#he loved her and i think it was during this time he realized how frighteningly much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comfortless · 4 months

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Hello! I love your work and ur such a talented writer ❤️❤️

Can I request a part 2. for “This Time Around”. It’s so good and I’d love to see more of them ☺️

thank you so much!! i am offering you a little gift through the screen do you accept… 🎁

i could not will myself to write a full part as i feel their story is very much an ‘and they lived happily ever after’ sort of thing BUT. i have been thinking about their date… it would be so cute, i think…

content/warnings: this is just fluff heheh

She doesn’t sleep the entire night after that phone call— instead, there is an abundance of planning and preparing to do. It has to be perfect, everything, right down to the finest details.

She’s spent years watching him, she knows what he likes and it should be easy despite her lack of human graces. There’s… still the urge to do the instinctive sprite things, lurking some where in her very flesh. She takes his shirts to sleep when he’s deployed, still steals any treats he may have hidden. The problem with planning for a very human date is that she simply is not human, even if she looks the part now.

The bulk of her night is spent seated on the sofa, trawling through the channels on his television for any glimpses of human romance. She’s never been very studious; there’s no need for that in her reality, where things just go easily with a touch of enchantment and revelry. Settling on one, she watches the humans on screen with rapt attention. She doesn’t realize that while film is an art, most don’t speak or behave this way in natural circumstances. She practices her swooning, the fanning of her face, her sighs and demure glances all on the couch.

Cooking is far less troublesome, at first. The giant had taught her patiently, insisting that he did not wish for her to eat little else than cookies and slices of bread during those times that he was away. She had learned how to use the kitchenware, chest fluttering with contentment any time König had taken her hand to guide her or stroked the top of her head and praised her. She promised him cake, settling on Esterházy torte when she recalls a lazy afternoon with him where he told her about his homeland. He liked his coffee black, yet he did not shy away from sweetness. Perhaps that was part of the reason that he enjoyed her company.

Only, she hadn’t anticipated that Esterházy torte would be such an utter pain to make. Her pace is frighteningly quick as she buzzes from the kitchen to the cooking instruction on screen, trying to squeeze every bit of information for the next ten minutes in her mind already bogged down with excitement; over and over for what felt like an entire century. Each layer of the treat had to be prepared separately. König was by no means a baker, and the items that she needed to prepare it properly ranging from different sized pans to certain ingredients simply… were not there.

There was no apricot jam; she settles for plucking blackberries, ripe and sweet, from just outside and making a rushed jam of her own. What was meant to be five layers is whittled down to three; a thick portion of the makeshift blackberry jam slathered between two overly fat layers of sponge cake. It’s not pretty, either. The icing isn’t evened over like the cakes in the video she watches from the kitchen’s doorway. The dark jam makes the poor thing look as though it’s spilling blood rather than seated cozily like any of the cakes in display cases. It would have to do, because the morning sun is already high in the sky by the time that she finishes it.

Getting ready for the date seems worse. The women in films were perfect; their hair was smooth and even, the colors they wore on their faces highlighted their femininity. König had never purchased her makeup, and the dresses he had filled her share of the closet with were not the same. They weren’t revealing, not enough to highlight the curves of her hips or her cleavage when she pictures herself leaning over to him to bat her eyelashes and tell him just how much she adores him.

She’s a bit sullen when she settles for the soft pink one with the lace trim that she wears often. It’s cute, but it isn’t one of the strappy, silky things she had seen in the movies. She does her best with what she has, and when she looks into the mirror for confirmation she only recalls their first meeting— where König had called her pretty, despite being several great sizes too small and covered in cookie crumbs.

All of the exertion was for naught, she realizes when the sun hangs high in the sky and the sound of the door opening pulls her from her rampant preparing. König simply looks content, more at ease than she had ever seen him when he pulls her into a hug and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. They’re already head over heels before the date even begins, as they have been for months, and she simply doesn’t realize it.

He doesn’t complain about the state of the ugly cake when she carries it into the backyard. The picnic blanket is spread out by him while she tells him about how she spent her time apart from him. He doesn’t explain the gritty details of his work this time, only that he saw flowers she may have liked on his deployment and how he wished he could take her to prettier places one day.

She seats herself in his lap while they talk, pressing bites of cake between his lips while the back of her head rests upon his shoulder. His arm curls around her waist as he does the same for her in turn. The confection… isn’t the best, not by a long shot, yet König doesn’t voice a word of complaint. Not as she does, when she grimaces from the tart flavor of the jam clashing with the cinnamon and cream. Fortunately, he only seems to find that cute, and he tells her this, harping on everything that she does that sets his heart aflame until she giggles sweetly for him.

“I wrote you a letter,” he tells her suddenly after the horrible cake has been cleared away and they’re watching the clouds above on their backs. It probably isn’t something that he would enjoy on his own, but for her… it seemed that any silly idea she supplied was met with acceptance from him.

“I didn’t get any letters.” She frowns as she points out a cloud that looks suspiciously like the cat that nearly ate her several months ago.

König reaches into his pocket and presents her with a folded note, one worn down and torn at the edges. One he probably had never had the intention to send at all. With it unfolded and held high up in her hands to read, she squints over the sloppy handwriting.

The letter is a recounting of all of the things he thought he had seen, dates supplied next to each point on the list. It begins two years prior, where he had jotted down that he thought someone must have left a doll in the house before he moved in, how he saw a tiny thing seated on the windowsill and when he looked back it was entirely gone. A strange occurrence, but not one he put too much thought into.

The list ends when he describes how his eyes had met hers when she watched him from the bookshelf, how he had seen the most beautiful thing alive in just a glimpse before she tucked herself away from him, how he had left the lights on in a small hope that she would realize he wanted to look after her. He just didn’t know how to without scaring her off.

In part, she’s horrified to know that she hadn’t been as sneaky as she once thought. However, what feels more pressing is that he had been worried for her just as she had been for him, that every little detail shared within the list was merely a mirror of her own feelings. The ever-present curiosity and the fear that one day this stranger he shared his home with may not be around any longer.

She gives him a wistful glance before flipping to the next page to continue to where the letter truly begins. It’s pure poetry, the way in which he describes his feelings, prettier than the songs she’s heard sung from the fae housed in riverbeds. He describes his elation upon meeting her, how he would check through the window of the dollhouse bedroom to see her beautiful face in dreaming, how each time they were apart he wanted little more than to return to her and simply hear her tiny voice calling out to him. It says his heart nearly shattered in his chest when he saw the change she had made for him before he realized that she loved him too, that the stuff of the silly fairytales that his oma would read to him all felt real because of her; how unintentionally he believes that she may have saved him.

‘Ich liebe dich.’ is how it ends, and he says the words aloud when her eyes rove over the sentence.

Her hands are shaking when she drops the letter onto her chest, curls her arms around it in the softest hug. Just like before, each word she wishes to say to him dies in her throat. The only difference is that now, her heart feels so full it’s overwhelming; she doesn’t feel small, but larger than even him— a strange sense of pride and fulfillment taking her over.

“I love you, too,” she says after a moment, face warmed and a smile stretching her cheeks. “I’ve always loved you, I think.”

“I know.”

Her mind whirls at that response, uncertain of what to say next. Except, she doesn’t have to speak at all. When a cloud passes, puffed up and brilliant white, shaped like the golden arrow of Cupid himself, she curls against him with her forehead pressed to his. Eyes flutter shut as an arm is dragged over her and a kiss is brushed against the tip of her nose.

#f: this time around #do they kiss… we will never know…

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warpfive · 1 year

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CAPTAINS + UNTIMELY 'I LOVE YOU'S

awkward moments when the captains confessed their love for you

CW: gn! reader, mentions of peril

CREW: chris pike, jean-luc picard, kathryn janeway, benjamin sisko, jonathan archer

CHRIS - 100% the type of guy to say “i love you” before leaving for his shift in the morning and doesn’t realize it until he’s halfway to the bridge and it would be too awkward to go back to your quarters. feels kinda embarrassed because i think chris would’ve wanted to tell you over a nice dinner or overlooking a beautiful nebula or even just laying in bed with you tucked up against his chest. he tries to make excuses to see you during the day, but it never really works out - a spacial anomaly knocked out half a dozen systems and chris has been yanked this way and that and the one he did see you was in engineering and your face was smeared with something and it really reminded him that he did mean what he said, even if the timing wasn’t great. later that night, you’re both exhausted and unable to move. still, you turn over, sigh against his shoulder, and tell him you loved him too. chris started a tradition of saying “i love you” every morning, and you say it every night.

JEAN-LUC - he tries to insist to you that merely saying the words “i love you” while reciting a poem didn’t count, but you think otherwise. because you really, really wanted that time to be the first - it was a remarkably quiet night after a nice dinner. your head rested in his lap, eyes drooping, almost asleep - and jean-luc’s voice definitely didn’t help. he was reading out loud some poetry you can’t remember the title of but it didn’t matter because his voice was low and soothing, acting like an audible tranquilizer. one hand held the book, the other in his lap, massaging his fingers through your hair, and he said it. the words were part of the poem, he must’ve read the line a million times, but in that specific moment, it just meant so much more. you turn over on your back, smile up at him, and tell him you loved him too. jean-luc sputtered, trying to explain that it was simply the poem, but you didn’t care. he could use some spontaneity that didn’t endanger his life - he was also much too enamored by your wide, sleepy smile to argue any more.

KATHRYN - she hadn’t talked to anybody after the day’s events - not the doctor, not chakotay, not even you. kathryn’s isolation wasn’t a new phenomena and you weren’t just some officer who had to let the ship’s captain bottle everything up under threat of court martial. it wasn’t any surprise that she retreated into one of the holodecks - her da vinci program, the one you knew she used when reality was too difficult and she needed to get back to basics. to ground herself. it was dark when you entered, lit only by flickering candlelight and a half-moon. it was a relief to hear her voice, flat and muted as it was. and with your curiosity and worry sated, you debated on leaving kathryn alone for a couple hours. but she said your name, and holo-da vinci responded in a way that made you realize she’s talked about you before. kathryn told him about the day’s events - the danger you were in, and how scared she was, even if she couldn’t show it in front of her crew. how much she’s come to love you, deeply, frighteningly. and when you accidentally knocked over one of the hologram’s little sculptures and kathryn saw your figure illuminated by the candlelight, she wasn’t even angry. no, her grin was too wide to force a frown, and her heart too malleable to make it mad. it’s safe to say that the holodeck wasn’t available for the next few hours.

BENJAMIN - ben’s stubbornness was a trait that was easy to overlook in light of all the other wonderful things about him - his compassion, courage, empathy, love. but that giant bull of a personality trait did love to rear its head during some of the most stressful times and there wasn’t a damn thing either of you could do about it once the argument started. you’d keep pressing your own thoughts about the recon mission into dominion space, wanting him to understand - he would, but ben just gets so set in his ways when he thinks he’s right about something. it’s too dangerous, he says. not worth the risk, not when you’re more useful on the station. you want to come along, he says no, you keep asking him why, your argument turns into a yelling match. benjamin says he loves you too much to lose you to a firefight, he can't go through something like that again. the room is dead quiet, and again, he’s much too stubborn to try and backpedal. the argument is over when you concede to his original plan, but not before hugging him so tight, you can’t hardly breathe. well, that’s probably how he would’ve felt if you’d gone on the mission, so it’s only fair.

JONATHAN - it was late (early?), neither of you due for your shifts for another few hours, and porthos had decided to sleep right between you and jon. you didn’t mind all that much, perfectly content to snuggle up to the beagle while intertwining your legs with jon’s, just to keep in contact. but it seemed the captain wasn’t as forgiving, viewing porthos’ obstruction as purposeful - maybe he was jealous of jon giving you more and more attention, rather than him. you awoke to his soft words, barely above a whisper, and the light thudding of a tail against the sheets. for a moment, you were tempted to roll over and tease him for talking to his dog, but something held you back. is it eavesdropping if you’re in the same bed and a dog is involved? jon is half-asleep, you could tell by his voice, when he scolds porthos for acting out. he says he loves him a lot, but he also loves you, and porthos is just going to have to get used to sharing him. it was so calm, so matter-of-fact, that even when jon fell back asleep, you were kept awake by the echo of his words in your head. and you were sure to sneak porthos a treat in the morning.

#star trek x reader #star trek headcanons #chris pike x reader #jean luc picard x reader #kathryn janeway x reader #benjamin sisko x reader #jonathan archer x reader

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timelordcapricorns · 4 months

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Expectance (Dr. Animo x reader)

Quick note; not a single romance based fanfic about the most iconic Ben 10 villain has ever been made anywhere. So, with the help of @kingsleychizzard & the fact that I also think he’s kinda cute, here’s the very first! Reader is female. -Corn Puff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was supposed to be a normal day for you, you were off work today & had plans ready for the entire day. However, that changed quickly when you were snatched off the street by some frighteningly large cockatiel. How it managed to get the size of an airplane was beyond you. Before you could process the fact that you’d easily be dropped in one wrong move, you were brought into a random abandoned building & dropped onto a table. Shackles were instantly locked around your wrists & ankles before the table was leaned forward. Great, now you felt like Frankenstein, except you were alive.

“Perfect. Now I can properly test my latest invention.” that voice sounded way too familiar for you to not notice. Looking towards the source of said voice, you saw a man who looked old, but you got a glimpse of his face & were shocked.

“Aloysius? Is that really you?! You look awful, what happened during the last 5 years?” your voice made him freeze. When he looked back at you, it was obvious that he couldn’t believe it.

“(Y/n)? My old lab partner? The one who left me all alone because the news of my work left her full of hatred? The one who threatened to file a restraining order against me if I tried contacting her again?” his voice went from surprised to angry. Wow, 5 years & he instantly brings that up.

“Aloysius James Animo, you were doing incredibly cruel & unethical things to those poor animals! I should’ve slapped you when I had the chance.” you spat. He stomped up to you, but there was the slightest trace of hurt in his eyes. That was odd, his egotistical nature prevented him from feeling such things.

“Shut up.” he snarled. You stared at each other for a few seconds before he suddenly grabbed your face & kissed you. It was warm & passionate, filled with love, something you were sure he could never feel. It was so intense that you actually kissed back, but he pulled away soon after.

“You isolated me, it really hurt. I couldn’t bring myself to go outside partially because of you. The other part was because of what happened with my work.” he said as he undid your shackles. When you were free, you glanced at him & noticed that he actually seemed quite upset, his eyes fully displayed hurt now.

He walked away & sat at a desk, instantly putting his head in his hands, something he always did when stressed. What were the chances of you being reunited after what happened? Feeling the slightest bit guilty, you walked over to him & rubbed his back. He barely reacted, so it gave you time to think. All the times you actually hung out together, how gentle he always was with you, & then you remembered his face the day you left. He looked devastated, almost as if everything he cared about was erased. That’s when it clicked.

“Did you… love me?” you asked. He groaned in frustration & put his head down as the faintest blush appeared on his face.

“I still do, that’s the problem.” he mumbled. This whole situation just got incredibly awkward. You tried rubbing his back again, but he got up & just stood over you. The proximity certainly made you uncomfortable, but you couldn’t seem to back away.

He cupped your face & gently rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs before leaning in to kiss you again. Oddly enough, you wrapped your arms around his neck & deepened the kiss. This prompted him to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you closer. For the first time ever, you realized that he was rather broad & seemed to be well built. Your mind was then snapped back to the kiss when he licked your bottom lip. You honestly thought he’d be forceful, but he was actually being a gentleman & patiently waited for your permission. You allowed him to turn the kiss into a french kiss & your heart nearly melted from the sensation. By the time you pulled apart, the tiniest strand of saliva still connected your mouths, making you blush.

“I guess that means you love me too?” he teased. You simply responded by burying your face in his chest & hugging him. He chuckled & hugged back, clearly pleased with the display of affection.

