#i am a simple man if a piece of media tells me about the power of friendship i go a lil feral about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffi · 3 years

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SARCOLINE SUNSET I: WELCOME HOME, OUTSIDER :: SOOBIN

pairing: soobin x gn!reader, platonic!ot5 x gn!reader genre: fluff, some subjective angst, bits of humor, enemies-to-lovers, childhood friends word count: 4002 event: #summerscape for @kpopscape credit: @enha-woodzies for making the gfx for this series! show her some love <3 author’s note: i accidentally deleted this post so here is a rushed reupload. it might not be as good as the original because it isnt proof read as well but i still hope the algorithm picks it up, maybe this’ll be good for the post. Also, the second part will be coming out in 15 days. warnings: people disappearing, mentions of burning and fire (further warnings will be released in the next parts as the story gets darker)

THIS STORY IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT DICTATE JAY OR NI-KI’S PERSONAL LIVES AND/OR FAMILY.

part two ->

The blonde stared up at an intricately designed structure in awe, walking forward to touch the sides of it and running his calloused hands up and down its rusted carved wedges. It seemed oddly cliche and unrealistic, but he could feel its story. Every touch of the ceramic pillar provided him with emotion that he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

The sun hadn’t set yet, but he could make out the faint reflection of it settling in the background. The huge pine trees around him were making conversation with each other; their faint whispers and rustles providing peace to his veins.

So entranced in the scenery of such a mystical place, he forgot to watch out for his younger peer. Kicking back into his senses, he nervously called out, “Riki! You there?” His voice, usually strong and boisterous, laced fear today.

“Don’t worry about me Jay, I’m right behind you. Just climbing this fence..and..there!” Riki let out a grunt as he jumped onto the soft grass, looking at his older friend with an innocent grin.

At the sight of his buddy, Jay visibly loosened. It was clear that he didn’t feel safe in this environment, yet felt entranced to it in some way. Riki caught up to him in a quick jog before standing next to Jay, in awe at the magnificent view that they were spectating for the first and possibly last time.

“Is this…the place you were talking about?” Riki was out of breath from running after his peer. He pats the grassy patch below him before slumping onto it, crossing his legs afterward.

Jay took a seat next to him, setting his canvas satchel and leather jacket next to him. “According to the maps and books, this is the right spot. I just want to see if the myth is true.”

Riki clapped his hands in excitement and turned to face Jay. “We’re staying till the sun sets right? I want to see what the carousel looks like at night! This structure is so fascinating. It must be beautiful out here at night.”

“No, we’re walking back as soon as the sun goes down. I do not want to risk being out here at night. People have disappeared from staying too long and I wouldn’t want to worry your mother.”

Riki visibly slumped and turned back in time to see the last drop of orange dip. It was quiet for a while. The singing birds stopped humming their soulful tunes, yet the whispering trees grew louder, their inaudible gossip echoing in the ears of the two boys.

At nine at night, Riki’s mother would call Jay, heeding no response. She would do the same for his parents and his friends. The only piece of information they could provide was that Jay had brought Riki, in his words, to “a magical place”. With no other vital details they could draw from their son’s peers, Jay and Riki’s family agree to call the local police, reporting two missing people: two minors, one last seen in a brown leather jacket, and a taller one tailing alongside him. Both their hairs were dyed in a striking shade of blonde.

Summer’s heat-blasted onto your skin as soon as you stepped out of your sleek white Toyota. It was good to be back, you supposed. Although it was something that not many people would fawn over, you were ecstatic to be home in town.

Leaving at the mere age of sixteen wasn’t easy. After your parents decided that you were too good for a mediocre high school where people cared more about their body count than grade count, they immediately sent you off to a prestigious boarding school in the big city. You were given three days to pack and say goodbye to your friends, the rest of your family, your world. As excited as you were to study in the evolutionary epicenter of technology, you didn’t like how you had almost no say in this decision.

You didn’t return home from high school even after four years of studying at that mentally draining institution. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to come back, you were just so accustomed to life in the big city that it seemed pointless to return to square one. With the rest of the world finally in your grip (or so you thought), you enrolled in a highly expensive university and received a full-ride scholarship.

Perhaps that was your breaking point. Piles of work that could never be cleared must’ve got to your head. No one out there seemed to care about your mental health and well-being. The only reason you were allowed to take a break from the university and return was because of your constant breakdowns that your lecturers called “distracting” and “unethical”. You were hoping that this drop-by in town would give you a physical and mental cleanse.

There was no place as hot as home, from where you had been. The blazing sun scorched onto the road. Carrying baggage by itself was already hard enough, but this heat was immensely torturing. You struggled to carry your belongings while trying to close the car boot at the same time. Oh, a pity. You had just returned home and you were slowly turning into a bundle of disorganization, unlike your previous methodical attitude.

“Need a hand?” A familiar suede voice behind your shoulder sounded like music to your ears as you dropped all of your luggage and turned back to see…

“Taehyun!” Child best friend number one. You were looking at a once-innocent boy with doe eyes who had matured into a fine young man. His hair was dyed platinum blonde and, although younger than you, possessed a flair that was completely unlike his past self. His facial features were more prominent than ever and you wondered if all of your friends had developed as well as he had.

You locked your arms around his neck and embraced him as he took your baggage from you.

“You’re so tall now!” You gasped in awe and looked him up and down.

“Of course I am! A boy has to grow, doesn’t he?”

Speak of the devil(s), four people tagged behind Taehyun, waiting for you to notice their presence. All of them were just as tall (if not taller) than your blonde friend and stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t just the height, their hair was also in very...exciting colors.

“Can’t believe you forgot about us just for Taehyun.” Ah, that nasal voice was so recognizable. Choi Yeonjun, second-best friend. You cherished him like he was your secret weapon, a power waiting to be unleashed into your industrial world. Although older than Taehyun, they seemed to be the same height now. You couldn’t tell because his new neon pink hair was waxed slick and puffy which made him look a teensy bit taller than his younger friend. You had seen him around on social media and he was a hair-changing chameleon.

Alongside Yeonjun was Hueningkai, better known as Kai in the friend group. He was the youngest one, constantly babied and spoiled, you could say. He was probably influenced by the rest of his friends too, his hair now in a mossy shade of blonde.

Poor Yeonjun, you completely disregarded his existence and dashed over to Kai instead, eagerly standing next to him to compare heights. The kid had grown so much, you couldn’t tell if you were contented that he was now taller than you or dejected that you had missed so much when you weren’t around.

“Hey, wait up!” Someone from behind called. With Hueningkai and Yeonjun blocking your view you couldn’t see who that one person walking next to Choi Beomgyu was.

Beomgyu, the last friend who joined the friend group. He was always a comedian and never failed to make your day. Although, he didn’t seem so smiley anymore. You figured that it was school stress and adulting getting the best of him. We all had those days; you regrettably knew them like you knew the back of your hand . Unlike the rest of his friends, Beomgyu’s hair was kept in a natural shade of ivory brown. He had never been swayed by the rest of the crowd.

There were so many things to do, so many people to see. You had missed out on most of your growing: having fun with friends, staying up late at night just to watch the stars, dancing on your balcony. You had missed the people too. The town felt different from when you had left it.

“Soobin! Don’t just stand behind, meet our friend! They just returned from the city, right?” Beomgyu ran over to you before giving you a little squeeze.

Who’s Soobin?

“Hey, I’m Choi Soobin. Twenty-one this year. I moved here a few years ago. You must have left before I showed up.” A simple and concise introduction from the blue-haired man. Maybe he was the root of this hair-dyeing trend in town (pun very much intended), as well as the height trend since he was just as tall, if not taller than the rest of the boys.

You briefly introduced yourself but that was about it. You didn’t know how to create small talk, nonetheless with someone completely unfamiliar to you.

Later that day, you wondered if he had replaced you, become another guardian in the friend group. As one of the oldest, you and Yeonjun were always known as the parents of your three “kids”, but Soobin seemed to take care of them equally well. Throughout the day, you watched his every action, how he helped Beomgyu with homework, how he styled Kai’s hair, how he treated Taehyun to his favorite meal, exactly like what you did when you were still around. For once, you felt like the outsider.

Marshmallow Night had always been a tradition here. It was a five-of-you kind of thing, well, the six-of-you now. It had always been the go-to celebration whenever one of you hit a milestone, or was just held for fun. The days of joy where the only thing you had to worry about was whether your smores were burnt.

It had changed a lot over the years, you guys would add some new events to it and remove the ones you guys outgrew, like hopscotch.

You had missed most of its evolution.

Instead of being the main catalyst for today’s event, you resorted to sitting at the side as Soobin took the lead, carrying tables back and forth as well as setting up the fire in a method that the five of you had never used.

Oh, how much you loathed him. You hated his innocent-looking face that spurred out words of authority and boastfulness. You couldn’t stand how he looked so obnoxious with his bright blue hair, his dark brown eyes that held an impeccable gleam. He looked so cheeky, so mean, and worst of all, he had made all of your friends convert to mini spawns of him. Even Yeonjun, the oldest member, no longer felt like the Choi Yeonjun you once knew.

If you could, you would throw him out of your hometown, except that you seemed to be the outsider here. Anyone who walked past would see five people sitting on a huge log, helping each other light marshmallows and biscuits. They would barely notice the one person hunched over on the other side, sitting on the ground, eyes dazed and uninterested.

Occasionally one of the boys would call out to you, either hand you a s’more or ask if you were alright, to which you responded, “I’m alright! Don’t worry about me, I’m having fun.”

Anyone could also see that you weren’t in the zone, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment and be a party pooper. You ended up spending most of the time scrolling on your phone, checking school emails, and such. It didn’t feel like you were back home, it felt like you were on a vacation, on your own.

The commotion had died down, for the most part. Everyone else was either discussing school gossip in hushed voices or making the most of use of their electronic device. You were tempted to join the little heated conversation that Soobin and Beomgyu were having, but you didn’t know who this ‘Chaeyeon’ girl was and either way, you wouldn’t want to voluntarily speak to Choi Soobin.

It wasn’t long before both of them went to do something else, the only sound prevalent being the wood crackling from the bonfire and the occasional chirp of evening birds.

It was a loud, sucked-in breath that drew the attention of everyone, eyes pinned onto the instigator.

Choi Soobin, once again disrupting the peace of this curated environment. He ducked his head in apology and you were about to return to your world when Kai’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Why did you just do that?” His booming voice resounded over everyone else.

You weren’t going to lie, you were curious too. It wasn’t every day you heard a gasp like that.

Soobin looked back up, eyes wide and awake. He was excited about something but seemed to be masking it for the sake of..suspense?

“Okay. You guys know Yongsam Park right?” He put his phone down and tapped his hands on his thighs in a state of urgency.

Now that statement got everyone’s attention. “It’s the flower place outside our town, everyone passes it when they enter. Of course we would know where the place is. Why are you so adamant about it?” Taehyun inquired.

“Well, have any of you gone inside the park? Or near the landmark in general?”

“No. Why would we? There’s nothing to do there than to take pictures of boring flower statues.” You stated.

“See. You guys don’t know anything about the place.” He smirked tilting his head upwards and proudly crossing his arms.

“Could you cut to the chase and tell us what it is already?” Thank Yeonjun for his smart, impatient mouth.

Soobin didn’t answer and merely flipped his phone so you could see whatever was on it. The only words you could make out were “Yongsam...missing...carnival” and something related to the park before he turned it back, away from your view.

“You can’t just say that we don’t know anything about this place then proceed to give us nothing about it.” You rolled your eyes, disinterested in the conversation once again.

“Fine. I’ll send it to you.” Soobin rolled his eyes back as four of the other boys snickered. They loved seeing the two of you bicker.

In courtesy of Beomgyu who gave Soobin your number (without your consent), you received a news article and skimmed through it with eager eyes:

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

YONGSAM PARK CURRENTLY UNDER INVESTIGATION, AUTHORITIES SAY 3 days ago

What’s the deal with Yongsam Park? Insiders say that, although bland and boring, Yongsam Park is currently under high-level investigation for the disappearance of a few citizens. The flower-decorated park is the perfect place to take Instagram-worthy pictures and is quite harmless in itself, so visitors were shocked to arrive at the park only to find it surrounded by heaps of yellow tape.

Yongsam Park was developed by Kim Yongsam, director of My Flowers, a multi-million florist franchise that has now spread to Japan and Taiwan. In a 2015 Interview with the millionaire, he mentioned that he had created the park in the inspiration of the rising ootd picture trend, also known as the outfit-of-the-day trend, which he had initially discovered from his teen daughter.

“I wanted to create a welcoming park for people of all ages, but I couldn’t find a suitable place to do it without the budget being drastically high. In the end, my team and I found an abandoned site and decided to build a simple structure with lower costs up there. Props to my team for the discovery of this landmark. The scenery there, especially in the evening, is stunning .” He stated in the 2015 interview with Soup Magazine.

What’s the abandoned site? With the evidence that is still standing, Yongsam Park is rumored to have previously been a carnival. Said evidence is a worn-down carousel in the back of the park, along with piles of other burnt carnival decoration and equipment. With research, Yongsam Park’s site may have once been an abandoned carnival that perished from an unknown wildfire. This may have been the primary cause of the drought that ensued in the 80s, leaving only a carousel and ashes behind. When questioned, Mr. Kim said that he had decided to leave the carousel standing behind the park due because he felt ‘drawn by its alluring glow’, as quoted.

Investigators and the local police have only enclosed the flower section of Yongsam Park because that was where the victims were spotted. They believe that disappearances took place there and are currently trying to find evidence to back up their stance. Most of this new information is not known to the public, however, Kim and his team are trying to keep it that way. The current disappearance count is seven people, the most recent case being two high-schoolers.

The carousel is still open and does not require a visitor ticket, but visitors are advised to take precautions and leave before the sun sets.

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

FAMILY OF TOURISTS DISAPPEAR AT YONGSAM PARK, INSIDERS SAY THIS IS THE SECOND CASE OF DISAPPEARANCE HERE 2 weeks ago

JAPANESE COUPLE DISAPPEAR AT FLOWER PARK, NETIZENS CALL THE NEWS A POLITICAL DISTRACTION 3 weeks ago

“Are you seriously...telling us...that we should visit a place where people have been kidnapped?” Yeonjun gawked. “Dude, that’s so stupid. What if we die or something?”

“Don’t say that! I was just curious if you guys wanted to go since it’s so near and since your old friend is back home.”

“It’s a dumb move. I’m not risking my life just so I can celebrate the return of my friend. Not worth it.” Beomgyu huffed.

“Hey! You’re worth it, right?” Soobin glanced at you, waiting for a response.

He was...defending you? His ulterior motives were questionable and you weren’t sure if he was protecting you because he cared about you (cue the puking) or solely because he wanted to go to Yongsam Park that bad.

You didn’t reply and chose to drown out the wailing and chaos that ensued with your friends. You clicked on a related article below, curious to learn more about this lesser-known part of the park.

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

Park Jongseong (20) and Nishimura Riki (15) mentioned to their friends that they would be heading to ‘a magical place’, before disappearing for around a week. They were last spotted walking through Yongsam Park, according to anonymous witnesses. This is the third case of disappearances at the park and both teens are the sixth and seventh people to go missing.

Both families reported their children missing just two days after their disappearance. With this case being the last straw, local authorities forcibly shut down Yongsam Park despite protests from staff and management.

Parents of the two minors refused to respond when called for an interview and HYBE reporters resorted to interviewing the victims’ friends instead.

“Jay’s never been a bad kid. Yeah, he might be late here and there, but he wouldn’t skip class or fly across the country for vacation during school. I just don’t understand why he’s not here with us. He wouldn’t voluntarily disappear.” Park Sunghoon (19), a friend and classmate of Jongseong (who is better known as Jay among his friends) said.

