran down your spine. You hadn't gotten used to the idea that you meant everything to him.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto loved to lie on your bed while using your thighs as a pillow. He liked it when you braided his long jet black hair and placed kisses on his forehead. He loved to make you smile with funny comments. He felt like a naughty teenager breaking into his girlfriend’s room every Sunday night. 

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto wanted to stay with you for the rest of his life, but he knew he had responsibilities to fulfill with his community. Luckily, you were always there to remind him that the next Sunday was always coming. You were the only thing that kept him “sane” enough during the exhausting week.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto kissed you passionately, his lips guiding yours to move in sync. Like every night, he wanted to make it clear how much he loved and desired you. His kisses traveled over your cheeks, your forehead, your neck and your shoulders being undressed little by little, causing your skin to feel the freshness of that night.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto moved towards you causing his body to gently push yours against the bed. His kisses traveled over your breasts, tummy, and down to your intimacy. Like Moses in the red sea, he opened you wide to taste the juices of your intimate secrets. He was a master at satisfying you, he knew every inch of your body and what left you trembling, begging for more.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto took his precious time licking and kissing your sweet folds while you let out soft moans, trying not to wake up the other members of the community. He always ate you as if he hadn't eaten all day, his desperation to taste you satisfied his lust.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto loves to fuck you hard and raw. He liked to lay you face down on the bed and hit you from behind so he could hold your hips firmly with his skillful arms signaling that your ass belonged to him. You loved it when he held you as if you were going to escape even though it was the last thing you wanted to do when his cock impacted all the way in you.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto moaned in delight at how good your tight, juicy pussy felt. He wanted to be with you forever, he wanted you to stay with him in the cult, he would do anything to keep you obedient. It didn't matter if he had to brainwash you, drug you or kill your family. He would do whatever it took to get his most beautiful follower to give him her soul and body.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto loves every part of your body. Your round tits, your greedy ass, your sensual curves and those lips his cock wants to dwell on for life. He was always rough when it was time for your mouth to suck his cock. Your teary eyes wanted him to stop but your lust begged him to continue dominating you. Suguru pushed your head all the way down so he could cum comfortably as he let out a satisfied moan from his lips while tilting his head back in pleasure.

> Cult Leader!Suguru Geto got dressed again to go back to his room while you watched him from the bed. "Stay the night," you requested. "You know the other girls will be jealous if they see I'm giving you special treatment. Think of your sisters," he explained as he did every Sunday. "Promise me you'll come back next Sunday" You begged along with a pout. He reached over to plant a simple but loving kiss on your soft lips. "You know I always come back" he promised you before walking out that door again. You really hated to see him go, but that’s how it should be.

Order your own fanfic!

Masterlist.

[itsbebebrainrotting]

Actually insane atp when people infantilise EITHER cc or q tubbo.

Like holy shit that is a 20 year old man who has just succeeded in the biggest project of his life, one which involved a lot of responsibility, as well as a very good knowledge of his own physical and mental limit. He regularly gets drunk on stream, has spoken before about still wearing his exs underwear on stream and has a fucking husband. That is a grown ass man who can take care of himself (for the most part - hes still very privileged so can get away without doing certain things himself but my point stands). Just because hes ND doesn't mean you should treat him like hes still a child.

And the same applies to his character. Qtubbo is seemingly fucking ancient based off the creation stream before his revival. He is very talented and stubborn and self assured as well as extremely smart and also a good father. He doesnt act as anyones kid (aside from maybe qluzus for a while) and is perfectly fine all on his own thank you very much. Qtubbo is also a massive fucking flirt. Like qroier pre marriage levels of flirt. Qslime but with more shame levels of flirt. And he flirts with anyone but mainly people he knows better, which includes the people cc tubbo knew when he was a minor. So uh... no one gives a shit on that front. Anyway all this to say, qtubbo does not act like a child. He doesnt make sense as another characters son in your funny little headcanon nuclear family roles and he also only really works as a younger brother figure if you make sure your portrayal of younger brother isnt boiled down to annoying and childish. Cuz besties that isnt qtubbo.

So yeah im preaching to the crowd here but that "i ThOuGhT tUbBo WaS tHeIr AdOpTeD kId" tweet pissed me off sorry

[f0point5]

The double standards in stans reactions to the wolffs doing something versus anybody else in this fandom is something else. The stans use everything and anything to discredit their behateds moral character but when it's their beloved wollfs they pretend not to see it. Toto cheated on his wife the mother of his older kids with Susie his employee at the time can this fandom as whole not hold them as the unproblematic power couple. Toto is known to have had as ignorant takes as Marko but because of the gokarts in the rain comment on dts Toto is the Saint that would've saved max in their eyes as if toto isn't buddies with jos irl for years

I DID NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS TOTO LORE?!

Am I shocked? Um no because he’s a good looking billionaire can be real for a sec here 😂 but we clearly don’t talk about this bit of lore enough because…tell me more.

Yeah, like if you look at the people Toto is known to be friendly with…it tells a story. And no shade to him, you don’t have to agree with someone’s every action to be friends with them, and you don’t have to apologise for being friends with someone anyway. But. It’s a little hilarious that you want to get high and mighty about “issues” when you have been friends with vilified personality Jos Verstappen, and (even jokingly) offer to have Helmut Marko on board in the team when you have been preaching about diversity for the last decade. My guy, be so real with me right now. It’s okay to be who you are, you just have to be honest about it.

Side note, people do overcook the rivalries between these people. At the end of the day, these guys are all friends/friendly. They live in a Petri dish and they share passions/interests, why would they not be friends? Also, let’s not forget that crowd favourite Nikki Lauda was besties with Helmut, too. The whole “guilty by association” thing is such a stupid game to play in F1 because they are ALL associated at management level.

Lol Toto is the Francis of Assisi of F1, patron Saint of the downtrodden and dispossessed. His rehab centre for washed up drivers will never not be funny to me. I low-key find his adoption of driver creepy but that’s a topic for a different ask lol.

We all know I get the ick from Toto and Susie, they’re just not a bit of me. There’s a bit of self righteousness there that is just so…not for me.

I am not in the least surprised that her statement has been well received. She is indeed well liked. That being said, I do think that on top of the RB stuff and the Sulayem investigation, any statement of this nature would be well received right now. People are baying for “transparency”, whatever that means. So I don’t think she’s receiving unusual/heightened support for this particularly.

But in general, I agree that those two could get away with murder.

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 6

Ace x Reader

Warning: implied loss in accident

Edit: forgot this was requested by anon, oops

"Spark on the wire~ fuel on the fire~ preach to the choir~ do~ or die..."

"I know you could sing!" Ace exclaimed revealing himself once you finished singing.

"Ace?" You jumped around to see him. "How long have you- why are you holding your phone?"

"I'm gonna upload this to YouTube~" Ace said, a giant smirk tugging on his lips.

"Oh no you don't!" You climbed off your bed and started charging at him as he ran away laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on [Y/n], just give it a try," Ace said as the recording started. "You saw how many views the last one got, people will love to hear your voice again."

"I don't know..." You adjusted the headphones around your neck. "You sure it wasn't because of the end of the video that people kept watching it?"

"I'm sure, you got an amazing voice, you just need to get it out there." Ace smiled at you from behind the camera. His smile made you smile, even if it was a small smile you gave.

"Alright... here goes nothing." You put your headphones on and let the music take over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, alright, how does it feel to have your first gig offer at 20k subscribers?" Ace asked holding the camera up to get your reaction.

"I can hardly believe it," you laughed, leaning your head on the back of your chair. "Are you sure this isn't a dream?"

"Would you like me to pinch you?"

"Sure."

Ace moved closer and pinched your arm.

"Ow! Not that hard," you whined rubbing your arm.

"You asked for it," Ace chuckled backing up so the camera wasn't in your face, he then turned it around to face him. "She asked for it."

"Oh yeah? Let's see how you like a taste of your own medicine!"

"Woah shit!" Ace started running out of the room, camera still facing him as he rushed out of there. From certain angles, the camera caught you chasing after him from behind. "I didn't ask for this!"

"You did with a smug smirk of yours!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Acccce, there's so many people out there," you whispered walking over to him, holding your mic in your hand.

"This is nothing, [Y/n]," Ace reassured, accidentally getting his hand in the camera's frame. "Way more people watch you sing on YouTube." At least, he's trying to reassure you. Your grip on the mic tightened and you held it closer to your chest. Taking notice of this, he moved the camera away from his face so you could see him. "Hey, you're gonna be alright, just find me in the crowd and act like you're in our chill cave, they even got the same lighting as the place."

You glanced up at Ace before wrapping your arms around him. He hugged you back for good luck, only letting go when the lights went down.

"I better get to my seat now. Don't worry, you'll do great out there."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You'll never make me." You turned your back to the camera.

"[Y/n], this a ticket to your dream city!" Ace reminded you as he waved the plane tickets. "They're first class and everything."

"I'm afraid of heights."

"Since when?" Ace questioned, putting the tickets down.

"Since always."

"How come I never knew before?"

"Because we've never been up somewhere high before?"

"What about the top of the monkey bars?"

"That's not 10 thousand miles in the air!" You stated, turning back to the camera.

"Okay it's not that high-"

"You're right, it's probably even higher!" You spun around again and fell back on your bed. You folded your arms and pouted while Ace walked around your bed and looked down at you.

"You know, for someone scared of heights, you fall down on your bed without hesitation," Ace pointed out, you grumbled and narrowed your eyes at him. He sighed and sat down next to you on your bed. "If you're nervous, you don't have to be. Trust me, with some headphones and music playing, you won't even notice where you are."

"Really?" You look at him, fragments of worry still lingering in your eyes.

"Mhm, and I'll be there by your side the entire time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Because the world will never take my heart~!"

The crowd cheers after the performance ends. Ace smiles from behind the camera as he's recording you smiling and waving to the audience. Who knew you'd get this far?

"Thank you everyone!" You began, and more cheers were heard. "Alright, alright, settle down." You waited for the crowd to quiet down before you continued. "You are all so amazing, and I'm grateful you're my fans, but I never would've gotten here if it wasn't for someone, which is why I wanna say a big thank you to Ace."

"Me?" Ace whispered, surprised and caught off guard when you hopped over to him, taking his arm and pulling him on stage.

"Many of you know him if you watch my YouTube channel, he's the reason why I'm standing here today." You gave him a side hug and Ace had to adjust his hold on the camera so he could return the hug. "So thank you, Ace!"

The camera perfectly captured your smile at him, so full of life and joy, a memory he'll treasure forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So thank you, Ace!"

"Hey, bro you in here- oh sorry."

Ace paused the video and looked up at Sabo.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Sabo apologized. He frowned as he watched Ace close his laptop.

"Nah, it's fine..." Ace pushed the laptop away from him and shifted his position in bed. "What did you need something?"

"No, I was just gonna tell you the pizza's here."

"Oh..." He dipped his head down. "Can you bring a box up for me?"

"Sure thing." Sabo headed out, leaving the door open since he'd be returning shortly.

Ace's gaze wandered around while he waited for food. Your CDs are scattered across the floor next to his radio, he'd probably pick one to play while he's eating. His hoodies you used to steal were thrown over his dresser, your scent faded from them, and even the one he wore now hardly held it anymore. His hand gripped onto your old headphones, trying to hold your presence.

"I'm back." Sabo entered his room with three pizza boxes.

"I only asked for one-"

"You don't expect me to eat two pizza boxes by myself downstairs, do you?"

"Alright..." Ace moved over to make room for Sabo to sit down and place the pizza between them. Silence laid in the room for a bit as the two ate until Sabo broke the ice.

"How long has it been since... the accident?"

"I don't know," Ace shrugged. "Each day is a blur now."

"Hmm..." Sabo hummed and finished his slice before continuing, "You know, I was in your shoes after Kuma passed. It's hard losing a friend-"

"She wasn't just a friend." Ace lowered his slice of pizza. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I just... I loved her you know... and I never got the chance to tell her how I really feel."

Sabo sighed and placed a comforting hand on his brother's back. He wishes he could say something more but alas, what do you say to someone whose heart was stolen by the world?

Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[gardenschedule]

A collection of Beatles quotes about the breakup

I know I'm preaching to the choir on tumblr.com because people here examine the breakup with empathy, nuance and critical thought. BUT these quotes are convenient if you ever get caught up in frustrating arguments online with male boomer beatle fans who think John and George hated the band and couldn't wait to escape while Paul was desperate to get back together. Sorted by band member and chronological order.

Quotes from/about Ringo:

1969:

People really have tried to typecast us. They think we are still little moptops, and we are not. I don’t want to play in public again. I don’t miss being a Beatle anymore. You can’t get those days back. It’s no good living in the past.

Ringo Starr, 24 March 1969 while filming The Magic Christian in New York

1970:

Ringo?  He was the peacemaker for John, George and himself to Paul and was shaken to find Paul intransigent to the point of saying some pretty blunt things.  But none of the Beatles is vindictive, and pettiness is their natural enemy, and when Paul released his album, Ringo sent a telegram congratulation him on “Maybe I’m Amazed” (one of the tracks) and meant it.  Ringo has a lot of heart and more soul than most and since he knows he will be a Beatles to the grave, he will cooperate should it all come together again.

The Party's Over for the Beatles - written by Derek Taylor

“The Beatles have not split up. We are waiting for John to get back and then we will have a friendly Beatle chat and see what we are going to do. I keep looking around and thinking, ‘Where are they? What are they doing? When will they come and talk to me?’ This is supposed to be a press conference to promote my new film. The other Beatles aren’t here, so I don’t want to be answering questions for them. I hope to see Elvis in Las Vegas before I return to England. But, I will not be in the States for very long.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

1971:

The Beatles might yet stay together as a group. Paul is the greatest bass player in the world. He is also determined. He goes on and on to see if he can get his own way. While that may be a virtue, it did mean that musical disagreements inevitably rose from time to time. But such disagreements contributed to really great products. […] I was shocked and dismayed, after Mr. McCartney’s promises about a meeting of all four Beatles in London in January, that a writ should have been issued on December 31. I trust Paul and I know he would not lightly disregard his promise. Something serious, about which I have no knowledge, must have happened between Paul’s meeting with George in New York at the end of December. […] My own view is that all four of us together could even yet work out everything satisfactorily.

Ringo Starr’s affidavit – From “The Beatles Diary Volume 2: After The Break-Up 1970-2001” by Keith Badman

No one doubted that Starkey would go along with the majority.

You Never Give Me Your Money – Peter Doggett

Later/unknown year:

RS: But that’s only Imagine. You know what I’m saying? Paul with his Band on the Run. We all started on a bus and small clubs and things like that, but Paul is that type of person. Paul wanted to do it all over again, and he did. And he went through hell. He went through hell. I mean, now he’s not talking to me and that’s too bad, but he started again from the bottom to do the Paul McCartney show. I don’t wanna do it anymore. I did it once.