#ben 10 #aloysius animo #dr animo #reader insert #female reader #romance #awkward romance #very first fic about aloysius animo on tumblr #he’s so under appreciated

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rubythecrimsonwriter · 6 months

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!!!!! I am so excited that we will get to see the story in some form eventually! ATC is one of my favorites because there has never been much like it, with all the cousins meeting early and just being ✨them✨ together and watching the chaos around them unfold so the idea that we get to see more of that someday is so aaaaaa<3!!!!! The rewrite outline looks so cool, also like it’s gonna be more canon compliant/ see how much can be changed behind the scenes w/o really effecting the main story and that’s always such a cool premise in a fic and I am So Excited, despite how different it’s going to be from original ATC.

Have an amazing day/night/timezone:)

For the first one, at least, I'm going to be focusing more on Thalia, Luke, and Jason during the first half. I actually really like Jason, which is uhh a controversial opinion, and the only reason why I think more people didn't like him was because we didn't get a five part series exploring his adventures first. We have a list of the notable stuff he's done canonically, at the end of TLH, and I think that'd be really fun to explore with Thalia and Luke quietly losing their minds lol.

I'd love to involve Percy more in the first part, but Sally went to extreme lengths to keep Percy with her and I don't think she'd give him up very easily. Canonically? It took a Fury, the Fates, and the Minotaur to separate them for the summer, and nothing less would do it again, not even some well meaning teens that have combat experience.

I'm toying with the idea to do away with Camp Half Blood's magical border entirely. Replacing Thalia's sacrifice with Clarisse seems a bit cheap to me, honestly, and when I first did it I wasn't sure what else to do--but it would give them an excuse to say, "no thank you," to staying at Camp. The border had been there for only five years prior to Percy arriving, probably less. Most of the older demigods probably remember the days before Thalia's sacrifice, canonically, and that's why there was quiet but mass panic about Thalia's tree dying in SoM.

The first part is the one that will stay the closest to canon. The farther we get into the story, the more it will diverge.

The Golden Fleece has already shown that it's a massive power source, enough that Thalia could part from the tree and still have the magical borders there. I'm kind of idly wondering if I should establish the borders during the rewrite of SoM, and what would motivate anyone to search it out. If the borders haven't established, and Clarisse yet lives, then Grover is no longer in disgrace and is not trying to risk his life to find Pan, though he might do it anyway. I'm thinking of running a quest for Jason concurrent with the SoM arc, and maybe he gets into trouble and that's when Thalia has to go rescue him and get the Golden Fleece. The narrative parallels would be delicious, but I'm still mulling it over, and it requires me to change bits of the first part too.

(And this is why I'm doing outlines first this time 😅)

(Suddenly realizing I'm going to need a red string conspiracy board to keep track of all the moving players during all of this lmao)

Like during ATC, things would really heat up during TTC rewrite. Now you have five of the six Big Three Kids, and they're suddenly realizing what exactly is going on with their power spiderweb thing. I'd also really like to highlight Thalia's struggle with power, and have at least one supervillain moment where you can truly see the trained, dangerous daughter of Thunder. The Ophiotaurus, especially, was canonically a powerful lure for her, and she's already made her annoyance with Olympus frighteningly clear.

(If Percy regularly frightens people, demigods, and gods, without even trying to, Thalia can definitely do it on purpose. I will enjoy that more than I probably should tbh.)

My timer is up so I need to go back to restoring my window, but do send me more asks, or reblog this with something, I will absolutely talk to you more about my thoughts on the rewrite, and it helps me figure stuff out too. 💜💜

#all together cousins #asks answered

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darsynia · 1 year

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From your WIPs, please tell me about the one with such an intriguing title: Climbing Vines on Melancholy Walls

(and if that one doesn't involve My Beloved Stephen, please throw in a title that does as well😉)

I'll start with the Stephen one, just for you-- it's the one titled 'Dreamcatcher,' and it's only a concept, nothing is written for it yet. The idea is based on the dream worldbuilding from DS2, the idea that when you dream you are actually seeing an alternate universe, not random made-up stuff in your own head.

The OC in that story can lucid dream-- direct her dreams to see what she wants to see. Stephen finds out about it, and he wants to know if she's 'universe-surfing' or actually able to influence what she's seeing, as in, can she alter a universe just by dreaming? I loved the idea that the OC and Stephen can have an odd sort of shared experience in reliving things, and I envisioned some sort of final conflict where they needed to save someone and there was a question of whether or not he would still be around when she woke back up.

I don't know if I'll pick that one up, though-- I love the idea, but I don't have a solid theming framework for it like I usually like to, before I start something.

Climbing Vines on Melancholy Walls is a Steve/Natasha angst story set during Endgame. I liked the idea that they both cherished a fondness, maybe even love for each other, but never said anything. Then, as everything fell to hell around them, they agree to a friends with benefits situation, neither realizing that the other is just as dizzy in love as they are.

I intend to address Vormir in this story, and went through a really dark place (was frighteningly close to being gone) during 2022, so I put it on hiatus until I can tackle those scenes with a clear mind.

However, I'm intensely proud of the story. It is as much a 'how did Nat never find Clint in all those intervening years' story as it is a romance between her and Steve. My answer? She found him multiple times. He kept asking her to let him go and look again. The story starts with Nat visiting the farm and finding that Clint gathered up all the dirt he could to preserve it in case he needed the dust of his family to bring them back. Each time Clint sends her away, she dutifully tracks him down again. That's how she could find him when it mattered. She knew where he was. She was just holding off, like he asked her to.

As present in the story as angst is, there's a lot of sweetness and humor, too. They're teammates, they're real with each other, and at some point they're going to realize that it's okay to be loved back.

They agree to be friends with benefits at Tony and Pepper's wedding, but afterwards, both of them are too shy to broach the subject again. Things get tense, and Natasha decides to tease Steve about what he's doing instead of coming and knocking on her door at the Avengers Compound. Here's the playful, sexy chunk of story when they make the momentous decision to do it again.

“Running off some aggression, there, Rogers?” Nat asks him, when he sits down with his food.

Steve scratches his neck, looking bashful. “Yeah, a little. My body’s been moving faster than my mind. Trying to wear it out, I guess.”

“Running seems like the least fun way to do that, if you ask me,” she remarks, offering him a challenging smile.

“Well! Not sure I wanted to move faster than you are, either, truth be told,” he says after looking at her speculatively for a while.

“Steve, we’re alone here. The point was to be comforting, to blow off steam, to make the shitty parts of existence better, wasn’t it?” Privately, Natasha’s flooded with unexpected affirmation. If she’s reading him right, Steve’s basically telling her that he wants her, but thinks he doesn’t have the right to come right out and ask. There’s no way she would have ever predicted that, but she’s not complaining.

“Those are very good points,” Steve says carefully.

“So knock on my door sometimes, god,” she teases. “It’s going to be a slow few weeks, I could go make you an engraved invitation, if that would make things easier.” Nat looks down at her plate after catching the keen interest in his eyes. She doesn’t want him to be able to correctly recognize the desperate adoration that’s probably blazing in hers.

“Thank you, I will,” he tells her. His four words are resonant, grateful, and obviously sexually charged. Natasha’s drinking when he says it, and her sip of fruit juice goes down the wrong way.

“Turn around, this is not sexy!” she flaps her hands at him as she chokes the words out. Natasha alternately coughs and wipes her eyes, adding, “And don’t you dare take it back or I’ll never forgive you!”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” he mutters, but he turns his head and uses his hand to block his view of her while she’s in the last throes of persuading her body she’s not actually in danger of drowning.

Nat doesn’t know whether she wants to address that quietly expressed concern of his now or once she can immediately follow up with something more physically resonant. She decides to choose the latter option; Steve has every right to worry that embarking on a career (whether long or short) of sexual exploits together might cause some trouble between them. Since her very real former career had involved no small number of encounters between herself and people who had trusted her only to find that she was there to do them harm, she recognizes the validity of that worry. The best way to reassure him is to be consistently generous and willing, and she’s happy to be both.

Both of them fall silent. Natasha’s fork feels wooden in her hand, the food bland and unnecessary. Part of the problem is that she’d been building up her anticipation about time with Steve, intimate time with Steve, while at the same time working on her defenses to prevent him recognizing her feelings. Nat’s been basically feeding herself a diet of calming, bland mental food, and now that dietary restriction has been lifted.

“Not hungry?” he asks her, lifting his eyebrows. It had been his turn to cook.

“Not for-- not really,” she amends, but the damage has been done.

Steve sets his fork down and looks at her, really looks. Natasha’s suddenly aware that she’s been dressing and grooming herself at the facility like it’s a reconnaissance mission, with comfortable clothes, minimal makeup. Not like she is on display, not like she has someone to impress. Sure, her outfits are tight-fitting and attractive, and sure, she knows how to make a lot out of a small amount of cosmetics, but it hasn’t been in service of anything. Still, Steve’s gaze is approving, just on the edge of captivated. For his part, he’s been sweaty and exhausted nearly every time she’s seen him lately, and that’s just been fuel for a mental image she has genuine, participatory memories she can flesh it out with.

With an expression that’s determined but otherwise neutral, Steve stands up and gathers his half-empty plate. He walks around the table and reaches out a hand. Bemused, Natasha hands him her own mostly full plate and watches him walk them into the kitchen. She hears Steve scrape the remaining food into the disposal, running the water to help grind it down and presumably rinse the plates off. The sound of the dishwasher door opening is recognizable.

She has no idea what he’s planning to do, and given her particular skill set, that fact is equal parts worrisome and novel.

Steve walks back into the dining room, coming straight over to the opposite end of the table, the one that’s closer to the exit. He leans over, resting one palm flat on the table’s surface, looking her straight in the eyes. He’s focused, with the same demeanor he uses when he’s about to lead them all into battle.

Then he stretches his fisted other hand out and knocks on the table, with the same cadence he always uses to request entry.

“Yes,” she says, her breath caught in her throat for a second, more pleasant time that day.

“Where?” he asks. It’s-- it’s still his command voice, and she never ever would have guessed he’d do this, blur the lines like this, and it’s the worst and best idea ever.

Thank you so much for asking! I really did hold off on writing Stephen in favor of writing oh my god like 500k words of Tony Stark fic, so you've caught me at the very start of my Stephen journey! It's a blessing and a curse ;)

#ask games!#sobeautifullyobsessed #wip game #climbing vines on melancholy walls #doctor strange x oc #steve x natasha #thank you so very much for asking!!

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months

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The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two Chapter 34

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 98k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: With another Xiang in the mix, for the first time in history, Pangu decides to reevaluate his methods and his place in the world. Along with taking his little sister Heidi as his last disciple, he also chooses to take the more political path in his efforts to end the discord throughout the land—particularly within Terra. (And gaining favor from the handsome Lord of Ultimos does not hurt.)

Heidi butts heads with everyone in the group, save Raine, and tensions are higher than ever. There are failed love confessions, in-group fighting, and demons from Kira’s past but that all comes to a head when they meet a servant of Shakti who is more than what she seems.

Could it be that the Mistresses of Shadow are more nuanced than previously believed? Or that the strict dichotomy between light and dark are, perhaps, a touch exaggerated? That and more begin to plague Pangu’s mind and his faith wavers…

Full chapter 34 under the cut

Chapter XXXIV:

With the arrowhead behind them and a fire burning in the middle of their circle, Alf read out the letter he would send to Kuniser in the morning. He asked for feedback and any recommendations for adding information. It was a bulky letter, filled with to the brim with information and quite a lot of passion from Alf.

“See, that is a letter requesting an audience right there,” Heidi said, shaking a finger. She also smiled as she looked to Viren, seemingly forgetting that he was not the actual author of the note that called them to Ultimos.

The lord shook his head and switched direction entirely. “After our meeting with Lord Dio, I believe I will take Oli into Agni.”

He had not mentioned anything like it before and Pangu sat up straighter. “What? Why?”

“We talked before about how the lords in Agni could be valuable allies. I think we should attempt to secure both King Raime as well as whoever we can in Agni.”

“But…we can circle back. Together.” Pangu frowned.

Viren did not let his expression stop him from smiling. “Pangu, this will be faster—better in the long run. Besides, creating these ties will be necessary going forward. Just coming to Meala has taught me that I know a frighteningly small amount about this world. If I want my throne back, I need to do better. And that starts, for me, in building a better relationship with Agni.”

It made sense but Pangu still felt a twitch in his heart at the thought of parting again.

Then Baiya spoke, “My sister is in good standing with Lord Phay. I can send you to my family and they will lead you well.”

Viren gave him a grateful nod. “Thank you, Baiya.”

“So, we will go to Kyrie while you and Oli make for Agni,” Raine clarified, “Perhaps we can meet again in Kuniser if Lord Dio is approving.”

“What of Enlil?” Heidi asked, “Do we just let Merra stick her grubby hands all over our land and use them how she pleases?”

“I think Enlil is stronger than she realizes,” Pangu responded. He at least hoped it was the case. “If she struggles with them then we have even more time.”

“If she gets through us at all,” Idris said with his chest puffed.

“Careful, we do not want a war down here,” Alf warned. He had entertained, during several of their campfire meetings, the idea of “surrendering” to Merra but still working against her. It would cost lives of Meala people either way but that way there would be less bloodshed.

People of northern and central Terra knew little of the region anyway so they could still easily hide and host Pangu and his disciples at any time while playing Merra’s game. It was a risky gambit if they were found out but direct refusal could bring genocide.

Alf knew that but Idris liked to imagine their people would win in any war they fought. Heidi would often have to remind him, “You are not even a fighter, Boosha.”

“Urishka, you hurt me.” The man pouted.

Pangu watched them, past the crackling fire, and he felt his chest constrict again. “You know…” he licked over his lips, pausing in his sudden nervousness, “if any of you want out of this…you do not have to come with me. You can do whatever you want…”

“Where is this coming from?” Kira asked with a frown.

“Well…” he shrugged. “I am, technically, no longer Xiang and, likewise, you are not my disciples. Not really. So you have no duty-bound reason to stay. I would not blame anyone for leaving and taking care of themselves.”

Baiya was the first to speak up, grabbing his hand as he did so. “I would not leave you for anything.”

“Yes, you are still Xiang,” Raine seconded, “To me, at least.”

“I am not quitting after all this,” Heidi huffed.

Pangu’s eyes landed on Kira who had not said his piece yet. He watched him and leaned forward, expecting a similar sentiment.

“Pangu,” he finally spoke, a serious glimmer in his eyes, “You practically dragged me into this…there is no way you are getting rid of me now that I am here.”

He chuckled, relieved and happy that they all felt the same.

“Besides,” Kira continued on, “What the fuck else are we supposed to do? I mean, I guess Raine still has a job and Baiya can go back to being a momma’s boy but what would I do?”

Pangu snickered while Baiya tossed a pebble over the fire at him.

A crack, from the wood line, sucked the life out of the group and everyone turned to look at once. The noise was not a noise alone—there was a burst of energy that came through and it was distinct, especially to Pangu.

It was enough to suck the warmth out of his body, replacing his blood with ice and his heart with an impossibly heavy stone, sinking ever deeper into his gut. While everyone else looked around, scanning the perimeter of the woods for the threat, he froze and stared directly toward the source of power.

Slowly, the others followed suit, brandishing their weapons and tensing as the tree branches and shrubs shook, disturbed. Streaks of light emerged before the figure, themselves, made an appearance. Tall, donned in white, and faintly glowing, the intruder stood before them.

A few rogue leaves stuck to their raven black hair and beard but, other than that, they were untarnished. Kira’s eyes narrowed, instantly prepared to fight with Baiya right behind him. Heidi, despite her nerves, was a close third while Raine hoped that some sort of compromised could be reached all while gripping his trident with white knuckles. Viren stepped before Oli, shielding him with an arm while Alf opened and closed his mouth, never having seen the figure before but having quite a visceral idea of who they were.

“Zhu?” Pangu questioned and held up his hands, ready to throw a barrier over them all at a moment’s notice.