“Although I’m not close with Jay, I know Riki personally and I know for a fact that both of them wouldn’t run away like that. Why, Riki was gearing up for a dance competition that he’s been excited about all year, and now he’s just gone? Like that? Riki has always been like my little brother, and he’ll always be. I just want him back at my side.” A teary-eyed Lee Heeseung (20) says.

Netizens have been complaining about the lack of coverage on this issue.

“Maybe Mr. Kim spent all his money on covering this story up from the mainstream public. That’s why he had to build the stupid park on an abandoned sketchy site.” An anonymous netizen commented.

Regardless, we’ll be keeping our prayers for Jongseong and Riki, as well as the five other victims, to return home soon.

“...you guys are such wimps.” That was the first thing you heard Soobin say when you tuned in to the conversation again.

How dare he say that? How dare he have the courage to call you, someone who moved out on your own at 16 to live in the big, scary world, a..wimp?

“Look, Choi Soobin. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a wimp. I didn’t say that I wasn’t interested on this trip.” You stand up and blurt out without thinking twice.

The rest of the boys are gawking at you, their mouths open wide in awe and shock. Yes, you weren’t a wimp, that was for sure, but they had known you all their life as someone who could not stand going out into the wilderness. Maybe the big city had really changed you.

“At least someone wants to go! Perfect. We can leave tomorrow at noon, bring your camping stuff!” Soobin grabbed his things and began walking away.

“Camping?” The five of you exclaimed in unison.

Taehyun, the rational member, gasped. “I, personally, wouldn’t mind going to the carousel thing..or whatever it is, but I am not staying the night. Dude, are you nuts?” The rest of you nodded your heads in agreement.

“It says in the article that we are advised to leave before the sun sets.” You point out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible in fear of breaking this mask of false confidence, when in reality, you were terrified of this place.

Soobin turned back and eyed you down disinterestedly. “Conclusion is that we’ll bring a small backpack, or whatever you guys want to pack, and we’ll stay there until eight. Deal?”

“Seven.” Hueningkai timidly said.

“Whatever you guys want.”

You hadn’t been able to sleep last night. It wasn’t due to fear of the place you were going, rather, you weren’t too excited about having to spend half of your day around Soobin.

What were you going to say to him? You were definitely overthinking at this point.

You know, they always say that the person one hates the most is the one that they also love most. And when Soobin flipped his blue hair back or cheekily smiled, showing his endearing dimples, you couldn’t help but…

No! You loathe Choi Soobin. You couldn’t stand his smile, or his hair, or his height. That evil moonwitch.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Speak of the devil (or moonwitch), you spotted a fluff of blue hair in your peripheral vision.

You couldn’t even muster up the courage to look back at him, merely nodding your head while staring at the white wall.

“Why aren’t you looking at me? Are you...scared?” You could see him wiggle his eyebrows as he made that statement.

That was it. You turned back at him. “Yes I am. I’m absolute terrified. I can’t stand the fact that I have to forcibly spend my precious time around you. It’s like I’m about to voluntarily live a nightmare.”

Woah there, calm down. You had smoke spurting out of your ears at this point.

Soobin’s once excited face fell into one of disappointment. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare having to be around you too. Gosh, the immaturity.” He left the room in haste as your eyes shot lasers through his well-toned back.

Maybe you had gone too far with the insult. He hadn’t been mean to you at all, really.

Then again, he had been mean. He took your place when you weren’t around. Suddenly, you were determined to get it back.

“Hop on the magic school bus!”

“Shut up, Yeonjun.” You deadpanned before leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you were finally falling back into routine and you couldn’t help but bask in this nostalgia.

You also couldn’t help but notice how Soobin kept on looking through the rearview mirror at the both of you, pupils darting away once you locked eyes with him.

Man, this was going to be a long ride.

2021 © fluffi

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dornish-queen · 3 years

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GQ MEXICO - PEDRO PASCAL 2021

It seems that Pedro Pascal is in all possible universes. Here and there. In the past, in the present, and in galaxies far, far away. Today, the actor is considered the great entertainment reference and one of those in charge of saving a franchise that seemed lost. Enough reasons to talk exclusively about discipline, gastronomy, creeds and how he traumatized his father in 30 seconds.

The RAE defines 'creed' as the set of ideas, principles or convictions of a person or a group. For example, by creed, one can leave his country and be in exile. It happens that one can leave the loved one behind. Or simply live in another reality. And also one can put on a helmet to pretend never to take it off again. If that is the path to follow, the creed says that it must be done with the profession of faith and without stopping to look. Turning the pages of the script for The Mandalorian , the Disney + series that revived passion and nostalgia for the Star Wars franchise , Pedro Pascal came across this definition in every dialogue and moment, and reflection carved his way.

More than two decades have passed since the Chilean-American, Pedro Pascal, began his acting career and today, named as the great reference of 2020 , he misses the theater and it still hurts him not to have the discipline to exercise and maintain a diet sana while acknowledging the irony of having the best year of her career in the midst of one of the worst in recent history. But even in physical solitude, the man who carried the best-selling Christmas baby rescues many positive things and shares his vision of the universes he has traveled through, his passion for distant galaxies and how to traumatize your family with a simple scene of TV. In an interview, the Mandalorian of Latinamerica.

IMDB named you the 2020 benchmark in entertainment, a year in which the world took refuge in fiction. How was living your best time locked up and what do you rescue on a human level from it?

The strength of family relationships and friendship. For them, we endure this physical loneliness. I do find it ironic that in 2020 I received projects so well received by the public, although they were carried out before the pandemic and their impact was during it, and that year I was isolated and alone. But I must emphasize that this loneliness is a privilege when many people had to continue working, surviving and maintaining the functioning of the world. We only had to be alone, but they more than that and you must value it too.

Among the activities you have missed, how much do you miss the theater?

Much indeed. It's something that I miss the most and being with people without being afraid. See a play and return to those experiences of being with people doing and living things in common. That is what I need most, in addition to my loved ones.

Disney fully entered streaming and its strong letter has your face, what do you think of the discussion of platforms against movie theaters?

There are incredible things in streaming and many people develop great projects that they did not have access to before. The diversity of voices is gaining ground and it is important to recognize that opportunities grow exponentially and boundaries change. It is incredible the availability that we have to very well made content and how creative people can share their work in different ways. But I also want to be honest: limiting the experience of watching content only on our gadgets or at home is a mistake that affects the stories we can tell. You have to achieve a mix of opportunities and challenges.

You jump between the fictional universes that mark the last decades until you reach the universe of universes. What is your first Star Wars memory and how do you summarize the essence of this legendary story?

For me, Star Wars is nostalgia itself. It is one of the primary things in my memory, of my childhood. I came to the United States with my Chilean family when I was less than two years old and one of my first memories is going to the movies with my dad to see the saga ; it becomes one of those romantic childhood things that opens your mind, so imagine how special it is to participate in this project. I think the creators of The Mandalorian perfectly understand this nostalgia and that power, and they managed to count on that element as a great ally for the world of Star Wars and I couldn't be happier to be part of it. (From which we expect the third season The Mandalorian)

The Mandalorian exploits the power and nuances of your voice, did you have that letter on your resume?

I didn't know I could do it, but I resorted to my theater preparation, which was very physical on all levels and feelings. There are elements that have to do with and that are essential to create a role, and they teach you that the voice is something primary, something you have to start with and you cannot hide. Now I have learned much more about the importance of that, and how to use it economically. The body also has to do with that, because something very subtle communicates something. In The Mandalorian , I had a great time figuring out how to do it, they gave me the opportunity to develop it in different ways. The opportunity to be very intense at it.

What happens to the ego when someone works under a suit and a mask?

In the conversations about the project, before doing it, we were communicated the idea and the concept of the entire season , so I clearly understood what it was. I wanted it to be the most powerful version of what they were trying to accomplish, so there was no point in involving my ego, you know? It was already very clear what the project meant, so I knew about the character , the piece that it represented for him and the opportunity that it was for me, so I was only focused on executing in a better way the part that touched me in everything this. In the theater, I worked several times under a mask and it helped me develop the experience.

It seems that The Mandalorian has a very theatrical base ...

Exactly, and thanks to the physical experience of working in theater, doing a play a few times a week, discovering how your body and your voice communicate , being part of a whole image, and how you will tell that story visually, I achieved this character. I never imagined that it would be something I would have to use on such an important Star Wars project .

On the list of entertainment greats, there are names like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, do you think John Favreau should be added to the list?

I think your name is already included. Without a doubt, it is in that category and it is incredible. His vision fascinates me. I remember an episode in the second season , and I had some boots and I walked so much in the snow, it stuck to them. He figured it out, so he talked to the art department about the kind of boots you need when you're out in the snow. They approached me and gave me new ones that fulfilled the idea I was looking for. He noticed it in an instant. It is such a wonderful detail and it is repeated to scale in every session with him. He thinks of absolutely everything and his vision of the use of technology is admirable. He is someone who makes you feel motivated and always sees how to achieve the goal.

One of the reflections in the series is on how and under what circumstances a man can break his creed and way of life. What makes you break with your beliefs?

I think that you must follow your heart so as not to regret anything; Although sometimes it brings pain or conflict, deep down when you look back, everything is worth it because it was what you heard in your heart. I am very afraid to deny that feeling or not to attend to it. I am 45 years old now and I cannot believe I have a finer philosophy. Make it more disciplined. It's ridiculous, but I'm trying to accept that I am and it's all I can say, "follow your heart." Although, you know, I'm not on a good diet yet, I still have trouble sleeping or exercising.

Still good at Chilean empanadas?

Yes, I couldn't stop. And also how good that I do not live in Mexico City because I would only spend it eating. I could move my whole life to defe just to eat.

I want to deviate and ask you, with whom did you see the chapter of your death in Game of Thrones and what traumas did you cause in your family?

For me, no trauma. I separate myself well from the characters , although I fully understand that if I were a Game of Thrones audience and loved that character, it would make an incredible impression on me. Thank you that it was not. I had to interpret it and there was a model of my head to be crushed that way with the tubes and the fake blood, you know? Me lying there, with pieces of my meat, it was funny in the end. But not for my family. For them there is nothing funny but traumatic. My dad's voice changed completely when we saw the episode, he turned around and said: “I didn't like it, Pedro . No, Pedro , not this ”.

The media found similarities between your villain in Wonder Woman: 1984 and Donald Trump. When playing a character with characteristics like this, do you humanize him or do you understand him?

The project had nothing to do with the former president. They always told me that my character in Wonder Woman: 1984 was emotionally messy, and I took that and took that as far as possible. Instead of creating it with images or certain inspirations from life, it was more to work with what was on the page. Personally, what made sense to me is the size of the story that is being told and there is always more, and we all want more. Creatively, if this makes sense, that meant "blowing her out of the park." Connect a hit with the character and be committed to telling his story faithfully, in a way that was true to me. So all the exterior elements found their way.

What a way to start 2021 with the theme of the Capitol ... How do you perceive that moment?

I am not a politician and it is not that I do not have an opinion about this type of event; however, it is not necessary to state the obvious. My opinion would be very simple compared to that of a person who studied this, who knows how to act in these kinds of scenarios; I believe that I am next to the majority who experienced this, which is the logical result of what we have experienced during these years and we are all horrified . It was distressing to see this violence.

If you had the monolith in your hands, what would your wish be?

My wish would be… it's impossible, really (laughs). I think it is to be together again, with less fear and that people have the opportunity to connect.

What is your position on the reality that Chile has experienced in recent years and how has the relationship with your country been since exile?

It is something that I am developing and I continue to do in my life, trying to understand that it is my home. To be in Chile is to be at home, but my life has been very nomadic, living different things and having many influences; so it is strange, I do not feel with the title of a complete Chilean identity nor with an American one.

Neither here nor there?

In a sense, but I'm also completely both. My parents are Chilean , my brothers were born there before my parents traveled, and I came back sometimes because my family is very large; in fact, my parents came back. It has always been there, it continues to develop, and it will be a part of me. I don't know if it answers your question, but it has a lot to do with who I am.

What is your relationship with Latin American cinema? Are you interested?

Much, it has invaded me in life like American cinema. The movies that I carry in my heart, seeing something like Y tu mama was also something that changed me; I also love the work that comes out of Chile , and the only thing I can say is that it is a cinema that needs more access and projects.

Today you have a comedy with Nicolas Cage on the door, can you tell us something?

It's my first shot at comedy , as a complete story within the genre. Speaking of American influences , in the 80s I saw all the films where Nicolas Cage appeared , he came into my life and it's great to be his partner after seeing all his performances.

How is the relationship you have with the comedy genre?

I love it, I have done a lot of comedy in the theater, what happens is that in film and television issues , I was always part of drama castings . And in the cinema, you go where the doors open; Although I identify with one or the other, I think that being an actor , one goes and does what one has to do. Comedy is something unique, it is very challenging because it must be very real to be funny, you cannot hide or use normal tricks. I was very excited to have this challenge in front of a camera.

Finally, Pedro, after going through so many fictional worlds, literally, what do you dream about when you sleep?

I dream that my bathroom is dirty, that I haven't done my math homework, that the oven is on and all that stuff. Sure, there are times when I close my eyes and see myself in all these projects , although my conscience is with the anxieties of the day that you can imagine.

Without a doubt, Pedro Pascal is a particular type .

English Tranlation: Google Translate

SOURCE: GQ MEXICO

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #gq mexico #Articles

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

to the touch | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc (ft. brother yoongi)

genre: mutual pining, fluff, cute crushes, brothers best friend

warnings: JIMIN that's it

words: 5, 216

summary: he's back

“You’re … you’re here?” You squeak and it’s not one of your best moments even if you were sure Yoongi would argue otherwise and that you rarely had average moments, to begin with. But there was something about spontaneity and surprise that threw you off in the worst way possible and made your brain short-circuit to the point where you’re unable to throw coherent thoughts together. And this was definitely a surprise, one that you’d never expected to happen because—

“I am,” Jimin says curtly, tossing you a firm nod of his head when he pushes you aside and steps into your apartment like he’s been year a thousand times. But in reality, it’s his first time standing at your doorstep, first time knocking on your door, and definitely the first step he’s ever had the chance to get a glimpse of how your living room looks like.

You’re still gaping at the entrance with the door open and you’re sure if any of your neighbors were to step out of their homes, they’d just see a lone girl outside that looked a little too unnerved to bother. When you snap out of it and turn your body to face your visitor, he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch and it’s hard to piece together the fact that Jimin was quite in fact in your living room, and lounging on your couch, staring at your television like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“W-What—how?” You croak because there are about ten million different thoughts running through your head but the most pressing one is how Jimin looked … different.

A good difference, for sure. He’s always been handsome and unreasonably so. Especially with the way that he’s dyed his hair back to black and the gentle fluff of how it lays atop his head. You note that he still kept his style despite him going MIA for three years and wore slacks that shaped his legs (and butt) beautifully with a casual shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was unfair how effortlessly good-looking he was on a spontaneous occasion while you looked anything but, especially with your sweats and old tank top.

But Jimin had always been a little hard to read. Terrifying and brassy all at once but never obstructive—although you’d argue that his presence was the obstruction as it is of how distracted you feel whenever he was around you years ago. It’s like you never learned how to accommodate his presence because he happened to fill every space with just his body even if he wasn’t that tall.

“I thought I’d pay a visit. Your brother gave me your address.” He says, finally turning his head to face you, and its still blank like every expression you remember made towards you. You expected nothing more or nothing less than the way he stares you over and makes you feel like the outsider in your own home.

“Yoongi …” You grit, cursing your brother mentally and hoping he’d make use of that stupid sibling telepathy power he claims he has to receive your gripe.

You clear your throat as you awkwardly shuffle closer towards the couch and hover awkwardly by the arm of the sofa to keep your distance. It’s been years and it’s still a little unfamiliar to see Jimin right in front of you, and not someone you kept at the back of your mind.

“You could’ve called …” You say softly while fiddling with your thumbs. Jimin just raises an eyebrow at you and you feel stupid for saying that already.