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

Quotes from/about George:

1969:

“Yeah, quite definitely, but I’d like to do it with the Beatles but not on the old scale, that’s the only drag. With the Ono Band and me playing with Delaney and Bonnie there’s no expectations because it’s really quite anonymous, you just go and do whatever you can do. Once the Beatles are advertised and all the crowds come along they expect too much. I’d like to do the Beatles thing, but more like Delaney and Bonnie with us augmented with a few more singers, and a few trumpets, saxes, organs, and all that"

Interview conducted by Roy Carr, NME, 20 December 1969

1970:

George was greatly disappointed that Paul should come off like he was injured by Klein (business manager) whom George believes to have greatly eased the effects of the present and insured the safety of the future. George view is “Did you have to be so nasty. You can go so far but you can never get back, and you can say things which get in the way forever. For me, I would be glad to play with all of us again.”

The Party's Over for the Beatles - written by Derek Taylor

Q: “You think the Beatles will get together again, then?”

George: “Well, I don’t… I couldn’t tell, you know, if they do or not. I’ll certainly try my best to do something with them again, you know. I mean, it’s only a matter of accepting that the situation is a compromise. In a way it’s a compromise, and it’s a sacrifice, you know, because we all have to sacrifice a little in order to gain something really big. And there is a big gain by recording together – I think musically, and financially, and also spiritually. And for the rest of the world, you know, I think that Beatle music is such a big sort of scene – that I think it’s the least we could do is to sacrifice three months of the year at least, you know, just to do an album or two. I think it’s very selfish if the Beatles don’t record together.”

WABC-FM, May 1, 1970

The Harrison quote that went around the world that spring was purely optimistic: 'Everyone is trying to do his own album, and I am too. But after that I'm ready to go back with the others.'

You Never Give Me Your Money – Peter Doggett

1971:

The only serious row was between Paul and me. In 1968 I went to the United States and had a very easy co-operation with many leading musicians. This contrasted with the superior attitude which, for years past, Paul has shown towards me musically. In January 1969, we were making a film in a studio at Twickenham, which was dismal and cold, and we were all getting a bit fed up with our surroundings. In front of the cameras, as we were actually being filmed, Paul started to ‘get at’ me about the way I was playing. I decided I had had enough and told the others I was leaving. This was because I was musically dissatisfied. After a few days, the others asked me to return and since I did not wish to leave them in the lurch in the middle of filming and recording, and since Paul agreed that he would not try to interfere or teach me how to play, I went back. Since the row, Paul has treated me more as a musical equal. I think this whole episode shows how a disagreement could be worked out so that we all benefited. I just could not believe it when, just before Christmas, I received a letter from Paul’s lawyers. I still cannot understand why Paul acted as he did.

George Harrison’s affidavit – From “The Beatles Diary Volume 2: After The Break-Up 1970-2001” by Keith Badman

“In a “Come back Paul, all is forgiven” mood, George Harrison said this week: “I wish we could all be friends again. It’s a drag that things are as they are, because Apple is now becoming much more what we originally wanted it to be. “Personally I’d like to see Paul back at Apple and let him do what he wants to do. After all the new studio is his studio, too, and I’d like to see it all happening for us all.”

October 1971 Record Mirror

When John finally hinted that he would be willing to play with George when he appeared at Madison Square Garden. “Well, maybe I can come and help ya,” he said. “That’d be nice.” George glowered at John. Then George’s anger really burst forth. “Where were you when I needed you!” he snapped. It was the first of a series of explosions, each of them followed by moments of tense silence. “I did everything you said. But you weren’t there,” he repeated. “You always knew how to reach me,” John would reply evenly to each of these outbursts. There was no doubt in my mind, watching those two, that George’s anger with John had been accumulating for years. It was exactly the kind of situation that John usually ran from. But I could see in that moment that he loved George enough to remain calm and still as George drilled away at him. George said that repeatedly in the past he had sung what John wanted him to sing, said what John wanted him to say. Because John wanted it, George had gone along with the decision to go with Allen Klein. In the nearly four years since, John had virtually ignored him, a fact that pained George deeply. George’s voice grew even more harsh as he blasted John for his sudden appearance, as if out of nowhere, to offer an evening’s worth of help. Yet again George said furiously, I did everything you said, but you weren’t there.”

May Pang, Loving John

1973:

"George came into the office and said, 'I wanted you to know before anyone else. We're leaving Allen.' I said, 'Why?' And he said, 'We'll never get together again with Allen managing us.' And that was it. They left. George always had that distant hope."

Allan Stecker, Mojo interview 2023 (on Monday April 2 1973)

"[Allen Klein] made [John, George and Ringo] feel financially and artistically secure,” Steckler reckoned. So why did they decide that Klein had to go? Steckler believed he knew the answer. “George called me and said, ‘We’re not re-signing with Klein,’” he recalled. “I asked him why, and he said, 'The only way The Beatles can get together again is if Allen isn’t there. I’m ready to do it, so is Ringo, and I think we can persuade John to go along with it. But if we’re going to work with Paul, we need to get rid of Klein.’"

Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money

1978:

Personally, I’m not opposed to the idea, if it’s done through mutual agreement. But the pressure seems to be bigger than any of us, and when they talk of sums like $50 or $60 million, it’s almost a farce. I know Paul’s booked for the next few years, and John may have lost interest in the idea. Ringo and I are closest on it; we both feel it’s not impossible, but it’s highly unlikely, if only because of the legal and business maze that would have to be resolved before the four of us set foot on stage together.

M. George Haddad interview with George Harrison for Men Only magazine (Nov. 1978 issue)

Quotes from/about Paul:

1970:

On the eve of the release of the Beatles new movie and album “Let it Be,” Paul McCartney said, “I quit,” or “I think I quit,” which is roughly the same thing. As a publicity stunt, it’s as good or bad as any stunt they ever appeared to pull. But like every stunt they never did pull, this isn’t one either. McCartney’s declaration of independence was entirely impromptu, spontaneous and personal and so far had the group’s lines of communication become crossed that none of the Beatles really knew when the album would be out, or whether, nor did they greatly care.

...

I guess the way it stacks up now and the way it was around the time when Paul dropped the big on is that he wants right out of it all and they don’t.

The Party's Over for the Beatles - written by Derek Taylor

"John's reply was that I was daft!" He then said he wanted to leave the Beatles and wanted an immediate divorce. None of us really knew what to do about the situation, but we decided to wait until our film 'Let it Be' came out in April. I got bored and made 'McCartney' instead!"

Paul McCartney, in his first magazine interview since the split, tells FLIP's Keith Altham... "THE BEATLES ARE FINISHED!"

When we had to go to the studios, Linda would make the booking and we’d take some sandwiches and a bottle of grape juice and put the baby on the floor and it was all like a a holiday. So as a natural turn of events from looking for something to do, I found that I was enjoying working alone as much as I’d enjoyed the early days of the Beatles. I haven’t really enjoyed the Beatles for the last two years.

Paul, Interview for Evening Standard • Tuesday, April 21-22, 1970

Klein tells George he will get him more money and he tells Ringo the same. He tells them all that there are four first-class Beatles, not two and John doesn’t mind being told this. Paul doesn’t like any of it, none of it. He has a father-in-law who is also from New York and his name is Lee Eastman. Lee Eastman is also a toughie, but his manners are more formal than Klein’s and some people like him. Paul would like Eastman to be the Mr Big Apple needs. John wants Mr Klein to be Mr Big. A year passes. It is 1970. Paul still doesn’t like Klein but John digs him more than ever and George digs him more than that and Ringo doesn’t mind him. Paul? He is so uptight about Klein he only leaves the Beatles, that’s all.

As Time Goes By - Derek Taylor

1971:

Klein: “If Paul McCartney doesn’t get his way, he bitches. He may have a choirboy image in the press and with fans, but I’m here to tell you its bullshit. If anybody broke up the Beatles, it was him.”

Allen Klein, Playboy: A candid conversation with the embattled manager of the Beatles. (November, 1971) (note: obviously we should not trust a word Klein says, but at this point why isn't he repeating John's party line that he wanted a divorce?)

I think John thought I was using this press release for publicity-as I suppose, in a way, it was. So it all looked very weird, and it ruffled a few feathers. The good thing about it was that we all had to finally own up to the fact that we'd broken up three or four months before. We'd been ringing each other quite constantly, sort of saying, 'Let's get it back together.' And I think me, George and Ringo did want to save things. But I think John was, at that point, too heavily into his new life-which you can't blame him.

You Never Give Me Your Money – Peter Doggett

1972:

“We planned a big festival for one afternoon in Central Park, and ‘Imagine’ was the theme. Each retarded person from an institution would be paired with one able-bodied volunteer – twenty-five thousand people in the park. The issue arose whether the retarded should come to the matinee concert at Madison Square Garden. Obviously it would be a huge revenue loss. So Allen Klein and John just bought $50,000 worth of tickets and gave them to the retarded kids and volunteers.” Suddenly John got cold feet, after the concert had been sold out for weeks. “John said he didn’t want to do it,” Rivera recalled. “He said he hadn’t played in public for years, he hadn’t rehearsed with a band, he was just too nervous. …When they had that rush of insecurity, Yoko told me that she and John called Paul and Linda. They said, ‘Let’s bury the hatchet and appear together at the concert.’ Why Paul said ‘No’ I’ll never know.” Rivera and others managed to calm John’s fears and get him to start rehearsing with Elephant’s Memory.

Jon Wiener, Come Together: John Lennon in His Time. (1984)

“A few months ago, John asked us to do a concert with him at Madison Square Garden (note: same concert as the above quote) and it’s a pity now that we didn’t do it. I didn’t want to do it at the time but we will do things, I’m sure. I don’t see any reason why all four Beatles shouldn’t be on stage at some time all playing together and having a good time. I don’t think you’ll ever get the Beatles reforming, because that’s all gone. The Beatles were a special thing in a special era and I really couldn’t see it all coming together again. But I think it’s daft to assume that just because we had a couple of business upsets we won’t ever see each other again, or that if John has a concert some time we won’t go up and play on it.”

Paul McCartney, interview with Ray Connolly in The Evening Standard, December 2, 1972 (source: The Ray Connolly Beatles Archive)

“Don’t ever call me ex-Beatle McCartney again. That was one band I was with. Now I’m not with them. I’ve got another band. We won’t do things the same way any more. We’re not so bothered in trying to please other people all the time even though we obviously don’t try to displease them. All we want, in Wings, is to please ourselves with our music, That’s all.

“If people start fan clubs for us, do that kind of thing from the past, well, fine. But we won’t start one. I just get irritated by people constantly harping on the past, about the days when I was with that other band, the Beatles.

“The other Beatles get together and that is fine, but I’m almost always in another part of the world. The Beatles was my old job. We’re not like friends – we just know each other. But we don’t work together. so there’s no point keeping up old relationships.”

“All I know for sure is that I’ll never be conned again. I’m 30 now and, after what I’ve been through. I should know my way around. I get angry with fans, who interrupt my life, even now. I get fed up with the feeling that I was losing my identity, becoming some kind of legend, not a person. And I’m downright angry with the people who keep trying to get me back with the others again.

1976:

“The truth is very ordinary. The truth is just that since we split up, we’ve not seen much of each other. We visit occasionally, we’re still friends, but we don’t feel like getting up and playing again. You can’t tell that to people. You say that and they say, ‘How about this money, then?’ ‘Or how about this?’ And you end up having to think of reasons why you don’t feel like it. And, of course, any one of them taken on its own isn’t really true, but I was just stuck for an answer, so I said I wouldn’t do it just for the money anyway. And I saw John last time, he says, ‘I agreed with that.’ But there’s a million other points in there. A whole million angles. “I tell you, before this tour, I was tempted to ring everyone up and say, ‘Look, is it true we’re not going to get back together, ‘cause we all pretty much feel like we’re not. And as long as I could get everyone to say, ‘No, we’re definitely not,’ then I could say ‘It’s a definite no-no.’ But I know my feeling, and I think the others’ feeling, in a way, is we don’t want to close the door to anything in the future. We might like it someday.

Paul McCartney, Rolling Stone: Yesterday, Today, and Paul. (June 17th, 1976)

Later/unknown year:

“John phoned me once to try and get the Beatles back together again, after we’d broken up. And I wasn’t for it, because I thought that we’d come too far and I was too deeply hurt by it all. I thought, “Nah, what’ll happen is that we’ll get together for another three days and all hell will break loose again. Maybe we just should leave it alone.”

Paul, November 1995 Club Sandwich interview

“ELLEN: So was there ever a time when both you and John Lennon wanted to reform the Beatles? PAUL: There was a time… let’s put it this way: there was never a time when all four of us wanted to do it. And each time it was always someone different who didn’t fancy it And I’m actually glad of that now. Because the Beatles’ work is a body of work. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there. In the end we decided we should leave well enough alone. The potential disappointment of coming on and not being as good as the Beatles had been… that was a risk we shouldn’t take

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Mark Ellen for Radio Times. (October 20th-26th, 2007)

Quotes from/about John:

1969:

JOHN: The point is, if George leaves, do we want to carry on The Beatles? I do. [inaudible; drowned out by mic feedback] And I’d just get another member of the group and carry on. But if The Beatles split, well, I’ll get another group. [to Paul and Yoko?] I’m a singer not a dancer, baby! Woo-hoo!

January 10th, 1969 (Twickenham Film Studios, London)

Friday, 21 March, John: “Everything we do, we shall be doing together. I don’t mean I shall break up The Beatles, or anything, but we want to share everything.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

MICHAEL: But funny enough, the other day, when we were talking, he said that he really did not want not to be a Beatle. He said he really looked forward – not, you know. Meaning he didn’t want that screwed up.

[T]he Beatles are always discussing, “Should we go on or shouldn’t we? Why are we together for now?” And what it gets down to is I like playing rock n’ roll and I like making rock n’ roll records. Now, I’ve got either the choice— if I want the whole LP to myself — is to get a few musicians together. Now, I know that— I’ve played with other musicians — just very rarely, but occasionally I’ve played with them — and it needs some work together to get anything going. I don’t like session men, so I try not to use them. I don’t like violinists or anything these days. I try not to use anybody but the Beatles. And if I wanted to make a record I’d chose the Beatles! I can say, “Give me a ‘Be Bop A Lula’”. So therefore, we’ve got that going. And even from a commercial point, when we discuss it, “What’s the biggest selling name? Beatles or John Lennon and The Fabs? Or George Harrison and The Fabs?” Which— Where’s our biggest market? It’s Beatles! Who are our closest friends? Beatles! Who do we have the most arguments with? Beatles. So Beatles is it!

John Lennon and Yoko Ono give a series of interviews at the Apple Corps building at 3 Savile Row, London (Friday, 12 September 1969).