The oldest of his teachers smiled and briefly bowed his head. “Yes. I need to speak to you, Pangu.”

“No you don’t,” Kira countered instantly.

“Why are you here?” Heidi asked right after.

Zhu glanced between everyone, eyes sticking with each individual for longer than was comfortable before finally landing on Pangu. “As you can see, I am by myself. Merra knows nothing of this meeting.”

“I do not understand,” Pangu admitted and then shook his head. “Unless you are here to explain this plan of yours that she spoke of…I am not sure there is value in talking to you.”

He let his head hang and sighed. “It pains me to see you so hurt by my presence, Pangu.” When he looked at him again, he frowned. “Please, son, do not make this difficult.”

When his gaze flickered over to the others, Pangu felt his heart lurch into his throat. When it came to fighting, he did not know what Zhu could do, not really, so to challenge him further was dangerous.

With that in mind, he let his arm drop. “Fine. We shall talk.”

The last thing he heard was a muffled call of his name from everyone before he was transported to the tomb in the spirit realm. It felt even more dreadful and empty than the last time he accidently came upon it.

A few feet stayed between him and Zhu while the stone building, confined by ropes and spells, stood as their backdrop. The usual lilac of the sky grew a little darker and there was a rumble like thunder. Pangu did not even realize it stormed in the spirit realm but, he supposed, when he really thought of it, he could not see why it wouldn’t.

That was beside the point, however, and he did not linger on it. His eyes stayed focused on Zhu who had yet to blink. “I can guess what you want to talk about.”

“I am sure you can.”

Pangu frowned and shook his head. “I just do not know why you would come here to talk about it. It does not need to be said. It is obvious.”

“It is,” Zhu agreed, “Obvious, foolish, selfish…”

He flinched when he said the word ‘selfish’. “Everyone is selfish sometimes.”

A bitter smile reached Zhu’s lips and he clasped his hands behind his back. “No. Not everyone. The Xiang is not supposed to be. The Xiang is also not supposed to be a beacon of sin and ruin yet here we stand.”

Pangu bit down on his tongue. His mentor’s words were no longer cordial—there was poison on his teeth.

“You may think I am some evil puppet of Shakti now but I feel a similar disappointment when I think of you and your plans for this world.” He stood his ground. “What Merra told me was terrible and against everything you taught me. I just want to help the people of this world. I believed that was my purpose.”

“Your purpose,” a new voice entered and shook the ground. The sky darkened to a deep violet and streaks of pink electricity shot out in all directions, piercing clouds and striking the ground with a clap. Wind whipped up around them, blowing robes and hair in all directions. A shadow, like a giant in the distance, appeared on the horizon and Pangu took it in with horror.

He had never believed, in all of his life, that they would meet like this. It was supposed to be pleasant, serene even, and deeply enlightening. He was supposed to be filled with light and reverence—he was supposed to be happy right now.

He was supposed to be a lot of things.

“Your purpose,” he repeated with more gravel, his voice like the winds of a hurricane, “was to do as I say.”

Pangu’s insides felt hollow. He gulped and stared at the bust in the sky—at a loss for words.

He was bigger than the mountains in the distance, more defined than the clouds but also less tangible. His skin brought light back to the realm even if the sky around his head and shoulders continued to darken. Black hair, long and smooth, fell somewhere past where Pangu could see as did the length of his beard. A white band tied around his forehead—a much smaller symbol of his godhood than expected. The insignia on the band was difficult to make out despite the size of it since the glow from his skin obscured many of the details on his face.

Really, he looked almost identical to the Heavenly Princes but just larger and more severe. They were made in his image and carried a little piece of him with them so that was to be expected but the extent of their likeness still startled Pangu.

“Tiandi,” he finally said his name.

His eyes widened, bulged. “Do not speak my name so impudently! Bow! Meager yourself before me!”

Pangu could not. He kept standing and just stared.

Of all the stories he had heard of Tiandi, he knew he was a strict God and he had a high standard for manners and demanded respect but he had also always assumed he was like a warm but old-fashioned father. He imagined he would kindly ask him to correct his behavior if it offended him or offer praise for what he did find acceptable.

He did not think he would yell.

His mentors never yelled so why would Tiandi?

“BOW!” Tiandi bellowed and the realm shook, sending Pangu to his knees. When he stayed down there, getting his bearings, Tiandi muttered, “Better.”

Pangu felt the heat of tears prickle his eyes as he looked up. “What brings you here? To speak to me directly?”

That time, his eyebrows furled and the brightness of his skin flared around him, lapping about like flames. “Do not ask questions you know the answer to! You have sullied my name and my image. You have besmirched the title of Xiang for all eternity. You cannot possibly be ignorant of this!”

Zhu stepped closer and looked down at Pangu with an expression that read as sad but it was difficult to tell. He did not especially believe he knew any of them anymore.

“I tried, Pangu,” Zhu said and closed his eyes. “I gave you two chances to save yourself, to redeem your name in Tiandi’s eyes. He wished you dead the moment you chose that Chaaya for a disciple but me and the other Princes worked tirelessly to grant you leeway. And what do you do?”

Pangu tried to rise from his knees but he was frozen in place. A force, from Tiandi, was keeping in the kneeling position. All he could do was turn his head upward to meet his old teacher’s eyes.

“I was honest with myself…” Pangu tried, in vain, to hold back the tears. A few streaked down his face. “I wished to help the people…I have done nothing to help Shakti. I have done nothing to hurt the people…”

“Stop lying!” Zhu raised his voice, shaking Pangu to his core. He sounded like Tiandi now. “You keep saying this was all for the people but you and I AND Tiandi all know that is not true. You told the world you want to lay with men not for their benefit but because you wanted to! You chose your disciples by your feelings alone—one because you found him attractive! Every decision you have made has been selfish and childish! I should have been a better parent to you, I really should have been. I let you get away with far too much and allowed you to become too full of yourself.”

Pangu’s tears fell to the rock under him, some bouncing off and others soaking into the surface right away. He shook, his muscles aching under the strain of his position as well as their desire to flee. But, of course, he still could not.

“Merra will take your place,” Tiandi spoke with a voice that was softer and filled with less anger and more purpose. “We will do our best to erase your existence from the people’s mind and let this failure be a memory only for us so that we do not make the same mistakes again.”

Failure. Erasure. Mistake. Pangu’s vision blurred and his skin chilled. He could not even speak. He suspected Tiandi sealed that ability as well.

“Zhu will take your soul away from this world and I pray to never meet you again.”

Pangu tensed, using all of the energy he had in him to try moving again. He cried out, in his mind, but on the outside he remained quiet and bowed as if in penance.

His eyes focused on his right hand and he collected his energy there, enough to move his index finger. A shot of excitement was quickly followed by a shot of pain.

A sharp slice came first and then a blunt pressure all through his chest spread like wildfire. He was not sure if he was breathing or not before but he knew now that it hurt to. His lungs must have been torn open by the spike of rock jutting through his middle. His heart, too, was smashed.

Pangu kept awareness for an excruciatingly long time. It had to have been minutes where he remained, on his hands and knees, screaming internally but only letting out blood from his mouth. More tears fell from his eyes, joining the splatter of red and the realization blossomed in him just as his consciousness began fading.

He would not be going back.

He did not even get to say goodbye.

***

It had been too long—the sun was already rising. Everyone fanned out, even the villagers as they started to rise for the morning, and they searched the perimeter on the off chance that Pangu had reappeared somewhere farther away.

The disciples and Viren met back at the arrowhead, exhausted and fearful. No one had found him.

“Are they keeping him in the spirit realm?” Raine asked despite knowing that no one knew the answer.

“They can’t,” Baiya replied, not hiding his frustration.

“I’ll kill that bastard when I see him,” Kira grumbled, “I don’t care who he is.”

Viren watched them all with a furrowed brow and a frown. He was not sure if anyone else felt the sinking sensation he did. All he knew was that he could not stomach it much longer.

“Look!” Heidi’s sudden shout, brought with it a spike of energy.

Right where the old man had left from, his form started to take shape again. The sun kissed the back of his white robes as he appeared, arms full of a long roll of fabric. It dipped in his hold and the disciples held their breath.

“Where is Pangu?!” Kira demanded.

“Silence,” Zhu boomed before removing one hand to pull forth the fabric, revealing a body underneath. “If you do not cease your crusade against the Xiang Merra, you will meet his same fate.”

He dropped the body to the ground and there was almost no need to have a closer look but without seeing, with their own eyes, they might not have believed it.

Heidi was the first to scream and Viren covered his mouth, dropping to his knees and trembling. Raine walked slowly forward, his heart pulling down to the depths of his stomach while Baiya collapsed at the side of the corpse. Cries, yells, the calling of his name—“Pangu!”

Kira could not make a sound, however. He could only stare at the lifeless body of his companion. His best friend. What was before him reflected what was within.

A coldness.

A darkness.

An emptiness.

The grief was overwhelming and loud and visceral but it would not wake Pangu. It would not bring him back.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

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janumun · 3 years

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The Pirate's Symbol(s): NSFW Alphabet [IkeSen Motonari]

Game: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Motonari/Female Reader

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 2.5k

Warnings: stockings fetish, spoilers for Motonari’s ‘condition’, sexual intercourse, mentions of exhibitionism/semi-public sex, (non-sexual) bondage, innuendoes and dirty-talk, masturbation

Author’s Notes: Motonari’s entire self is a joy, his route gave me some much needed, invigorating enemies-to-lovers, and I officially love him! [Totally swiped my heart right up without warning!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Motonari is quick — you’d almost say adept — at sweeping off a cloth, or container, placed by your bedside. Although, your touch and whatever fire you generate in between the two of you does not bother him, he does prefer you both cleaner of the mess and fluids when holding you close in his arms, afterwards.

Wiping up the remnants of your passionate and, often vigorous, activities off of quivering thighs he presses apart, in gentle strokes of damp fibers. Movements of the cloth soft enough it doesn’t shock you into over-sensitivity but not soft enough you relax entirely beneath him, because that scarlet gaze is always fixated on you — your body language. And if you give away even an inch, he’s ready and up for round two (or four). [Bless yer stamina, matey!]

If not, he’s still up and happy to listen to his favorite flower-brained woman’s amusing, outrageous tales she narrates in animated conversation. While he whisks up a quick, invigorating meal for her at the kitchen counter, just as she rests her happy self at the table. Garnet gaze seemingly fixated upon the task at hand — spices being tossed, ladle being stirred, eggs whipped to perfection — but his answers are prompt and alert, although still carrying that insouciant edge. Indicating his attention; equal division in between feeding you and hearing you speak.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Motonari is fond of his mouth, and before you, he didn’t think of it as much of an achievement as he believes it now, when your jittery gaze seeks immediate relief (and lust) as soon as it lands upon that obvious smirk.

A single kiss and your thoughts are all but handed over to him on an elaborate platter. Your cheeks color dark and wide; restless eyes tracing across his mouth. Your own parting; pink tongue darting quick in a swipe across plush lips: all of you demanding more of him.

Yes, he is surprisingly (or not), in touch with a far more emotional side: Motonari adores your eyes, although you’re never hearing it from him. Your entire body speaks of honesty but the way he reads your thoughts so easy, in your gaze, there’s quite nothing as exhilarating or confounding as the love he captures in them. That quick, tight knot of your brow, your anger flaring in your eyes or the equally prompt melting, when he appeases you in gentle teases. He’s been so long used to not trusting that a person he sees this clearly through, and sees how she trusts; it’s not an entirely terrible thing to feel.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As mentioned above, the man doesn’t particularly care to leave you a mess post-coitus unless you ask it of him; there is little he’s able to refuse you. So when it does come (…heh) to cumming outside of your pussy, your mouth is a pretty (very pretty too) good substitute for him to ejaculate, without having to think of leaving external stains on you. Your throat clamping, then swallowing, around his orgasm, so he feels that slick slide of saliva and semen around him, as you moan.

Yer pretty darn hot, m’lady.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he descends — quick and furious — into an almost juvenile state of petty jealousy [he realizes the immaturity of it, he just cannot! help! it!] and ends up turning that lust on you, instead.

He’d never actually do it but visualizing — in almost exact, murderous details — how he’d like to drag you into an empty room whenever Kicho gets all up in your face, and fuck you so hard your throat tears through screams lough enough Kicho hears each and every single sound and moan.

Or, clasp your chin in his fingers, whenever Hideyoshi’s a little too close for comfort at an Oda banquet, and kiss you senseless and noisy [pirates crave a flashy exhibition!].

He despises making a show of you to anybody, so that idea only stays in thoughts but also it’s mind-boggling, since it does get him hard on the spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, it was only ever through terrible necessity (extremely dire straits) that he — if ever and very sparing — sought casual sex. The occasions hadn’t been plenty and he’d be frighteningly specific about how he wanted to take a woman to bed.

Bathed, no make-up, no perfume, no scented products or jewelry — anything extra that he could accidentally touch and trigger a reaction. A clean, unscented futon he’d provide in a bare room. Any bonds or cloths he could get his hands on (buying his own and discarding immediately after), to tie their limbs, keep their movements limited; Motonari used.

Of course, there’d be the rare prostitute who’d drop immediately after visiting a client, or one who’d perceive his conditions extreme and over-the-top and think they could ‘change his mind’. The moment they’d try and cross the line, he’d fling them off, almost violently, heart racing, sweat marking each inch of exposed skin. Nauseous and barely tapped, before he’d stride out of the room.

He’s also witnessed open and perverse brothels — and corrupt seething dens — where men and women fuck, for all to see, in his line of work, so he’s no stranger to how sex works for others either.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s learning to let go and touch (just you) without the added barrier of gloves and since you so seem fond of his hands on you, Motonari likes any positions that allow his hands to move your body upon his; he isn’t picky.

Palms curved upon your hips so that your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he pulls back, the movements of his cock into and out of your pussy — a place you are both connected and he likes that. Or even when he can spread your thighs wide, press them apart before hooking his hands over your abdomen and just focusing on moving.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a pirate he’s a vortex of a man and slips all over the spectrum. Motonari’s goading is far softened with minimum barbs, when he’s in(side you) in bed with you. More velvet — than leathery — questions, soft smirk-y and probing,: “Ya like that, flower girl?” —as his mouth hovers just close to your ear, nose barely touching and tucking sweat soaked strands away from your temple. Definitely lands firm and midway between too serious and entirely silly. But he’s all focus on you, make no mistake.

He’s still got a filthy mouth on him, but dirty romantic liners are more his style, in bed (he wants you warmed as well as turned on!), in contrast to the complete indecent filth he threatens you with (a good time!) when the two of you are out and about.

“Pipe down, m’lady. The way yer moaning, they’re gonna think I’m fucking ya, right on deck.” Those eyes are burnished rubies; smile wide, crooked and unashamed, as he ducks close. “But maybe ya feel like putting on a show.”

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s clean down below (and silver-haired, yes) — he doesn’t go the ‘complete waxed up, no-hair in sight’ route, but rather prefers keeping his hair short-trimmed and well-groomed.

He’s also kept his pubic hair short and neat, for the rare occasions he does have sex, and an unkempt mass down there would leave him more likely and exposed to his partner’s fluids staying on him. He despises that.

Motonari doesn’t mind blood, dirt and grime on the field, nor the brine of the harsh sea sticking to his skin, but as soon as he’s done with — or in between — jobs, he takes the time to wash and clean himself up thoroughly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

[Also see G=Goofy] Motonari isn’t short with words of love. He isn’t reciting romantic poems but he is quick to let you know, in exact words, how much he loves you — and is loving being inside you — in the moment. Barriers definitely lower themselves — not all down, not completely back up — with this man, in bed.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

(As also mentioned in E=Experience) the man, previously, has sought intimacy only and only out of desperate necessity and when his hand is just not enough for him to relieve himself of his lust. Motonari, before you, jacked off, multiple times within a week, sometimes thrice (or more) in a single day. His desires, usually amped, following a particularly unsatisfying battle or raid.