Some things don’t change and it’s proven when your heart still beats the same when he’s around you. You cursed at yourself for being weak-willed because you thought time would help you get over your silly crush on Jimin but you also long acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more.

You hated falling for the cliches of crushing on your brother’s best friend, especially one that was just emotionally reserved and detached ninety percent of the time. The only conversations you remember having with Jimin were the ones that you were blushing at him when he looked at you a little longer than usual, or when he drove you to and from school when Yoongi left for university.

But then he disappeared, without saying goodbye and you only found out from his parents that he got into a dance program abroad and packed his things and left. Obviously, twenty-year-old you was devastated because you somehow convinced yourself that he enjoyed your presence even if he was huffing and puffing every five minutes when you’d fall into a ramble of your own.

He changed his number and he wasn’t a social media person so you had no idea what he was doing or how he was, besides the occasional mention of his name in conversations you had with your brother. It sucked. Majorly. Because you really liked him even if he was cold because you knew that Jimin was a good person. A cold and shitty person wouldn’t pat you on your head before your wisdom teeth extraction and mumble it’s okay if he wasn’t kind.

“The place is nice.” He ignores your statement and glances around your apartment and you feel smaller. You do feel a little relieved that he approved of the place, and you did spend hours browsing through catalogues and going through roommates until you decided that this was perfect. Granted, it was a little pricey but you valued comfort and a decent workplace to really get you motivated.

“Thank you.” You mumble, still shifting on the balls of your feet and Jimin just raises an eyebrow at your impersonal stance. You know he wouldn’t point it out because he wasn’t that kind of guy, but his face often spoke for him so you swallowed all the concerns you had and took a seat at the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

“Do you live alone?” He asks. You’re about to respond but he doesn’t let you.

“It’s dangerous if you do. Do you really just answer the door for anyone without checking who it is? You’ll get yourself into some serious trouble if you aren’t careful.” He chides you.

You want to scoff at him because you were an adult and you’ve learnt a few things along the road to adulthood. Jimin was always a little on edge most of the time and you knew he was just bad at expressing his emotions so you never faulted him for it. But now, you were a little older and not as naive—but unfortunately still very much into him.

“God Jimin, it’s fine—”

The door opens and both your heads immediately turn to the source, and Jimin is sharp with his movements and you try to not allow your heart to flutter when he tugs you closer to him and hides your body with his own as if he thought it was an intruder. But you knew better, so you knew it was—

“Tae. You’re back early.” You greet your roommate who only eyes the man on the couch who has you situated behind him like he was your personal shield. His bag is tugged over his shoulder and you see a few of his art supplies threatening to fall out so you hop off the couch to help him with his belongings, and Jimin’s gaze just burns harder onto the back of your skull.

When you’re close enough, Taehyung leans in and gives a brief glance over at Jimin who is still piercing him with a fierce gaze.

“Why is your booty call staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens?” Taehyung whisper yells and you glare at him, pinching his hip because just because he thought he was being quiet didn’t mean that he could easily get rid of his naturally loud voice.

“That is not my booty call!” You respond equally as agitated, “That’s … Jimin.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulge out of his socket when he looks over your shoulder once more to still see Jimin glaring at the two of you.

“Why is he so fucking scary? You said he was nice!” Taehyung hisses.

“He is nice!” You weakly defend, “He’s just … scary looking?”

You know it doesn’t convince Taehyung because he’s sighing and dropping his belongings to the floor, offering Jimin as sincere of a smile as he can muster even though you’re fully aware that he’s terrified of the man on your living room couch.

“Hi! I didn’t know _____ was having guests over. I’m Taehyung.” He smiles brightly at said guest but Jimin just blinks at his cordiality and then looks over to you.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The question throws you off guard and you can tell that Taehyung even more terrified when Jimin completely ignores his presence even though he was the tallest person in the room.

You splutter for a response even if the answer to that was obvious. But Jimin had a shitty way of interrogating people, even if it probably would work in legal settings because he was just terrifying enough for you to stumble over your words and make you look guiltier than you were.

“Unfortunately not.” Taehyung thinks he’s saving you when he lightly jokes with Jimin. And you want to facepalm because Jimin was aloof and impartial to everything, and had horrible skills of reading the room because you were sure that Jimin thought that Taehyung wanted to get in your pants.

“Tae, would you excuse us for a second?” You smile stiffly at Taehyung who is quick to oblige as he darts into his room.

Jimin now has his arms folded across his chest in a manner that makes him look more hostile, but you knew him well enough that you suppose he just had a lot of questions.

“Did you really have to be like that?” You ask irritably as Jimin scoffs at you.

“Please, do enlighten me. All I did was ask you a simple question, which you couldn’t even answer. What was that about?” Jimin responds equally as displeased but you had so many questions and you didn’t need to deal with his mini tantrum right now, especially between the walls of your own home.

“Don’t turn this on me! You turned up to my house unannounced after three years of no contact and you expect me to bend at your will? What do you take me for? A puppet?” You retaliate with petulancy and you can tell Jimin is slowly getting more annoyed by the second but won’t blow up just yet. Or probably because you had another person in the house.

“Am I not allowed to visit?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You scoff at his audacity because Jimin was seriously so bad at reading emotions. You weren’t even sure why you liked him but your heart never made reasonable decisions for you.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Jimin!” You throw your hands in the air, “I didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing because you disappeared like you were running away from a crime!”

“Did I need to update you on my whereabouts?” You know his question is genuine even though it was posed a little rough and you want to pull at your hair because obviously, you wanted to know! Jimin was the person you spent the most time with, outside of school, and one day he wasn’t anymore.

“Of course! I thought we were—I thought … why did you just disappear?” For some reason, it was hard to say that you and Jimin were friends either because the only reason why he’d ever tolerate you in the first place was that he was a good friend to Yoongi and you were just someone that came with it by association. He never outwardly said that he hated spending time with you but he never said he enjoyed it either.

Jimin raises an eyebrow and stands up, and you notice that he still towers over you. He walks towards you slowly, and you feel all the hotter under his intense scrutiny that you just want to retreat to your bedroom and forget this ever happened.

“You don’t need to know.” He says and you feel yourself deflate, “I wanted to visit because your brother’s worried about you.”

The confession just annoys you because you knew to a certain extent that Jimin wouldn’t be here from … wherever he was … if it was only for your brother. He had to give a shit somewhere deep down in him enough to make an effort to get your address from your brother, then turn up on your doorstep unannounced with his usual impassioned stare.

“Oh fuck off, will you? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” You bite back.

Jimin shoots you an unimpressed stare at your snappishness and he won't lie and say that he was pleasantly surprised to see you after a long time. You were always pretty, in an unconventional way, he supposes. You never made an effort to look nice but just did with the way you approached life, even when you were younger. But now that you were standing in front of him with a bite that you didn't have when he left, he's intrigued.

"You weren't so rude before I left." He smirks at you.

His gaze also makes you burn and you avoid his eyes when it searches for yours. You hate that his tone makes you feel funny and that you wanted him to be a little mean.

"Yeah, well—that's what happens when you don't see someone after three years with no contact or notice. They change. They get a little annoyed because someone is just too emotionally constipated to ever make any effort to keep in touch." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Why are you throwing a hissy fit? Needed me to keep you company?" He prompts.

You flush but still glare at him.

"Whatever, Jimin. I just would've appreciated it if you called. Or at least have done something to let me know that you were alive." You mutter.

Somehow, he's managed to cage you in with his body against the back of the sofa, and your breath hitches when you feel his broad chest pressed on yours. You didn't realise it happened until he places his arms by your side, effectively leaving you with no room to leave. You gulp because this is the closest you've ever been to Jimin and you feel dizzy. He smells fresh like laundry and flowers. It's a huge juxtaposition to his demeanour, but he smells good and you want to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"Why would I? You're Yoongi's sister. Not my girlfriend." He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes. The reminder stings a little and you know he's baiting you.

"So? Were we not at least friends?" You snap.

He wants to laugh because you're obviously annoyed at the casual way he referred to you as Yoongi's little sister. You're frowning but attempting to pretend that it didn't bother you.

Jimin would be lying if he said he was never interested. Because he was, undoubtedly so. But back then when you were still navigating your way at the beginning of adulthood with Yoongi constantly breathing down his neck, he would have never done anything to compromise his friendship with your brother; or lead you on. But now you were standing in front of him, soft and sweet with a little edge to you that draws him in.

"Do you usually have crushes on your friends?" He pushes.

Your eyes widen and snap up to look at his teasing expression. His smirk is apparent against the rest of his face and you feel absolutely mortified that he's so close to you when he called you out.

"W-What? A crush? I didn't have a crush on you!" You rebuff him with a stuttery voice and you weakly try to push him away.

But he locks you in position with his hands around your wrist as he leans down and crowds you further with his presence.

"You didn't?" He feigns hurt, then he pulls away abruptly and you're immediately chasing his warmth, "Shame. I would've liked that a lot."

You gape at him when he shuffles away, putting some distance between the two of you as he dusts his hands on his slacks, giving you a curt smile; one that never reached his eyes but that was still Jimin being friendly.

"Y-You what ...?" You squeak.

Jimin shrugs and walks towards your door and you're half-terrified and half-relieved at the prospect of him leaving. But you're more terrified because you don't know if you'll ever see him again and with your current interaction you don't think you'll ever get over him.

"Usually a cute girl crushing on me would be a huge ego boost ... but you didn't, so ..." He trails off.

You bite your lips as you play with your hands. You know he's teasing you and you didn't know when he's gotten so forward, or good at this game. But you suppose Jimin has always been charming too, even if he was bad at emotions. He was good at playing them. And the way he rakes his eyes over your body only to bite his lip makes you burn in want.

He's about to turn the knob of your door but you reach out to grab his wrist before your mind can tell you it's a bad idea.

"W-What if I ... what if I ..." You mumble, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as he turns around, leaning against the door the way boys do that was super hot for no reason.

"Speak up, bunny."

The nickname only makes you blush harder because it reminded you of all the times he's ever called you that stupid childhood nickname that somehow followed you up until adulthood. But you had to admit the way that Jimin uses it makes you feel ...warm. Like you want him to call you bunny for whatever reason he does so.

"WhatifIdid ...?" You mutter quickly and softly that Jimin leans in to get a better listen, also prompting you to speak louder.

"Couldn't hear you." He sing-songs.

You grit your teeth and swallow your pride because even after three years, you were soft and pliant for Park Jimin even if he was hot to the touch. You just wanted to please him.

"What if I did?" You say a little louder, braver, with determined eyes, "What if I did have a crush on you?"

He grins at you in Jimin fashion that was still a little reserved but warm because you knew him. You knew that was what he wanted to hear. So, he rests his body against the door and gestures his finger in a come-hither motion to get you to step closer, which you oblige. It should've been offensive that he could summon you so easily, but Jimin was a lot of things but he would never take advantage of your passiveness.

"I don't know. What would you have done if I hadn't left? Play friends? Family maybe?" He teases.

You scrunch your nose at the prospect of playing family with him because you've heard that phrase way too many times. Your parents at one point kept on saying how you had two older brothers instead of one because Jimin was always there, but they were blissfully unaware of your crush and the way you'd frown at the suggestion.

"We would've hung out more ..." You mumble.

Jimin snorts but cocks his head for you to continue.

"What's the point of this?" You huff, shutting your eyes when you can feel his gaze on you.

"You tell me. You were the one with the crush."

You want to correct him and say am the one with the crush, but you bite your tongue.

"You're the one who wants to know." You respond with indignation.

He chuckles, low and deep before he tilts your chin upwards with his index finger.

"You're still a little girl, aren't you ______?" You think it's the first time Jimin has called your name the entire time he's been here and you almost whine with the sultry look he's giving you.

Jimin applauds his self-control because you were a sight to behold. Even if you were in sweats and a tank, with your glasses drooping slightly down your nose and tangled hair, you still were so appealing even if you didn't know. You looked comfortable, homey and it did make Jimin burn with an ugly monster to know that 'Tae' could see you like this daily.

"Am not." You growl, but he only thinks you look like an angry bunny.

"You are. You don't know how to ask for things, hm?" He hums, tracing a finger up your jaw to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I so do know how to ask for things that I want. I do it all the time." You retort petulantly like you had a point to prove but Jimin only chuckles darkly.

"Then what do you want right now?"

Jimin's question is expected but it also throws you off-guard.

"R-Right n-now?" You stutter.

He tuts as if he expected your bewildered and shocked expression.

"When else but now, bunny?" He whispers as his gaze has you locked in a trance when your eyes dart to his lips when he drags his tongue over it. You're entrapped in him because his mouth suddenly looked really inviting.

"I really wanna ..." You mumble, ears flushing a pretty shade of red and you lean into Jimin's hand when he cradles your cheek gently.

Jimin was capable of being gentle, even though he chose not to. But he never was, though there was something about you that made his territorial, made him want to fight. He didn't know when he started feeling this way but he supposed it was a flurry of emotions and the accumulation of the times he's spent with you throughout the years. Three years didn't do him justice and only made him think of you more. He knew he was hard to read, and frankly even harder to understand. Jimin also knew that you were fully aware of this fact. But that didn't deter you in trying to get to know him, to prick yourself against all his edges that were harder to accept.

You were sweet and naive, a type of person that Jimin would usually scoff at. But your one-dimensional and idealistic view of the world was fresh to him, even if that meant you were living in your head most of the time. It never took away from the fact that you were kind and understanding. The type of person that cracked all of Jimin's harshness made him want to try.

But it didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He liked seeing you like this, gentle and warm, close to him as you look at him with a hazy expression.

"Wanna do what?" He prods, reaching his hand to the back of your hair to tug your face closer to his, but maintaining enough distance to prompt you to make the first move.

Jimin would do it. But he wanted to be sure that you wanted this, and not the idea of him. Sure, he was giving you hints and nudging you, but he also was aware of the fact that you'd never say or do anything that you didn't want. You were always clear-cut about this type of thing.

"You know ... that ... thing ..." You mumble, shifting on your feet as he glances down to your face.

You still looked unsure, but you leaned into his hold regardless, and Jimin took that as a good sign. You just need a little push.

"You know I'm not that bright. You need to tell me, bunny." He says gently.

You can't stop the small whimper in the back of your throat at the nickname and it's taking everything in Jimin's willpower to not take you against this wall. He would, but you deserved sweet things and he wanted to try be that for you.

"I ... I wanna ..." You whisper, "Wanna ... kiss you."

You clutch his t-shirt in his hands and when you glance up he's grinning widely as if he's won the lottery.

He nods his head ever so softly, and you take that as a cue to lean in.

When you do kiss him, you already feel your knees buckling because it's like everything you dreamed and more. Jimin was the right amount of assertive and gentle that makes you chase his mouth even if you were pressed up against him. He takes the lead eventually when his hand cups your jaw to angle your mouth deeper into his, and your body flush against his.

You feel like a teenager again having your first kiss, but it may as well be because you've always wondered what it was like to share your first kiss with Jimin back in high school.

"Is that all?" He whispers against your lips, but before you can respond—

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" You hear Taehyung squeak and that makes you pull away from Jimin, highly embarrassed to be caught making out with him against your door like a horny teenager.

You want to curse at Taehyung but he's already ducking into the kitchen before you can get any words out.

Jimin doesn't look affected, if anything, he looks pleased. The moment you shared a clear testament of who you belonged to and Jimin loved the fact of people knowing it was him.

When you look at Jimin, you're equally parts flushed from the kiss but giddy too. You give him a shy smile, and Jimin just chuckles lowly at your bashfulness.

"I'll see you around, ______," Jimin smirks at you when he reaches for the doorknob to leave. You follow him out, wanting a little more privacy even if it was in the hallway of your apartment complex.

When Jimin steps out and with you behind him, you swing on your feet as he observes your next actions. You clear your throat, even though you were confused and glad—because that was the closest thing you could get from Jimin that was affection so you'd take it.

"So ... what does this ..." You mumble, before shaking your head.