JOHN: See they’re growing up too, you know. And uh, we all want Beatles still cause it’s, it’s a big power and it’s good power, you know. And we’ve no intention of splitting it, you know. Any of us. I can’t be specific about it, you know. But obviously, I’m deeply involved with Yoko, it has some…you know, maybe less reliant on the others but so it goes for the others too, you know. That as we’re all sort of branching out. Which we were occasionally all the time, you know. Like I did How I Won The War, I wrote In His Own Write and Paul wrote the music for Family Way, etc. and George went off to India with sitars and that. So it’s only, you know. We nip off and come back and do some work then nip off again, you know.

John and Yoko gave several interviews on September 12, 1969

[Will] The Beatles split up? It just depends how much we all want to record together. I don’t know if I want to record together again. I go off and on it. I really do.”

John Lennon, interview w/ Alan Smith for NME. (December 13th, 1969)

JOHN: I was really losing interest in just doing the Beatles’ bit – and I think we all were – but Paul did a good job in holding us together for a few years while we were sort of undecided about what to do, you know. And I found out what to do, and it didn’t really have to be with the Beatles. It could have been, if they wanted… But uh, it got that I couldn’t wait for them to make up their minds about peace or whatever. About committing themselves. It’s the same as the songs. So I’ve gone ahead – and I’d have liked them to have come along.

YORKE: Did you ever try to get them into the peace scene?

JOHN: I did a little at first, but I think it was too much like Yoko and me and what we’re doing and trying to get them to come along; and I think they reacted. I hassled them too much, so I’m really leaving them alone. Maybe they’ll come along, wagging their tails behind them, and if not, good luck to them.

John Lennon, interview w/ Ritchie Yorke. (December 23rd, 1969)

“This is why I’ve started with the Plastic Ono and working with Yoko . . . to have more outlet. There isn’t enough outlet for me in the Beatles. The Ono Band is my escape valve. And how important that gets, as compared to the Beatles for me, I’ll have to wait and see.

NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS DECEMBER 13, 1969

1970:

Why do you think he [Paul] has lost interest in Apple?

That’s what I want to ask him! We had a heavy scene last year as far as business was concerned and Paul got a bit fed-up with all the effort of business. I think that’s all it is. I hope so.

John Lennon interviewed by Roy Shipston for Disc and Music Echo (February 28, 1970)

John’s view is: “Okay. If this is it, this is it. We’ve all left the Beatles anyway.” If Paul were to approach him and say, “Let’s do it together again,” he probably would; with no more words, he probably would do it.

The Party's Over for the Beatles - written by Derek Taylor

Now even Lennon was prepared to hint at a positive outcome: 'I've no idea if the Beatles will work together again, or not. I never really have. It was always open. If somebody didn't feel like it, that's it! It could be a rebirth or a death. We'll see what it is. It'll probably be a rebirth.'

You Never Give Me Your Money – Peter Doggett

'Eventually,' McCartney recalled, 'I went and said, "I want to leave. You can all get on with Klein and everything, just let me out." Having not spoken to Lennon for several weeks, he sent him a letter that summer, pleading that the former partners 'let each other out of the trap'. As McCartney testified, Lennon 'replied with a photograph of himself and Yoko, with a balloon coming out of his mouth in which was written, "How and Why?" I replied by letter saying, "How by signing a paper which says we hereby dissolve our partnership. Why because there is no partnership." John replied on a card which said, "Get well soon. Get the other signatures and I will think about it.” Communication was at an end. Yet the press continued to believe, fired by hope more than evidence, that it was only a matter of days before the four men healed their wounds. The stories taunted McCartney, who fired off a letter to the prime offender, Melody Maker: 'Dear Mailbag, In order to put out of its misery the limping dog of a news story which has been dragging itself across your pages for the past year, my answer to the question, "Will the Beatles get together again?"...is no.' He had finally pronounced the verdict that was missing from his self-interview in April: the Beatles were no more.

You Never Give Me Your Money – Peter Doggett (note: John is stalling)

For McCartney, and maybe Harrison and Starkey as well, this signified hope. ‘For about three or four months,' he recalled years later, 'George, Ringo and I rang each other to ask, "Well, is this it, then?" It wasn't that the record company had dumped us. It was just a case of: we might get back together again. Nobody quite knew if it was one of John's little flings, and that maybe he was going to feel the pinch in a week's time and say, “I was only kidding.” I think John did kind of leave the door open. He'd said, “I'm pretty much leaving the group, but...” McCartney testified in 1971, ‘I think all of us (except possibly John) expected we would come together again one day.

You Never Give Me Your Money – Peter Doggett

John: George was on the session for Instant Karma, Ringo’s away and Paul’s – I dunno what he’s doing at the moment, I haven’t a clue.

Interviewer: When did you last see him?

John: Uh, before Toronto. I’ll see him this week actually. If you’re listening, I’m coming round. (Note: as AKOM point out, Toronto was before the divorce meeting. Why is he pretending it never happened?)

Feb 6th 1970 (audio snippet approx 1:14:00)

Interviewer: What about the Beatles all together as a group?

John: As soon as they’re ready, you know, we had half the Beatles on again at the Lyceum Ballroom. Uh it was George and me but we also had Delaney and Bonney and 17 piece band we had on, it was a great experience. Uh it should be like that you know, if we were doing that and all the Beatles wanted to come it would be great, and it would be no great thing about ‘oh the Beatles are coming back on stage’ like they expect, sorta of, Buddha and Mohammad to come on and play. I keep saying that, but that’s the fear the Beatles have, including me as a Beatle, about performing. It’s such a great – so much expected of us, you know, but you see George has been on tour with Bonnie and Delaney playing and I’ve been drifting around playing, it’s just playing isn’t the hang up. It’s going on as the Beatles that’s the problem for us.

1970 (audio snippet approx 1:23:00)

Interviewer: Do you care about making another Beatles album?

John: I think Beatles is a good communication media you know, and I wouldn’t destroy it out of hand or dissolve it out of hand. So that’s what I think about Beatles.

1970 (audio snippet approx 1:41:00)

Interviewer: Why do you think rumours like this start?

John: Because there was a lot of tension around the Allen Klein coming in days and the ATV thing going on, and the Beatles were under a lot of pressure and we had to be together all the time, fighting and arguing and listening to all the different business things. And so we’re taking a break from each other like we always did after a tour end. The business thing is like a heavy tour, in it we may get back in abbey road and a couple of singles and under a great strain you know, doing that business. And so now we’re just taking a break from each other.

1970 (audio snippet approx 1:41:00)

You can’t pin me down because I haven’t got- there’s no- it’s completely open, whether we do it or not. Life is like that, whether I make another Plastic Ono album or Lennon album or anything is open you know, I don’t like to prejudge it. And I have no idea if the Beatles are working together again or not, I never did have, it was always open. If someone didn’t feel like it, that’s it. And maybe if one of us starts it off, the others will all come round and make an album you know.

1970 (audio snippet approx 1:43:00)

In 1964 I produced a book, they were asking me that then, and why should I not write a book? The Beatles wanted me to do it, they wanted me to do these LPs, you know, they have nothing against it – I want George to produce and record any records he wants to. It doesn’t interfere with Beatle time, I use my own time to do other things and so do they. The Beatles will remain, there’s no doubt about that. And we’ve been saying it since She Loves You, we’re together and that’s it.

1970 (audio snippet approx 1:45:00)

I just uh I wanted to do it [announce the breakup] you know, should’ve done it. I think damn, shit, what a fool I was. But there were many pressures at that time, I think Northern Songs and all that was going on, it would’ve upset the whole thing. (Note: again as AKOM point out, the Northern Songs fight ended the day before the divorce meeting. Why would the pressure of Northern Songs impact John's decision not to announce the breakup?)

Lennon Remembers

1971:

INT: I asked Lee Eastman for his view of the split, and what it was that prompted Paul to file suit to dissolve the Beatles' partnership, and he said it was because John asked for a divorce.

JOHN: Because I asked for a divorce? That's a childish reason for going into court, isn't it?

John Lennon interviewed by Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld at the St. Regis Hotel, September 5, 1971

Well, there was this Japanese monk, and it happened in the last 20 years. He was in love with this big golden temple, y’know, he really dug it, like—and you know he was so in love with it, he burnt it down so that it would never deteriorate. That’s what I did with the Beatles.

John Lennon, interview w/ Alan Smith for NME: At home with the Lennons. (August 7th, 1971)

MCCABE: Let’s talk a bit about Paul’s aversion to Klein. From what we’ve read it seemed as if this wasn’t there in the beginning, even though Paul wanted the Eastmans to run things. But it came on later as things progressed. And yet despite this, we gather that Klein was still hoping that Paul would return to the group.

JOHN: Oh, he’d love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I’ve said that. In five years he’ll wake up.

MCCABE: But Klein is still hoping?

JOHN: He said to me, “Would you do it, if we got your immigration thing fixed? Or if we could get rid of the drug conviction?”

YOKO: And people don’t understand, you know. There’s so many groups that constantly announce they’re going to split, they’re going to split, and they can announce it every year, and it doesn’t mean they’re going to split. But people don’t understand what an extraordinary position the Beatles are in, you know. In every way. They’re in such an extraordinary position that they’re more insecure than other people. And so Klein thinks he’ll give Paul two years Linda-wise, you know. And John said, “No, Paul treasures things like children, things like that. It will be longer.” And of course, John was right.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

It was true, that when the group was touring, their work and social relationships were close, but there had been a lot of arguing, mainly about musical and artistic matters. I suppose Paul and George were the main offenders in this respect, but from time to time we all gave displays of temperament and threatened to ‘walk out’. Of necessity, we developed a pattern for sorting out our differences, by doing what any three of us decided. It sometimes took a long time and sometimes there was deadlock and nothing was done, but generally that was the rule we followed and, until recent events, it worked quite well. Even when we stopped touring, we frequently visited each other’s houses in or near London and personally we were on terms as close as we had ever been. If anything, Paul was the most sociable of us. From our earliest days in Liverpool, George and I, on the one hand, and Paul, on the other, had different musical tastes. Paul preferred ‘pop-type’ music and we preferred what is now called ‘underground’. This may have led to arguments, particularly between Paul and George, but the contrast in our tastes, I am sure, did more good than harm, musically speaking, and contributed to our success.

If Paul is trying to break us up because of anything that happened before the Klein–Eastman power struggle, his reasoning does not make sense to me.

John Lennon’s affidavit – From “The Beatles Diary Volume 2: After The Break-Up 1970-2001” by Keith Badman

JOHN: Yeah, Gilbert and Sullivan. I always remember watching the film with Robert Morley and thinking, “We’ll never get to that.” [pause] And we did, which really upset me. But I never really thought we’d be so stupid. But we did.

WIGG: What, like splitting like they did?

JOHN: Like splitting and arguing, you know, and then they come back, and one’s in a wheelchair twenty years later—

YOKO: [laughs] Yes, yes.

JOHN: —and all that. [laughs; bleak] I never thought we’d come to that, because I didn’t think we were that stupid. But we were naive enough to let people come between us. And I think that’s what happened. [pause] But it was happening anyway. I don’t mean Yoko, I mean businessmen, you know. All of them.

October, 1971 (St Regis Hotel, New York)

Q: "Did Klein hope to get Paul back into the group?"

JOHN: (laughs) "He came up with this plan. He said, "Just ring Paul and say, 'We're recording next Friday, are you coming?' So it nearly happened. Then Paul would have forfeited his right to split by joining us again. But Paul would never, never do it, for anything, and now I would never do it."

St Regis Hotel Interview, September 5th, 1971.

John would say things like, ‘It was rubbish. The Beatles were crap.’ Also, ‘I don’t believe in The Beatles, I don’t believe in Jesus, I don’t believe in God.’ Those were quite hurtful barbs to be flinging around, and I was the person they were being flung at, and it hurt. So, I’m having to read all this stuff, and on the one hand I’m thinking, ‘Oh fuck off, you fucking idiot,’ but on the other hand I’m thinking, ‘Why would you say that? Are you annoyed at me or are you jealous or what?’ And thinking back fifty years later, I still wonder how he must have felt. He’d gone through a lot. His dad disappeared, and then he lost his Uncle George, who was a father figure; his mother; Stuart Sutcliffe; Brian Epstein, another father figure; and now his band. But John had all of those emotions wrapped up in a ball of Lennon. That’s who he was. That was the fascination.

I tried. I was sort of answering him here, asking, ‘Does it need to be this hurtful?’ I think this is a good line: ‘Are you afraid, or is it true?’ – meaning, ‘Why is this argument going on? Is it because you’re afraid of something? Are you afraid of the split-up? Are you afraid of my doing something without you? Are you afraid of the consequences of your actions?’ And the little rhyme, ‘Or is it true?’ Are all these hurtful allegations true? This song came out in that kind of mood. It could have been called ‘What the Fuck, Man?’ but I’m not sure we could have gotten away with that then.

Paul McCartney, on “Dear Friend”. In The Lyrics (2021).

Q: “If you got, I don’t know what the right phrase is… ‘back together’ now, what would be the nature of it?” JOHN: “Well, it’s like saying, if you were back in your mother’s womb… I don’t fucking know. What can I answer? It will never happen, so there’s no use contemplating it. Even if I became friends with Paul again, I’d never write with him again. There’s no point. I write with Yoko because she’s in the same room with me.” YOKO: “And we’re living together.” JOHN: “So it’s natural. I was living with Paul then, so I wrote with him. It’s whoever you’re living with. He writes with Linda. He’s living with her. It’s just natural.””

St. Regis Hotel Interview, September 5, 1971

1973:

My last question was inevitable… Any chance of us seeing the four Beatles on a stage or record together again? “There’s always a chance,” grinned John. “As far as I can gather from talking to them all, nobody would mind doing some work together again. There’s no law that says we’re not going to do something together, and no law that says we are. If we did do something I’m sure it wouldn’t be permanent. We’d do it just for that moment. I think we’re closer now than we have been for a long time. I call the split the divorce period and none of us ever thought there’d be a divorce like that. “That’s the way things turned out. We know each other well enough to talk about it.””

John Lennon, interview w/ Chris Charlesworth for Melody Maker. (November 3rd, 1973)

MINTZ: Would you want to initiate that happening?

JOHN: Uh… Well, I couldn’t say. [long pause]

MINTZ: If you could, I mean is it something you would like to see yourself doing?

JOHN: If I could… I don’t know, Elliot, because you know me, I go on instinct. And if the idea hit me tomorrow, you know, I might call them and say, “Come on, let’s do something.” And so I couldn’t really tell you. If it happens, it’ll happen.

MINTZ: So it’s not something that you would totally rule out as never taking place again?

JOHN: No, no. My memories are now all fond and the wounds are healed. And if we do it, we do it, if we record, we record. I don’t know. As long as we make music.