After you, he still does take time off for some self-lovin’ (remember: stamina for daaays, and you’re mostly unable to match him so he makes do), just not as much as he used to, in the past.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You and Motonari share a love for (clothing) imports from the seas beyond. He’s always up for sharing and discussing trade secrets, doling out clothing advice and helping you work out modern clothing from whatever fabrics are available to you.

Stockings might be one of his favorite products.

The fabric feeling absolutely exquisite against his palms when he rounds you close into his grasp, stood in between his spread thighs as he observes and hums beneath you, seated. A harmless joke you make, about a stocking fetish and the ensuing explanation soon after, has him grinning and dragging you down to test the material against his teeth.

“Yer sayin’ I got a thing for yer fancy underclothes? Heh, don’t think so. Seeing you in it just makes me wanna tear it all off, meu docinho de côco.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere you’re afforded privacy; although a little flirting with danger is good and being pinned in between the door and his body. Watching you try and smother your moans into your sleeves, skews that grin wider, that cock harder.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. He’s got a dirty mind, it’ll do the rest of the work when its got its catalyst: you.

Nothing gets you results faster than being honest with Motonari, or expressing your affections (even chaste) for him.

Tell him he looked especially handsome, earlier on a job out: with his hair slicked back and how hard it was for you to have held back from kissing him, on the spot. That you love him—

He’s on you so fast.

“That brain’s just gotta keep sprouting its flowers, huh.” He murmurs, tugging at your chin to swipe his tongue into you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite his treatment of you very early on in his route (the collar, the slavery deal), Motonari’s not into putting a collar on a person, romantic or otherwise. Collaring and hearing you call him your Master wouldn’t do much for him, playful or not.

He’s had to live a great chunk of his life as the Beggar Prince; experienced the devastating dregs of human society, including and not limited to being treated as one inferior, and having to watch people around at the very mercy of corrupt lords.

In retrospect, it isn’t something he might take pleasure in, in the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or receiving, both take some getting used to within the bedroom. He finds the taste of you pleasant, when he withdraws wet digits from inside you and takes a careful swipe of the clear fluid across his skin. And has expressed interest in, and gone down on you several times.

Receiving gets a bit more gentle coax-y and requires reassurances, with Motonari. He doesn’t particularly like seeing his release all over you. Having to work through those barriers of his mind, but once he allows you, he does enjoy the slow kisses, and the soft slide of your mouth against him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default setting is rough and furious. The two of you are usually frustrated passion by the time you actually get to his bedroom (he likes to prod and poke much too often in public, get you riled) so there’s only one way to go and it’s up. He’s spreading your thighs apart with none too gentle hands as he pushes through and into you, your own hold on him, white knuckled and almost delirious with the way his hips rock into you and his cockhead scraps across your front wall with his onslaught.

At times, however, especially after a high-risk mission; when he’s been close enough to stare Death in the face and survive, he likes to take his time being inside you, just being able to feel you. Once, twice, several times, he’s keeping you beneath, or mounted on top of him, coaxing your hips and your moans.

“Don’t look at me like that, flower girl. I’m alive, ain’t I? Com’ere. I’ll take those tears of yers.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely! Any time he can have you, or get you close enough in private, you’re going to be fucking each other. He loves those little breathy, moan-laughters you make in half-panic/all arousal, each time he drives up to grind your hips close together, stuffed into a hallway closet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Semi-public quickies are a thing and the closest to risky as he gets. As mentioned previously, he’s demanding enough over you, he doesn’t like men Kicho touching you, let alone hearing you when you sound like that.

Other kinks, most kinks, he’s down to try with his favorite dirty, flower-brained woman. He does however, draw the line at any kinks that might involve him using harsh, ugly words to degrade you or your body and/or being soiled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

All I gotta say is: Pirate’s got stamina enough to power his ships through horn alone, over an entire week!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys translate to external objects. Which are always subject to germs, and need to be (excessively) cleaned by his standards, to keep them useful and usable. That’s far much more work than he’s usually willing to commit himself to.

And he has no need of them. Not when you respond plenty to his touch alone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot! Motonari’s brand of filthy talk is polished to leave you damp in between the legs. He’s pulling the nastiest most wonderful innuendoes out of the most mundane of tasks.

“Ya like that old weapon?” He might ask of you, as you admire the carvings upon the handle of one of his clan’s katana. “Didn’t know ya liked the feel of handlin’ a sword between yer hands that much, m’lady.”

Leaving your mind reeling and cheeks flushing before withdrawing with a, “What’re ya cooking in that flower brain of yers? Heh... you’ve got a dirty mind.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heavy, sensual pants against your ears. His groans and grunts enough to fan the fires of your own arousal, to have you ready to come, from just the sounds that can leave his throat. Motonari doesn’t care to be heard outside your boundaries, but he also doesn’t care to withhold his own sounds of pleasure from you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He almost swears (but will never tell you, in very direct words): the space in between your bare breasts smells almost sweet like flowers. He likes finding his way up and nosing in between your breasts — just skin-to-skin contact at a place he finds you’re at your most fragrant. Suckling and tugging at a nipple draws those moans and your scent more intense, so he nips and teeths around the place often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

That beautiful cock — with the evidence of just enough silver at the base — is long enough it fits and curves snug into you, without entering into any discomforting places, deep. But he is thick enough, it takes you time (and many times) to not just hold your breath and tighten up around him on reflex, upon entry.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(Read: S)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re almost always the one falling asleep first. Pirates are used to night raids and this one’s no different. He does prefer watching you sleep, late into the night, once you fall exhausted into slumber.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

#ikesen motonari #ikemen sengoku motonari #ikesen mouri motonari #ikesen motonari smut #ikesen smut #ikemen sengoku smut #ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen motonari x reader #ns//fw text #a pickle writes

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binniedeactivated · 3 years

Text

txt reactions. || 👾👾

Reaction to them cheating on you...

a/n; was just in the mood to write this, purely self indulgent because this is what sam smith at 5am does to me <3

soobin;

it’s been a while since you and soobin had done anything romantic. so, while he was at work you decided to fix the house up pretty and make him a big dinner. the both of your work schedules prevented you both from even touching each other, you were much too tired. most nights you guys would come home and go straight to bed. you thought a nice dinner, some lingerie and soft sex would get you both back on your game again. you got off work a little earlier tonight and put your plan into action, making all of his favorite foods and lighting some candles in your bedroom to make everything look as romantic as possible. you even went as far as to making the bathtub water floral and inserting scented candles in there also.

you were excited. you were finally going to do something with your boyfriend other than sleep inside the same bed as him night after night. you thought he would be really happy about it as well considering he was often moody when you two weren’t clingy like usual. you lit the last candle while you heard a bit of bustling on the side of the door and you assumed soobin could be coming in at any moment. you turned off the light and stood further away from the door, waiting to surprise him.

as soon as the keys unlocked the door you heard a body slam into the wall beside it while soobin closes the door with his foot. you heard soft moans and you could see soobin rushing to take his jacket off just to throw it on the floor beside him and lift the girl on the wall by her thighs. your blood began to boil.

“fuck soobin-- you really gonna fuck me right here? while you’re girlfriend isn’t home?”.

“we have another hour baby”. soobin groans and moves his lips to her neck. she grips his hair strands and continues letting the meek noises flow from her throat.

“you have another hour?”. you spoke up loud enough to startle them. soobin jumps and immediately puts her down to glare back at you in fear. “baby i was just--”.

“i got off work early and bought all this shit just so we can have a romantic night to ourselves. I cooked, I set up the bathroom and the bedroom. I made it all nice and pretty thinking maybe we can eat and have some fun. but now I see why you haven’t been touching me. It isn’t because we’re tired it’s because you’re too busy fucking someone else”.

the girl breathes, releasing her grip from soobin’s forearm. “maybe I should leave--”.

“yeah maybe you should. now”.

she scoots past soobin and slips out of the door with ease. soobin could only stare at you in guilt. “It’s not even like that baby I swear”.

you blow the candles out one by one. “sure it wasn’t soobin. you were about to fuck her had I not spoke up sooner. how long has it been?”.

“what are you talking about?”.

you take a spoon from his plate and throw it at his chest. “you know what the hell I’m talking about. how long have you been fucking her?”.

he rubs himself in pain. “only a few weeks”.

“good. i hope you continue to enjoy her for the rest of your life. you’re going to need someone to keep you company because I’m not staying with you”.

“baby I just felt like we haven’t really been doing anything so I thought--”.

“so you thought--hey let me just go cheat? you’re an idiot and that’s a stupid ass excuse”

“cmon--you know I’m a man we have needs”.

“I’m a woman with needs too soobin! you think we all don’t crave sex sometimes? what did you think I was making this whole night about?! I wanted to spend time with you and have sex. but you’re getting your needs met with someone else so I’ll do the same thing. like I said enjoy her. this will be the last time you ever see me again”.

“I’m sorry--look I’m sorry I’ll cut ties with her and I won’t do again”.

“save every last apology you have. I’m not taking it. I’m find someone else”.

yeonjun;

it was all over everywhere. especially stan twitter. and quite frankly you were tired of seeing it. it was yeonjun doing his solo song at their recent concert, singing jealous by labrinth. he sung it as painfully and brutal as if someone stuck a stake through his heart with no care in the world. but he wasn’t the hurt one here. it was you. he was cheating on you repeatedly with numerous women, not giving a damn about his actions until you caught him. and now here he was, singing his heart out on stage and crying, making everyone believe you were the one that broke his heart.

his voice croaked and cracked when he sung it. and you’ll admit it he sung it beautifully. so beautiful it made you cry every time you heard it. it was sad that you both had to end a three year relationship because he didn’t know how to be with you and you only. you were sick of his games, his lies, you were sick of it all. you wanted to be completely free of him. you moved to a different city and took an acting job elsewhere. one you were proud of in fact. well, you were proud of it before you realized who was casted to play as your ex in the next episode.

you avoided yeonjun during rehearsal as much as you possibly could. but that didn’t stop him from singing about you on stage and pouring his heart out as if he missed you. you didn’t believe he missed you. you thought he just missed the fact that you gullible enough to fall for every lie he told. today was another taping day. like the script instructed you open the door and yeonjun was required to be there with a sullen expression on his face.

“what are you doing here?”.

“just give me another chance. please. I swear this time I’ll do right by you”.

you attempt to shut the door in his face but he holds it open with arm. which wasn’t in the script at all. neither was his next line.

“please. please I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I know i wasn’t the best boyfriend. I was so stupid for thinking those girls could ever make up for the endless love that you showered me with. I’m so dumb for taking you for granted in the moment I thought that having multiple partners would make me feel better about myself and boost my ego but it only hurt me in the end. It made me feel so empty. you were the only person that could ever make me feel whole”.

you cross your arms, seeing that this became real.

“yeah, you’re stupid for losing me but i’m not responsible for your wholeness yeonjun. you are. don’t ever depend on someone else to make you happy that’s selfish. the emotional trauma and stress you put me through is something I will never go through again. you broke me beyond repair. I constantly poured out for you and all you did was take. you didn’t appreciate me and I don’t deserve that. you sung about how you were jealous of anyone else I ever come across because you’re afraid of someone loving me the way you should’ve. I’m not running back to you anymore”.

tears raced down his cheeks.

“I’ll be good to you. just please let me be good to you”.

“no. I’m done with you”.

beomgyu;

the front door open and closed softly but he didn’t think you were awake. little did he know you were. in fact you were wide awake. your pregnancy hormones kept you up later than usual. you were grateful though because you were wide awake enough to see beomgyu. to see him try to discreetly throw his condom wrapper in the nearby garbage before taking his jacket off and placing it on the coat rack.

you quickly turned the kitchen light on behind him which startled him completely. he frighteningly turns around to face you, he could already tell you weren’t too pleased with how late he was coming in. his heart started to pound rapidly hoping you wouldn’t suspect anything. but you saw everything. even down to the purple hickeys on his neck that he failed to cover.

“I’m so sick and tired of this gyu. I’m so sick”.

“I had to work late tonight. me and the boys-“.

“you and the boys weren’t doing anything because I already texted yeonjun and soobin and they said you got off work two hours ago. so where the hell where you?”. you fold your arms, hating how he was getting you worked up while you were carrying his child. he swallows,

“I had some extra things to take care of”.

“like what? who were you fucking gyu? because I’m not stupid”.

“why would I cheat on you while you’re pregnant? that’s bad for baby. I think you’re just stressing yourself out at this point”.

“I’m stressing myself out?!”. you lean over as best as you could just to pluck the wrapper out the garbage can and angrily flick it at his face. “what the fuck is this then? and why are you lying about it?!”.

“babe that’s from the last time we--”.

“that’s bullshit beomgyu! when have we ever used a condom?! please tell me and then after that please tell me what the hell are those marks are your neck?!”.

he reaches his hand up to try and cover them. “mosquitos--I’ve been getting bitten by a lot of bugs lately”. you shove him backwards.

“get out! please get out until you can learn how to stop cheating and lying. go get yourself some fucking help. I’m not doing this with you! when the baby is born we can figure out some custodial situations but I don’t want to be with you if you don’t want to be with me. I’m done with this. I’m done with us”.

“don’t do this. you know what I want most is to be a dad. how are you just going to kick me out?”.

you shook your head in disbelief. “pack your shit and go beomgyu”. you hated yourself for crying. “I don’t want you here anymore”.

“I’ll admit it then i was cheating. alright? is that what you wanted to hear?”.

“it’s sad that it took me threatening to kick you out for you to come clean. you’re not even man enough to tell me straight up?”.

“I won’t do it anymore. just please let me father my son in the same household I can’t do any of that custody crap. don’t be like this”.

“you did it to yourself. had you made it clear that you wanted to love me, the mother of your son, you wouldn’t be out here cheating and lying like you are right now. I’m not stressing myself over this anymore beomgyu. get out. take all of your stuff with you”.

taehyun;

friday nights always ended like this. you and taehyun cuddled together on his living room sofa eating too many snacks to name. surrounded by complete darkness except for the movie blaring on the television screen. most would think that couples your age would love to spend their friday nights partying or drinking. however you and taehyun were a different pair.

“sweetheart can you get your elbow off my bladder that’s why I have to go pee every five seconds”.

“no you have to pee every five seconds because you’re lowkey pregnant”.

as taehyun gets up he laughs at your comment. “whatever. I’ll be back can you pause it?”.

you shove another piece of popcorn in your mouth before pressing the middle on the remote, rushing him. in the midst of waiting though you realized taehyun’s phone was getting numerous notifications, most of which you brushed off thinking it was the group chat he’s in with the boys. but an unfamiliar number popped up on his phone screen, one you haven’t saw before. in pure wonder you grab ahold of his phone, taking another peak at the bathroom door before unlocking it to see the message.

333-333-333: are you still with her? when she goes to sleep you should come over...

with a jaw clenched you angrily squeeze his phone, wanting to lock it again so you can gather your thoughts. but you couldn’t help yourself from scrolling through his message thread with whoever the number was, which you assumed was some girl because she’d been sending him nudes since a couple of weeks ago. and to make matters worse he was responding with heart eyes. once the sink in the bathroom went off taehyun closes the door behind himself and you immediately lock his phone, glaring at him with the coldest expression you could muster.

“sweetheart? what’s the matter? why do you have my phone?”.

with your heart racing you launch his phone at his chest. “fuck you taehyun!”. you remove the blankets off yourself to fetch your shoes. he winces at the sudden hit just before unlocking his phone to see that you had opened his message thread. shit. “why are you going through my phone?”.

“that’s all you have to fucking say?! why was i going through your phone? why were you getting nudes from some other girl?! that’s the real question!”. you grab your bag and approach the door. of course taehyun was trying his best to pull you back over to him. you snatch his arms of your torso in a fit of rage. “she’s just a friend--”.