Jimin raises an eyebrow.

"What did I say about asking for what you want?" He berates you as if he was speaking to a child, but his tone is still curt and a little detached, but very like Jimin. You know that it's him and you like that anyways.

"Don't make me say it ... it's already embarrassing as it is ..." You whine, burying your head into his t-shirt.

Jimin welcomes the sudden closeness and pats you softly on the head. It's a little stiff because he still isn't used to physical affection that wasn't 'intimate', but he did say he would try for you.

"Again: I'm not that bright." He teases.

You roll your eyes, but then bite your lips when you see he's waiting for a response.

"... what does this mean for us?" You ask softly.

Jimin smiles at you and decides to grant you a gentle kiss to your forehead. A kiss that was so domestic and soft that you feel your heart soar.

"Check your phone." Is all he says when he waves you goodbye, as you stare at him dumbly, heart still fluttering and cheeks burning.

When you return back into your home, you lean against your door as you press a hand to your chest to feel the way your heart beats rapidly against it. You feel weak in the knees but so blissful that you let out a squeal into the palm of your hands.

Once you've calmed down, and offered Taehyung a look that said you'll explain later—you rush to check your phone, only to smile at what lies on the screen.

Unknown Number [17:21]: hi bunny

Unknown Number [17:21]: save my contact

Unknown Number [17:21]: make sure that when people see it they'll know you're mine

Unknown Number [17:22]: see you soon

Unknown Number [17:22]: if you're still a little slow ... it's jimin

Unknown Number [17:25]: ❤️

You notice the heart emoji was sent a few minutes after the rest of his texts, which showed you that he may have contemplated whether or not to send it. You feel your heart flutter, as you plop back onto your bed, a wide grin splaying on your face.

extra scene

"I'm sorry ... what?" Yoongi chokes on the piece of meat he just shoved into his mouth as he stares at his best friend in the face as if he'd grown another head. But as usual, he seemed to only attract people that were vastly similar to him, and Jimin's face is unreadable as ever. But Yoongi knows he's serious and not fucking around because he's looking intently at the older boy for a response.

"So?" Jimin says casually, leaning into his seat and Yoongi needs to chug down a glass of water to ensure that the food goes down all the way before he can say anything to the question Jimin just posed him with.

"You want my sister's address ... to ... I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but I had a fall and I may have a concussion so I don't know if I'm hearing things right," Yoongi deadpans but Jimin just rolls his eyes at the older one's dramatics before nodding his head for him to continue.

"You want her address to ... confess to her?" Yoongi says hesitantly and Jimin nods his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But it wasn't. Because as long as Yoongi's known Jimin, he's been all detached and broody, uninterested in everything and everyone. He's never shown the slightest interest in anyone and usually opted for casual hookups than actual relationships so clearly, Yoongi is a little skeptical.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks baffled.

Jimin nods, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes. I went for a medical check-up that day and my doctor said he's never seen results as impeccable as mine." Jimin says blandly.

Yoongi scoffs.

"You're just not ... the dating type, you know? Much less ... with my sister?" It sounds weird to even Yoongi's ears. He grew out of his childish mindset and had no problem with Jimin dating you, but it was still weird to see his best friend showing interest in you.

"I like her. And I respect you. Which is why I came to you before I did anything."

Yoongi gapes at his best friend, who looks much softer than he usually does.

"Wow ... I just ..." Yoongi exhales, "Damn."

Jimin offers a small smile before gesturing to their food.

"At least we can really be brothers now." Yoongi jokes, sliding a piece of paper with your address on it to Jimin.

Jimin smiles fondly at the paper before tucking it into his shirt jacket.

The image of you in white, smiling and looking only at him drives him to see you the next day.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts jimin #jimin imagine #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #park jimin fluff #park jimin fic #fluff #mutual pining #cute

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot.

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER.

d a m n s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg.

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.”

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

#dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing 79 #nightwing 79 spoilers #dc #dick grayson meta #nightwing meta #nightwing 79 meta #dc meta #river thinks too hard

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mauvecherie-writes · 4 years

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Dirty Thirty [Florian Munteanu]

Summary: For Florian’s birthday, you fly out to Sydney to be with him for the celebration of a lifetime.

Warning: NSFW*** BDSM themes. Sex Toys, Anal Play (Fingering and Pegging).

Word count: 3+K

Note: Things are about to get heavy with this one so please if you’re uncomfortable with what will be depicted, NO NOT READ! FIRST AND ONLY WARNING. Uploaded on mobile. Will edit later

A small chuckle left her lips as she thought back to the faces of the security at the border control when she arrived in Australia. Having a suitcase full of adult contraptions would bring a blush to anyone’s face. They looked back at her and silently closed the case and allowed her to eventually leave.

The first stop from the airport was the rented apartment Florian was staying at. She was very thankful to have been friends with the production assistant Sammy, who had the pleasure of driving her around and keeping her company until the cast were able to take a break from filming in about an hour.

“Are you sure that you’re not needed back on set? I can honestly just order an Uber.” YN said as she continued to do her hair. After they had arrived at the apartment, YN took a shower and then changed from her tracksuit into a colourful printed strapless corset top and black high waisted pants that had slits at the bottom by her ankles. YN tied the straps of her heels around the bottom of her trousers.

“Oh it’s fine girl. There’s like five other production assistants and I had let them know that I wouldn’t be there for a couple of hours.” Sammy replied as she surfed through her phone as she waited for YN to finish getting ready. Her hair that was usually in an afro had been silk pressed and then an installation of a long braided ponytail that she could interchange with other hair pieces that were neatly packed in her suitcase.

“So how has shooting been with all the restrictions in place?” YN asked as she packed her small purse and then grabbed a black surgical mask as she stood up, indicating that she was done.

“Honestly, I prefer it this way. The number of unnecessary people around the set has been cut down tremendously. My job is still pretty hectic but now I don’t have entitled set workers demanding me around when I’m specifically for the cast, director and the link to the production company.”

“That’s good. Are people allowed visitors because I feel like I’m breaking rules here.” YN said as they settled back into the car.

“If you had come around May, June time then it would have been a problem but as cases have dropped, a lot of the restrictions have been lifted so it’s not a problem.”

“Oh that’s good then.” The two women continued to engage in conversation as they drove to the location of the set. It was mostly about Sammy sharing the stories of the crazy and bizarre demands of the cast. In particular, Florian had an affinity for the weirdest american chocolate and sweets which Sammy most of the time had to order from online as most australian stores do not sell what he likes.

“And the man can eat! I was so shocked when I had to deliver his lunch for the first time.” Sammy exclaimed.

“Oh yeah! Dude can eat for a whole football team.” YN replied.

“I don’t know how you deal with that everyday.”

“Most of the time, I cook a feast because I know he’ll eventually get hungry and because of my work, I’m not at home most of the time that he’s there and I’d rather he eat what I’ve cooked and not order a takeaway.”

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t think he’s had a home meal since we got here.”

YN laughed in response. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”

Their conversation continued to flow as they continued their journey to the area that they were filming. YN was a little skeptical about her presence on set but Sammy let her know that she had been put down on the authorised visitors list, they just didn’t tell Florian.

YN was there as a surprise visit for Florian’s birthday. With his core friendship group all busy, trying to get their business back up and his parents still being at high risk, she did not want him spending his birthday alone. YN began making the arrangements for a birthday trip to him. As her own boss, she made sure to delegate power and responsibilities to her employees so that they knew what to do for the two weeks that she will be gone.

She had a plan and Sammy helped her execute some of it and she was grateful for that. Right now, she was only going to the set location because there wasn’t any

way she was going to wait until he was finished working to see him when they were in the same place. YN had not seen Florian for over three months, she desperately missed him.

As the car pulled into the parking lot, she could feel her eagerness take over but she was going to be patient and wait until she saw him.

As the day drew to a close, the cast and crew had finished with most of the shooting and they were now sitting outside the director’s trailer having a conversation about their days which dove into the crazy stunts the actors have done in the past. Simu was deep into explaining a stunt move that dislocated his shoulder when he stopped talking when he saw Sammy approaching with a beautiful woman behind him.

“Who is that?” When he asked the question, everyone around him turned to face the direction in which he was looking. Florian instantly smiled and pushed his large body up from his chair.

“Baby!” he exclaimed as he walked towards her which left everyone behind him questioning what he said. YN moved past Sammy and ran as fast as her heels could carry her into his arms. She moved her mask and immediately captured his lips and moaned into his mouth when their lips finally met. YN could feel her heart swell tremendously in her chest as their lips moved against each other. His arms tightened around her as he swayed their bodies.

“I missed you so fucking much.” he mumbled against her lips as he placed her back down onto her feet steadily. YN placed her hands onto his cheeks and caressed his beard underneath her fingers.

“I missed you too baby.”

“I can’t believe that you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming.”

“Surprise!”

“Ugh.” He engulfed her back into his arms and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. “You don’t understand how happy I am to see you.”

“I wasn’t going to let you enter the next decade by yourself.” She whispered into his ear. When they pulled apart, he took her hand into his and ushered her towards the group of people.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend YN. Babe, this is the crew that had been keeping me company for the past couple of months.” They all eagerly stumbled over their feet to greet her as they were bewildered by her beauty and the fact that Florian had a girlfriend. He kept his personal life very private and never shared anything more than just he was extremely close with his family and had a close knit circle of friends, he always kept contact with. Not once did he mention that he had a girlfriend and seeing her in the flesh, they understood why.

They hung around the set for a little longer before they made it back to his trailer and YN lounged on his couch, scrolling through social media as she waited for Florian to finish getting ready for dinner. She caught the scent of his cologne and she sat up straight and took in his appearance. He was dressed in a bright red t-shirt, black ripped fitted jeans with black and white Jordan’s with red laces. Around his neck was his single gold Cuban link chain. Such a simple look that had YN’s thighs clenching.

She got up from her seat and approached him. Her fingers played with his chain as he looked down at her.

“You’re going to make me forget about the plans I had in mind for us tonight.” She whispered as her hands moved his groomed beard and played with it.

“Hmm.” Florian hummed as he bit into his bottom lip. “What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t worry about that baby boy. Mama’s got everything covered.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

YN kept the smirk on her face as they finally left the set and travelled to the restaurant that Sammy had picked out for them to have dinner. As they sat for dinner, YN kept close to him. She sat beside him, instead of opposite him. One hand was on his lap as they ate their food and she did not go long without kissing his lips. YN was being needy and she did not care how it looked to the outside world and Florian himself did not seem to mind it either. He was being showered by her attention and he greatly welcomed it.

By the time, they got to dessert, YN was ready to go. When the waitress came back to the table to clear their main entree plates, YN turned to her.

“Can we get the chocolate cake in a to go box please?” She asked.

“Sure. Should I bring the bill?”

“Yes please.” When the waitress left, Florian turned to face her.

“I can see the gears in your head turning. What do you have planned?” He asked which caused YN to smile.

“Don't worry about it.”

And he tried not to and that was until they got back to his apartment. She blindfolded him and took the time to strip him out of his clothes. She got onto her knees in front of him and slowly pulled the fabric down his legs and let him step out of them. Her teeth grazed the flesh of his thighs as she got back to her feet. She placed a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you for trusting to take control tonight.” She mumbled softly as she led him to the bed and laid him down.

“Of course.” Florian mumbled his response as he softly gulped as YN took each of his limbs and tied him to the bed. Once he was secure, she tugged on them to make sure that he won’t be able to escape so easily.

“Can you move around?” She asked him.

He tried to sit up but was restricted securely to the mattress.

“No.”

“Hmm.” YN smirked as she moved away from the bed and left Florian alone in silence with only his loud thoughts to keep him company. Anticipation prickled at his skin as he thought about what YN was going to do to him. He was the more dominating figure in the relationship but there were times where Florian relinquished that control to YN and she would take the bull by the horns.

Whenever they explored the trading of places in the bedroom, YN was wild and it exhilarated him. He never needed to say it but whenever she took control, he always came the hardest. She catered to his needs in the best possible way and pushed his boundaries.

He felt her presence back inside of the room by the floral scent of her perfume. The bed dipped as she got onto the bed and straddled his lap to take off the blindfold. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the room, YN stood up straight to let him take in the outfit that she wore for him.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned as he felt his hardness press into the fabric of his boxers. The leather caged the most intimate parts of her along with the sleeve covering her arms. Leather belts with metal rings wrapped around her thighs and torso like a garter belt and then came up her chest into a choker.

YN smiled as she bit onto her bottom lip as she bent her knees and brought her body down until she was hovering above his cock. She could feel just how hard he was and it made her moan softly.

“Do you like it?” She asked and he nodded his head, unable to speak. His mouth salivated at the sight of her just rendering him speechless. YN pressed her hand into his neck and pushed his head backwards as she dragged her nails down his chest. He hissed as he jerked softly underneath her. She repeated the action again and then pinched his nipples.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as the acute pain of the pinching of his sensitive nipples sent small jolts of electricity straight to his cock. YN giggled at his reaction and moved her hands away.

“I’m going to have fun playing with you tonight.” YN got off him again and moved to one of her suitcases and opened it. Florian could not see exactly what she was grabbing but he could make out that they were toys. She came back to the bed and dropped everything that she needed. She grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his boxers from her body and another giggle left her lips as Florian reacted to the way she roughly pulled the tarted garments away from his body.

She hungrily licked her lips as she watched his thickness bounce back and hit his abdomen. His tip was weeping with pre-cum and it was a shade of angry red. YN bent forward and held onto his base and brought his tip to her mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked the pre-cum that had seeped out. His hips jerked upwards in response and let out a breathy moan.

“Is this for me baby.”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and it was pleasing to hear. With her other hand, she grabbed a cock ring and attached it to his base before she sat on her hind legs and grabbed the bottle of lube. She popped open the cap and squeezed the contents onto the palm of her hand and wrapped it around his girth. Florian gasped and pulled on the bondage as he failed to stay still.

“Be a good boy for me and stay still. Let me make you feel good but I need you to be still.” YN’s voice was like sweet honey to his ears. He loved it when she used this voice on him. The innocent tone of her voice was a sharp contrast to the explicit words that left her mouth and it was addictive. So he tried to stay still. The muscles of his stomach clenched as he tried not to thrust into her hand to follow her rhythm and chase her pace.

YN could tell that his orgasm was quickly rising from the way his length was throbbing in her hand. As his head fell backwards and his deep moans continued to escape from his chest, YN reached for the small vibrator, quickly turning it on and pressing it onto his tip. Florian choked on his moans as his legs began to thrash about and could not still any longer.

“Mmm. I can feel you about to cum.”

“Please.” Florian managed to say as his orgasm bubbled within the pit of his stomach. He did not think that he could hold himself back any longer and just as he was about to erupt, YN pulled the vibrator and her hand away. Florian growled in displeasure and looked at her with dark eyes of raging frustration. The smirk on her face could not be stopped as her eyes fell onto his face. As menace swirled in the brown of her eyes, Florian knew that she was going to ruin him.

YN continued to edge and ruin his orgasm until his entire body was trembling the strong need to release the tension that was locked into his muscles. With lubed fingers, she pushed two digits into his forbidden hole causing him to let out a pathetic whimper. The couple both explored anal play once in a while, YN more than Florian but in the rare moments that he did, he enjoyed it more and more. The first days, he was uncomfortable and weary about it but YN helped him get comfortable with the idea. His first orgasm triggered by the stimulation of his prostate opened his eyes.

She stretched him open and attached her lips to his tip and sucked on it, bringing him to the edge yet again. Florian’s moans were as loud as ever as he softly thrusted into her mouth. He was continuing to break her rules but he did not care. The desperation of his cries made YN weep. It was so seducing and she wanted to hear all the sounds that he made but she stopped once again.

“YN, please.” Florian pleaded weakly. His voice was weak and worn out but she knew that he wanted more. YN put him out of his misery and took off the cock ring which gave him some relief. He let out a sigh as he relaxed into the bed as she got up and walked to her suitcase again. She made sure that the strap was properly secured before she got back onto the bed and positioned herself in between his parted thighs.