November 1st/10th, 1973 (Malibu, Los Angeles): For Eyewitness News on KABC TV Los Angeles, Elliot Mintz

1974:

“No, no, no,” he answered and he meant it. “I’m going to be an ex-Beatle for the rest of my life so I might as well enjoy it, and I’m just getting around to being able to stand back and see what happened. A couple of years ago I might have given everybody the impression I hate it all, but that was then. I was talking when I was straight out of therapy and I’d been mentally stripped bare and I just wanted to shoot my mouth off to clear it all away. Now it’s different.

“When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

John Lennon, interview w/ Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life. (September 14th, 1974)

John seemed to be in a very strange state of mind about the dissolution. From the hints he had dropped since we had been together, I had learned that John’s departure from the Beatles had essentially been Yoko’s idea. Without Yoko to drive him forward, he felt strangely ambivalent about officially ending the Beatles at that moment. By nature, also, he felt inclined to take a position opposite from that of Paul McCartney. Paul desperately wanted that agreement signed. Whether or not it was the best thing for him to do, John, on principle, was inclined not to want to sign it.

May Pang, Loving John. (1983)

I’ll tell you exactly why I said that. We had a business meeting to break up The Beatles, one of the famous ones that we’d been having — we’re still having them 17 years later, actually. We all flew in to New York specially. George came off his disastrous tour, Ring of flew in and we were at the Plaza for the big final settlement meeting. John was half a mile away at the Dakota and he sent a balloon over with a note that said ‘Listen to this balloon.’ I mean, you’ve got to be pretty cool to handle that kind of stuff.

George blew his cool and rang him up: ’You fucking maniac!! You take your fucking dark glasses off and come and look at us, man!!’ and gave him a whole load of that shit. Around the same time at another meeting we had it all settled, and John asked for an extra million pounds at the last minute. So of course that meeting blew up in disarray. Later, when we got a bit friendlier — and from time to time there would be these little stepping-stones of friendship in the Apple sea — I asked him why he’d actually wanted that million and he said, I just wanted cards to play with. It’s absolutely standard business practice. He wanted a couple of jacks to up your pair of nines. He was one great guy, but part of his greatness was that he wasn’t a saint.

Paul McCartney: An Innocent Man? (October, 1986) (note: John is STILL stalling)

At that moment, John was at his most unpredictable. Suddenly his fears that his money was going to be taken away from him, that he was going to be cheated, that he had to have as much money as possible, had all come into play. This was also John’s way of resisting the reality that the Beatles were officially about to come to end, and that Paul was about to prevail.

Loving John, MAY PANG (1983)

1975:

“At the time I was thinking that I didn’t want to do all that Beatles—but now I feel differently. I’ve lost all that negativity about the past and I’d be happy as Larry to do ‘Help’. I’ve just changed completely in two years. I’d do ‘Hey Jude’ and the whole damn show, and I think George will eventually see that. If he doesn’t, that’s cool. That’s the way he wants to be.”

John Lennon, interview w/ Chris Charlesworth for Melody Maker: Rock on! (March 8th, 1975)

1976:

“I’ve always felt that splitting up was a mistake in many ways” John Lennon has said, and he believes a Beatles revival “would undoubtedly produce some great music.”

Australian Woman’s Weekly, 1976

1980:

“I and the other three former Beatles have plans to stage a reunion concert…” (Part of a statement in the legal disposition brought by Apple Corps against the ‘Beatlemania’ stage musical for trademark infringement. John was referring to an event that was to be filmed for a documentary being put together by Neil Aspinall. It was abandoned/shelved after John’s death, but ultimately became the Anthology project)

John Lennon, 1980

“Just days before his brutal death, John was making plans to go to England for a triumphant Beatles reunion. His greatest dream was to recreate the musical magic of the early years with Paul, George and Ringo … (he) felt that they had traveled different paths for long enough. He felt they had grown up and were mature enough to try writing and recording new songs.”

Yoko Ono, quoted in The Beatles: The Dream Is Over - Off The Record 2 by Keith Badman

[finniestoncrane]

Yanno what id love to ask this purely for self indulgent reasons. What do you think of arkham eddie with an SO who's also autistic since we all are pretty damn sure he is? Like does the connection between them happen faster due to similar communication styles, how does he feel about parallel play, etc

YOU ARE JUST PREACHING TO ME THIS IS URGH and it made me feel so soft and warm. i'm going to try and NOT make this about my self-insert oc, but this is literally her and eddie, they are autistic 4 autistic/bisexual 4 bisexual love

but yeah, this is my daydreams literally written out 💚

i figure eddie would never have been diagnosed. he's old enough to not have been identified as anything other than "gifted" at school and i think his parents seem like the type who would avoid diagnosis out of ~shame~ so he'd be misdiagnosed or not diagnosed at all (until batman comes along with his non-degree and decides eddie is an obsessive compulsive narcissist. which yeah, fair. but also hello pot, this is the kettle speaking????)

anyway i think he would avoid all long-term relationships out of trust and a need to prove himself as above human needs and completely elf-sufficient, but it'd be easiest for him to get on with someone who is also autistic, even if they had very different communication styles. and i bet that would confuse him at first like "why does this idiot not bother me as much as all the other idiots"

a lot of the "bonding" would be done in silence, and would probably come from a place of blunt honesty, where eddie realised he could trust his new friend because they're either not afraid enough to lie to him or are too honest to know better. and he'd relish the ability to turn to someone and say "you are making my space crowded with your existance and i need you to leave" without them getting all moody, because they'd understand immediately

there might be a point where he picks up on things that make his new buddy a lil bit different, but i think he'd recognise them as brilliance before he thought of them as something "wrong" with them. mostly, because he'd see himself reflected back. hyperfixations and obsessions with certain acts/scenarios/things, an either intense focus or a complete lack of it, prone to sensory overload (which eddie doesn't know the name of before he meets his friend, he just assumes he has anger issues and is bad for going into tantrums), and there's bound to be a point where they both come to the realisation that neither of them understands other people's emotions or morals (cue a shared conversation about how people think batman is acceptable but not eddie)

going back to the bonding in silence thing, he's 100% given the key to life when he realises parralell play works for him. like you're telling him that you can be in the same room with someone and do your own thing completely, but they're there if you think of a stupid pun or you want to walk over to them to say "look what i made" have them go "wow!" and then turn around and go back to work???? where has this BEEN all his life (although now that he thinks about it, he did enjoy quietly reading amongst the other inmates at arkham)

anyway, i think at a certain point he'd find the bravery to tell his new friend that he thinks they're soulmates. maybe he'd follow that up with a confusion about romantic intent or interest, maybe he'd request a formal recognition of their friendship. and no doubt his lil buddy would be confused until eddie says "we're soulmates because we are literally the same person. we do all the same things. we think the same way." and his friend is like "that's sweet, eddie. and yeah, we might be soulmates. but i think a lot of that is because we're both autistic"

and eddie is like

"we're both what? so you're? and i'm? OH!!!!!!!"

and then everything falls into place, like he's just solved a complex riddle he didn't even know he was working through and he's stuck standing there for a while like:

[writing-yarn-goblin]

GUESS WHAT, B*TCHES!

I’m baaaaaack!~

It’s March and I post whatever I fuckin’ want! Oh yeah, it’s a songfic!

Character: Sir Crocodile (a little bit of Katakuri Charlotte, but just a smidge)

Relationship: slight KatakurixXReader but also catching Sir Crocodile’s eye (and more)

Song: Sweet by Unlike Pluto

Warnings: forced marriage, drug mention, alcohol, Crocodile being himself

~*~

“Introducing for one night only! The beauty that pounds whiskey like a sailor and sings like an angel: (Y/N) (L/N)!”

You heard the crowd go wild.

The sigh that escaped your lips as you took a long drag of the almond-vanilla flavored cigar that was currently in between your gloved hands as you made your way to the stage.

The sway of your hips, the tight knee-high black dress with a sweetheart collar hugging your curves lusciously as your hair was kept messy, framing your face and to finish the look- a pair of Mary Jane kitten heel shoes.

Your lips were dark red but the rest of the make up was simple.

A little powder, cat-eye liner and blush.

A wink could decimate nations, said your fiancé once.

The lights on the stage were on you as the white fur coat you were wearing slid from your shoulders to your elbows as you gently gripped the microphone’s stand as your lips opened to do their thing.

“My baby and I like new silky sheets every night.

He buys me bourb' and whiskey neat,

And keeps on comin' every week…”

Your stare could only focus on the table were your lug of a fiancé was.

Charlotte Katakuri.

He seemed bored with his surroundings. Not really his scene but he had to keep up appearances as head of this town’s sweets factory. His mother made sure to pop out enough children to make an infuriatingly huge monopoly of different businesses just so she could have absolute control of most markets.

“Ooh, he wants the suburbs

When school's out for summer

And we live by his mother

I keep my drugs in the cupboard 'cause”

You could only look at him with a little spite.

“I'm only sweet when I'm high…”

You noticed that the normally serious face he wore suddenly made a move, his lips twitched downwards as he downed his LIT, completely in one gulp.

This finally got him.

He looked down at his drink as you kept singing your song, almost like if he was contemplating how guilty he felt to just have picked you from a line of potential wives his mother gave him and he just picked you.

Little, wild you.

You, whom he thought would be gracious enough to accept a marriage proposal out of the goodness of your heart.

‘What a shame’ he thought. ‘I thought this recent flight of fancy would keep her calm’ he argued with his head.

He didn’t noticed that he wasn’t the only one staring at the beauty with a savvy mouth.

He wasn’t the only magnate in this town.

“In class, I learned to lie

To pretty boys, to pass the time…”

She stared at him as she sang this particular verse.

How many times has she lied to him just to get him off her back?

How many times did she pretend to be okay in front of him?

How many times did her whispered words meant what they preached while he was in the passionate throes of sex?

He had it.

He stood up from his table and grabbed his coat, leaving on the table a shiny object with a scarp of paper that said “goodbye”.

He didn’t notice on his way out the door of the glare that was directed to him from the bar. Cigar smoke filtering out as he heard the man at the bar to bring the lady’s belongings to him, that he’d take care of her moving forward.

“'Cause I got that good shit, Alabastian pride.

Kiss the kids goodnight and take the Harley for a ride”

The man at the bar just grinned.

That seemed like Little Miss Sailor was in the market again.

Not that he had to do much.

She did it all her self in an act of defiance towards the softest yet most ruthless of the Charlotte’s. And she didn’t even get to the good part of this song.

The man at the bar was a tall man. Not as tall as Katakuri but still very tall. He had suffered the loss of a hand but that didn’t hinder him at all, he had prosthetics to make up for the loss of a limb, he just preferred the gold hook on his missing limb.

He saw how the lonely woman stared at the table bitterly, almost relieved that she didn’t have to talk to what he could firmly say was her boyfriend.

“Ooh, I get so bored, scrub the floors

Then get drunk while doing chores

Does he even know me…?”

He had enough of waiting.

“Waitress? I want that table.”

A woman like that deserved to be looked upon closely.

“Ooh, I'm never sure when he'll be home

Get into trouble on my own

I don't get lonely…”

You were still singing your little heart out as you batted your eyes to shake some of the tears. Katakuri wasn’t a bad man, but you would’ve rather to pick your own groom and wed because you wanted to.

Not because your own family wanted to have financial relief in these trying times.

Such was the life of the eldest daughter.

But no matter, you could firmly say that your groom-to-be was no longer in the horizon as he left with a disappointed frown.

“I’m only sweet when I’m high…”

You spoke the last verse, only to have the whole club erupt in howls and cheers.

With a bashful smile, you made your way behind the stage and down to the main floor.

You felt a little taken back when your things were on your usual table, but relieved when one of the waitresses directed you to your new table.

In the VIP section.

With your things.

You looked at how this dashing mystery man was taking a drag from his cigar and seemed to be pouring two glasses of champagne.

You had to be careful, however. This day and age, most men can and will do anything. But this man just massive and intimidating. The scar upon his face should’ve scared you but, you were used to men with…interesting features.

“Take a seat. We have a few things to converse about, Little desert flower.”

…to be continued?

[mustanggg]

This one felt cute 🥰 🤭

Rick and I have been dating ever since the prison. Now in Alexandria we both share a house with Carl and Judith.

We have been going out for a while now. Things have always been great, we protected one another and consoled each other when we lost someone. Through thick and thin we both came out on the top, together, side by side.

Yet a couple weeks after discovering Alexandria Ricks behaviour started to worry me. I noticed how he’s withdrawn himself from me and Carl. Coming home late, crawling into bed way after I’ve fallen asleep trying to wait up for him. And every morning I wake up to an empty bed. I ached for him but he wasn’t there.

I had no idea what he was doing in the time span he was away. We always shared everything and worked through whatever came at either one of us, together.

Not this time. This time Ricks shouldered this unknown burden himself.

There was a party tonight. Everyone wanted to celebrate the birthday of Spencer. I didn’t see the point of going through the trouble for a big celebration but Rick had already confirmed us two would make an appearance.

I was annoyed that Rick gets to ignore me then says I’ll show up to the gathering without asking me first. Still I decided to make an effort on my appearance in hopes Rick sees what’s his missing and comes to his senses.

Slipping on a black dress that snugs all my curves perfectly and comes down to your knees I pad downstairs in search of Rick.

Yet I try to hide my disappointment when I only find Carl, whose not dressed up sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Hey, how come you aren’t dressed?” I questioned the Grimes son as I looked around for my heels.

“Hanging out with Enid,” his short reply came as I cried victoriously at the location of my black heels.

“Be responsible. Have you seen your father?” I asked.

Carl shook his head and I fought the uncalled anger bubbling up inside me. Wasn’t he going to walk you to Spencer’s house? “Oh okay, well if he comes by tell him I’m already at the party,” I call over my shoulder as I walk out the door.

Making my way down the street towards the Monroe house I meet up with Rosita and Abraham. “Hey,” I greeted as I fell into pace beside them. “Let’s get this over with yeah?”

Abraham preached as the three of you walked up the front porch stairs, knocking on the door to announce your arrival.

Opening the door Spencer’s eyes brighten as he saw you. “I’m so glad you could make it! You look absolutely beautiful,” he smiled as his eyes wandered over my body.

Smiling politely in return I stepped into the house, surveying the gathering of Alexandria’s mingling in search of Rick. I sighed in disappointment, hoping that he wouldn’t abandon me here when it was his idea to attend.

Quickly locating the table holding the booze I all but sped walked over to it, instantly downing a shot. I relished at the burning of the liquid. Wasting no time, I downed another two in quick succession, ignoring Abrahams reasoning to take it easy.

Seeing your determination to get plastered Rosita latched onto my arm and pulled me into the crowd to mind, despite my vocal protests.

She led me around the room introducing me to members whose names I’ve already forgotten.