“we’ve been dating for 5 years and you do this shit?! fuck you. if you didn’t want me anymore you could’ve just said that. don’t call me, don’t text me or talk to me anymore. we’re done”.

“sweetheart please. I can’t be alone. I didn’t even mean to text her i don’t know what came over me”.

“don’t talk to me anymore. you’re a cheater. that’s what came over you”.

“so you’re just going to leave so quick like that?”.

“you think you deserve for me to stay? you’re so fucking self centered. don’t make me seem like the weak one for leaving someone who obviously doesn’t love me anymore. now move your damn hands. I’m leaving”.

and with that there was a slamming door. taehyun could feel his heart sink with every step you took down the hallway.

kai;

you were working when you got the notification. it was from your bank account, specifically the joint account you and kai shared. they were notifying you about a recent purchase from last night. one that you hadn’t remembered at all so you figured it had to be kai. he didn’t know that you opted to be notified about the spending on the account just to make sure the both of you were keeping your savings in order. but one thing that wasn’t in order was what the last purchase was on.

dinner for two and perfume shopping.

no. no way. you checked once again to make sure you weren’t seeing things. but the notification was loud and clear. you figured maybe someone had stolen your credit card and began using it. but even that wouldn’t make sense because it has a pin and only you and kai knew it. you felt your cheeks grow hot at the thought of kai with someone else. you knew he was acting a little distant these past couple of days but you couldn’t figure out why. the tears welled in your eyes but you refused to let them fall, in front of your colleagues at least. you took a step out into the bathroom to take a breath. but you couldn’t keep yourself from crying. you couldn’t understand why he’d be doing this. you loved him too much and too hard for him to even think of being with someone else.

you opened your phone deciding to call him. the phone ringed so many times you thought he wasn’t going to pick up until he finally picked up on the last ring. you didn’t even give him a chance to speak once he did.

“kai i’m only going to ask you this one time and please don’t lie to me”.

“what’s wrong baby?”.

“don’t call me that. who were you taking out on a date the other night? buying perfume for?”. you ask more calmly than you rehearsed in your head. kai’s heart dropped. he panicked. how did you know?

“no one. what are you talking about? you sound so upset. I don’t like when you’re like this baby”.

you exhale heavily. fury pooled in your chest. “you don’t like it? so why the hell were you cheating? you know what? you’re so pathetic. i can’t. I’m fucking leaving you”.

“baby for what? why are you leaving? don’t leave me I promise I wasn’t with anyone else”.

“you sound so innocent when you say that. is that what you like? huh? you like sounding innocent so you can further manipulate me?”.

“baby please”.

“don’t worry. I’ll be out the house by tonight”.

#choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #kang taeyun #heuning kai #soobin angst #yeonjun angst #beomgyu angst #taehyun angst #heuning kai angst #txt reactions #yeonjun #soobin #beomgyu #taehyun #reactions

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willowcrowned · 3 years

Note

Okay but has anyone considered Obi-wan/Cody/Satien (is that how its spelled?) Regardless, hes got two hands for his two mandalorians, the au where this happend is gotta be top notch ridiculous ye?

Okay thank you so much for giving me a reason to think about this, because this AU contains three things I adore: polyamory, ships where everyone is frighteningly competent, and Obi-Wan

In this AU, Ventress is somehow even less well-adjusted (bear with me). What this means is that, instead of taking a gap year and finding herself after her family is brutally murdered, she decides she needs to get revenge even more now. What does this mean? In the short term, she still becomes a bounty hunter, but in the long run? She’s looking for a Sith lord team up so she can punch Dooku (with a lit lighstaber) in his stupid, elitist, backstabbing face.

So when Maul invades Mandalore, what happens? Ventress comes right along, ready to give her ‘I know we hate each other, but consider teaming up to kill someone we both hate even MORE’ space TED talk. And though Maul may be terribly annoying, a closet theater kid, always in a tits out kind of mood, and denying his gay awakening, he’s not stupid. He knows Sidious is coming for him, sooner rather than later, and he knows he needs more people on his side than his (impressively beefy) brother. He and Savage agree to the team-up.

Cue Obi-Wan showing up, ready to save his sort-of girlfriend, and finding Pre Vizsla, who got REAL sus the second ANOTHER lunatic with a red lightsaber showed up, occupied by capturing Maul, Savage, and Ventress.

Obi-Wan saves Satie, who convinces him to call Cody for a quick evac, and they’re running away, flirting, and arguing over shooting things (as usual), when they spot Ventress, Maul, and Savage, about to be executed.

Oh, they both think, hell no. And then, because they have a stupid moral code that makes them do stupid moral things, they go save them.

A little background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has been fighting in a war for over two years. He is exhausted, close to a breakdown, and seriously questioning his place as a General. Next to him at all times, supporting him, helping him, and saving him, is Cody, who is clever, kinder than he has any right to be, and is, of course, devastatingly handsome when he does his special, unique-to-Cody half-smirk.

Obi-Wan, to put it mildly, is totally gone on him. Obi-Wan also, to put it less mildly, is his commanding officer in an army that Cody can’t leave on pain of death. To do anything— make any advance beyond the flirting that he engages in with most people— would put Cody in a very uncomfortable position, whether or not he returns Obi-Wan’s feelings. So Obi-Wan watches him from afar, hoping against hope that his affections are returned, and that one day, after the end of the war, there will be a future for both of them.

A little more background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has always respected Satine. Their correspondence fell apart just a few months after the end of his mission with Qui-Gon, but he’s been keeping up with her professional accomplishments for years. Over time, the love he bore for her faded, leaving him with good memories and an enduring appreciation for her courage, her cleverness, and her ability to deliver devastating blows to someone’s confidence with a few well-placed words.

Until he sees her again. And yes, alright, he might be angry that she’s choosing to stay out of the war— he knows what good she could do— but he understands her fears, understands the very real possibility that if Mandalore gets embroiled in yet another war, they may never recover. The thing is... well, she’s still very beautiful, especially when he’s yelling at him, and as slowly as his feelings had faded then, they come back in a rush now.

He has very much fallen in love with Cody, and he is very much still in love with Satine.

Cut back to the present— Obi-Wan and Satine rescue the three most annoying Sith in the galaxy and get the heck out of dodge. Cody, because he’s Cody, comes swooping in with a last-minute rescue.

At this point, two things are occurring.

The first: Obi-Wan is stuck in a room with four people he’s periodically flirted with over the past few years, two of whom he’s desperately in love with, one of whom he had a weird encounter with that he can never tell Anakin about when she and him got trapped in a middle school auditorium, and one of whom is definitely wearing no shirt and all that jewelry for a reason. It is Supremely awkward for him.

The second: Every single person in that room, each of which is (barring Savage) deeply attracted to Obi-Wan, is realizing that Obi-Wan is dressed in Mandalorian armor, and while Obi-Wan in three layers of tunics and a cloak is an absolute knockout, Obi-Wan in Mandalorian armor may very well kill them (and he won’t even have to touch his lightsaber to do it).

For one single moment, everything is absolutely still as they all stare at each other.

...And then Maul starts on the ‘I will rend your flesh from your bones, feel my wrath, Kenobarrgh’ spiel, and Satine stuns him. Oh, and Savage. Ventress agrees to watch the two of them if they don’t stun her, and Obi-Wan agrees.

Which then leaves him, Cody, and Satine in a room alone.

A word on Cody at this point: He has been bred from birth to be the perfect soldier— loyal, clever (but not too clever), and rigourously adherent to protocol. Yet, within three months of knowing Obi-Wan, he’s, well, calling him Obi-Wan in his head. Even just that is a gross breach of protocol, but he’s compromised in more ways than one. He talks to Obi-Wan, now, not just as a subordinate, or secondary advisor, but as a friend, as a councilor. Every time Obi-Wan touches him— never for longer than a brief second— his skin lights up under his armor. One time, Obi-Wan fell asleep on him for half an hour, and Cody’s was sure everyone would hear his heartbeat.

What he’s doing— how he feels— he knows it’s putting Obi-Wan in danger, knows that if the Kaminoans had wanted to the clones to be equals to the Jedi, they would have told them so. And look, he knows what the natborns would call the way he’s feeling, but he can’t feel that way. He’s a clone— he’s expendable by definition. Even if, on some off-chance, he makes it out of this war alive, there’s nothing for him. Obi-Wan couldn’t care for him like that, couldn’t care for a man with the same face as millions of others, born and bred only for war. So it doesn’t matter how he feels.

A word on Satine at this point: Obi-Wan, when he left, was a gawkish, bumbling thing of red hair and freckles and the sweetest smile. Obi-Wan, when he came back, was graceful, eloquent, and very, very handsome. He is also infuriating. (This does not change how attracted she is to him in the least.)

She’s not a romantic, really, but she is a realist, and she knows she’s loved him in some form or another for over twenty years. She knows she can’t ask him to return it— knows that asking him to leave the order for her wouldn’t just be for her, it would be for Mandalore, and while the politician in her cries for her to claim him, the person in her who loves Obi-Wan could not abide tearing him away from his culture for her own purposes. She still loves him, deeply and irrevocably, and she knows he still loves her. (Maybe, she thinks, after the war... But she can’t afford to be sentimental).

What do Cody and Satine have in common? They’re both extremely competent, both instinctively ruthless, and they both love Obi-Wan. Oh, and they’re also both immediately jealous of their counterpart.

They know they shouldn’t be. They know it’s not fair, not when Obi-Wan isn’t theirs anyways, but it doesn’t change the surge of envy and dislike that happens when they see Obi-Wan use the soft voice he only uses for the people he likes best on the person across from them.

Cody knows he can never compare to the Duchess, who is beautiful and well-spoken and has held Obi-Wan’s heart since they were fifteen. Satine knows she can never compare to Cody, who has been at Obi-Wan’s side every second since the war’s beginning, who is so much closer in ideals to Obi-Wan than she is, however it might appear on the surface.

Fortunately, they don’t have to deal with it for long, because Ventress comes in with Maul and Savage and proposes a team up, at which point Maul reveals the identity of the Sith Master.

Obi-Wan swears a string of words that Cody and Satine are both very impressed by, and agrees to the team up. Cody and Satine, who are both going to Coruscant anyways, agree to it too.

What ensues is a good deal of scheming, during which Cody and Satine avoid each other like the plague, Obi-Wan is repeatedly told to get some sleep, and Ventress cuffs Maul to a door on multiple nonconsecutive occasions. When they get to Coruscant, Satine has already told Padmé, who has in turn told her group of anti-war (and anti-Palpatine) senators, Cody has given Rex a heads up, and Ventress, Maul, and Savage have been metaphorically sharpening their lightsabers for ages.

(It occurs to Obi-Wan, at one point, after he’s woken up from his enforced 25-hour nap, that Palpatine must have created the clone army for a reason— must have a failsafe in place— and he asks Ahsoka to pull all the data the Kaminoans have on the clones. They find out about the chips, and Ahsoka immediately immediately holds the Kaminoans at laser sword point until they reprogram every order into a command that dissolves the chip.)

The thing about organizing a coup together is that it makes it very hard to avoid each other. Cody and Satine are forced to work together, and, what do you know, it turns out that even with seething jealousy at work, they end up respecting each other. (Note: Obi-Wan comes into a room at one point to see them both bent over a commlink, heads together and hands nearly touching. He short circuits.)

In any case, coup, Palps dies, Republic fixed, whatever.

What’s important is that Obi-Wan gets really, really injured— so much so that he might die. Cody and Satine have dealt with him being dead before (Deception arc anyone?), but this? Watching him slowly fade, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it? That’s worse.

One night, when Anakin has fallen asleep, they have a long conversation in low voices about Obi-Wan, darting from fond to furious to devastated over and over again. If he wakes up— if, not when— they agree to say something to Obi-Wan, to let him know that they love him. It’s a meager consolation after all they’ve been through, but this is the end, in one way or another, and they deserve to be honest with him.

(Cody thinks, privately, that he will be— well, not tossed aside, because Obi-Wan isn’t the sort of person who does that, but there won’t be a place for him by Obi-Wan’s side anymore. Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a negotiator, a peacekeeper, and Cody is a soldier for a now-ended war. He is already steeling himself to accept Obi-Wan’s polite rejection with equanimity, to not cause more pain to the man. (It will be easy, he knows, to wish him every peace, every happiness. Cody has only ever wanted to see Obi-Wan happy. This does not mean it will not be painful.) Obi-Wan said once that he would have left the Order for Satine if she’d asked— she will ask, now, and Cody knows Obi-Wan will leave, can see the love written in his face, in his spine, in his hands, whenever he is around her. Satine will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Cody will be left to look for a place in this new galaxy.)

(Satine thinks, privately, that Obi-Wan’s feelings for her must be long faded, replaced by his obvious ones for Cody. Obi-Wan is a warrior, a Knight, and Satine is a diplomat who foreswore violence long ago. She is already steeling herself to accept his rejection with grace. (It will be easy, she knows, to wish him well. She has only ever wanted good things for him. This does not mean it will not be painful.) He said once that he would have left the Order for her if she’d asked, and whatever he’d felt then for her pales to what he feels now for Cody. Cody will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Satine will rule as she always has.)

And then Obi-Wan wakes up.

Cody and Satine let him have his long talk with Anakin first, partially because they know how important it is to him, partially because Anakin wouldn’t let them if they wanted to, and partially because they are dreading their own coming conversation. When Anakin has finished, and Obi-Wan is asleep again, they go in, hand-in-hand, and wait for him to wake up.

When he does wake up, he sees them holding hands and immediately comes to several wrong conclusions. Wrong Conclusion A: Cody and Satine are in love. Wrong Conclusion B: Cody and Satine are going to try to break the news that they’re in love to him gently. Wrong Conclusion C: This conversation is about to break his heart.

Then they speak.

At the end of it, Obi-Wan has some Thoughts. Thought One: alkdfjhskhsgjljlbhkgkjbjvnab,gkjvn;qlerghjsv?????!!!!fwbfwlkrehwogwhuwrijvhfdbhkf!!!! Thought Two: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Thought Three: Oh, we’re all idiots. Fantastic.

He then passes out, because being on the edge of death for days and then having a shock to your system this big tends to do that to you.

When he wakes up, he is mildly more coherent. Then he sees that Satine and Cody are asleep on each other, and the coherence is lost, but he does manage to wake them up and get across three things:

Thing One: He is desperately in love with them both.

Thing Two: He’s leaving the Order for a multitude of reasons, but they are a Significant Bonus.

Thing Three: He would very much like if they both held his hand while he falls back asleep.

Cody takes Obi-Wan’s right hand, Satine takes Obi-Wan’s left hand, and the three of them stay like that, fingers intertwined, for a long, long, while.

#this is. Long #obi wan DOES have two hands #i have not checked this for grammar mistakes #asks #missstar489 #obi wan has two hands au #codywan #obitine #codyobitine #star wars #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #commander cody #willow's aus #god this is 2.4k #no wonder it took me so long #me: I'll just reply to this ask real quick :)#me an hour later: oh. oh no

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

Could you maybe do “a sick/wounded Villain taken care by another Villain”? Like they were mean to each other and enemies normally and both cold-hearted but now sth’s changing...thank you

Sure thing!

Frenemy

Warnings: bullying, burns, abduction, collapsing, partial nudity (nothing sexual, just stripping shirt off for cleaning the wound perposes), fever

Villainess paced around the tiny cell that at the moment would be described as "her home".

It wasn't a foreign place. The casually pale yellow and coral orange walls were frighteningly familiar, as were the bars that kept her from touching them.

It was almost like a fortified bedroom, and Villainess would like to think of it that way. Something a tad more homey than being placed in a dungeon.

There were two doors in the room. One led to the hallway, she believed, and the other led to the bathroom which led to her captor's bedroom. In a way, that was creepy. Very, very creepy.

But it wasn't like she was exactly stuck in the bright hued walls, she knew the code to open the cell and the door right after the jail door, was usually opened. Escape was easy and she barely broke a sweat the ninety-nine times she prevailed.