To any man not content with who he is, this would have been incredibly emasculating but not to Florian. He was so aroused, his pre-cum was leaking so much, that he drenched his cock in it.

YN rubbed his thighs up and down with one hand as she coated the dildo with lube. With the tip teasing his puckered hole, she hovered above him and pecked his lips and looked into his dazed hazel eyes.

“Happy Birthday.” She whispered before slowly beginning to push into him, breaking through his tight barrier. Her pussy clenched as she watched Florian’s eyes roll to the back of his head and a long drawn out groan.

When she saw that she had filled him to the brim, she thrusted softly, making sure that he was well adjusted and comfortable. YN loved hearing his cries as he withered beneath her.

“Talk to me baby.” She spoke as she increased the pace. Watching him struggle to speak and against the restraints gave her the greatest pleasure. No one but her would see Florian this vulnerable.

“It feels so good.” He choked out.

“Yeah? You love me stretching you out like this?”

“Yes.” He gasped as she nudged his spot. She wrapped her hand around his length and began stroking him as he throbbed in her palm. “FUCK!” He exclaimed as he began to tremble and his chest heave heavier as he tried to catch his breath. Instinctively his body began to move in accordance with hers as he chased for his orgasm.

“I know what you’re doing. You want to cum don’t you my sweet boy?”

“YN.” Her name left his lips like a prayer as his fingers pulled on the ropes.

“It’s okay. I got you. Cum for for me.” She kept stroking and caressing until Florian let out the loudest groan and erupted all over her hand and onto his stomach. YN sighed with content as she slowly pulled out of him and watched as the orgasm continued to riddle his body.

His eyes were closed as she cleaned him up and untied him. The bondage left his skin slightly irritated from the tugging but he would be okay. YN took off the strap and her ruined underwear before kneeling beside him and trailing kisses up his chest to his lips.

As their lips passionately moved against each other, her skilful fingers were once again wrapped around his semi-hard cock. He groaned into her mouth and jerked in response.

“You okay?” She sweetly asked.

“Mhm.” Was his response as she straddled and her wet core hovered above his hardened girth. YN slowly sank down onto his length and moaned as he filled her up inch by inch.

Florian was overly sensitive and he had to hold onto her hips to stop himself from coming quick. A giggle left YN’s mouth as she sat up and raised herself up and sank back down clenching tightly around him in a calculated pattern.

“Fuck, you’re tryna kill me.” Florian hissed as he moved his hips in tune with her.

YN smiled as she bit into her bottom lip and swirled her hips. “It wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” Her comment caused him to laugh. He raised up from the bed and grabbed her ass into his large hands and began bringing her down onto him at a pace he desired.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips as she moaned into his mouth. Her orgasm was quickly rising as she moved faster and faster.

“Baby.” She whispered as she scrunched her eyes shut and her mouth fell open.

“I’m here. I got you.” Florian cradled her body into his chest as their moans got louder and bounced off the walls.

“I’m gonna come.” She breathlessly whispered as she pressed forehead against his.

“Me too.” Florian groaned as he swelled inside of her. The sound of their love making serenaded them to the finish line as they climaxed together.

Boneless, they collapsed back onto the bed. They did not move an inch as they tried collect their breath and tiredness slowly creeped in.

“You really went all out tonight.” Florian mumbled as he traced patterns onto her back.

“Only for you.” YN replied as she placed a kiss onto the side of his neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Florian Taglist:

@emjaywrites @cali-strong @minton131 @amirra88 @bernie-k @xxkissatmidnightxx

Permanent Taglist:

@my-rosegold-soul @gwenspacy @beautifullmelodyxx @royallyprincesslilly @queenshikongo3 @blackmissfrizzle @writerbee-ffs @fumbling-fanfics @lotusss-flowerbomb @blowmymbackout @savvy-ivvory @write-fromthe-start @melinda-january @brownsugarcoffy @amelatonin @smuttywriter @iwrite4poc @nina-skyee @toni9 @19jammmy @chaneajoyyy @bluestarego @groovyevrywhr @themyscxiras @michael-is-bae @damnitaa @daddys-baby-girl-t @abcdestinyyyy @anonymouslust @midnvght-lies @zejess93 @may114 @brwnsugababe @youlovetkay @complacentviawattpad @melinaasap1 @superestrella9 @this-glitter-pussay @tgigoldie @queenoftheworldisdead @bigsisbria @ladya4444 @bvssmob @vozit

#munteanhore writes #florian munteanu #florian munteanu x black reader #florian munteanu smut #florian munteanu imagine #florian munteanu fanfiction

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

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Magnificent Scoundrels- Of Humans and Demons

It had been quite a while since I’ve came out with a story. In this, we have the explanation of what is happening in two of the galaxies concerning the shenanigans bringing them all together, as well as the more supernatural side of all of them. As usual, I do not own anything except Thomas Drake and his universe. Enjoy the story.

“Speak softly and carry a big stick.” -Theodore Roosevelt

Empyrean Iris Galaxy

Rundi Homeworld, Seat of the Galactic Assembly

“Nervous?”

“Actually, no. Not really.”

“Figures. First human to make contact with extraterrestrial life, now the first person to meet the newcomers from these new galaxies. Nothing fazes you,” Admiral Kelly sighed. Admiral Vir, dressed in an immaculately pressed grey uniform, grinned.

“They said space was the final frontier. As it turns out, we’ve got eight new galaxies out there. Life just got a lot more complicated. But, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. More fun! More exploring!” said Vir.

“It takes all kinds, I suppose. But you have to deal with briefing the Assembly,” replied Kelly. “And deal with their possible reactions to the fact that they might not be the top dogs anymore,” she added as an afterthought.

“True,” sighed Vir. “The worst part of the job, by far.” A younger human officer stepped into the small, well lit room outside the main council chambers and turned to the Admirals.

“Admiral Vir, sir. The Assembly is ready.” He clutched his hands together, nervous to be in the presence of a living legend.

“Thank you,” replied Vir politely. He strode forward, only to pause briefly and look back at Kelly with a grin. “Oh, by the way, Star Wars is real.”

“Wait...what?”

He walked into the council chambers, radiating an aura of careful calmness. He looked to the seats where the various delegates from all the different species in the galaxy sat, looking slightly wistfully at the human section, wishing he could be there instead of standing alone at the head of the council. But, like he had said earlier, it went with the job, and he was the only person to make contact with the denizens of the other galaxies. He reached the speaker’s podium, and, after the usual useless bureaucratic formalities were made, began.

“Esteemed members of the Galactic Assembly, I am sure you have noticed that we are no longer the only populated galaxy within this universe. Approximately a month ago, an extreme anomaly caused nine different galaxies, including our own, from nine separate universes to co-exist in one singular universe. I come before you today, having met with people from each of the galaxies to brief you on the various governments from these other galaxies, what they are like, and what you should expect.” He paused for a moment. Perhaps he had used the word ‘galaxy’ too much in that speech? No. He had to be extremely specific, even at the risk of sounding redundant. “It should be noted that, interestingly enough, humans exist in all of these realities.” That drew a round of nervous murmerings. Humans were one of the newest additions to the Assembly, and were by far one of the more powerful and dangerous member races. Come to think of it, I might be lucky if they don’t start a riot over this, he mused.

“It should also be noted that, coincidentally, several of these new realities share similarities with old human stories. Should you wish to know more, the appropriate media has been forwarded to you.”

“Now, on to the main briefing.” Several delegates leaned forward in their seats expectantly. Notepads, recording devices, or computers were taken from their holding places. Adam cleared his throat. “This is what we have deemed Galaxy One…”

And so the briefing went on. He told them of the people he’d met, gave them the anatomical reports on new species of aliens. And, most importantly, he told them of their counterparts. Told them of both the good and the worrying.

The Galactic Empire: a fracturing, militaristic pro-human superpower that used to rule Galaxy 1.

The New Republic: a pro-democratic group that opposed and overthrew the Empire from Galaxy 1.

The United Federation of Planets: a peaceful yet technologically powerful group where all species were equal in Galaxy 3.

The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation: a massive, privately funded mega-corporation that effectively ruled Earth and humanity in Galaxy 7.

The Covenant: a theocratic coalition of aliens dedicated to activating a series of devastating WMD’s in the belief that it would cause their ascension in Galaxy 4.

The Imperium of Man: a theocratic, xenophobic, militaristic pro-human superpower fighting an endless war against all comers in Galaxy 6.

The list went on, and on, and on. As each different government was mentioned, a map of their territories, capabilities, species, and symbol flashed on a centrally located holographic projector.

“Now, the next part is this. We have received word from the Citadel Council, the reigning government in what we have dubbed Galaxy 5, asking us to come to their capital for peaceful negotiations. They seem to be extremely similar to our own government, in the sense that they are a galaxy-spanning federation including multiple species. While I am no diplomat; that would be your area of expertise, the information we have gathered has led us to believe that this government in particular, and two others are the most similar to us and would be the best to ally with.” The room filled with hushed murmurings. The Drev delegate spoke up.

“And what is to stop all you humans from ending up like this? Or this?” He tapped a button, and the six-spoked circle of the Galactic Empire and the double-headed golden eagle of the Imperium of Man flashed to life on the console. “As there are humans in all of these galaxies, you could band together and wipe the rest of us out. What’s to stop you?” Vir paused for a moment.

“Because, being human is all about individuality. We have no collective. Our societies change all the time throughout history. It is often not a story of unity. In the end, a human is whatever it wants to be. The humans of this new reality are probably just as different to each other as all the other species are. And, because we are an individualistic species, the chances of us uniting under one banner to conquer not only one but nine different galaxies is not going to happen.” He looked out at all the different delegates, all the different aliens he had come to appreciate over so long. “One other thing. Most humans have a great sense of right and wrong. Something that many of you have come to appreciate over the time we’ve been in the Assembly, I’m sure. We know that to take your land, to kill your people, is wrong. And, as I said before, humans are different. There are evil and bad humans in this reality; there always have been good ones as well. The same still applies. While some of these humans will want to take from you everything, humans like me will always be there to fight by your side against tyranny.” The room broke into applause. Sometimes good speeches weren't about grandiose words. Sometimes they were simply there to get a point across. And Admiral Adam Vir was a master at that type of speaking.

He sighed to himself. No bad. There wouldn’t be any riots. Probably. Hopefully. He went on with his briefing, pausing slightly to wonder if similar things were happening in the other galaxies...

“I want one simple thing: money. I will tell you what I want; everyone knows what I want. But the people you call saviors, the ones who you think will deliver you and raise you up, they want something else. They want complete and utter control over every aspect of your life. And when you naive fools put them into power, in a short time you will miss my kind. But I will be dead, and you will be damned, because you never thought through the consequences of your actions.” -Martin Crossgrow

Aboard the Apocalypse

Thomas Drake sat in his quarters. The room was an odd combination of styles, with austere and sleek metal plating contrasting with the rustic stonework of a large electric fireplace and the handsome woodwork of the furniture. He sat before a large video screen, barely the width of a piece of paper. His black hair was immaculate, as always, and his deep blue eyes stared from underneath a brow furrowed with concentration. His fingers flew across a holographic keyboard, inputting the correct security procedures. A mesh of invisible, interlocking and ever-changing computer algorithms flashed across the screen. Good. Even if someone were to try and break into his ship’s computers, they would not find records of what he was doing. They could not. He pressed a few more keys, then waited.

Waited for one person. His...sponsor. For lack of a better word. The head of the most powerful corporation in his galaxy. The head of the Guild of Merchants, the corporate oligarchy that ruled the space in between the Galactic Federation and the Empire of Prosium. Ultra-capitalists to a somewhat disturbing extent, it was they who controlled most of the galaxy’s comperce, built most of the products, and of course, paid the most.

A series of chimes, repeating the same notes, sounded. They sounded faster, quicker, humming together, until one long, high, note sang out. The computer screen flashed from black with lines of green coding to reveal a face.

It was that of a man, skin pale from never seeing the warm kiss of a sun, pale from never leaving building complexes. It was old, with receding white hair and skin starting to sag, but the face and the eyes did not betray this age. They burned with energy, arrogance and contempt. Not the misplaced arrogance and perceived invincibility of youth, or the kind energy of an honest worker. No. These eyes shone with an arrogance of age and assurity, the arrogance of a man who knew with absolute certainty he was better and more powerful than anyone else. These eyes now turned to Thomas Drake, and took on a new expression. That of a superior looking on at a trusted subordinate.

“Captain Drake. How are you?” spoke the calm voice of Martin Crossgrow.

“I’m doing well, Mr. Crossgrow,” replied Drake.

“Wonderful. Now, what do you have for me?”

“Information. As per usual. Stocks, governments, companies...entities. In some cases.” Crossgrow gave an appreciative nod.

“Excellent. Your usual fee will be transferred to your account when the information reaches me.”

“Good. I wanted to warn you, though. In some of these new realities, there are...things. Things of...supernatural power. I’m getting you as much information as I can on them, so as to be better prepared if and when confronted.” At this, Crossgrow laughed, a low, dry, chuckle.

“I’m not afraid of the supernatural. If it does exist in these new galaxies, then there are people who will know how to fight it in those galaxies. And every man has a price. So if the time comes, I merely must pay that price. It’s simple.” Drake said nothing. He knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple. But he also knew that disagreeing with the head of the most powerful corporation in the galaxy, and his highest paying employer, was not a wise decision.

“If that’s how you play it, then that’s how you play it. But I think I need more information. Places, organizations with knowledge, information. That’s what I must find.” Crossgrow made a harrumph noise in his throat.

“Well, in the meantime, tell me about the financial side to these new places.”

“Of course. The biggest threat to the Guild is probably the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation. Monopoly. Rules humanity in one of these other galaxies. Produces quite powerful and interesting war machines. I’ve got the schematics for one type.” This elicited a laugh.

“I’m reasonably sure that you stole that from one of your...what do you call them…” he paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers in realization. “Ah, Scoundrels! Didn’t you?” Drake shrugged.

“Of course. It’s being sent to you as we speak. I’ve also got…” he trailed off as he tapped several buttons on his wrist computer. “Schematics for…” He looked up and grinned. “Chainsaw swords, plasma swords, rechargeable laser weaponry, jetpack boots, laser weapons that run off of explosive gasses, contractible body armor, high-quality medical gel that heals wounds almost instantly, cybernetic super-soldier armor, three types of personal shields, teleporters, omnitools, so-called ‘phaser weaponry’, two types of power armor, and the blood readouts from biotics, pariahs, and SPARTANs.” He held up a hand to forestall Crossgrow’s confused look at the last three items on the list. “It’s all described in the report.”

“Ah, very good. Very good, indeed, Captain Drake.” A slightly amused look crossed Crossgrow’s face. “Although, won’t your compatriots be upset if they knew you were selling their secrets?” Drake smiled in response.

“If they ever found out.” HIs smile grew wider, and both he and Crossgrow repeated the mantra in perfect synchronization. “Besides, that’s just. Good. Business.”

“Forget everything you think you know.” -Karl Mordo, upon Dr. Strange’s arrival in Kamar-Taj

Marvel Galaxy

Earth

The New York Sanctum

Doctor Steven Strange was a wizard. Not “wizard” in the sense that he was extremely good at something, like “technological wizard” or “engineering wizard”, but a literal magic wizard. Once upon a time, he had been a prestigious surgeon, but that had all ended in the fires of a car crash. He had traveled the world, trying to heal his broken body, and stumbled on a place that taught actual, real, magic.

Through a strange series of events, he had mastered these “mystical arts” and become the head of Earth’s sorcerers. It was his job to defend the planet and all its inhabitants from any and all magic or extra-dimensional threats. This, of course, was now a particular problem, seeing as eight different realities from different dimensions now existed in the same material universe as his reality did. Now he had eight new galaxies to take care of, and possible threats from all of them to fight.