Trying to manoeuvre my way back to the booze table, I was cut short when Spencer blocked my path. “Hi,” he greets cheerily.

Smiling up at him I try to move around him but he continues to block my path. Annoyed I spin around and find a corner that’s less crowded, all to aware of Spencer trailing after me.

“Not your kind of crowd?” He asks as he sips his drink, despite how rude it may come across I only grunt in response.

Spencer’s babbling off, reminiscing about his old birthday memories before the rise of the dead when I felt someone’s eyes on me. Looking around for the source my eyes lock with Rick and I feel the tension leak from my body, offering him a tentative smile that he reciprocates.

Eyes never straying from my boyfriends my feet move towards him, like a moth drawn to a flame.

That is until a beautiful blonde women approaches Rick and steps up into his space. Jealously rises in me as she steals his attention.

Unknown to you, Rick tries to politely end the conversation so he can make his way towards you to finally hold you in his arms after so long.

I pretended to listen to Spencer talk about his family, when in reality my mind never once shifted from Ricks. The way his attention instantly slid to that woman’s when she approached.

As Spencer begins to laugh, I threw my head back and laugh along with him although I had no idea what he was saying.

My eyes seem unable to leave Rick who’s in a deep conversation with the Alexandrian blonde. Jealousy bubbles in me. Yet I know it’s only a disguise for the hurt at the way he allows her to touch him.

I trusted Rick, I knew he wouldn’t cheat on me but my life before the dead starting walking kept that doubt in me.

Other boyfriends cheated on me, I’d given them everything and yet it hadn’t changed a thing. I knew Rick wasn’t like that but I couldn’t help the nagging fear.

“Sorry, Spencer. I really need some air,” I politely excuse myself as I begin to make my way out onto the front porch, avoiding any eye contact with Rick.

As I step out into the night air I finally feel as though I can breathe. Yet my moment of tranquility is interrupted when I hear a pair of familiar boots step out onto the porch with me.

“Hey,” Rick drawls, quietly, dare say almost hesitantly.

I ignore him as I admire the stars shining against the dark night. Irritation begins to boil when Rick continues to try to capture my attention.

“Everything okay? You seemed a little off when you left the gathering.”

As Rick steps up behind me, I feel my emotions boil over as I whirl around to face him.

“Are you serious?” I hissed out, trying not to make a scene. “I’m surprised you noticed when that blonde seemed to have you clinging onto her every word.”

Rick just blinks at me, confused and taken aback. When he doesn’t offer up any words I begin to stalk down the front steps, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed.

“Carls friends with her son. There’s nothing going on between us I promise-“

“Don’t,” I warn him, anger battling my tears as I cut off his excuses.

I didn’t want to listen to him try to defend himself. Making empty promises I was all too familiar with. Promises that meant nothing and never stopped them from repeating their actions.

“Just don’t. Don’t bother trying to crawl into bed whenever you decide to come home either,” I tell him at the bottom of the stairs.

I make out his furious gait as he strides towards me, grabbing my arm to force me to face him. “What about you and Spencer? Huh? I seen the way you laughed with him! As though he was soo interesting!”

“I was making my way to you! I haven’t seen you in so long, all I wanted was to spend the evening with you. Yet you seemed to prefer to have that bimbo hang of your arm!” I seethed as I ripped my arm from his grip.

“I work with Deanna, of course Spencer and I are going to friends. That’s all we’ve ever been and you would know that if you bothered to pay me any attention!”

I didn’t wait for a reply as I stalked away from, undeniably mad at the audacity of Rick throwing Spencer back in your face. As though I were the problem.

On my walk back to the house I shared with the Grimes, tears of frustration trailed down my face.

I tried to wipe them away when I unlocked the door, not wanting Carl to witness me in this state.

Yet at the discovery of the dark and quiet house I allow them to flow freely as I climb the stairs to our room.

I don’t even bother to change. Unbuckling my heels, they fall to the floor as I crawl into bed. New tears following the trail of the old.

I grab Ricks pillow, drawing it to my chest as I curl into a ball, hoping the darkness whisks me into a dreamless sleep.

Yet I wasn’t so lucky as I tossed and turned way into the night, my thoughts and emotions running rampant.

The argument that had ensued between Rick and I played like a record.

I began to feel as though I overreacted. My past got in the way of clear thoughts and my old fears brandished newly as I accused him, someone I wholly trusted.

I’d begun to make up my mind to apologise to him and explain to him tomorrow morning when I heard the front door open and close.

I held my breath as I listened to him pad around downstairs, organising his bed for the night.

Guilt rose again at the reality of not falling asleep beside him. Sighing I sat up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed as I mentally prepared myself for the inevitable conversation.

As I padded down the stairs, I contemplated and replayed what I would say. How I could begin to make him understand my reaction.

“Rick?” I called out softly into the darkness, illuminated only by the moon shining in through the open blinds.

I heard the rustling of the blanket, encouraging me to step further into the living room. “Rick?”

“Yeah?” At his weary reply, I continued my journey to the couch. Sitting down beside him when he sat up to accommodate you.

“I’m sorry,” I began, palms sweaty.

“I overreacted. I didn’t mean to get so jealous. It’s just- my past relationships never ended well,” I tried to offer him a soft smile but found my lips uncooperative as I drug up the past.

“The recent one before the outbreak, I’d been so in love with him. Convinced he was the one I wanted to marry… except he wasn’t faithful.”

“I loved him more than he ever loved me. Loved him enough I didn’t read too much into the way he stayed out late. Welcomed the touch of other women at parties I accompanied him to,” I felt Ricks eyes on me.

“I overlooked a lot for love, until one night I finally caught him in bed with another woman. The way that girl touched you just reminded me of him, especially the way you didn’t nothing to fend her off.”

Ricks finger met my chin as he turned my head to face him. “Hey,” he whispered. “I tried to leave the conversation but she was so excited her son had another friend. Baby, I promise I have eyes for you, and you only,” he reassures me.

I saw the way his blue eyes burned brightly. The sincerity and honesty in them. I trusted this man, with my life. I pledged to myself that I’d grow to believe him.

“Okay,” I whispered before Rick leant forward and lightly pressed his lips against mine.

I felt relief blossom as Rick moved his lips against a mine, ever so softly. No rush. Just love igniting between the two of us.

When Rick pulled back, I felt myself become damp at the way he bit his bottom lip, eyes roving all over my face. Lust.

I climbed onto his lap, pushing him back into the couch as I latched onto his neck. Wanting to hear those delicious sounds that drove me wild but to also mark him for the other Alexandrian women to see.

Ricks hand grabbed onto mine thighs, massaging the exposed skin from my dress riding up as I bit down onto his neck before shooting it with my tongue.

A mewl slipped out to meet his groan as I sucked on his neck, brandishing his skin a dark red.

Abandoning his neck I reattached your lips as my fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing his back off the couch Rick slipped out of his button down, refusing to leave my lips.

My hands sprawled along his chest as I explored his skin, twirling his chest hair between my fingers.

Ricks hands fumbled to pull the dress over my head, discarding the forgotten fabric on the floor behind.

He separated from me to gaze down at my bare and flushed chest, gaze darkening as he took me in perched on top of him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, admiration coating his words.

I felt warmth fill my chest as I gazed back at the man who unknowingly held my heart in his hands.

I began to lift yourself off his lap, smiling softly when he started to protest and grab onto me.

Standing I started to slide my underwear down my legs, maintaining eye contact with Rick, whose eyes shone so bright in the moonlight casting down upon him.

Snapping out of his trance, Rick jumped into motion and unbuckled his pants, pulling them with his boxers down before he kicked them away from the couch.

“Come here, baby,” Rick beckoned me back into his lap softly.

When I settled back into my previous position, Rick kissed me again. I felt the urgency in the roaming of his hands but his lips were unhurried as they moved against mine.

There was no rush as I explored one another’s bodies, trying to feel as much of the others skin against my own.

Yet need began to build in anticipation at the feel of Rick, hard and pushing, against my stomach.

I pull back from him slightly, lifting my hips and grabbing ahold of him to hover above him.

The sight of Rick biting down on his bottom lip and gazing up at me through his long lashes pushes me down onto him.

Ricks eyes flutter close as I bottom out, sighing out in what sounds like a relief crossed with a groan. My own whimper slipping out to meet his as he stretches me.

“Jesus,” he groans out as he twitches inside me, as he hands knead my hips.

I lift myself up just to slide back down onto him, moaning out at the feeling of him. My pace never quickened as I savoured the feeling and sight of him beneath me.

“Rick,” I moan softly.

At that sound his eyes snap open and I squeal as he leans forward to wrap his arms around me to flip me over so he towers over me.

“I’m yours and you’re mine. It’s that simple,” he growls as he snaps his hips into mine.

I reach for him, plastering my lips against his as he molds his body onto mine. I loved the feeling of his body pressed all against me as he set a pace of hard but slow.

“Harder. Rick please,” I begged into his ear.

I lifted my leg to slip around his hip to better accommodate him and we both groaned at the feeling of him slipping deeper.

Ricks hips stuttered at the desperation I held for him but he obliged, slamming harder into me.

The sound of his throaty groans in my ear fueled the fire inside me

“Fuck. I’m… I’m yours baby, all yours,” he groaned as he bottomed out, slowly pulling out only to slam back into me.

I cry out when his brutal thrusts hit something inside of me that had me raking my nails down his back.

My voice reached a needier octave as Rick continued his assault on that same spot, lifting off me to hold himself above me.

He looked ethereal above me. The moon complimenting his ocean blue eyes as his bared his teeth.

The feeling of him slamming that special place and the sight of the sweat dripping from his curls plastered to his forehead, eyes fluttering every time he slammed his hips into mine had me shattering around him.

“Rick!” I screamed out as my back arched and stars exploded behind my eye lids.

Rick kept up his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm as I rode mine. “You’re.. fuck.. gonna make me come baby,” he groans out before he stills inside me.

I felt his hips slightly shake where he was pressed to me before he came undone, collapsing onto me as his whole body shuttered, riding out his high.

Sweat slicked bodies pressed against one another, I held him to me. Relishing in the weight of his body pressing against me.

@catt-leya so it took so long! 🤍

[summercreolefanfictioner]

jigokuraku drunk headcanons (modern au version)

ps. let's just say I wanna know what they do in the wild times (refer to my modern au fic on ao3 for more details) I also didn't include nurugai and mei cause they're kids huhu

gabimaru

does not get drunk

like zilch nada

it's sad cause he drank alcohol at the age of 8 or 9 as part of his training

and bcos his tastebuds are so numb, he actually has no idea if someone poisoned his drink or if he is drinking alcohol at all

might also be the designated driver lol

yui

you know takagi-san from "the teasing master takagi-san"?

the girl who teases her crush in a smooth way and the guy has no chance to get his revenge?

yep that's yui when she's drunk

makes gabimaru blush 24/7 by teasing him in her own innocent way

knows no boundaries bcos she is never ashamed to get close to him (he secretly likes it tho but it's better if they get a room 🫣)

even asked him to kiss her one time in front of their friends (they did but gabimaru held out a hand to cover their lips bcos yuzuriha wanted to take a picture)

does not get hangover

remembers what she did and is surprisingly happy about it

well as long as she's happy then gabi thinks all is well in the world

sagiri

the crying drunk

as someone who follows rules 24/7 and is never one to break down her strong facade, sagiri lets out her cool when under the influence of alcohol

would get soft and mushy abt every single thing

"gabimaru, your love for yui is such an admirable thing!"

😭😭😭

"I am glad I met a person like you, yuzuriha!"

would also mention names of couples from dramas she binge-watched (fyi sagiri is a major fangirl of theatres and dramas as per canon)

gets hangovers

ends up sleeping while crying

gets embarrassed abt what she did the next day

yuzuriha

the laughing drunk

anything can be filled with humor and she makes fun of anything

AND ANYONE (especially toma much to his own dismay)

would even console sagiri while she's crying bcos she loves her like that

even encourages yui to flirt with gabimaru openly just for the sake of getting a blushing pic of him as blackmail

is the main source of all drunk pics and vids

lowkey scared of senta when he's drunk bcos she is suddenly reminded of senta when he's in his study mode

everyone is suddenly friendly to her after drinking parties (some would still not hesitate to threaten her just kidding)

senta

strict scary drunk

the one who commands the rowdy crowd bcos he can and he will

yuzuriha thought senta will just be that one quiet drunk in the corner

until she remembered senta as a focused individual who lectures her bcos of her poor grades

even sagiri and tenza got mad respect towards him

he is clueless abt this alternate personality

and yes no one tells him abt it

toma

the angry drunk

I swear he is angry at anything and anyone

would even pick fights bcos he believes he is righteous like that

it's like shugen has another brother from the criminal side of things 👀

would still go boasting abt how his older bro is the coolest guy he's ever met

but will also fight him bcos he is drunk and his vision is blurry so he doesn't recognize he is speaking to him

would challenge everyone to a drinking game, especially fuchi and gantetsusai

he loses tho

barfs everywhere (might've slept on them too)

is the one who threatens yuzuriha the next day despite hangover

chobe

the buddha drunk

yeah chobe is wild and brash and has that typical yankee attitude but when he drinks, he suddenly turns into the wisest man alive

preaches good things abt life much to toma's chagrin

even tells gabimaru not to resist yui's flirting attempts bcos she is showing her love like that

tells stories abt how he saw toma as a baby and how it turned his life for the better

"I don't mind doing everything for my brother"

he says that with a gentle smile on his face (creepiest thing ever)

would also cry with sagiri abt soft and mushy things

he's not bothered by his drunk antics tho (but toma is hence why he is on his way to strangle yuzuriha)

tenza

delirious drunk

like he sees things no one sees and laughs about it

acts like he's best buds with everyone

has the habit of taking his clothes off bcos it's so warm and he's feeling hot (does not even care if there are people around)

would even defend this habit by saying "being naked should be normalized! people don't wear clothes centuries ago!"

does not remember everything until nurugai tells him abt it

apologizes to everyone the next day

shion

another delirious one

tbh he can handle alcohol so well but for a blind man, he "sees" things (based on his pov lol)

he tells everyone how tenza looks like a slug of meatball

also walks in a zigzag manner but still thinks he's walking on a straight path

in fear that he might be involved in further accidents, fuchi decides to throw the liquid out of his cup out the window

lectures everyone the next day abt how excessive drinking can ruin their lives (um excuse me????)

shugen

another crying one

tbh no one really invited him (except for sagiri)

is actually a combination of sagiri and toma tho

would fight everyone but would also cry when the other person fights back

"why are you fighting me? didn't you know that war is bad?"

lectures gabimaru abt not flirting back with yui

"you should be grateful your lady is showing adoration for you and your manliness"

mans up the next day and takes responsibility for his shameful actions

jikka

the drunk who acts like they're soooooo drunk

I won't elaborate any further cause jikka is always drinking in the manga

yes he also has blackmail pics and videos like yuzuriha

beware of him at all costs

fuchi and gantetsusai

designated drivers

I joined these two bcos they both observe the people at the party

and they could really hold their alcohol pretty well

at par with gabimaru ngl

would always look out for shion in case he destroys things

also calms senta down when he's angry

tbh gabimaru was their designated driver lol

but bcos gabimaru is ummm "busy" with his wife, they're the ones tasked with taking care of everyone

teases the shit out of everyone bcos no one fights against them

[drdemonprince]

hey, i just read your post on ig about boycotting brands and collective organisation. as an audhder, the examples of actions for collective organisations are impossible for me to participate in. up until now my main form of "participation" has been educating myself, talking to (the very few) ppl around me about social unfairness and boycotting on my end and yeah i feel desperate a lot of times bcs i see other people not giving a shit and it makes me extremely angry but i also don't want to start preaching when ppl take a smallest bit of pleasure that they can have in this shitty world.

what other actions can i take as a person that's extremely socially anxious, scared of crowds and has intense noise sensibility? i've tried protests and i managed to protect myself from the noise but they are emotionally and sensorially intense for me and it takes several days to recover.

i know there are other jobs to do in the background of organising and protests but im also the kind of person that can't follow a schedule.

thxxxx hoping to get an answer

Keep at it. Keep reading, keep informing yourself, keep growing in your distress tolerance. Right now you feel understandably upset because the unconscionable is happening right now, and so you want to jump in and do all that you can right now, but this is a battle for justice that will be many years in the making, and we need you in it for the long haul, so whether you can storm a McDonald's corporate office right now or not isn't the most important thing. You should invest in yourself as an asset to the cause as a long-term and enduring project. So keep reading. Keep reflecting on the calls to action you see. Keep asking questions like these. Only you will know your calling in the fight.