So, right now, her current predicament wasn't even a predicament. All she had to do was type in 1234- a code that even an organism that has a nucleus for a brain could decipher; really, very pathetical- and leave. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezie.

But, at the same time, she loved to be captured. It was her moment to shine.

She "shined" by bullying her captor to the point of him leaving and returning thirty minutes later with puffy, red eyes. Not that he would ever admit it, but it was quite obvious that he had been crying.

But hey! An eye for an eye. Captured for a bullying session.

Villainess walked over to the center of the cell and sat down, silently mulling how she was going to torment him when he returned.

If he returned- Villainess looked up at the small digital clock hanging in the upper corner of the room. He was later than normal, much later than normal.

Soon her discovery turned to paranoia. She began to chew lazily on her nails, watching the clock with more vigor.

Then, very suddenly, she heard a large crash in the door leading to the predicted bathroom. Villainess stood up quickly, approaching the door and listening closely.

She heard, very faintly, a wheezy bout of coughing. Then a moan, filled with pain that made Villainess's heart want to burst. Quickly, she tapped in 1234, and busted through the doors.

Villain, her captor, was collapsed on the floor of the bathroom, shaking violently.

"Crap," Villainess whispered before sinking down next to him and lifted his pale face. Weakly, his eyes opened and he groaned, glassy gaze taking her in.

"V-villainess," he rasped. "Leave me alone." He began to struggle, whimpering as he did.

"Shh, shh," Villainess soothed, eyes flicking over to his limp body. He didn't seem to be obviously injured- wait. Villainess slowly lifted his shirt to reveal a nasty burn stretching from the middle of his sternum to his left hip bone.

Villain shuddered as the cool, obnoxious air hit the destroyed, gnarled flesh.

Villainess didn't know what to do.

"Hey bud," she shook his figure, seeing he was slipping back unconscious. Eyes slited open slightly. "Do you have any medicine?"

His face furrowed in contemplation before a fatigued and shaky hand pointed towards a bloodstained, white cupboard.

He's been hurt before, Villainess realized, taking note of the light burgundy color that covered portions of the cupboard.

Inside were various bottles of antibiotics, fever reducers, and painkillers, but all seemed to be past their expiration date.

"All these are trash," Villainess said to her barely conscious captor, glancing up for the briefest of moments. Like you, she wanted to add, but given the circumstances, that would be utterly rude.

Eventually, she found some all-natural aloe and cucumber soothing cream that looked more for cosmetics than first aid.

Gingerly, she picked Villain up and carried him into the next room which then determined her guess that it was his bedroom.

The room was very bland in color, unlike her flourish prison. Gray walls, no art, and barely any furniture other than a bed and a desk. She placed Villain on the bed, took a knife out of the top drawer of the desk, and cut the front of his shirt.

He squirmed, distantly aware of the touch of the cold metal in his half-awake state. Villainess slipped the knife into her pocket, you never know and after all, she was a human of villainous qualities.

Next, she grabbed a handful of the cream and lathered it over his burn. He awoke fully, screaming and writhing in pain, but then instantly settled as soon as the lotion soaked in. He whimpered, lips smiling at the edges, as his head fell back.

Villainess cupped her hand around his head, suddenly overwhelmed by emotions, as she watched him slowly drift off to sleep.

She helped him through the night, keeping down his lingering fever and comforting him as best as possible. Eventually, she ended up curling up next to him as she loyally guarded him.

During that night, as she rubbed his shoulder, thoughts ran through her head. This is just a one time event, nothing more. Really, just an act of courtesy. It isn't like I am going to stop being mean to him, and he won't stop abducting me.

Though, when she woke up in the morning, hugging him with her head nestled into his neck, she didn't know if those previous thoughts were the truth anymore...

#villain whumpee #injured villain #villain caretaker #villainess caretaker #feverish villain #villainess x villain #frenemies #tw burns #ahhh i know this is sort of crappy #but I can't focus with the spider web on my phone screen #i may do a continuation to give the ask justice if you guys want me to though #bullying tw #abduction tw #kidnapping tw

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Flash Villains: Who’s The Most Evil?

Like all heroes, the Flash’s villains vary widely in terms of threat level, motivation, and level of malice. Unlike most heroes, Flash is relatively unique insofar as most of his villains aren’t especially malicious. However, that doesn’t mean that all of them are sympathetic.

The most malicious Flash villains, to my mind, are probably Eobard Thawne (aka Professor Zoom the Reverse-Flash), Gorilla Grodd, Cicada, and Murmur. Eobard is a predatory stalker and has caused more personal harm to Barry than anyone else, Grodd is a sadist who wants world domination, Cicada led a cult that murdered hundreds, and Murmur is a creepy serial killer. None of them have ever displayed any signs of remorse or real humanity (and yes, I recognize the inherent meaninglessness of saying a gorilla has no humanity; I couldn’t think of another term.)

Blacksmith, Abra Kadabra, and Girder the rusty rapist are also pretty high on the list. Kadabra is frighteningly unhinged and has very little regard for human life. Blacksmith organized a plot to take over the entire city and arranged for such things as framing Hartley for his parents’ murder and convincing Jay and Joan that Joan was dying of cancer. She also pointlessly killed Rainbow Raider, who posed zero threat to her. And Girder is...well...a rapist. Besides being angry and creepy around women, he has no other noticeable personality traits, so he’s pretty easy to hate. I guess Plunder would also fall around here, though he had so little page time that I have a hard time getting a good read on his personality.

Beyond this point, things start getting complicated. While Grodd, Eobard, and Kadabra are almost always portrayed as malicious and dangerous, and Blacksmith, Girder, Murmur, Cicada, and Plunder were really only ever written by one person (at least in major roles), how malicious the other villains are varies widely between writers.

That being said, Hunter Zolomon (Zoom) and Thaddeus Thawne (Inertia) would probably fall just below Plunder on the list. Zoom is hard to rank, because while his actions are often heinous, he seems to be legitimately mentally ill; to the point where I think he’s one of the very few supervillains who could successfully use the insanity defense in real life. He honestly believes that what he’s doing is helping Wally....but his actions are still incredibly disturbing. It’s also worth noting that he’s much less evil under Geoff Johns than he was when he finally made his reappearance during the relatively recent War of the Flash arc. His level of actual malice was so much higher there, in fact, that at points he seemed like a different character entirely. Inertia, while a serious threat, was portrayed somewhat sympathetically in his appearances in the Impulse comic, but was subsequently portrayed as an Eobard-level psychopath in the Flash: The Most Terribly Written Man Alive and nearly all subsequent stories (his most recent major appearance, written by Joshua Williamson, is an exception). Because of this inconsistency, I can’t move him any higher or lower on the list.

Of the Rogues proper, the most malicious ones are, in no particular order, the Top, Captain Boomerang, Sr., Mirror Master II, and the Golden Glider. The Top is unique insofar as he was basically always portrayed as one of the most dangerous Rogues. In his first appearance, he tried to blow up half the world (though he seemed more than a little uncharacteristically unhinged in that story, so it’s possible that he wasn’t all there during that escapade), he tried to blow up the city when he died, he possessed the body of Barry’s father, he tried to take over the country by becoming president, he tried to kill the mayor to take over the city (though he was definitely mentally ill during this story), and he generally caused havoc during the Rogue War. He’s by far the most conventionally ambitious of the group.

Evan McCulloch, the second Mirror Master, is not especially malicious when written by his creator, Grant Morrison (he refuses to kill women and children, readily works with the Justice League when Batman promises to donate money to his old orphanage, and seems to bear no dislike for Wally or any other hero). However, when other people write him, he’s usually one of the most malicious Rogues. During Mark Waid’s run, he was depicted as an abusive stalker; during Geoff Johns’ run, he racked up an enormous body count and was responsible for the death of Piper’s parents. Why this is, I have no idea, but it’s still enough to put him fairly high on the list.

Captain Boomerang, Sr.’s level of malice jumped noticeably after Crisis on Infinite Earths. Pre-Crisis, he actually came across as one of the least malicious of the bunch, but when John Ostrander started using him on Suicide Squad, he became a disgusting, racist, sexist, foulmouthed, selfish, cowardly, abrasive, treacherous, boorish disaster of a human being...and he’s been that way ever since.

Golden Glider is bizarre, as she’s one of the very few villains whose level of malice actually seemed to decrease over time without them actually outright reforming. In her Bronze Age appearances, she was absolutely terrifying; targeting Barry’s wife and parents and pursuing revenge with a level of single-minded determination that would make Batman impressed. (Barry even canonically compared her to Batman during this period!) While she was more sympathetic than, say, Eobard, by virtue of the fact that she genuinely loved and grieved for Roscoe, she was still incredibly malicious. After Barry’s death, the writers seemed unsure of what to do with her. I enjoyed her semi-reformed period under Messner-Loebs, but after that things just fell apart until her eventualy pointless death. Geoff Johns portrayed her as more of a victim than anything, and since Flashpoint, she’s actually seemed to be one of the least malicious Rogues. It’s very odd.

Weather Wizard would probably be next. He’s had a few acts of humanity and a few more acts of unusual malice, but on the whole, he’s generally somewhere in the middle of the Rogues in terms of level of malice. He also doesn’t seem to vary too much between writers.

Axel Walker, the second Trickster, was very malicious during the early period of Geoff Johns’ run (tying bombs to homeless people-yikes!), but gradually became more sympathetic over time as he started to realize he was in over his head. Post-Flashpoint, he’s been one of the least malicious of the bunch, probably since he’s just a kid. It’s still strange to compare his appearances under Johns to his post-Flashpoint appearances, though, since they’re noticeably different.

The first Mirror Master, Sam Scudder, probably falls near or below Axel. Since most of his major appearances were pre-Crisis, he’s really never succeeded in doing anything particularly heinous, and when compared to, say, Roscoe or Bronze Age Golden Glider, he’s usually not planning anything nearly as damaging.

Captain Cold is one of the least malicious Rogues; he’s the one to enforce their codes and generally seems to avoid causing harm to people if he can help it. He can definitely be hypocritical, and he’s shockingly brutal at times, but on the whole he’s one of the most restrained and moral members of the group. Heat Wave is probably one the same level as Cold. For a long time, he was one of, if not the, least malicious Rogues, but since the pyromania retcon, he’s gradually become more and more unhinged and violent. Furthermore, even though Captain Cold and Heat Wave are traditionally among the least malicious of the Flash’s villains, for some reason they both seem to have become much worse since Flashpoint happened, with Captain Cold becoming much more of a brutal ganglord than he was pre-Flashpoint and Heat Wave’s remorse over his pyromania seeming to all but disappear at times.

Fallout probably falls about here. He’s more of a passive danger than an active one, and he doesn’t seem to mean anyone harm.

The first Trickster, James Jesse, is usually comparatively harmless, even reforming and managing to do an impressive amount of good during the 1990s. He even saved the world from Neron! That being said, when he finally reappeared after a decade-long disappearance, he suddenly became much more like his TV self than the traditional comic book version of James Jesse, to the the point where it almost felt like he’d been replaced by the Joker. I wasn’t really a fan of the arc where he came back. While I was glad to see him brought back from limbo, I didn’t really want to see him brought back as a psychopath who brainwashes the entire city.

Peek-a-Boo only turned to crime to try to save her father and legitimately didn’t seem to mean any harm to anyone.

Finally, the Pied Piper has been the most reformed, and therefore least malicious, of the group since the late 1980s. Since his reformation, he’s done almost as much to help the Twin Cities as the Flashes. However, it’s interesting that his reformation was immediately preceded by the period at which he was the most malicious: the never-ending Trial of Barry Allen arc. During that arc, he actually attempted to hypnotize the mayor into committing suicide! However, since then, the Piper has been pretty solidly on the side of the angels (his stupid appearances in the Flash: The Most Badly Written Man Alive notwithstanding).

#flash rogues #dc comics #long post #flash comics

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years

Note

Re: Star Wars prequel novelizations - the Revenge of the Sith book is genuinely one of the best things I have ever read and changed my life.

THANK YOU, anon, for reminding me about the Revenge of the Sith novelization. I just reread it, and my crops are watered, my skin is clear, and — I cannot overstate this — I actually remember why I love Star Wars. That love has been for too long stolen by The Fandom Menace sucking the life out of those movies to invent a new definition of suffering while digesting them slowly over a thousand years.

Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover is one of the greatest works of adventure fiction I have ever read, and it continues to inspire the way I write action sequences and character conflicts. It does so damn much to transform a movie that is, to be honest, just okay. There are a couple of big additions from the novel that make the whole Skywalker saga richer, and there are about five hundred little tweaks that deepen the lore in a way that shows that Stover loves Star Wars to the core.

First big addition: having Obi-Wan tell Padmé that he’s in love with Anakin. This is great because yay, queer representation! But within the specific context of RotS, it also sets up the super-important contrast between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Obi-Wan, Stover’s novel makes clear, is the quiet and unassuming embodiment of everything a Jedi is supposed to be: he’s selfless, loving, hard-working, and incredibly skilled with the Force. Obi-Wan falls in love with Anakin, realizes that Anakin doesn’t love him back in that way, and... lives with it. He spends time with Anakin, supports Anakin, enjoys Anakin’s company, and doesn’t act like the world will end if Anakin isn’t his.

Anakin loves Obi-Wan, in a siblinglike way, and he loves Padmé. But he’s got a nasty habit of expressing that love through possession and control, through going behind Padmé’s back to “fix” her life without her permission. Anakin falls in love with Padmé and immediately concludes that he cannot possibly live like this: they must begin a secret relationship, and he must both marry her and remain a Jedi. Later he destroys the Jedi and eventually Padmé herself because he sees himself as having no way out of that dilemma.

And all the while, Obi-Wan is there in the background. Also in love with someone with whom he cannot have a relationship, and just… dealing with it like an adult. Because millions of people are in love with people who don’t love them back, and that’s just how it is sometimes. It’s selfish to obsess over “having” their love at all costs. For Anakin, that obsession with saving Obi-Wan and Padmé eventually leads to him killing them both.

When Yoda tells Anakin that he must deal with his fear of losing Padmé through letting go, Anakin takes this to mean “let her die.” But what Yoda means is not “let her die,” but rather “love her the way Obi-Wan loves you: quietly, selflessly, and with a willingness to do what’s best for her, whether or not that means you get to have her.” And Anakin never understands that, because Anakin’s view of the world is so intensely egocentric.

Second big addition: updating the Force to explain the Dark Side. Revenge of the Sith, even more so than any other Star Wars, is all about the contrast between the Dark Side and the Light Side. Here, Stover’s contribution is brilliant; he makes the Dark Side egocentric and the Light allocentric.

Terminology! “Egocentric” in psych refers to the perspective that focuses on how the world affects you and how you affect the world. At the extreme, egocentric thinking can be believing that a baby is crying in a deliberate effort to annoy you, or that every person in a crowded cafeteria will remember what shirt you wore when you ate there a week ago. “Allocentric” refers to the perspective that the self is one of several disparate elements buffered around by the world. At the extreme, allocentric thinking can be failing to realize that others are reacting to your presence, or viewing your own life as one thing you can give to help others.

Stover doesn’t use those terms, but he does describe how Dooku “drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will” (p. 64). Later, Obi-Wan “gave himself to the living Force… the Force moved him, let him collapse as though he’d suddenly fainted, then it brought his lightsaber from his belt to his hand” (p. 285). Dooku ultimately loses his fight against Anakin because he focuses on how everyone is responding to him, and misses that Anakin and Palpatine are beginning to build an alternate alliance right under his nose. Obi-Wan ultimately wins his fight against Anakin because he allows the Force to shove him around, and sets aside his concern with both his own life and that of his best friend while fighting for the greater goal of peace.