Wonderful.

He sighed to himself. Might as well get started. Get it done with. Hopefully he didn’t get eaten. He breathed in, breathed out, his mind calm, tranquil. His heavy red cloak billowed around him, lifting him in the air as he took a cross-legged position. One more deep breath. He drew upon his power, and allowed his mind to roam. Not freely, of course. Silently. His metal defenses were high. No entities, no beings, could tune onto the small signature he emitted. It took practice, hours upon hours of it, combined with an innate talent to disguise one’s mental signature so.

He floated, his mind calm. Thoughts, emotions, feelings… Interesting. They all flitted through his brain, caressing the edges of his mind. Nothing for now. He roamed higher. Opened his mind to beyond his Earth, beyond his reality...and was immediately assaulted, battered, his mind tossed around like a cork upon an ocean. Travesty, glory, tragedy, celebration, hatred, hope, love, rage… He wanted to scream. He did not. He merely steeled his mental defenses, clamping down on the sanity of his own brain.

He saw...darkness crashing against light. An eternal battle, observed by one. Something larger at play. Something he did not, could not comprehend. Time began, the beginning played out, a universe expanded. Light. Beginning. Emotion. Differences. It reminded him of the principle of yin-yang, but on a much larger scale. Strange watched the universe, as millions of stars were born and died. The light encompassed everything. Shadows, tendrils of darkness, battled it, fought it, sometimes snuffed it out. The light won when it came forward, burning away the darkness, but if the light failed, gave up, the darkness crept forward to take its place. The light was passive, in a way, upholding the rules with a code of honor. The dark was not. It surged, striking forward, defying the rules and logic itself. Interesting. Strange got the feeling that there was something more here at play, something he didn’t know yet. But it wasn’t a threat. Yet. It could wait. He moved to the next galaxy, the next reality that had been entwined with his.

Next. His mind reached out once more. Now this place...this one was interesting.

It has power. Not separated from the real world, not some ancient deities having eldritch chess games. No. This one had...something different. An energy field, created from the energy of all living things, surrounding them, binding them, letting some get a taste of its power. Most interesting indeed. He went further.

A field. A field of ghosts. Roughly divided in two. On one side, strength, power, hate, rage, passion. On the other, peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony. Two different sides, two different users and practitioners of this energy field. Different individuals. No gods. No demons. Only mortals. But powerful ones. Two in particular stood out. Both on the side of passion. A void, a hungry, hungry void encompassing an individual of massive power. Another, a crackling nimbus of darkness and selfishness. They did nothing. But should they break free from this field of ghosts...the consequences...hmmm. What was this place, even? A place of the dead? Reflections of the living?

Strange whirled around as he felt a presence behind him. Another shade. But not milling on the field with the others. This one stood alone. It was of both sides...but neither. Light and dark swirled within the figure in perfect harmony. It walked forward, towards him. Strange could sense it was, or once was, a human. It wore stylized armor and a mask under a black, heavy, hooded robe. It inclined its head in greeting to Strange.

“What...what are you, exactly?” asked Strange. The robed figure started out on the field of ghosts.

“I was once like you, sorcerer.” The voice was whispery, swirling, ghostly. Beneath Strange could hear the faint trace of the voice of a dead man. “A man with a destiny.”

“Why are you not with the others?” said Strange. The figure gave the phantom impression of a laugh, then a sigh.

“I do not walk in the light, for it robs me of the stars. I do not walk in the dark, for it robs me of my surroundings. I walk in the twilight, and while both are dulled, I can see the entire picture and walk in balance.” He turned towards Strange. “Some say it is between light and dark. It is not. You must have balance. You must have harmony between the two. There is a war coming, sorcerer. A war that you must win. Your power will be with you. Always. Remember that.” The ghost faded into oblivion, and the vision of the field ended. Odd. The vision was something to meditate on for another day. After he had the complete picture.

Next one. This one had a parallel universe. A shadowy reflection of the real world, ruled by...something. The ruler wasn’t human, wasn’t demon or god, it was...something else. A creature of the shadows. Formed by them. Made by them. This reality was odd, yes, but it had no place in the real world. It could not come to nor affect the realm he was sworn to protect. No threats here. Next.

No magic here. Science. More than anything else. Fine. Good, actually. Less work for him to do. He was about to turn and leave, when he felt a presence. Something different. An ancient being. Strange blinked, and suddenly found himself in a blank white room. What?

Staring at him, lounging in a comfortable white chair with a drink in hand, was a man (no, being, he corrected himself) wearing a ridiculous, outlandish, garb of an old school extremely wealthy Renaissance priest. Okay. That was a new one. Personally, he much preferred the man from the other galaxy with his armor and heavy robe. Whatever. He was getting sidetracked. The being grinned at him.

“Surprised?” it asked. Strange recovered quickly.

“No,” he replied. The being laughed uproariously.

“He he, yes you are!” It sipped its drink. “It is so rare to get guests!” He turned suddenly, looking around at things that were not there. “Hmm. My time is short. There is much work to be done in little time. The gods of humanity are outnumbered. A war is coming. Heh. I see someone already told you that. Yes. There are forces teaming up. The darkness is spreading.” The being leaned closer. “I usually am not so straight forward, but it is doubtful you’ll see me again, so I must tell you these things now. Anyway, be prepared. Have fun. Try not to die. That would be bad.” The being snapped its fingers, and the room disappeared, leaving Strange hovering over the universe once more. He shook his head. Usually massively powerful beings did not make odd jokes while inviting him for drinks. More things to remember, more things to meditate on. He had to move on.

In two other universes, nothing. No semblance of any sort of magic or higher beings. Good. Nothing to worry about there. Next.

No magic here. Nothing. But..something was off. The souls of the dead were...missing. Nothing here. Odd. No matter. No gods, no demons, no other eldritch beings. Fine. Mysteries could be solved on other days. He had more important things to do.

He turned his gaze to the last galaxy. Felt as his mind and spirit floated forward. Immediately, he recognized this galaxy as two dimensions in one. Strange. But today was a day for oddness. Warily, he crept forward, mentally entering the new galaxy.

Emotion. Hate. Rage. BLOOD. Apathy. Stagnation. ROT. Movement. Hope. CHANGE. Lust. Pain. EXCESS. So much. Too much. Conflicting ideas. Dead uncountable, screaming in torment from a sea of souls. A Great Game, a chess match between beings he didn’t even want to know existed. And endless war, for billions of years, between factions so powerful he felt as if he were a single grain of sand in an hourglass, a person of such small importance that he could do nothing to change the future that would doom everything.

He screamed as these emotions, as the chaos of this place engulfed him, clawed at him, threatened to drown him. He tried to break free, used all of his power to try and get as far away from this place as he could, away from the madness. He gritted his teeth and focused, focused harder than he ever had, focused harder than the time after the wreck where he could not get his hands from shaking. He felt as if he were trapped, unable to run as if in a terrible nightmare. He could feel as creatures, demonic inhabitants of this realm started to notice his presence, started to turn their hungry stares towards him as he struggled even harder, looking for any salvation.

A light. Faint, in the darkness. He rushed towards it, the souls of the damned clawing at his cloak, the demons closing in with the force of an unstoppable tide. He felt as if he were on a treadmill, unable to go anywhere, stuck in one spot, pursuers closing in. He felt their hot, foul breath on his back, felt their horrible talons and teeth…

Then, nothing. He spun. Nothing. No pursuers. No demons. He fell to his knees, breath coming in gasps. After he caught his breath, he came to his feet and looked at his surroundings. He was still in the sea of souls. Still in this odd, horrible dimension. But, this part was different. A blinding, golden light shot up as if from nowhere, keeping the darkness and terror at bay. What? How? He walked forward, surroundings bare, the great golden light making sure that no demons tread here. As he walked, he felt...something.

A single voice, screaming through the void. A soul slit, in utter agony, bruised, beaten, but unbowed. Strange felt the voice, using his powers to attune himself to it. It had been in pain for...millennia now. Pain was a constant companion. But it would not give into the pain. Never.

Strange looked forward. The beam was being produced by something...no. Wrong. Someone. He shuddered involuntarily. The sheer power required to produce such a thing, let alone to sustain it… No wonder the voice was in pain. Strange looked around again. He had seen enough. Knew enough. Time to go back. He leapt up, leaving this place, still keeping the light in sight...

When suddenly a being of unfathomable power and incalculable malevolence turned it’s gaze towards him. He shied away from it. Now was not the time to trifle with such a thing.

Time, space, and reality warped around him. Every color, yet no color swirled. The being came into focus in front of him. It was ever-changing, morphing from one form to the next with no pretext. He hid his eyes. To stare at it would be to go mad. It studied him. Looked at him with amusement, like a child studying insects under a microscope. Then, it spoke. Its voice was the worst thing Strange had ever heard. Constantly changing, echoing like a nightmare into the void around him.

“The Anathema's pathetic light cannot protect you for long, sorcerer.” Strange winched, and shielded his face even more.

“What are you?” he asked in response. The being laughed. Strange screamed. The laugh echoed around him, promising the bending of time and reality as he knew them.

“Do not ask which creature screams in the night. Do not question who waits for you in the shadow. It is my cry that wakes you in the night, and my body that crouches in the shadow. I am Tzeetch, and you are the puppet that dances to my tune…” Strange pulled back. This was out of his league. He made a motion, and activated his one, final, failsafe. The locket around his neck opened, and a stone within glowed green. The being, Tzeetch, grimaced, hissed, and launched at the same time.

“Oh, ho! Your pathetic trinket cannot keep you safe for long. Every time you use your power, every time anyone bends the laws of nature to their own whims, I will be waiting. Know that I will be watching you and guiding your fate, mortal.” Strange said nothing. He could do nothing against such a being. “Now, go pack to where you came from.” With a great, ringing, clap, Strange opened his eyes. He found himself back in New York. His cloak let him down with a thud on the hardwood floor. He winced, then stood. A meeting had to be called. He just hoped superheroes would be enough to stop whatever came next.

[Author’s note: For the curious, Tzeetch is pronounced zeen-ch]

I hope you liked it. While I didn’t want to give you the names of any of the people in Strange’s visions, preferring instead for you to guess for yourselves, the line “I am Tzeentch and you are the puppet that dances to my tune” was just too good to pass up. I also do hope that you could follow at least some of my ramblings there, but, if you couldn’t, feel free to ask me any questions you may have, along with any comments, criticisms, requests, or concerns. Wherever you are, I hope you have a great day.

#writing #my writing #fiction #crossover #crossover story #ulitmate crossover #fanfic #magnificent scoundrels

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animatedminds · 3 years

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Star Wars: Visions - Episode 7: The Elder

Onward into the last trio of Visions episodes! This has been nothing but enjoyable thus far, and I’ve heard good things about these last three. Episode 7: The Elder Produced By: Trigger Inc. Directed By: Masahiko Otsuka After six episodes, we finally have one that definitively takes place in the Republic era. I’ve been regarding these shorts’ indeterminate time periods as I see them, but with a bit of misfiring: the one I thought worked perfectly in the post-ROTJ era turned out to take place far in the past (and in an alternate take on the series), and the one I thought would have worked well as an Old Republic piece turned out to be intended as a far-flung sequel. But this time, we’ve got a relatively solid timeframe established in the short itself. Some time during the time of the Galactic Republic, two Jedi - a master and his padawan - patrol the Outer Rim when they are suddenly distracted by a sudden flare-up in the Force: a call to something dark and unknown. Arriving on a backwater planet, they track this disturbance to a mysterious old man who traveled into the mountains recently. But something seems wrong, and the more they investigate the more it they find ties from this old man to the thought long-dead Sith, as well as hints that the whole encounter might just be a trap...

This is another “Jedi arrives at a simple village, and is forced into a battle with a darksider“ story - unsurprising, when narratives like that are so popular, and each of the short films were made independently of one another. This time, much more attention is placed on the darksider themselves. The setting of this one illustrates its tension: this is a time period before The Phantom Menace where the Sith were believed extinct, so sudden clues to imply they may still be around are unbelievable and deeply unnerving to the main characters - and this slow unsettled atmosphere composes the center of the short. In the end, the heroes defeat the villain, but obtain no answers - as they must not, for the Sith won’t reveal themselves for some time - and the story ends with them moving on, unsure.

The master and apprentice are fun characters. Not quite as developed as some of the other characters we’ve seen thus far, but they do have a fairly fun banter to them. It’s a trend that masters and apprentices end up countering each other in personality to a degree in Star Wars - wilder masters beget more serious padawans, and vice versa - and it continues here: the master being a dour, cautious and somewhat paranoid sort, whereas the padawan is emotionally expressive, lacking in worry and ever-direct in his words and actions. You can tell that they are wildly unprepared for what they are about to walk into - even the master, who is knowledgeable and powerful enough to face it regardless - and that endears them to the audience as the story goes on.

The antagonist is is the biggest draw, however. A murderous swordsman type: obsessed with nothing but the fight and proving his skills in battle by luring hapless opponents into battles to the death. It’s a character type that’s fairly common in samurai narratives, and thus one which I’ve always been surprised to see so little off in Star Wars media. Eschewing most of the Sith ideology, the Elder only cares about bigger and bigger challenges, deadlier and deadlier stakes. He is introduced having massacred a giant monster, and ends gleefully throwing himself into a fight with someone he knows may be his better, murdering and manipulating all the way to ensure that the fight happens. And the fight itself reminded me somewhat of the fights from the Filoni series, particularly the Obi-Wan and Maul fight in Rebels where the visual direction was all about getting more out of less. The motions are less elaborate, but are instead quick and deadly, which ups the impact. The Sith having a pair of light-shortswords made espeiclaly for an interesting fight - digressing again, but I’ve always felt branching out into different kinds of lightsaber weaponry would allow the series to evolve the swordsmanship aspect of the Jedi and other force users a bit more. The idea of giving Rey a light-pike, for instance, was one that got a lot of traction for a while and one I wish the films had adopted. There’s a degree of baby steps in regards to how versatile the Jedi can be that the main series tends to adhere to whereas these short films in general have not felt constrained by - whereas the light-weedwhacker of The Duel is obviously a bit excessive, the idea of shortswords or longswords for Jedi, or other varieties of bladed weapons, is something imo the series could well look into. If there was one thing that felt off about his one, on the other hand, it was the animation as a whole. It isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with, watching anime as much as I do you’re sure to find a few series that do the same thing, but it may be a bit jarring to go from the previous short films - which were very fluid and expressive in animation - to this one, which is a lot more stiff. Everything is very intricately and elaborately drawn - with deeply etched character designs and vivid backgrounds - but very limited in animation, with less physical emotion and range. A curious choice, given how Trigger’s other film - The Twins - in this set was the complete opposite: extremely animated in all respects. Characters mostly just move their lips and incline their heads, until the fight starts - and the fight itself is, again, an example of getting more out of less. There are thus times in the short where the shot almost appears to be static for long periods of time. This is, once more, a stylistic choice which I am not unfamiliar with, but I’m not as sure that it affords well to the film’s story. But it does have the effect of also drawing attention to the antagonist - The Elder himself is by far the most vividly animated character in the story, and it makes him and his menace fly off the screen in comparison. All in all, a good episode. But that’s not the only thing we’re here to look at. As you’ve probably cottoned onto by now if you’ve been reading all of these, the Visions shorts are all currently non-canon. However, in a franchise like Star Wars it is not uncommon for installments like this to get examined for official continuance if they have a lot of support from us, the fans, and - importantly - if they fit well into the universe. So here, we’re also looking at whether each short fits into the universe, and how well. And what are the chances of this one fitting into the universe? Pretty Good Odds. This short was careful to design itself such that it could easily fit into the time period it takes place in: another backwater planet with a sheltered culture, making it unlikely to contradict anything, two remote Jedi with a far flung assignment also unlikely to contradict anything, and the characteristics of the setting are actually baked into the plot: the Jedi of this time have no idea extant Sith still exist, and thus are left stymied by the mystery this Elder presents. In the end, they obtain no answers, either: only smoke and ambiguity of a lost lead. So I could easily see this being popped right into the continuity with no hassle to anyone. And it would definitely be interesting to see: did the Elder really leave the Sith to pursue his own bloodlust. If so... that was his history? If this short accomplishes one thing, it’s delivering on the mystique surrounding the SIth. Not to mention giving the world a few more nightmare faces to dream about - nobody in the Star Wars universe is scarier than a Sith on the prowl...