[kaciidubs]

I'm losing interest and will to write because of no feedback or interaction whatsoever and I don't know what to do because I love writing but this situation is killing me I feel trapped like I am locked inside a glass jar

Oh, my sweet, sweet nonnie, come sit with me, yeah?

I understand how you feel, trust me - it's so disheartening to want to write and actually write, but when you get around to sharing, and wanting interactions and have discussions about what you made, it just ends up feeling like you're preaching to an empty crowd.

It sucks, not getting feedback, even if it's just a little "you did great!" or "loved this!" on things you worked really hard for, and you have all the right to feel the way you're feeling.

In my personal experience, when I start to feel this way I always try to remember the reason of why I started writing in the first place.

To me, writing is something that's supposed to bring you joy, give you a little peace in your life and the freedom to create what you want, and as long as you're happy with what you wrote at the end of the day, then ultimately that's all that should matter.

And, of course, some days its harder to believe in that mindset than others, and sometimes it takes longer to get out of that feeling, but that's really what I believe, and I hope that belief can help you out, too.

I know the purpose of posting is inherently to get interactions and feedback, I'm not naive to that fact, but you shouldn't lose your passion over this lull.

All in all, please keep writing - even if you don't get any immediate reactions, people still see what you post, read what you write, and unknowingly to you, it could be their favorite thing they've seen in their day.

I hope I brought some ease to your burdens, nonnie, and I'm rooting for you!

[saltyluminaryvoid]

His Saving Grace

Chapter Two

1114 Klaus x future daughter reader

I recommend re-reading chapter one as I made some major changes. I know I promised this update two years ago, but university got in my way and when I came back to these old stories a lot of re-vamping took place.

Masterlist

The year is 2030, Y/N the daughter of Niklaus Mikaelson and Hayley Marshall. A powerful young witch which threatens the survival of Malivore. In retaliation Malivore unleashes a time fay to return to the past and kill Klaus to ensure his survival.Y/N is Hope’s younger twin, now that no one remembers who she is the job is left to y/n to stop Malivore.

                   “You still live in the silences between my thoughts.”

Y/N resisted the urge to sign impatiently as the crowds around her soared and rejoiced as the pastor preached. The loud voices screaming into her sensitive ears, highly agitating her short temperament. Y/N hated church, she was by no means an atheist but she was a witch and a woman living in a time where she could be hanged for simply defying authority. So with that in mind Y/N had begrudgingly entertained Alaric, to keep up the role as godly saints whom attended church every Sunday. 

For the past weeks tempers were high within the household, Alaric and Davina could only watch as she battled silently with her demons.  Putting up a saintly farce everyday in the village as boys swarmed for her hand in marriage and village girls scowled jealousy. As someone who was influenced by the strong women in her life, to always be true to ones self and to never shape shift into society's ideal, the pretense (and the besotted men) were killing her. Alaric was getting far too accustomed in his daily ritual of turning away marriage proposals from haughty mothers and corpse like men. 

Pulling her away from her thoughts was the strain of her far too tightly, bonded corset. Thank the old gods she was from a thousand years into the future. Now Y/N realized why her Aunt Rebekah mostly if not always bit the heads off every man she met. If I had to suffer almost seven hundred years in such a tightly wounded corset which restricted most movements I would have done the same Y/N thought impatiently. As the preacher vivaciously expelled the devil with the crowd, Y/N reaching a breaking point silently casting a notice me not charm and made her way to the exit, silently huffing as she straightened her ankle length, grey dress which carried a turtleneck-like neckline. She wore a pristine, white shirt underneath whose sleeves puffed loosely around her arms but knotted tightly below her elbows. On top of her grey dress carried a loose brown corset of sorts held together by a length of ribbon criss-crossed. This corset did not converge in the middle, rather it showcased about five inches of the grey vertical striped pattern upon the bust and midriff as to emphasise her figure. Stitched upon her grey skirt was a length of brown which stopped at least six inches above her grey ankle length skirt, but it was gauged elegantly upon her right thigh allowing an elegant stylish slide flow. After all she was her Aunt’s niece and secretly she hoped it pissed off the conservatives in the crowd. Oh yeah! that speech about playing the part was not translating so well into her everyday life. 

Finally reaching a safe distance, out of sight from zealous fanatics just upon the edge of the forest, she dropped the spell. Huffing a sigh of relief all Y/N now needed was a pack of cigarettes or some weed to make 1114 much more bearable. 

“That’s quite the trick you pulled back there, little strega.” Now that snapped Y/N from her inner thoughts. Spinning around in a quite unlady like fashion, for this period at least, more than ready to confront the intruder. Only to be left dumbfounded to the stranger standing before her. But with a practiced ease which came from years of sneaking out and around  the Salvatore Boarding School, Y/N layered on her oh so innocent Mikaelson charm. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?, I have to say I’m not aware of that particular term!” Lies, her mind rang out. Play cool, Y/N thought, talk him up just to get close enough and wipe his memory. Now that particular trick was her favourite. The stranger smirked coyly at her, “I think you know exactly what I mean, liten heks.” Y/N paced herself now, he knew old norse. Whomever this stranger was, he was clearly quite wealthy at that judging by his smooth velvet and silks in comparison to her simple cotton dress. Now she had to thread carefully, wealth clearly meant high influence and political sway in a community as small as this one. And that meant possible exposure, this man was a threat, Y/N deemed carefully.

“Now, now liten heks, the stranger went on, I mean yours truly none harm.” My heart is void of ill contempt and malevolence for one with such great power and beauty. As he spoke he drew closer towards her, his face now completely unobstructed from the mist of the early morning. Y/N exhaled softly, the stranger a man’s whose face see had seen everyday in her New Orleans home, a demon who hunted her from birth, Finn Mikaelson. But if he was standing before her, that meant the brotherhood had not yet daggered the Mikaelsons. This younger and less vengeful ghost was still a threat to her but quite possibly an accomplice. The fae had yet to reveal itself it was either supplementing its diet with animals or news of children going missing had been covered up. 

The fae according to the texts preferred a warm tropical climate, for if their wings were exposed to cold they would simply fall apart. A fae’s lifeline was linked to her wings, losing them could kill the fae but iron to the heart worked just as well. All in all, the upcoming winter was now days away and left no time for procrastination which meant Y/N directly disobeying Alaric to seek the creature out herself. A venture she had no luck in, the fae who boasted of powerful magics was able to cleverly keep herself hidden. 

“Not one for much words I see.” Finn Mikaelson was now standing toe to toe with her. That’s quite alright, he continue as he played with a stray curl. Y/n flinched away slightly as he stared into her eyes, carefully examining the details of her face. “If I didn’t know better, I could have mistaken you for my Freya.” Finn whispered as he continued to tug upon her curl. It was low and if not for her keen hearing it would have been swept to the winds.  Y/N kept her head high and passive, thinking to herself how much of a leering creep her elder uncle was becoming. Quite unlike all accounts of the uptight, wet blanket her uncle Kol always described. As his hand came up to caress her face, Y/N instinctively jumped back, conjuring fire within her palm which she kept safely tucked behind her. Finn only smiled sheepishly, “I seemed to have forgotten my manners, in the presence of a young lady.” I deeply apologise, I do not know what came over me, my lady.

Y/n relaxed slightly and utterly confused as the man introduced himself. As he began to speak on what not, Y/N could only stare at his face in a daze. It would take her some time to sort herself out, only to realize he had disappeared only to leave behind a simple envelope in her hand. Y/N thought back to the genuinely baffled daze Finn fell into as she made her way into town. To onlookers her face was almost dreamy, as if paying much more attention to the envelope she twirled in her hands rather than her path. But rather Y/N was silently contemplating the latent abilities of the fae and just how she could manipulate Finn into helping her.The fae a creature in the future known for its deceitful ways but that though made her wonder just how much accurate Alaric’s information truly was. It was done before, the supernatural popularized lies like silver bullets and garlic to throw suspicion off of them so what if the same was done with the fae? As Y/N ventured into the town’s market lost in her thoughts many eyes followed her, women and young girls gossiped of her weird behaviours and wayward thinking.

________________________________________________________________

Bloody hell, Y/N thought to herself. Now while the young witch prided herself on being a fashionista, dresses were her absolute nightmare, well behind her murderous grandparents and malivore of course. I do have my priorities in order, thank you very much.

Somehow Davina had managed to convince the stubbornest Mikaelson into another deathtrap these humans called corsets. Y/N huffed, begrudgingly following her “parents” out of their temporary home. While she was ecstatic to receive the dinner invite to the Mikaelson home hours prior from Finn which came in the form of the mysterious envelope he left behind, she still heavily detested that damn corset suffocating her. There was just no space to hide her knives!, What’s a girl in multiple skirts and a stuffy attire supposed to do to defend herself when all her knives were confiscated on this occasion. 

But nevertheless Y/N compiled it only to see her family again while also plotting to defy Alaric once again on his no knives at the dinner table rule. I mean, its not really a family reunion if someone didn’t have a devious plan in the works. 

________________________________________________________________

Servants scattered frantically to the sides, keeping their heads bowed as the feared Mikaelson hybrid descended the grand staircase stepping onto the foyer. Holding an impassive mask, Niklaus surveyed the immediate area ensuring the preparations to his liking. Stepping to the right of the grand foyer Niklaus strolled into the grand sitting room which doubled as a music room, the soft notes of the harp eased his twirling mind. 

Taking a seat on a velvet cushioned armchair, with hands clasped elbows resting on his knees and eyes closed Niklaus thought back to the hauntingly familiar pup no he corrected himself, child. Days had passed since their first encounter and thoughts of the child haunted him. In the strangest of ways he craved her presence, but not in a way a lover does. But this vastly unfamiliar pull deep inside him yearning and pushing his self control. But if Niklaus didn’t know any better he would have called it fatherly love and as unbelievably usurp that idea sounded in his head, he couldn’t help but let his mind linger on the possibility. Barr the facial similarities and attitudes that crossed with his, perhaps it was her life that resonated with him he knew all too well the struggles of an abused orphan. 

Just maybe when he meet her today, try not to give away how he always crept away at night to watch over her. By the old gods, what would Elijah think of his stalker like behaviour. If his enemies only knew of this attachment, if he only knew. Niklaus sat and wondered of the possibilities, so lost in his thoughts he nearly missed his guests arrival. 

__________________________________________________________________

Dinner surprisingly went smoothly, Klaus was utterly entertained by the ideas and thoughts of the young woman before him. Her guardian agitated him deeply with his distrustful glances and cold demeanor. 

Y/N on the other hand was on edge for an entirely different reason. As much as she wished to truly enjoy the rare company of her family, she could not help but be worried about the whereabouts of Finn. Given the  strange behaviour she witnessed earlier from him and his sudden disappearance she could not help but ponder the worst, especially given the current circumstances. It could be entirely possible Finn had aligned himself with the fae in order to rid himself of Klaus and the others. As far as she recalled, Finn had never been too particularly fond of the vampiric lifestyle and it is certainly within his motives to fix the balance of nature and forever end the vampire lines.

The rest of the night in the company of the Mikaelsons continued smoothly, with the exception of Kol getting a little too drunk and flirting with Davina. Y/N was able to enjoy the company of her lively Aunt. Soon came the peak of the full moon and the makeshift family slipped away to trap the fae. As Davina gathered the necessary ingredients for a binding ritual and Alaric his iron weapons, Y/N shared her suspicions of Finn and him possibly knowing her true identity. Both had agreed that Finn would be a potential suspect in aiding and plotting with the fae to get rid of the Vampire Sire line, him included. With caution in mind, the trio made their way towards the woods where Y/N last spoke to Finn. Since, Finn was most likely aligned with fae, the two would track him using Y/N’s blood, a plan which quickly came to a stop when the magic revealed the family together in their manor. 

Relief didn’t last as the winds picked up around the trio and both Y/N and Davina picked up the excited whispers of dead witches. The brotherhood so it seemed had finally succeeded in crafting the daggers it was only a matter of time before they used it. Huh, maybe it was her paranoia seeping in earlier and Finn was just too ashamed of his earlier behaviour to make an appearance at dinner.

@physically-a-cheesecake​ 

@goldencassy​ 

@sujusfs14499​ 

@alyssatjuhhh​

[eb0ny-raven]

“You look pretty good for a corpse.” The villain's voice broke through the silence behind the hero. They tensed for a moment. The hero glanced behind them from their cross-legged sitting position on the ledge, but blinked and turned back to the crowd below.

“So do you.”

“Are you okay-y’know, with this?” The villain rested a hand on the hero’s shoulder and felt it rise with their breath.

The hero’s exposed skin flushed with goosebumps when a lazy gust of wind blew over the roof. The chilly air stung even the villain, who wore a thick black coat and gloves.

“I will be.” They answered, releasing the air, still focused on the mass of people. They’d gathered to mourn their hero, bundled in dark clothing and packed together in the streets. Some sang in solidarity, voices echoing through alleyways and open windows.