Not only that, but Obi-Wan’s understanding of the Force moves beyond that of most Jedi. He compares “the will of the Force” to “the will of gravity,” in essence stating that simply because it is beyond human comprehension doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own rules. One can be a Jedi without needing to understand the Force in the same way one can be a pilot without needing to be a physicist. In RotS, we see that his refrain of “search your feelings” is a way of calling on a Force user to be mindful enough to accept realities that are already evident, if one can only allow oneself to have that knowledge.

Stover also uses these competing perspectives — allocentric and egocentric — to explain why the Jedi Order falls. The tight control the Order exerts over the Jedi moves them away from the will of the Force and toward the will of the Council. Its insularity creates a sense of superiority, which is the reason so many Jedi fail to see their clone troopers as threats until it’s too late. Stover tweaks the Jedi Purge scene to emphasize that the only reason Obi-Wan and Yoda survive is because of their selflessness. Obi-Wan takes the time to befriend his alien mount, repeatedly confirming her well-being, and then she shields him with her body when his troopers open fire. Yoda respects the Wookie command and puts himself in a position to assist rather than lead the resistance movement on Kashyyyk, meaning that when a fight breaks out between him and his troopers the Wookies don’t hesitate to side with him. Yoda and Obi-Wan are the only two Jedi who truly give themselves to the service of others, and thus they are the only two to survive the Purge.

...and the million little favors this book does for the movie.

During the opening battle, having Obi-Wan tell Anakin to “use the Force” to fly a narrow trench and having Anakin roll his eyes at such an obvious suggestion. It’s a callback to A New Hope, but one that drives home how much more the Force is integrated in the lives of Old Republic Jedi than it is in the lives of Imperial kids like Luke.

Fixing the minor continuity error from Episode III to Episode IV — why would Admiral Motti dismiss Vader as following outdated superstitions if there were millions of Jedi within his lifetime? — by explicitly stating that the Sith are considered a dead culture. Ergo, Vader’s “ancient religion” isn’t the Force in general; it’s specifically the Sith creed.

Making Palpatine scarier and more seductive than he is in the movie. Stover’s rhetoric about killing even the Jedi children is frighteningly rational and coherent, and he uses it to give Palpatine some stomach-churning speeches while corrupting Anakin.

Using the novel format for all it’s worth. Stover skims over the physical-comedy elevator sequence in favor of having Dooku and Palpatine discussing their plans for the war. He only tells us about Anakin’s conversation with Yoda after the fact, in scattered flashes as a panicking Anakin runs through the halls of the Jedi temple. He gives us intense focus on Anakin’s mindset while trying to land the broken halves of Invisible Hand, less on what the ship itself is doing. He cuts away from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s final battle, toward R2D2 and C3PO as they struggle to drag a dying Padmé into her ship out of a desperation to find some small way to help her.

Revealing that Palpatine spends the entire story trying to kill Obi-Wan. This gets hinted at in the movie, but Stover includes several moments throughout Palpatine’s “rescue” from Dooku when Palpatine sets Obi-Wan up to die, and mentions like eight other attempts on Obi-Wan’s life as orchestrated by Palpatine. It’s a great character addition, that Palpatine assumes he cannot get Anakin to fall unless he first eliminates Obi-Wan.

Expanding Padmé’s role in the movie (set dressing, and later refrigerator filling) by having her secretly organize and launch the Rebel Alliance right under Vader and Palpatine’s noses.

Those are just examples of how Stover clearly knows the Force, gets the Force, and strives to make the Force more internally coherent. How he sometimes translates, sometimes preserves, and always improves the pacing and tone of the film.

I haven’t even touched on the FUCKING AMAZEBALLS imagery or introspection in the book yet, but this post is getting wicked long, so I’ll go ahead and leave it here for now. Point is, all y’all should go out immediately and get a copy from your library and/or used bookstore, because Nonny is right and it’ll change your life.

#star wars #revenge of the sith #star wars episode iii #matthew stover #revenge of the sith novelization #book review #long post #nothing to do with animorphs #the force #star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith #anonymous #asks

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 39)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hi! I have nothing to say here lol, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! Love ya!

Today there’s two chapters! You can find Chapter 40 right here

Run if you want to; fight, kick, scream.

You told him the Greeks being alive changed nothing, and while he argued and insisted otherwise, you remained certain. Now, now you realize Ivar was right.

Them being alive meant being an Anassa was not some distant title awaiting for you somewhere in Greece, them being alive meant the Priestess you once were wasn’t allowed to rest amongst the dead where she belonged.

Them being alive meant that there would come a day where your bond to them and your bond to Ivar would pull you in two different directions, and that you would have to let go of one of them.

And now they have come to find you, they call for you with their familiar language and their warm memories and their land of flower fields and nostalgia. And yet at your back is the man you love, and he offers you a lifetime of strange customs and cold nights and his kingdom of iron and death.

And you can’t pretend there isn’t a choice to make for any longer.

You can’t pretend you haven’t known what your choice would be for a long time, maybe since the start of it all.

Because you are asked to give up one night in the familiar warmth of your bedroom and at the same time you are asked to forget for one more night that there isn’t a world past him; and you realize there isn’t a difference between one night and one lifetime.

Fate will drag you home by the wrists, child.

The sky remains the same as the Gods demand you make your choice, the earth is still solid under your feet as you walk the path you have chosen, the wind is biting and cold even if it speaks of the change of spring.

You leave behind a part of you, on the path you didn’t take, on the choice you couldn’t make; and as your heart breaks in two, as your eyes fill with tears, as a part of you dies and descents, you can’t help but think bitterly that the world now should be as changed as you are.

And you realize then, as you force shaking legs to move, that the world didn’t change when Persephone made her choice, but that didn’t mean she didn’t make one.

The skies didn’t tremble and shiver as when Zeus condemned her, the earth wasn’t split in two as when Hades first took her, the fields and flowers didn’t wither and die as when Demeter mourned her.

The world didn’t change, and so the stories never spoke of the day she made her choice. And us mortals were nearsighted enough to believe there hadn’t been a choice to be made.

You know how this tale goes.

You close your eyes tightly against Zephyr’s cries, and your tears leave a burning trail down your skin. When you lick your lips, the salt of your tears tastes sweet, like the sweetest of fruits.

It has been so many years since you were allowed a bite of it, but you still remember what it tasted like. Like the unknown, like freedom, like temptation.

You hold on tightly to the wood at your side, stopping only for a second.

For a second, you can close your eyes and be there again, surrounded by tall stone walls of the temple in a time before the mark of soot and pain on your heart, with the soft lull of the Aegean lapping at the soft sands of the shore filling your ears.

Narses’ warm and raspy voice calmly talking his men through training, the elders’ always-cold and always-soft touches as they passed you by during the day, the wide-eyed look of the younger girls that wanted to become Hiereiai, Galla’s secret smile as you two shared a look and the shine in her dark eyes that spoke of trust and understanding.

But the woman that lived among them is not the woman you are anymore. You haven’t been her for years. Even on the day you were first called Anassa, the woman that could have been it, been their leader and queen, was already dead and gone.

And try as you might, you can’t imagine a life where you can come back to it, to them.

The wood creaks under your tightening grip, and the screech of the falcon rings in your head. And you look back, and whisper an apology.

And close the door.

You once imagined if maybe all of this had been nothing but your descent, and it isn’t too hard to imagine all that has happened to be nothing but the path that leads to your death. That has led to it.

And if the Gods let you, you want for nothing other than this death. Let the Hiereia that died in Eleusis amongst the flames rest with those that perished for her and with her; let the Anassa that out of guilt and the burden of legacy earned a hollow crown die too.

Let you be reborn.

Because you sink into familiar warmth surrounded by an unfamiliar world, and you can’t find it in yourself to wish for anything to be any different.

Drawing your legs up, you curl your body behind Ivar’s, your face buried between his shoulder blades and your eyes shut tightly.

More than once you imagined what a life alongside him could have been, if you had never known the binds of legacy that kept you tethered to Greece and her people. More than once you almost wished for your Fate to had been other, and a world where you could have never been anything other than a healer from the Silk Roads.

You never dared imagine, or wish for, a life at his side after you were made Anassa of the Attic Greeks. It felt like a betrayal of who they wanted you to be, to want to stay at his side, to love him, to see a future in this realm of cold and death.

But that is what you have chosen, that is…what you’ll have.

A murmur of your name, quiet and a little slurred by sleep, and you tighten your hold.

“I’m here,” You promise, an incredulous smile on your lips. And because you can, because you choose to, you vow, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You try to chase away with the soft sounds of his breaths the cries of the falcon that circles the longhouse almost till nightfall. In your mind, in your dreams, it flies over you with that mournful cry until the morning.

When you wake up it is due to the by now familiar sounds of Ivar moving about the room. When you force yourself to open your eyes, he is already dressed and the braces on his legs safely secured.

He seems to linger, debating with himself whether to leave or to wake you. It is unusual for him to start his day apart from you, and you have made sure in these months to try to be there to offer, if nothing else, a quiet murmur of his name and a smile before he is to leave. You never actually considered it meant much to him, if you’re honest.

When you sit up in the bed, Ivar greets you with a soft mumble of your name, before deciding to lean against one of the nearby tables, watching you as you start your routine as well, patiently waiting for you to walk to him and turn your back for him to lace up your dress.

You turn around, remaining close, and let your hands settle over his chest, idly correcting the way his clothes set over him.

His hand is surprisingly gentle as he tilts your head up. Pale blue eyes search your face, and he asks, “You look tired. Dreams?”

You shake your head, “No, I…Galla was here, last night.”

He blinks, almost owlishly. “Here?”

“Outside Kattegat.”

Whatever ease that was written in his posture, whatever openness that was clear in his eyes; vanish before your eyes and the unfaltering edge of the man that you faced during those first months is all that is left.

And you cannot look at the carefully held distance, the perfected façade of the man in control, so you lower your gaze.

“She came to find you,” It isn’t a question, you know it isn’t, but you can’t help but wonder if a part of him wants you to deny it. You can’t exactly blame or judge him for wanting to believe their return a mistake, if you’re honest. Ivar takes a breath, “You didn’t go.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“They want you with them.”

“But I want to be here.” You sentence, maybe a bit harshly.

You lift your gaze to look into familiar blue eyes, and find a tentative something looking back, something that a less cautious man would let become hope.

Ivar swallows, eyebrows lifting slightly as if to question you, before he keeps the words at bay, lips forming around the beginning of your name but falling short of uttering anything.

Leaving your lips there should be words about how there was never a choice to be made, or how it was something you had chosen a long time ago but never dared admit; there should be promises that you chose, and the world didn’t change but you did and that you do not regret a thing; there should be apologies to the woman you were and the people that loved you for proving right those who said to love a Hiereia of Persephone is a cruel fate; there should be reassurances that you never spoke truer words than when you told him you loved him above anything and above anyone.

But you choke on shame and guilt, and your words are kept at bay not only by the voices of your past demanding to know why you have forsaken them, but by the press of Ivar’s lips on yours.

When you part, he motions for you to go get ready, tells you to get on with your day. You aren’t certain if him holding on to normalcy like this is a good or a bad thing anymore.

____

It was always frighteningly easy, to forget there was a world past him, but as you step out of the longhouse, the cloak wrapped tightly around you, you cannot help but take your eyes to the skies, searching for a bird, a messenger, that you know won’t be there.

You told her you’d be there if they needed you, you told her to send Zephyr to the skies with the certainty that you’d answer the call. But the time came, and when they needed you and he needed you, the choice was frighteningly easy, and you couldn’t answer their call.

You notice the cold in your hands when delicate and dainty fingers wrap around yours, and Freydis’ deep blue eyes look at you with countless questions. You realize then you’ve walked to the edge of the city, and stand before the tallest stretch of the wall, the barrier to the forest, to another realm, to a life you had left behind long before you were brave enough to admit you had.

Freydis doesn’t say anything, taking you to her home with the same ease as that night when she guided you through darkened streets to the place where you could cross that barrier and embrace your oldest friend and remember what the warmth of Eleusis felt like.

You stand in the small and humble home, and you cannot keep the words from your lips,

“You saw Zephyr, you saw the...the falcon, right?”

“I did,” She confirms, unwaveringly honest as she adds, “I went past the walls, I met the woman. Galla.”

That she did what you did not should hurt you, should make the pit of shame and guilt at the base of your stomach grow tighter, but you only have breath for one question,

“D-Did she tell you why she was here? What did they need, wh-…?”

“She is well, and so are the rest, as far as she told me,” At her silence you almost want to ask for more, but the blonde is quicker, and explains, “That is all you need to know. That is all you want to know.”

You drop down on the chair behind you, your head held in your hands and your breaths shaking their way past your lips.

“That’s unfair.” You say, but she remains impassive, unnerving you.

“You could have gone to them, but you didn’t.”

“No,” You are forced to accept, the word leaving your lips in a breath. Lifting your head, you state, “Freydis, I-…they needed me, and I…”

“And you stayed with him.” Freydis finishes for you, but there isn’t bite in her tone, there isn’t an accusation. You almost wish there were.

You grit your teeth at the sob that threatens to break free, but pride and something else keep you from closing your eyes tight, stubborn resilience and something else make you straighten your back and raise your chin.

“I did.”

Freydis betrays a smile. It is faint, it is still tainted with something like pain and something hidden.

“And do you regret it?”

And past the loss of the familiar, past the unsteadiness of walking without chains, past the guilt of making a choice…you smile.

The answer that leaves your lips is unwavering, “No.”

The blonde’s smile widens, and her eyes crinkle a little bit when she does, dark blue shining more vibrant than you have seen in a long time.

“You chose, and you chose him.”

“I did.” You tell her, smile wobbling but honest.

She sits down in front of you, voice quiet and eyes on yours with an openness born out of too many similar scars. Her hand grasps yours and she squeezes tightly.

“Freedom is a terrifying thing, isn’t it?”

____

You find yourself following your routine -the world didn’t shake, or tremble, or change- and you enter the apothecary home, grateful for the reprieve from the biting cold of Kattegat’s winter.

“Witch!” Valdís calls out, her grudge against you for making Aghi insist that his mother dip him in the river like Thetis did to Achilles seemingly forgotten for the time being.

You greet her with a smile, and as she tells you she is working on some remedies for fever for a family near the outskirts of Kattegat whose five children came down with a sickness due to the winter; you sit next to her and start helping.

“My boy has stopped insisting I drown him in some river, by the way.”

“It is not drowning, it i-…”

“I really don’t care, witch,” She interrupts, but there’s jest in her tone, not malice, and you only roll your eyes at her, but still smile. The shieldmaiden chuckles, “At least he has forgotten about that, and about threatening the sun with arrows. Aghi won’t let go about that boat of black sails, though.”

“Theseus?”

“The idiot that forgot to change the sails for white ones.”

Gods, for a moment it is like talking with Sieghild once again.

With a nod of your head, you confirm, “Theseus.”

Valdís shares a reluctant smile with you, fond exasperation in her pale gaze.

“Frigg help me, my boy will go raiding one day and insist they put white sails on his boats.”

For the first time you let yourself imagine it, seeing Valdís’ son grow to become a man. Seeing him go raid and explore when the time comes.

Unbidden, Aghi’s image in your mind is replaced by images of children of your own, children that too will one day grow and go raid and explore, maybe alongside their father, maybe even alongside Aghi.

And maybe they will insist on putting white sails on their boats for the sake of their foreign woman of a mother that waits for them to return.

And for once the dream doesn’t seem impossible, for once the hope doesn’t have to fight against nostalgia.

____ ____ ____

Soooo...? I’m really curious to know whether her choice surprised you or not tbh

Of course, there’s the particular aspect of telling him, but she’ll get there. Let it be known that she tried to tell him, but he didn’t wanna hear it bc pessimism. Anyhow, I hope this was okay, I’m not so sure but I hope it’s just my insecurity talking. Thank you for reading!