#star wars: visions #the elder #star wars #disney+#trigger inc #studio trigger #masahiko otsuka #dan g'vash #tajin crosser #creepy old sith #noncanon #good episode #pretty good chances #sci fi anime #star wars anime #Animated Minds for Animated Times

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bnhablessings · 4 years

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Can I request a oneshot/headcanon for Hawks x pregnant fem!reader? I was thinking of Hawks being super cute taking care of her and showing her off proudly to other hero's. this is my first time making a request, so feel free to do with this as you please lolz! also I really want the end to have reader going into labor and giving birth at the end with a very proud Hawks at her side (you get to choose the gender!)💖

It took me so long to get to this omg but I did and I hope you like it, Hon! It is past midnight and I have a weird obsession with tomatoes right now.

Warnings: Pregnancy, just a fluff overload, Profanity, All Might is retired, Dabi and Hawks are good friends AU (we ignore the manga, only happy feelings here lmao)

*I have fixed grammar issues. My brain power was not activated when writing this lol.

Words: 2438

Takami Keigo (Hawks) x Female Reader

“Isn’t she just amazing?” Hawks questions not really speaking to anyone else as he just admires the woman waddling down the hallway.

The other Pro Heroes around him stare at him with confusion. Aizawa, Yamada, Yagi, and Todoroki Enji all take a glance at each other before they wait for the woman to make her way to them. All of them but Hawks are profoundly confused.

“Uh… This was supposed to be a parent-teacher conference so may I ask why Hawks is here as well?” All Might asks.

Hawks ignores them as he watches the woman stopping for a moment to speak to a student. She looks genuinely concerned and it makes his foolish heart swell from how caring she is. Endeavor wants to slap the foolish look off Hawks face but ignores it to answer All Might.

“I apologize. We had lunch together before this meeting. He decided to follow me but I have no idea why.” The tone to Endeavor’s voice shows that he is irritated but curious as to why the number 2 hero seems to be enamored with a simple U.A teacher.

She hasn’t noticed him yet thankfully and he has proudly gotten a video of her waddling. The closer to she gets the more the expression on her face slowly turns into one of realization. The students at U.A respect and care for her so they always make room for her.

“Hey, Honey, what are you doing here?” You ask softly as you place a hand on your very large bump.

He goes to respond when your colleague Present Mic starts to let out an inhuman sound that turns into a surprised scream. “What?! Honey?! (NAME) YOU’RE MARRIED TO THE HAWKS?!” Present Mic screeches.

You ignore the change in volume and laugh as you nod your head. Aizawa seems to nod as he pieces it together. “Ah… You did mention Tokoyami’s internship being close with your husband.”

“BUT WAIT! You’re married? All my attempts on wooing you have been in vain,” Present Mic mumbles.

Everyone seems to freeze at this but you just laugh more. “Yamada, have you not noticed my ring? I’ve been wearing it every day since working here!” You manage to say after laughing.

He has absolutely no reply but to slowly put his hands up to show surrender from Hawks’ glare on him. Without a care, Hawks pulls you to him so he can hug you with your baby bump blocking it fully. His hands go to rest upon it and he smiles widely.

“See! I told you I have a beautiful family too, Endeavor.”

Endeavor for once has to hide the smile on his face as he looks away. He replies, “Yeah. I thought you were speaking nonsense or showing me pictures of random pregnant women.”

“Nope! I can guess why you would be confused… Since I never showed her face. We have a little chickadee coming on the way!” The excitement is clear in his voice and on his face from the happy lazy grin plastered on it.

He looks at the others and bids them goodbye. “Well, I am going to steal her so she can have her lunch with me. See ya.”

~*~

“Baby, I promise, it is okay! I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later when you get home! I’m just happy you visited for lunch,” You say into the phone. Your other hand goes to your purse to look for your keys.

You hear Hawks mumble and whine on the other side of the phone but you ignore it until you find the keys successfully. “Alright, babe. I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I reach the house. I love you!”

After hearing his ‘I love you more’ he hangs up and you smile feeling great. This is unusual since the pregnancy hormones have made you feel like shit lately. It’s all going to be worth it though.

“Hey, do you need me to walk you home?” Aizawa questions as he enters the hall.

You think for a few seconds before you ask, “Would you be willing to walk me to the station? I’ll be fine from there since I’m planning on stopping by a store! I don’t want to waste too much of your time!”

He nods and the two of you begin the walk to the station. It starts as a comfortable silence before Aizawa speaks up with a smile on his face. “You know, I had no idea you were married to the Number 2 Pro Hero. It surprised me but at the same, it didn’t. What surprised me though was seeing the way he stared at you. You have a good thing going,” Aizawa states.

It was odd for him to give his input like that but it made you feel happy to know that Hawks’ love for you was just that noticeable. Once at the station, Aizawa gives you a look, something an older brother would a younger sibling or parent would their child before giving a demand.

“Call me if anything happens. I’m on patrol for a while so I’ll be near this area. Be safe going home, (Name).”

Today has been such a heartwarming day and Aizawa’s words only bring you more joy as you bid him a farewell.

It doesn’t take long to reach the store close to your home. You salivate at the thought of getting what you crave most. An odd combination that most people would puke from but what you need to satisfy you and your baby right now, tomatoes and frosting.

You can just imagine Hawks’ disgusted look but it wasn’t the worst thing you’ve had yet. You go to turn when your baby bump hits something off the shelf. Thankfully, it was just another plastic can full of icing so it didn’t break. Now the new problem was picking up the jar.

You know it was a near-impossible feat but you try anyway. You probably look very silly trying to reach and barely scraping the can with your fingernails but you don’t care. You are determined to do it. That is until you hear an obvious cough trying to get your attention.

You give up for now and look at the owner only to smile upon seeing the man you saw earlier. “Hello, Mr. Endeavor! We’ve met officially earlier but not formally. I am Takami (Name). It’s a pleasure to meet you and I apologize if my husband gets a bit too much to handle. He can be very chillaxed but he does take his job seriously,” You ramble.

“Pleasure.”

He merely observes you with serious eyes before he bends down and picks up the icing jar. He hands it to you. “Thank you! I would’ve been in a pickle there if I couldn’t reach it,” You murmur placing it back on the shelf where it belongs.

One of his eyebrows betray his lack of expression to show his slight confusion and you laugh. “I already have my icing in this arm! The baby bump knocked over that one.”

He doesn’t say anything in reply to that. Instead, he seems to contemplate saying something. He just needs a few seconds before he decides to say it against his better judgment.

“Hawks... He’s the Number 2 Pro Hero and extremely famous. How is it I never even heard or seen you? I thought he was fibbing about having a wife since he only produced photos of your bump and not of your actual face,” He didn’t want to ask it but the curiosity got the best of him and it was unusual to him.

The question made you smile but this time with a bit of sadness. You’ve received this question just a few times before but the answer remains the same. “We try to hide our relationship and it is easy when his fans like to think he is single. It doesn’t matter but we have private social medias for our friends. We like to keep my face hidden and such.”

The atmosphere turned a bit tense and for once (actually probably like the fifth time since Hawks had been determined in making him a better Number 1 Hero) he feels guilty. Something strange feels like it’s churning in his chest and he quickly fixes it.

“He does talk an awful lot about you though. It’s clear as day how much he loves you and your baby.” It was a simple two-sentences but it brought comfort to you.

He leaves without any more words and you are brought back to your cheerful self and go to pay for the items. By the time you get home, it is already showing signs of getting dark. You are quick to send a text to Hawks and it distracts you from realizing something odd is wrong with your door. The fact that it is unlocked.

You lock your front door once inside and go straight to the kitchen to slice the tomatoes and spread icing on them. You waste absolutely no time as you have it all ready on a plate and leave the room to go change into something more comfortable.

Of course, only Hawks’ shirts have been fitting you lately and you prefer them much more than your maternity clothing. So you wear that and a pair of shorts before coming to get your treat and hopefully take a nap. That was the plan before you have a fucking heart attack from seeing a burnt toast eating your food.

“How the fuck do you eat this?” Dabi questions spitting a tomato slice out of his mouth.

Your heart is absolutely broken at the scene. You ignore the bully of a man and stare at the red and white mess on the ground. How dare he do this to you?

“Oh fuck… (Name), please don’t do this. I’m sorry. I’ll go buy you a new fucking tomato if you want. With the fucking confetti icing and shit. Just don’t cry… Or tell Hawks,” Dabi says.

It is too late though. The damage has been done as your hormones go berserk from seeing what you craved on the ground (yes your mind is ignoring the perfectly good slices still on the plate). Tears prick at your eyes and before you can rub them away or cry, Dabi brings you into a hug.

As you cry into his chest he is already on the phone with Hawks but with your uncontrollable sobs, you don’t hear the conversation. After a few painful minutes (for Dabi) he finally pulls away only for your face to be smothered by your loving husband’s chest.

He hushes you gently and rubs soothing circles on your back all while glaring at his best friend.

Dabi raises his hand in defense. “Hey man, I just came here to visit the princess with good intentions. Thanks for bringing the tomato. I owe you one.”

Another minute later Dabi presents to you a brand new plate with a tomato covered in icing. You sniffle lightly and take it before mumbling, “Thanks. Sorry for the way I acted. That was pathetic.”

“Hey no, it wasn’t Doll. I take full blame for eating your weird food. That and it is 100% Hawks’ fault for knocking you up Beautiful. Anyway, I got to bounce but are we good?” Dabi asks opening his arms for another hug.

You smile and give in. “We’re always good. Now get out of here. We’ll invite you over for a chicken wing dinner,” You offer.

He leaves with a stupid smile on his face and Hawks smiles as he can finally full-on cuddle you without interruptions. Of course, after you are done eating. He pulls you to cuddle on the couch with him, his wings stretched out and resting against the couch.

“You good, Babe?”

You nod the exhaustion pouring in on your face, “Yeah. Sorry I ended up making you come home early. I didn’t mean to get like that.”

“It’s all good. I would do anything for you and the baby. No tomato is safe from being devoured by you if that is what you desire.”

You are too tired to even give a response to that. Instead, you try and curl up into him as you make sure your bump is comfortable at the same time. His hands rest on your belly as he hums into your ear.

“What only two months left now?”

Yeah, and they are going to fly right by.

~*~

“You had to come in through the window?” Hawks asks in a hushed voice.

Dabi only smirks before his eyes fall on your resting figure. Hawks is sitting right beside you on the bed. The sweet bundle of joy he came to meet is resting in Hawks’ arms right beside you.

“Can’t impress anyone if I didn’t. All the Heroes come by already?” Dabi asks as he takes slow and steady steps to the three of you.

You smile weakly as you recall your three colleagues coming in to check on you and meet the baby (that Hawks may or may not have shoved in their face from how proud he was). Endeavor came by as well to congratulate you and Hawks.

“Yeah. All there is left now is to meet you,” You murmur as Hawks stands up.

Dabi gets a close look at the baby’s squishy face. He wants to say it’s hideous as a joke (he was planning on how to do joke about it though) but he couldn’t. The baby was actually cute. However, to his absolute horror, Hawks starts to proceed to give the baby to him.

“What the fuck. What if I drop it?”

You answer in a sleepy voice. “Drop her and I will personally send you to hell.”

“Her… What name did you guys come up with?”

Hawks answers without hesitation. “Tomato.”

Dabi physically freezes and looks up before seeing the stupid grin on Hawks’ face. He turns to you and you smile a gentle smile and give up the true answer. “Takara, it means treasure. Takami Takara.”

“I’ll take the chair. I’ll hold her while you guys rest up for a bit.”

You thank him and Hawks silently thanks him before showing off his severely bruised hand that you no doubt, destroyed when pushing during labor.

It is a pain Hawks would gladly go over again and endure for you because you are everything to him. You and your beautiful daughter mean the world to him and he would go through this life a million times if it meant having the two of you again.

#boko no hero academia #my hero academia #hawks #hawks x reader #takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #request #fluff #bnha fanfiction #bnha oneshot #fanfiction #oneshot #Dabi #dabi eats a tomato and reader cries that is the summary #cute #bnha hawks #bnha dabi

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Eye of the Storm 10

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), teasing, some good old grinding and power plays.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Well, this if officially the calm before the storm but not really because the storm is already blowing and this shit only gonna get worse from here. Let me say thank you to you all for your support for this series. Usually Thor and Loki aren’t really popular on my blog but I’ve had so much fun writing them.

And as always, @lokislastlove is the actual devil.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

When at last Loki let you rise, you felt hollow but full. Your legs were jittery but heavy. You bent to gather the blanket as he dropped the book in the basket. You dumped the folded fabric atop the rest of your load and felt a brush across your ass and stood straight.

The prince acted as if his fingers hadn't just been wandering across your rear. He was rather good at acting the innocent. You hooked your arm through the handle of the basket and choked down your anger. You suspected the more you gave him, the more he'd take.

He smirked and turned his back to you, waving you to follow him. You kept behind him, just a few steps back, and watched the ends of his dark hair that hung between his straight shoulders. He walked as if he had not a care in the world, even after his brother had gotten the best of him. Well, in turn, Loki had got the best of you.

When you returned to his chambers, his silence persisted. He shed his heavy jacket and disappeared into his bedchamber. He returned, his tunic collar open wide across his chest and untucked from his trousers. His boots had been disposed of as well and he reclined over the chaise.

"I should like to finish my book, if you could bring it here," He said at last.

You set the basket down and dug around for his book. You crossed to him and held it out. He took it, his eyes on you as he did, and rested it against his chest. His long fingers picked at the edge of the cover as he watched you.

"Shall I read to you again?" He asked coyly.

"Your highness," You uttered, "I must dispose of the crusts we did not eat and take the blanket to the laundries."

"Leave them for now," He cooed.

"And your chambers will need sweeping. Some dusting at least along the mantle." You insisted.

"Go ahead then. I am certain you can listen and clean at the same time." He took the book and opened it. "It might make your work easier... or harder, depending on your perspective."

"I do not like the story," You argued. "I'd prefer silence."

His eyes flashed and he lifted a brow as he looked to you again.

"I would prefer silence as well. From you." He said sharply. "I will not abide that tongue for much longer if you insist on impudence."

You averted your eyes and sighed quietly.

"My apologies, your highness." You eked out.

He grinned and nodded. He opened the book then closed it. He sat up suddenly and placed the book down beside his leg as his other hand shot up, his index pointed in epiphany.

"I have devised a way to make our work more... entertaining," He said. "At least, for me."

You blinked. You knew by his tone that it would not doubt make your work more difficult.

"Take off that ugly dress." He demanded. "And the presumably stained shift you wear beneath. You may dust my chambers then... I shall try not to be too distracted from my reading."

"Your highness," You spoke between gritted teeth. "I--I..."

"Darling, would you rather I remove them myself? I fear they might not be left in a wearable state should it come to that." He warned. "So go on," He grabbed his book and laid back down. "I expect you to be about your chores by the time I am done the first page."

He propped his head up on the end of the chaise and lifted his feet up on the other. He found his place as you glared at him and begrudgingly untied your apron. Loki grinned and began to read.

'A veil of sunlight shone over her, illuminating the simple yet intricate curves of her body. She was like a statue come to life, chiseled painstakingly to perfection...'

You could not repress your spite as you undressed, one piece at a time, and when you were naked, you kept your back to him and cursed whatever tainted fortune had led you to this point.