Small lights—either flame or flash—dotted among them, flickering in the cool breeze, especially as the sun drowned below the skyline. “I will be.”

The villain took a few steps to the edge, then settled next to the hero and dangled xer legs in free air. Xe didn’t know wether to reach out to the hero with warm assurances and a kind smile, or something closer to the witty banter the two shared over the years, but xe knew they weren’t as experienced with this kind of loneliness, and anything would be better than letting their feelings fester. “So, do you—“

“Was this the right thing to do?” The hero asked, head abruptly turned to face the villain, their hair and stocking cap slightly obscured their face.

“The right thing?”

“Yeah.”

The confusion in the hero’s voice quickly shut down any quirky retort building on xer lips.

On any other day, the villain might have poked fun at their indecision.“If you’re asking me, you must be really grasping at straws.” They instead responded with the truth.

“I think it was the only thing.”

The hero’s eyes fell back to the street, where the citizens had now gathered in front of the capitol building, where a small woman, the Mayor, stood proudly, probably shivering, but still preaching from a modest podium.

In the news, they’d seen the plans for a new memorial. Create a bronze statue in their central park, then name said central park in honor of their fallen hero.

“But what if I miss it?” They whispered, like even the utterance of such a thought filled them with shame.

It nearly broke the villain’s heart.

Xe took off one of their gloves, and grabbed one of the hero’s hands in xer own. The feeling burned the hero’s skin, such a sudden warmth into their palm.

“You might, but you’ll move on. And so will they.”

The hero let out a shaky breath, releasing a cloud of frozen vapor into the air, and nodded. The two settled into a comfortable silence, listening to the crowd below. The villain caught glimpses of a smile whenever the cityfolk cheered, and as a few minutes past, xe noticed the hero’s posture relax (as much as it could in the cold).

“Oh!” The villain suddenly broke the silence with a hand slap to xer forehead.

“What?” The hero rolled their eyes and playfully bumped the villain’s shoulder.

“I completely lost track of why I came out here.” xe quickly got up and walked to where they had interrupted the hero’s presence in the beginning.

The hero turned around and laughed as the villain picked up a bundle of dark fabric. “I was out here,” xe started, gathering the cloth and making xer way back to the ledge, “because I thought you might’ve wanted this.” The hero took the woolen bundle from the villain and shook it out.

“A coat?” They scoffed, “and here I thought you came out to hassle me about being dead.”

“Takes one to know one,” the villain smiled back, flashing xer teeth, “sides’, don’t want you actually dying out here.” The hero shook their head but shrugged on the coat. The villain settled back beside them.

“Is this one of yours?” They asked, eyeing the sleeves, an eyebrow raised.

“…no.” The villain swallowed a smile and tried to stop heat from flushing xer face.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was, y’know.”

“Well—it’s not. Sorry.” The villain covered in short, awkward bursts. The hero dropped their eyebrow in exchange for the thin-lipped smile. They sighed and leaned against the villain, head resting on their shoulder.

“Bummer.”

[passivenovember]

You know what? 

Necromancy for Dummies, Harringrove Week Day Two!

--

So, yeah.

It had been ten years since his last real relationship. A decade since Nancy Wheeler dumped him at Tina's Halloween party and Steve had heard opinions from everyone in his life about his refusal to move on.

Dustin thought there was no time limit on heartbreak. Told Steve he shouldn't be ashamed of taking time for himself, of taking a breather to work through his abandonment issues.

It made Steve feel good to have it reaffirmed, like he was getting a gold star for standard participation.

Robin, on the other hand, was of the belief that Steve should fuck anything with a pulse. Given that the thing could consent. She preached constantly about the therapy of the blowjob (both giving and receiving) and Steve thought it was a little odd for a lesbian to condone pegging like that but who was he to judge?

At least she was supportive, if a little brash, but he'd rather hear it from her than his Nonna, anyway. .

Dustin always rolled his eyes and repeated, insistently; that Steve should do what made him feel comfortable, not adhere to peer pressure or goading at the hands of a certain crowd favorite lesbian, and for a decade Steve had agreed.

It was his life. His lack of love, his mental breakdown, and Steve would experience it any way he saw fit.

Dustin was ecstatic. Told Steve he was proud of him--inspired, even, that sex and relationships weren't the hottest topic on his mind, but.

Dustin couldn't have been more wrong.

Steve thought about love constantly. Thought about holding hands and baking cookies on rainy Saturday mornings with someone who saw beyond what Steve presented to the world, and as the weeks turned into months that turned into years, it became impossible to ignore the aching in his chest to be completed.

He was good at hiding it. The want. The need for connection.

And sure, it was a primitive construct that everyone needed someone. Sure, it wasn't an actual necessity and Steve knew his worth as an individual wasn't defined by his access to a romantic partner and yada-yada-ya, but.

Then Nancy and Jonathan got Married.

And Dustin got Married.

And Mike and El moved in together.

And everyone was moving forward with their lives, even his Nonna, who had started dating new men every Saturday night after the death of his grandpappy Ralph.

And, maybe, Steve started to feel like a loser.

Just a little.

Like he was defective and unloveable and he tried not to mope his way through life, as a rule.

At least he still had Robin--the last single girls, the two of them.

But then, two weeks before Halloween, Robin got engaged and Steve didn't know what to do.

--

“You know that weird little friend of yours is getting married.”

”I know, Nonna.”

”The lesbian.” Which. Steve didn’t know why she kept calling Robin that. As if the two of them weren’t thick as thieves, best friends who played bag gammon together and smoked pot to quell Nonna's rising blood pressure. “And I don’t hold anything against the homosexuals, Stevie—“

”I know.”

She kept right on talking. Swallowing smoke, cough rattling the receiver against Steve’s head. “Hell, even I had my adventures back in the day.”

And. Yeah, Steve pushed his food to the side, suddenly overcome with queasiness.

“Did I ever tell you about Margot?” She asked. He could feel a story coming on.

”Nonna, I really don’t—“

”Breast’s like candy apples, for Christ-sake--"

"Please stop." He begged. Steve could barely handle the stories about grandpappy Ralph. 

"Alright Stevie, I get it. Once a woman turns fifty she stops being human. You know, for a witch you have incredibly narrow views of sexuality." Nonna leaned away from the phone, the tiny plastic tops of her hair rollers rattling when she yelled at Bride, her asshole cat.

Steve bristled. "I don't have--"

"You're kind of a prude, honey bunch." She was mostly kidding. Steve had spent the majority of his childhood learning the difference and he could tell that Nonna was grinning, somewhere on the other end of the line. "I blame your father." She said.

And they always did. He was mortal, practically puritan by the way he ruled over Steve's childhood with an iron fist.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"What, like how Robin is worried about you?"

Steve nearly dropped the mug in his hand. "You talk about me?"

"Of course we do." 

He was mortified. Nonna didn't seem to notice, chuckling as she poked and prodded. "What else would we talk about? Besides candy apple breasts, of course."

"Oh my god, Just." Steve groaned, burying his head in his hands. "Stop it. I swear to God I'm gonna--"

"God?" She chuckled again, that raspy smoker's laugh reaching through the phone to pull a smile out from Steve's chest. "Honey, if God were real don't you think he'd take pity on the desperate?"

He opened his mouth to argue--

And then closed it again because she was right. As usual. 

Steve was, well and truly, desperate in every sense of the word. He sighed and got up from the couch to pour himself another cup of coffee, his third for the night--sleep was out of the question.

Nonna took his silence as an opportunity to clear the air. "Robin also said you're her best man."

"Mediocre is more accurate, I dunno about Best--"

"And you know it's tradition for the best man to have a date, right Stevie?" Nonna paused, clearly trying to gauge his reaction. "It's bad luck for him not to."

Steve snorted. "You definitely just made that up. Right now. On the phone." He could practically see the swipe of her manicured hand in his minds eye.

Could feel her taking a swig of gin, blotting her mouth with a napkin as she said, "Details. The point is, honey bunch--the homosexuals are getting married. Hell, Nancy's been married for three years to that patient stoner boy." The distant flick of a lighter filtered through the receiver. "What was his name again?"

"Jonathan," Steve said around a slice of pizza.

"Yup, that's the one. And even that scrawny kid with the law degree--"

"Mike," He scrubbed a hand across his face. Nonna tried to remember the names, but. In her words: there were too many fuckers to take seriously.

She snapped her fingers at the realization. Smug little shit.

"Uh-huh, even Harvard has a live in partner. Point is: they can get married. All of them in their nerdy, scrawny, pale faced glory. And if they can somehow find love, why can't you?"

Steve felt his checks go pink with embarrassment. Here he was, gobbling pizza in his living room though no one was around to see it, and.

There were about a trillion and one answers to that question.

Why can’t you.

As a rule, Steve tried not to mope his way through life. That's not to say that there weren't things to complain about--Steve kept an itemized list in his sock drawer, for Christ’s-sake, and liked to pull it out for a refresher when things were moving a little too well.

He was so uncool. The absolute lamest, whenever shit got hopeful.

For starters, he was twenty eight and still afraid of the dark. Call it the result of phantom trauma, call it good sense--he had to use the tiny flashlight on his phone when moving about his house after the sun fell from the sky.

Setting appointments over the phone was his worst night mare. He let the trash get smelly before taking it out to the bin and spiders took up entire rooms when they made an appearance in Steve's apartment. He slept in front of the T.V. most nights because his bed felt too big and too empty but perhaps the worse thing of all--dweebiness and general child like wonder aside--was that his Nonna had started to notice.

And Nonna was a powerful witch, but she wouldn’t be able to pick up on a rotting corpse if it was dead in her living room

Steve shrugged, remembering again that no one could see him. "There aren't any hopefuls on my list."

"None at all?" Nonna said in disbelief. "Come now. My grandson is strapping--handsome and smart and a wiz with potions and brews." Nonna fell silent for a moment, the soft puff-puff-puff of her cigarette reaching through the atmosphere like limbs from a tree.

Finally; "We could always find you a love spell, slip an elixir into someone's tea. Someone you fancy."

Steve snorted. "Right, because that'll do wonders in quelling the rumors that I'm a stage five clinger."

"Who's saying that?" Nonna demanded. "Give me a lock of their hair and I'll make sure they stop saying anything."

And Steve knew she would.

Nonna had hexed three kids for stealing his lunchbox in the fifth grade for a whole lot less, and he had no doubt she'd do it again.

Still. He was reluctant to spill the metaphorical beans. "Just, kids in high school,” Steve clarifies. “When I was with Nancy--"

"Doll, that was ten years ago. Ten years." Nonna said, her smoky voice cresting the height of annoyance. "Besides, clinginess is just another term for loving selflessly and fearlessly, even when it's inconvenient."

She lit another cigarette. "What would Nancy Wheeler know about that?"

--

There were rules that came with being a witch. An etiquette, you could say, specifics that sucked all the fun out of having unlimited power. In many cases witches weren't exposed to higher magicks--either for lack of skill or self-control.

Steve's family colored outside the lines, so to speak. 

Nonna believed that there was no such thing as white or black Magick--just spells.

Just desire and intent and power. Truckloads of it, all waiting at the tips of his fingers if he knew where to look, and Steve never got in trouble for following his gut instinct. Not when he turned Tommy H. into a frog, not when he used magick to cheat on tests, and certainly not when he hexed people who deserved it.

Thus a culture of independence emerged around the young witch. A steely belief that there was no right or wrong, only his will.

His design.

You could say that was the first mistake.

--

The first time Steve reanimated a corpse was the day his lizard died.

Corncob was his familiar, which made it immensely difficult to wrap his head around the possibility of death. Steve's mother said it was a bad omen, that he hadn't properly sorted his intent before casting and thus the energies had taken something from him as payment.

Nonna said it was just the way of life.

All God's creatures pass on, Stevie. God notwithstanding.

But it was a fact he refused to accept. Steve didn't eat for days after Corncob's passing, refraining from drinking water, even, as he figured out what to do.

No right.

No wrong.

Only his will.

So Steve broke into the attic. Wrapped himself in a corner stacked with books and manuscripts on darker subjects, read until it felt like his eyes were melting out of his skull. 

There among the cobwebs Steve got his answer; necromancy.

The world felt slippery in his mouth. Steve knew it was mostly forbidden, especially for younger witches, but the thick, leather bound volumes had said it was rather simple to reach through the veil and breathe life into those one couldn’t bare to part with.

To bend the rules to fit his will, Steve was desperate; familiars weren't supposed to leave their masters, and he missed his friend dearly.

So, a life for a life.

That was the price, the books said. Steve made sure to iron out his intent this time.

He planned for days; gathered supplies under the guise of mischief--simple spells like making someone's hair fall out--until the moon was waxing and he convinced his mother to let him cast during the witching hour--his first of many. The incantation was to be said right as the clock struck midnight. Thrice thine and thrice mine, and thrice again to make up nine--

Steve sliced his palm and let an offering of blood feed the energy of the night.

Come morning corncob was eating flies like nothing had happened. Talking, like always, like before. The books said sometimes the soul got trapped in the in-between, but. Steve didn't notice a difference and Nonna didn't ask questions.

She told him he was powerful.

She told him it was rare that a witch of his age had the fortitude to reach into the veil, and he should be proud that he had been given such a precious, valuable skill.

Nonna told him that death was his gift.

You could say that was the second mistake.

--

Steve couldn't get the conversation with Nonna out of his head.

Robin was getting married and he was desperate. Single and restless, undesirable and frumpy--a whole list of things--stuck in a big Scooby-doo house with manuscripts on Wichcraft and Embalming that definitely were no help in getting him laid. 

After Nonna turned in for the night Steve poured himself a glass of wine, which he drank over a book on potions.

He poured himself another to make it through an embalming session; the corpse had started to smell and it was gravely unpleasant.

Steve took a shower and drank another to help him fall asleep.

It didn't work.

He poured a fourth glass of merlot and sat in front of the fireplace with the bottle cradled to his chest.

It was true. 

Everyone in Steve's orbit had moved on. Found love and success beyond running a Mortuary and Steve had thought about returning his gift so many times. Apparently botany and hearth witches were hot on the ticket of romance; everyone wanted flowers and tea cakes from their lover but the gift of death--helping spirits cross over, providing relief to grieving families, reaching into the veil in his search for lost spirits--while practical in use, was too weird for many.

For most. Of the people Steve had dated, at least. 

No mater what, witch or mortal, the same complaints always arose; Embalming fluid is not a valid form of cologne! Reanimating dead opossums on the side of the road is Creepy and Gross when they start following us around, asking for food! Conversations with dead people are not appropriate when I take you to meet my parents!

All the attributes Steve possessed weren't high on most people's lists when looking for a suitor. It's not like there were many witches running around, and even then.

Necromancy could be frightening. 