You can find the second part of today’s update, Chapter 40, right here!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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whitewitch95 · 3 years

Text

alright, I'm usually over at twitter or discord spewing my thoughts and prompts, but I feel like the Merlin fandom is bigger over here, so maybe someone appreciates that

Thoughts and a fanfic prompt to s2ep07 The Witchfinder

Aredian accuses Merlin of magic bc of the amulet he placed in the physician's quarters, and from the look in his eye, presumably speculates that Gaius will "confess" that it's his - what Gaius of course does because he loves Merlin like his own son. During the episode, still-innocent Morgana is on Aredian's radar as well, just bc Gaius treated her nightmares, and we learn that although Gaius confesses, Aredian still wants to "expose Merlin and Morgana's evil deeds".

I feel like most people - once we realize that Aredian is an asshole who stages all the "sorcerer sightings" for money, and Arthur once more is more reasonable than Uther and helps Merlin save the day, who is actually doing all the work again - I feel like most people tend to forget that Aredian actually precisely accused 3 real sorcerers of sorcery. Yes, neither of them did what they'd been accused of, but nonetheless, Aredian points them out with eerie precision.

So WHAT IF Aredian actually has some weak magic himself? Like the "funny feelings" Merlin sometimes gets when he just instinctively knows shit's gonna go downhill or when he feels drawn towards other people's/being's magic? Like an actual witchfinder, you know, not skilled enough to play detective and catch sorcerers in the act, maybe not even interested in upholding the laws against sorcery or not, just as long as he gets payment and fame - but what if he makes those seemingly random *finger point* "THAT BOY" accusations that nobody ever questions bc of his own weak magic that makes him sensitive for it?

Okay, so now comes the prompt idea. We all probably laughed when cheeky Merlin exposes Aredian with that toad coming out of his mouth on top of everything else, but imagine he doesn't bc that would be too obvious and instead just places the "fake" evidence in his room - that would leave Aredian the opportunity to use his mouth.

So what if, while Arthur and the knights are searching the room, Aredian thunders that "THAT BOY placed this here, HE'S the sorcerer, you have EVIL IN YOUR CASTLE" and Arthur only scoffs because please, that man is just ridiculous. And then, like *Merlin* did in the actual episode, *Aredian* turns away, half-hidden from view, whispers a spell that has Merlin's magic reacting, body spasming and eyes golden.

And Merlin is just standing there, struggling to hold his magic inside and not have it lashing out, and Aredian is smirking bc there's no way to explain that away, surely he has won now-

And Arthur whirls around, punching Aredian in the face, yelling at his knights about stuffing that man's mouth with a cloth before he says any more spells, and when Aredian fights them bc he finally realizes he's about to lose and then moves towards Morgana, Arthur runs him through with his sword.

Aredian is dead.

Merlin is still breathing hard, even though his magic has settled once again, and while everyone is shocked and panting and Arthur assures himself of Morgana's wellbeing, Merlin is On Edge. Because that was his actual magic reacting, and his own eyes turning golden in response to the spell, and a room full of knights, and Morgana, and Arthur were watching.

But when they all return to Uther, Arthur relays the story and it sounds as if Aredian, traitor of Camelot and apparently an evil sorcerer that has sent innocent people into their death, has enchanted Merlin to look as if he had magic, JUST like he did with hiding that amulet in Gaius chambers, to put the blame onto someone else.

Nobody questions it, not even Uther.

Merlin feels the tightness in his chest lessen, finally able to breathe normally again. He wants to laugh, really. Arthur is SO CONVINCED that his manservant is nothing more than a bumbling, but highly loyal idiot - and he has tried to protect Merlin, he remembers, right in front of Aredian and Uther and the whole court - that Arthur doesn't even consider Merlin could actually have magic.

When the day winds down, Merlin helps Arthur getting ready for bed, serving him dinner, tidying his chambers, still tired and wary, but incredibly relieved.

Until Arthur says, "So, Merlin," and Merlin freezes because that tone sounds chilling. Carefully, he straightens up and looks at Arthur, who's watching him with frighteningly intense eyes, gaze piercing. "Anything you have to say?"

"Uhm," Merlin hesitates, unsure what exactly Arthur means, heart beating wildly. "I don't know what you mean, Sire," he settles on, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say.

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'thank you', but I know manners aren't your strong suit, so how about the truth?"

"The truth?" Merlin laughs nervously, dear god, he shouldn't have let his guard down-

"YES, Merlin, the truth," Arthur growls, and then he's out of his chair, stomping towards Merlin. "Because I can assure you, this was the last time I've lied to my knights and my father and the entire court for you if you don't even have it in you to tell me the TRUTH!"

Arthus has him cornered against the bedpost now, and Merlin is trembling ever so slightly. Arthur's eyes are blazing, like a blue, furious thunderstorm, and Merlin knows there's no escaping this; especially because Arthur is right.

So he talks. He's hesitant at first, reinforcing that everything they found out about Aredian is the truth, that Merlin did not lie, that he did not *once* betray Arthur, or Camelot. Arthur looks as if he isn't sure if he fully believes Merlin, but he listens, and that is more than Merlin could've hoped for.

In the end, Merlin's voice is rough from talking, his face pale and tight with worry. Arthur has stepped back from him a while ago, first crossing his arms and snapping out questions, and then he started pacing.

"I swear," Merlin says lowly, "I never intended to bring anyone harm. I was born like this... and I have finally found a purpose."

"And what would that be, Merlin?" Arthur asks, but he doesn't sound harsh; he sounds tired, staring into the flames of the fireplace.

Merlin gulps. Now or never. "Protecting you. I- I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to have to choose. Because no matter the outcome... it would've burdened you."

Still staring into the flames, Arthur laughs humorlessly. "And yet it seems I did it anyway."

At Merlin's silence, Arthur finally turns, and he almost looks sick. "Does Gaius know?"

"Yes," Merlin whispers, but he's not afraid that Arthur will punish Gaius for it. Arthus isn't Uther.

"Of course," Arthur mumbles, and his eyes show that he's working through what he's heard so far. "How could he not know? After all, a quite powerful warlock is living with him."

Shifting uncomfortably, Merlin wonders if there's anything he can say to make it easier for anyone, but there are no words he can think of.

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head. "That... that can't be..." he trails off, and he's reeling more than Merlin has ever seen him before. "That would mean-"

Abruptly, Arthur turns away, aiming for his chair, before he whirls around again and once more stomps towards Merlin.

"If you're telling the truth," Arthur snaps, and there's a threatening expression on his face, before it softens at Merlin's flinch. "Then why aren't you affected by the magic? Why do you still want to protect me, so much so that you're putting yourself at risk everyday?"

"I," Merlin starts, unsure. "I told you, I think... that you'll be a great king, and I-"

Arthur shakes his head. "No," he interrupts. "Why is the magic not tainting you? Why... why are you still you?" he finishes, quieter.

Merlins heart feels incredibly tender. "Because magic is just a tool, Arthur. Like sword fighting. A tool that some people can use, and some can't. A tool that sometimes is used for good, and sometimes for evil. Having magic says nothing about a person - but the way they use it does."

Silence, only the crackling of the fire can be heard as Merlin watches Arthur's face, seeing the emotions flit over it, the horrible realization. "Then..."

Merlin doesn't say anything. This is a conclusion Arthur should draw, alone, without Merlin's influence.

Arthur looks up, and the light of a candle reflects in his eyes. He looks vulnerable. Pleading. Incredibly young.

Merlin waits as Arthur turns away once more, running a hand through his golden hair, shoulders tense.

"If it's alright with you," Merlin carefully starts, "I'd look after Gaius now. He's gone through hell these past few days."

"Yes, yes," Arthur agrees, sounding crumpled under the weight of tonight's revelations. "Please pass on my well wishes to him again. What happened to him was... unjust." He gets hung up on that word apparently, because he repeats it under his breath, like a death sentence. "Unjust."

Tentatively, Merlin steps towards Arthur, but he doesn't know if it will be welcome right now.

"Goodnight, Sire."

The door has almost closed behind Merlin when he hears the faint "Goodnight" in return. He smiles. Maybe, just maybe, the horrors since the witchfinder arrived are leading the way to their destiny.

Addition: Maybe, because Arthur's actually kind of smart, he realized that Merlin has magic earlier, but tried to convince himself that he hasn't. And maybe Arthur puts two and two together about the witchfinder having actual magic, and he asks Merlin about Morgana. And maybe that would save her, and the kingdom, and ultimately himself. Just saying.

#merlin bbc #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin x arthur #merthur #the witchfinder #episode remix #prompt idea #half a fanfic #bc let's be honest I can't not spew copious amounts of words when I try to explain a thought #Merlin's magic revealed #Arthur knows about Merlin's magic #yes these are ao3 tags

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sweeethinny · 3 years

Text

Disney

Summary: Draco and Astoria go to Disneyland, and Draco proves to be a man who doesn't like roller coasters

AN: It's still the 23rd, so I'm still on schedule!

I got lost in the days, and I would really like it to be bigger, but I didn't have time to continue writing and I couldn't make it better / bigger LOL

Hope you like it <3 I loved writing about Draco being afraid of roller coasters, because I do too, even if I like the adrenaline

The fall is the worst part

*always good to remember that: I never went to Disney, so ignore any mistakes

AO3

------

‘Astoria…’

'Stop it, Draco.'

'We are going to die.'

'Of course not, stop it, raise your hands! ”

'No! Put those hands down now! Merlin, we are too high. Astoria! ’

‘Draco!!!’

'We are going to die!' He shouted, closing his eyes as the cart plummeted down the roller coaster with impressive speed, the wind almost drowning him.

The adrenaline was making Draco barely breathe, his hands fastened on his seat belt, his loud scream joining with that of the other people, who seemed to have a lot more fun than he did, who was certain that this would be his last day on earth. Forget Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he would die in a fucking children's toy.

'Love, raise your hands!' Astoria screamed, arms in the air, looking as happy as she was on the first roller coaster they went on. ‘We’re going to stay upside down.’

'No, no, no, no.' Draco closed his eyes even more, hating himself for having opened them and having seen the floor very, very far away now, the cart starting its way to turn them upside down. He thought he might be sick. 'I hate you!'

'Of course not, stop being a crybaby, open your eyes, I will protect you,' Astoria shouted, and he felt her small, soft hand squeeze his. 'See, we can see the whole park from up here.' Draco breathed in as much air as possible, opening one eye at a time, still feeling the adrenaline pumping madly in his chest.

It was really possible to see the whole park, this was probably the tallest toy ever, and the looping had passed, but Draco realized that as beautiful as the view was, the day was sunny, and the cart was slow, they would go need to fall, and that meant that he would once again see death in front of him.

'Babe, I'm going to be sick.' He announced, when he saw the end of the tracks approaching, the fall was the worst part. The screams were already starting to increase and startle Draco even more.

'Love, take a deep breath, and don't look at the ground, we're almost there!' Astoria shouted the last part, as the cart fell with a speed Draco didn't even know was capable of being humanly possible, and the fall was frighteningly high.

His belly rolled and he thought he had lost consciousness a few times during the fall, unable to stop screaming and feeling the chill in his belly, his sweaty hand sliding against Astoria's, which forced him to raise his arm.

Draco didn't even know how he managed to get out of the cart when they stopped, his legs were so limp that it was ridiculous, a 10-year-old boy came out screaming that he wanted to go again, and he, at 25, thought he could throw up his guts out at any moment. Astoria looked much more like that child than he did, smiling from ear to ear, still wearing that headband with pink ears, and jumping with excitement.

'This is so much fun, Merlin .. We need to run to the next one, our Fastpass is now, come on Draco!' She grabbed him by the hand, pulling her husband. 'Come on, I can't wait, this is less scary I swear, and…' She continued to talk over and over, explaining to him things that Draco couldn't quite understand, still nauseated, and his limp legs prevented him to walk as fast as the woman in front of him.

He promised Astoria that they would go wherever she wanted on this vacation, especially after Draco took her to an island where the two ended up sick due to a virus, and were prevented from even leaving the room. But Draco thought she would choose Rome, or perhaps Greece, but not that she would choose Florida and specifically, an amusement park.

The hotel was beautiful, the food was great, there were animals close by and it was a great way to take a break from everything that was going on. Since he started studying alchemy, and working with potions, Draco had lost almost all the free hours he had before, being consumed by books, notes and tests, and Astoria had been promoted and spent less time at home, which meant that he spent more time working to avoid feeling lonely and with nothing to do.

They were both tired and deserved that break.

They were already on the fourth day, and so far, Draco had not gotten used to the nausea, the adrenaline, and the emotion he always felt when he went on one of the toys that Astoria took him. It was a little ridiculous, Draco admitted, for a wizard to be frightened by something made for children, but he was.

The terror tower had still been the worst of all, even if it was fun.

'I need to sit down,' He released her hand, went to an empty bench nearby, and sat down so he could breathe and stop shaking his legs.

'We're going to be late, Draco.' Astoria sighed, standing in front of him with her arms crossed, wearing a T-shirt printed with one of the Disney princesses, her hair in a ponytail, and that headband with pink ears. He would like to say that she looked a little stupid in that outfit, but he was finding it adorable.

'Just give me a minute, and a sip of your water,' Draco asked, feeling his heart slow down, in addition to his legs looking firmer.

'I knew you would be a crybaby, we should have brought Daphne along, she sure could handle going with me on the toys without crying about,' she said, her eyes fixed on him, but Draco knew she wanted to laugh. He laughed.

'Daphne would piss on her pants on the first roller coaster that put her on high, and you know that.' He stood up, more firmly, letting the woman drag him wherever she went.

'But she would do that with her mouth shut at least.'

'Yes, probably because she would have passed out and you would only notice it when the cart stopped.'

'Maybe.' Astoria smiled, looking at him. 'Do you feel better? I really thought I would see you throw up. Didn't you play Quidditch at school? This is almost like Quidditch. ’

'No dear, it is not. I am sitting in a runaway cart, which is not controlled by me. It has nothing to do with Quidditch and flying on a broom. ’

'You are so fearful, but don't worry, I'm here to protect you.' She hugged him around the waist, kissing his cheek quickly before going back to step up to the toy they were close to, a considerable line stamped the entrance, but Fastpass kept them from having to wait for hours under that sun that looked like it was about to melt them.

'I'm happy about that,' Draco kissed her back.

'I'm exhausted,' He fell on the bed, feeling his legs more tired than ever, his knees hurt, his calf burned, and Draco thought that all the adrenaline that followed him all day made him feel like a bag of potatoes.

'Yes, me too.' Astoria lay down beside him, her cheeks red from the sun, her hair in a bun, and still with those pink Minnie ears.

'I don't think I've ever had so much fun,' Draco admitted, looking at her. 'That last one, almost made me throw up.'

'I saw it, you were green.' She rolled her eyes, turning on the bed to face him better, her black eyes shining at him. 'You are so dramatic.'

'Astoria, you said you would start crying if we were late to go on that toy.' He reminded her, eyebrows raised.

‘We paid too much for tickets, I wouldn’t waste a minute even if I had to pick you up to move faster.’ He didn’t doubt that she would. 'I can't wait to go to Cinderella's castle tomorrow.'

'Merlin, I thought you forgot.'

'No, no, I even bought a blue Minnie headband, to look beautiful in the photo.' Her smile was brilliant, huge, as if that was going to be the thing she had been waiting for years. 'I bought one of Mickey's for you.'

‘I’m not going to use this.’

'Draco, please.' Astoria blinked, making that adorable pout. 'You will look beautiful, and the picture will look perfect on the album if you and I use it.' She gave him a quick peck, as if that would convince him.

And it probably would. Like, he almost threw up on all the roller coasters so far, and he kept going whenever she promised it would be fun and looked at him with sparkling eyes and that beautiful smile. It was shameful how Astoria had he in her hands.

'Only tomorrow, no more of this on the other days,' he said, defeated, being attacked with more kisses.

'I love you. And I promise that the day after tomorrow, you will not need to use other headband.’

#drastoria #draco x astoria #Farmers Market Fest

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