What with the vengeful spirts and the gaping hellmouths ready to swallow unsuspecting mortals, but Steve's gift was useful. And valuable. He felt whole and helpful and good when he could help people process complicated topics like death and he felt.

Powerful.

So powerful when he could fix it for them; bring back a child who had died too soon, or a man who had passed before the birth of his son. The kind of rush he received--Steve was taught never to fear power but to take it. Wield it. Forge his own path, create his own story--

"I should build a boyfriend." Steve said suddenly. 

As wine dribbled down his chin, Corncob awoke from his terrarium in the corner, cocking his head to the side like ‘Pussy won't.’

"Pussy will, you fucking dick." Steve rose on shaky feet and pulled his manuscripts from the book case. Leafing through them recklessly even as the words slipped around the page, he ached to find the answer. Five glasses of wine would serve him well tonight. 

"I can't believe I never thought of this before." He stared at Corncob. "Why didn't you think of this before?"

The lizard stared at him, glassy eyes quizzical. ‘Don't look at me, I'll have none of your necromancy.’

"You choose now to harness a sense of mortality?" Steve tossed the first manuscript to the side and propped open a second, biting his lip as he scanned the index for his favorite passage.

‘What are you searching for?’

"The Abi-Dalzim passage." Steve lamented distantly. They knew it well, had employed it when the Markson twins died of cancer before their fifth birthday.

Corncob wasn't on board with it that time, even though the children's mother had stopped eating.

Corncob was never on board with anything.

He was a terrible familiar. ‘Is that really a good idea?’ The lizard reasoned.

Steve closed the second manuscript and opened the Demonomicon. Volatile energies worked best, sometimes. "Every idea is a good one."

Corncob's tongue flicked out to lick his eyeball. ‘We haven't exhausted our other options.’

And that.

That was laughable. "I haven't had a partner in over ten years, Corny." The light from his lamp flickered once. "If I was capable of meeting one the usual way I'd be married with kids by now.”

‘What's that round friend of yours always saying?’ Corncob feigned interest. “’Self worth is not determined by outside factors...’”

Steve couldn't believe he was taking advice from a lizard, Goblin or otherwise. "You eat arachnids for a living. Hardly one to judge."

‘Something could go wrong.’ Corncob lamented. ‘The air. It worries.’

Steve opened a third manuscript. "Worries how?"

Corncob fell silent. Thoughtfully brooding as Steve copied the specifics from the Abi-Dalzim passage.

A graven image.

A list of attributes.

A lock of human hair, and. An orb of Thesula.

‘We don't have access to a spirt orb.’ Corncob concluded. As if that would somehow stand in the way. ‘They're extremely difficult to locate--’

"Difficult but not impossible." Steve pocketed the list and shrugged on a coat. Fall in Hawkins was brutal, the leaves paving a way from unrelenting cold. "I'll go see Keith. He always has the hook ups."

‘You despise Keith.’

Steve shrugged. "I despise you as well, but here we are.”

Corncob stared at him thoughtfully. ‘You are a powerful and kind master. Perhaps love will find you.’

Steve was almost moved.

Almost touched, to his very core, but he had grown tired of sleeping in this house alone. Had grown weary of filling out dating profile after dating profile only to be rejected for oozing outside a rigid set of standards, and.

Why wait?

The last of the single girls was leaving him. Marrying the mortal love of her life and Steve didn't see a reason to show up to the wedding without a date, when he could build one for free.

Why leave it to fate when Steve had the power?

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, and perhaps not." He held open the lapel of his jacket, exposing the pocket Corncob lived in when they ran errands together. "Now are you coming or what."

The lizard sighed. Big and dramatic and so bratty that Steve almost regretted bringing him back to life.

‘Alright, have it your way,’ the lizard told him, ‘But I'm going to complain the entire time.’

--

Keith was insufferable and not just because he was a vengeance demon.

They had done business together countless times. Keith always came to Steve whenever he needed payment from a recently deceased customer and Steve kept Keith’s Cart of Mysteries in business by purchasing all of his stolen goods. 

The guy had everything loaded into the back of his Dodge Neon; from enchanted rabbits feet to vials of blood from the holy lands, Steve's least favorite underwordling was the hottest ticket in Hawkins for any and everything Dark Arts.

And he was an asshole.

A stingy, self righteous asshole who just so happened to have exactly what Steve needed and of course was choosing tonight to be difficult.

On a full moon.

During the height of the witching hour.

"How do I know you won't break it?" Keith snatched the orb to his chest, eyebrows drawn in a grimace.

Steve so didn't have time for this shit. "What?" He was freezing, hugging his arms to his chest. "It's made of solid glass, you're telling me this thing is--"

"Yes. Thesula's are fragile. Practically shatter when placed in the wrong hands, and this is my only one 'til Tuesday, so." Keith polished the thing on the lapel of his jacket, just to be an even bigger dick. "How do I know you'll use it correctly?"

Steve blinked. "Because my incantation requires a--"

"Do you even know a Thesula's intended purpose?" Keith preened. "To retrieve souls from the veil. Any ol' soul you want or happen by and Thesula will call it fourth, no hidden fees and no take backs. Easy peasy."

Keith blew a raspberry and Steve? He wanted to scream. "Just sell it to me."

"Ask nicely."

"No." Steve concluded. Absolutely not. He gestured to the sky, eyebrows lifting in mock humor. "Kinda running on a clock, here, so--"

"What're you using it for?" Keith leaned against the trunk of his car.

"Like fuck I'm telling you."

The vengeance demon grinned. “If you want my orb bad enough you will."

And.

Shit.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Robin's getting married."

Keith immediately brightened. The two of them were friends, though Steve didn't really understand why. Vengeance demons could turn on you at the drop of a hat but he assumed the guy liked Robin's wit. Her spunk, maybe, and she was the spunkiest witch by far.

"Oh, Mazel Tov." Keith told him.

Steve held out his hand. "Yup, I'll pass along the message, so--"

Keith smirked. "Riddle me this." He tossed the Thesula in the air, catching it with a rough crack to his palm. "A satanic necromancer owns a morgue and comes downtown in search of a sprit orb. He finds one, thank his lucky stars, and discloses that his best friend is getting married."

"I don't uh." Steve was humiliated. "I don't think--"

"This warlock has a knack for raising the dead. Solving the inconvenient issue of mortality, the whole town knows it. Hell, the whole world knows it, I mean." Keith whistled, low and hard as he pocketed the orb again. "Guy's a big wig. But he has trouble with romance."

The vengeance demon stared at him. "What are you planning to do."

And Steve was desperate.

He sucked his teeth. "I'm building a--"

"You're building yourself a boyfriend." Keith said hysterically, like it was the funniest thing on Earth, and.

In a way it was.

He tossed the Thesula to Steve without warning, laughing harder when he nearly dropped it on the ground.

"Fuck," Steve winced. It was lighter than he had expected, glowing bright blue in the palm of his hand. "What's that mean?"

Keith looked away from packing his stuff, pushing the hair out of his eyes with another whistle.

"Means the God's are guiding you on your journey," the demon said casually.

Like the whole thing was casual.

Steve felt every bit like King Arthur as he fumbled for his wallet.

Keith stopped him. "Free of charge."

Which.

"Nice try," Steve chuckled. He fished a couple hundreds from his wallet, handing them over with a wink. "I'll be sure to credit you."

"Nah, no way." Keith pocketed the money with a vigorous shake of his head. "When your little boy toy goes wacko and eats half the town I don't want it getting out that I'm the one who made it happen."

Steve slid the orb into his pocket, forcing Corncob to shuffle in his perch. "Thanks again."

Keith waved dismissively, returning to the pile of garbage he was trying to fit in his trunk.

"Oh, and Steve!"

He turned around, confused.

Keith grinned. "Give him a smooch for me."

--

Steve had thought a lot about what he wanted in a boyfriend. Who he'd like to come home to after a long day and it was easy to envision the man he was going to create.

A being who was smart and strong, beautiful in the sense that it was insulting. Kind in a way that wasn't overt--sweet in a way that complimented himself and as he sat down to sketch an image Steve knew exactly what he was going for.

He made a point in outlining his desires.

Thought for hours about his intention--true love, someone to share his life with--and the orb glowed blue.

The Gods were smiling down on him and Steve tried not to let it go to his head as the the clock struck three. He situated himself in the embalming room. Lit candles, laid out his supplies for the evening and began.

On a metal slab he had fashioned a man made of clay.

The shape was vaguely human. Shorter than Steve but stockier around the middle--beefier.

Corncob chortled. ‘Twink.’

"Shut up," Steve mumbled. The lizard quieted instantly as Steve pressed the orb through the center of its chest, watching as the bluish hue lit the clay man from the inside. "His essence consume." Steve said.

Corncob swallowed, movement palpable in the thick air.

"Ready?"

As we'll ever be, I suppose.

Steve spoke in a loud, clear voice.

--

He awoke in bed. Sunlight streaming through the open window, birds singing--the whole nine yards. Steve tossed a pillow over his head and burrowed deeper under the covers because fuck this.

Fuck all of it, until--

Something was laying next to him in bed.

Something warm and solid, a thick wall of muscle shifting closer and closer still; "You are done sleeping, now?"

Steve peeked out from behind his pillowcase.

Blue eyes the color of high noon stared right back at him. Blonde ringlets spread across the bed tickled Steve's neck as his creation smiled, plush pink lips curving with secret warmth. His eyelashes practically touched Steve's from where they were pressed together, and. Holy shit.

Holy fuck, he was beautiful.

So beautiful it hurt, and. 

The clay man pried the pillow from Steve's hands and sat up, his muscular shoulders catching the sunlight in a frilly of sculpted ridges. He blinked his pretty blue eyes, taking in the bedroom as he turned to watch Steve fall apart against the mattress.

Steve swallowed. "You. Um. Gorgeous. Very, um. Hot." Nice. Very smooth.

The man smiled, soft and sweet. "Thank you.”

Which.

Steve scrambled into a sitting position, back hitting the headboard with a painful Crack.

"You can talk?"

"I learned how, hearing your thoughts," The clay man said, blue eyes rolling to look at the ceiling. "You made me in your image."

Steve snorted. He gestured to the guy's whole thing; the muscles and the long blond hair and those pecks, Jesus Christ.

"No, um. I wish." Steve chuckled.

The clay man grinned wider at that, eyes sparkling like Steve was something special.

Something beautiful.

He sat on his knees, the silk blanket falling in a heap around him and--

"Holy shit, you're." Steve covered his eyes. "You're naked um. Do you--"

The man started climbing up the mattress.

Holy fuck.

Steve could feel the bounce of it, the jostling of his weight as he settled on Steve's thighs with a coo, and.

Holy--god, in heaven--

Steve was instantly hard when the man tugged at his wrists. When blondie pulled Steve's hands away to show his face.

Steve peeked at him through one eye. "Do you want some? Clothes, or."

The man was watching him. Just staring, eyes wide and cheeks pink as Steve tripped over himself to get a grip. He brushed his fingers over Steve's mouth softly. Pressing to make him stop, to shut him up.

"You are good." The man said.

"Huh?" Steve wished he had the vocabulary to understand this moment because it felt heavy.

Massive, as the Man's fingers moved to cup his jaw. To tilt his face toward the light.

His brow furrowed around the thought. He parted Steve's lips with his thumb, eyes glued to the tender pink muscle of Steve's tongue as he muttered, "Let me kiss you."

And.

Steve tried to speak around the finger in his mouth. "I don't--"

The man inhaled at the feeling of Steve's tongue sliding over the pad of his finger. He shushed him, hinging Steve's jaw open with more force than necessary.

Steve thought distantly that he liked it.

"Let me taste you." The man said.

Holy fuck.

Holy-- "I don't even know your name." Steve whimpered pathetically. Because it was important to him. That this creature, this man, had an identity.

A personhood.

The man frowned. "I am yours." He leaned forward to mouth at Steve's neck, as if to prove it.

He only succeeded in making Steve think with his dick.

"Right, but I could, uh." He moaned softly at the sweet drag of teeth against his throat. "I could be yours, too--"

"You are mine."

"Yeah, that's um. That's alright with me, no complaints here, it's just--" Lips on his chest. His stomach. His thighs. Steve couldn't think straight.

He yelped when the man licked at the cotton of his boxers.

Right over his cock, teeth hot and breath warm, and--

Steve pulled him up by his shoulders.

The man frowned, hurt flickering and cracking on his face like candle light. "Do you not want me to claim you?"

Holy fuck.

Steve swallowed. "No, I. God, I want." The man leaned in again, eyes hungry on Steve's mouth. He stopped him with a gentle hand to the chest. "I have to get through this part, okay? Will you. Could you listen to me for a moment?"

The man nodded, sitting back on his ankles to reveal a thick, pink head trapped between the skin of his legs.

Steve forced himself to press on.

"It's important to me that you have a name. Because you aren't mine." His face fell. Steve grasped at him, desperate. "I mean you are. We belong to each other. As equals. You can live here, with me, if that's what you want. And I can help you see the world. I don't own you. That's what I'm saying."

"Maybe I want to be owned."

And Steve hadn't expected that.

"You're ten hours old, you have a lot to learn." He swallowed thickly, ignoring the ache between his legs.

"Did you not create me so I could be of service?" The man asked.

And. "Yeah, so I wouldn't be alone."

It was pathetic, admitting it out loud. Steve felt tears swamp his vision--he bit his cheek to make them go away. "I wanted to prove that someone could love me. My friend's getting married and I didn't want to show up without a date, and." Steve looked up, into those pretty blue eyes and felt like the worst kind of person. "Shit, this was a bad idea. I was being selfish."

The man shook his head. "It is not selfish to crave love and companionship."

"I don't want to take advantage of you," Steve said thickly. "I never should have--"

"You do not have to worry about that." He leaned forward and placed a hand on Steve's chest. "Your heart is pure. Clean."

As if that explained it all. Steve watched him, tracking the movement of those eyes across his face.

"I was made in that image," The man concluded.

Steve hung his head.

It was true, what they said about him. Steve was power hungry, pathetic, clingy. The worst of the worst and add God Complex to that list; you could create a clone of the worst person alive. Steve wanted desperately to disappear as a gentle hand moved his face toward the light once more.

The man smiled. "You are kind and fair and good. Let me be yours. Please."

"It wouldn't be right."

"I am giving myself to you because I love you." Those lips said. Steve relished the sweet slide of skin over skin as the man climbed into his lap. "What will it take for you to give yourself to me?"

Steve sighed. Opened his mouth to accept gentle, sloppy kisses from a gentle creature.

Steve pulled away. "We could start with names? I'm Steve," He said, reaching out a hand. The man kissed his knuckles.

"Who should I be?"

Steve shrugged. "Anything you like."

He allowed himself to be lowered to the mattress. Allowed the man to suck and kiss at his neck until, with a breath as soft as summer air;

"You can call me Billy."