You fished inside your apron pocket and let it fall back with the rest of your clothing. You took the cloth and went to the mantle as his voice carried through the airy chamber. You took each ornament and wiped away the few specks of dust upon them and then the shelf itself.

'Her sleepy eyes peered up at him as he held himself above her. She tasted like cinnamon as he kissed her. She grumbled but did not pull away. He felt his desire growing and soon prodding against her thigh. He needed her again. Badly.'

You dropped the cloth as you shook away the scene etched in your mind by Loki's voice. You bent to retrieve it and heard a hum. You glanced over and the prince winked at you.

"The table," He gestured to the low table that faced the chaise. "Don't forget that."

You approached the other side of the table but realised there was no where to hide; no vantage from what he would not see most of you. You kept the table between you and bent to wiped the smooth surface. He watched you before slowly turning the page and finding his spot.

'Her lips were so delicious, he wondered what every part of her tasted like. He slowly retreated, holding himself above her as he pushed himself back, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her tender flesh.'

Your lips parted without thinking and you gripped the edge of the table. You felt that same warmth between your legs and as you moved, you felt a dampness there as well. You turned away to hide your confusion and went to the side table along the wall, giving extra attention to the vase there.

'...And her most sacred part tasted like paradise. He delved into it without restraint. Lapped her up as her legs pressed against his head in her want for him...'

You looked around for another task and caught your foot on the leg of the table. You stumbled and crashed to your knees. You cringed and shakily climbed back up, embarrassed at your clumsiness. Loki had stopped his reading.

"Are you well, dear?" He asked.

"Quite," You lied. "Careless is all, your highness."

"Mmhmm," He purred and raised two fingers, bending them as he beckoned you close. "Come here."

You pouted without thinking. He raised his brows and you obeyed. You neared him and reached to take the cloth from you, tossing it so it landed on the low table. He grabbed your wrist and drew you closer until your legs met the side of the chaise.

"Get up here," He set aside the book and patted his stomach. "Just atop me."

"Your high--"

"What did I tell you about that mouth?" He warned. "Do not be so nervous, I am fully clothed and I mean no harm."

You pushed your tongue against the roof of your mouth in frustration. He let go of your arm and you turned, lifting a leg over him as you climbed up onto the chaise, straddling him beneath you.

His hand went to your hips and grazed your sides, sending a chill through you. He cupped your tits and let out a heady breath.

"Tell me," Loki said. "Has a man every held these before? Held you?"

You stared at the wall and shook your head. He tweaked your nipple and you looked at him.

"Answer me aloud," He ordered.

"No, your highness." You answered stiffly.

"Never?" He asked. "A pity."

He played with your tits a little longer, his eyes followed his hands. You felt something stir beneath you, just within his trousers. His hands settled on your hips once more and he led your pelvis back then tilted it forward again. You gaped at him curiously.

He rocked you again, slowly at first as he kept up the motion. Then you felt it, the way his bulge rubbed against your bud, the way your arousal spread across his pants. Your lips formed an O as you looked down at yourself and planted a hand on his stomach as you tried to stop him.

He let go of you and grabbed your wrists. He put your hands on his shoulders and held you like that.

"Move your hips, darling," His voice was low and lurid. "Don't make me tell you twice."

Your lips twitched but no protest could rise above your fear. You did as he said. You rocked as he had guided you to before. Slow, nervous, and yet each time felt better than the last.

"Faster," He urged and your brows drew together as his eyes went between your bodies. "Faster, dear."

You obeyed. Again. You felt helpless and yet it was you. You were riding him and you didn't want to stop. The heat began to swell within you and the slickness which had seeped into his trousers only added to it. It was wrong, you knew that, but you just didn't care.

He purred as you grinded against him harder and your hips picked up without thinking. You bit your lip and pushed your head back as your fingers curled against his shoulders.

His thick breaths turned to animalistic grunts and his hand fell to your ass. He pushed you against him as he lifted his pelvis just a little, his cock rubbing through his pants against your clit. You bucked as you got closer, closer, closer.

You shuddered as you came and kneaded your ass. He snarled and swore as he squirmed and grasped your hips to slow you. He was panting as he stilled you entirely and his hands slipped down along your legs. He smiled, his eyes dilated and dazed.

"My dear maid," He slithered. "I thought you were supposed to be tidying my chambers, not making a mess of me."

🌩️

Loki didn't let you dress until he dismissed you. After his little game, he allowed you to return to your work only to resume his reading. You hated how he could make you both so angry and so entirely weak. You hated him but somehow he could make you want him. You didn't understand him or what he did to your body.

As you made your way down to the lower levels, you felt as if you were walking through water. As if every step was a struggle. You were tired, overwhelmed, and utterly perplexed. By Thor and his politics, Loki and his teasing, and yourself, more than either of them.

You should go; get out of the palace. You thought of running away but where could you go that they wouldn't find you? Of course, they'd search the docks first and they wouldn't stop there. The king had enough guards to scour the kingdom a dozen times over and you had no gold to take you away from Asgard. And even if you did leave Asgard, where could you go?

As you turned the corner to the corridor lined with the servants’ shared chambers, you caught yourself. There was a shadow not far ahead, waiting for something or someone. It only took a moment to recognize the large silhouette.

You backed up on tip toes and felt along the wall as you retreated around the corner. Your hand caught on a handle and you pressed the lever down slowly. You eased open the door, praying the hinges didn't betray you, and slipped behind the heavy wooden barrier. You coaxed it back into place and leaned heavily against it.

You turned your back to the door and slid down to the floor. You drew your knees up and listened. The king's boots scuffed softly on the stone as he paced. He wouldn't wait all night. He couldn't. You were trembling.

You closed your eyes and lowered your head to your arms crossed over your knees. Thor's footfalls harried from patient to frustrated. You heard his breaths, almost growls, and a grumble to himself. He cursed his brother and marched away from the servants' quarters and past the closet you hid within.

You didn't dare emerge, even as his steps faded away and you were left only with the still silence of the palace. You slumped down onto your side, unknotting your apron to bunch up beneath your head, and fell into an uncomfortable slumber.

You dreams were a blur of blue and green eyes, hands reaching for your body, voices swirling in your ears. Run, run, run, but you could never hide. In the end, you would be caught. As it was, you already were.

🌩️

The next morning, you awoke with a crick in your neck, slightly disoriented by the racks of brooms and rows of buckets. You stood, bracing your sore back, and stretched with a suppressed groan. The tension had nestled between your shoulders.

Well, since you were already there. You took a broom, a pan, and a bucket. You carried your lot to the prince's chambers and left them just inside the door before you descended once more and fetched his breakfast.

Upon your return, he was awake. He stood in the bedchamber doorway as he rubbed his forehead and smiled as he saw you carrying the tray. He was unashamed of the ten at the front of his trousers or his bare torso.

"I will enjoy my breakfast on the balcony," He announced and strutted through the archway. "It is such a lovely morning."

You followed him with a sigh and set the tray before him. You removed the lid as his eyes skimmed over the scenery of the palace yard. He took a lush berry and popped it in his mouth and chewed. He swallowed it with a contented hum.

"I have decided to work from my chambers today." He declared. "And you... will serve me as you did yesterday."

You frowned. Did he mean--

"I do hate the way that apron gets in the way," He tugged on the fabric that hung from your waist. "A woman like you shouldn't hide herself and I suspect you've done so most of your life, dear."

"Your highness," You gulped. "Out... here?"

"Trust me, darling, those below barely have the same vantage as I," He smirked. "So let's avoid the threats and this little act you have. I've seen it all already."

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. It didn't matter that he'd seen you naked before nor that he'd touched you. Not even that he'd made you feel so... delightful. It was still absolutely degrading.

You sniffed and began to undress. You left your clothing on an empty chair around the table and swallowed your shame. You looked at Loki as if you were not bare and folded your hands before you.

"Did you require anything else for you meal, your highness?" You asked.

His eyes searched your face then drifted lower. His thoughts brewed behind his green eyes and he shrugged.

"No, you may go about your usual duties. I do expect to bathe when I finish," He bid. "And you might tidy my desk before I get to work."

"Your highness," You bowed your head and turned away.

His hand snapped across your ass, a stinging slap, and you flinched but kept on. You strode over to the broom and took it, tempted to return to the balcony and hit the prince over the head with it. Instead, you dragged the bristles over the stone.

You finished sweeping the receiving chamber as Loki appeared in the archway. You went to draw his bath and he wasn't far behind, shedding his loose silk pants before sinking into the steaming tub. You left him and neatened his desk.

When he emerged, he dressed in the clothes you set out and sat at his desk. You retrieved the broom and began to clean his bedchamber. He was unbothered by the constant scratching and barely seemed to notice you.

His work continued well until noon as you kept yourself busy in the receiving chamber. Then a knock came and you stopped dead, a cushion in hand that you'd been fluffing up. The banging came again, louder, and Loki swept into the room. You covered yourself as well as you could with the pillow.

"Fetch some goblets and a bottle," He said. "And put that thing down."

"Your highness, I--"

He smirked and tilted his head. "I gave you an order."

He continued to the door and opened it. You went to the cabinet and opened it carefully. You took a pair of cups and nearly fumbled the bottle.

"Brother," He greeted, "Do come in. I have some wine and we will discuss my proposal. I think it would do the farmers well if we subsidized them."

"Oh, yes, I do rather enjoy talking about seeds," Thor replied dryly as he entered. "I really do not have--"

He stopped as you spun around. He blinked at you, his lips parted slightly, than glanced at his brother. He sniffed and cleared his throat. He went to the straight-backed chair and sat. Loki remained standing as you set the cups on the low table and poured.

"Make it quick," Thor snarled.

"Not an issue if you've read my proposal in full. A subsidy would only be a temporary loss and in the end a profit to the crown," Loki said smoothly.

You offered Thor his cup and he took it without looking at you. A vein stood out along his forehead as his eyes narrowed at Loki. He didn't drink but cradled the cup over his lap. You then handed Loki the other goblet and he sipped before continuing.

"Not only that, but it would be good for your reputation among the common folk," Loki smiled. "And it is not as if we cannot afford it."

"Fine. Do it." Thor barked as he stood, restless. He put the cup down so hard the wine sloshed over the rim. "I know you did not me bring me here to speak of crops. What is the meaning of this?"

"Of what, brother?" Loki prodded.

Thor looked at you at last and his nostrils flared. His eyes sparked and electricity seemed to pulse beneath his skin.

"You know what." Thor hissed.

"It has been a hot summer, brother," Loki taunted. "And I am doing no different than you have done. I know you've not so quickly forgotten--"

"You wait." Thor jabbed his finger in the air and a crackle flew off of it, dying in the air before. "You are still just a prince. As you will ever be."

Thor turned and his cape flapped around him as he stomped towards the door. He slammed it behind him as he stepped out into the corridor. You were breathless, stunned. Loki however only seem amused as he chuckled.

The room suddenly turned dark and you turned to look through the archways. You stepped closer and lightning shot across the sky, eerily black in the daytime. A sudden hale of rain began to batter at the balcony as a storm raged without and added to that within you.

"Well," Loki neared and peered out. "That was fun."

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

The Media in a Quirk Society

An essay or more a thought piece about how the media adapted to the appearance of quirk. How genres changed and how the media influences and is influenced by society.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~

Something that makes me so very curious is how media must have developed in the BNHA universe after the appearance of quirks.

We hear almost nothing of media other than the news within the universe itself. For now it escapes me if All Might Cartoons are actually mentioned in the show or something of fanfiction. But another fanfic phenomena are pre-quirk movies, aka movies of our time.

The latter is a thing we must agree on, since there was a time before there were quirks wherein movies were made. This also implies that the pre-quirk superhero genre has existed (think MCU or DC)

I want to examine how that must have changed with the appearance of quirks based of what we’ve seen in the show.

When we see the beginnings of a quirk society, we meet AFO, who rises in the chaos and especially the scene where he takes and gives a quirk stand out the most. Quirks weren’t excepted yet, especially visible quirks, while at the same time a quirk means power. We also know the hero profession rises here, because it was too much for just law enforcement.

So we have these components, which all make for really great stories… in hindsight.

After the fact there must have been many stories about a lone police officer, becoming a hero as he saw the force around him crumble. Or a weak person, suddenly developing a powerful quirk that helps them get out of an impossible situation. Or maybe even about someone who feels they are deformed and shunned from society by their quirk and how they overcome it.

But at the moment it was happening there was still a lot of resentment about quirks and people who had them.

When quirks first entered the stage, people who had them plunged the world into chaos or had to hide like the man who goes to AFO to get his quirk removed.

I can imagine that if movie productions could continue in those turbulent times they would focus on the normal guy, still fighting against a suddenly super-powered villain or a quirkist (as I shall refer to it) take on a person who gets a quirk and turns evil.

Or they might even ignore the whole quirk situation in general with a new genre that can be boiled down to ‘No Quirks – AU’ wherein the movie is based in pre-quirk times. This genre would have a lot of nostalgia at first, probably, trying to call upon how simple life was when villains weren’t terrorizing the streets and heroes were just a funny thing of TV.

Maybe it will develop later.

Maybe it will become how difficult it must have been back then with no simple quirk solutions to problems. It might even turn into a genre about invention, mostly, with a fascination in the public of how things that run on quirk-solutions now, could have been solved by a quirkless scientist in the before times.

But back to the developing genre that is set the BNHA real world. Wherein quirkless people might have gotten a center stage in the early years, before quirks became so entrenched in society that quirkism developed against what used to be a majority.

I can picture a young Midoriya watching old movies wherein the quirkless protagonist was the hero against the evil quirks, telling himself that one day that could be him.

However, with the rise of heroes the media attention probably shifted.

The manga/anime describes it as ‘ordinary civilians with their own Quirks decided to take matters into their own hands to bring order to society, and thus the first "Heroes" appeared.’ as it says on the fandom wikia.

This shifts the narrative of quirkless hero against the chaos of quirks, to brave citizen stands up using the power they’ve been granted. Maybe they gave it religious undertones or maybe it was the story of taking the moral high ground and doing what was right for your country and neighbors.

In those early days you probably have more stories reflective of the pre-quirk fictional heroes, wherein the main character has to hide that they’re out there every night breaking the law to bring order.

It can be that at this time the narrative that the police is just the ‘villain taxi service’ starts to originate among bitter storytellers, who have seen the police fail where heroes did not. Though this would be more older filmmakers after this era is over, who start this. When heroes have become accepted, but they still remember how bad the police reacted before.

But on the topic of heroes becoming accepted, that must have been a civil right movement, a right that had to be debated with villains reflecting how bad an idea public quirk use could be.

You can see in the ‘Liberation War Arc’ how something like that could have played out and how it makes for interesting media entertainment as it is a story arc in our world, meant to amuse. Mixed with the fact that the first heroes created order in the chaos, there must be a ton of movies following activists or a hero not only having to fight the villains, but also the system.

And then over time heroes morphed into what they are now.

Hero became a profession and quirks the norm. After a while, just focusing on quirks got less interesting and using quirks as just a backdrop became more interesting.

Sure, you still had the hero genre and with actual figureheads these can range from documentaries to inspired by real life movies or just fictive fights with characters that are obviously based off a real hero or just the real hero. Especially when heroes became depended on their popularity, there must have been plenty that signed an acting contract in the hopes of getting their name and image out there.

With Midoriya’s comment about Todoroki having the backstory of a protagonist, it is clear that the hero genre is far from forgotten.

However, the “normal” genres also developed with society and with quirks becoming normal and no one truly aching for the before times, they must be set in the BNHA world we know.

The tropes we know (and maybe love) will get a new twist to fit this society or maybe disappear completely. New stereotypes and assumptions based off quirks appear, even quirkism might become prevalent in media, teaching kids that those without quirks are freaks or weak and weird.

In my mind I picture a movie trailergoing “She has a water quirk, he has a fire quirk. Will they fall in love despite their different personalities?!?” or “When his family is murdered, he must track down the killer with only the quirk as clue. Will he find out what happened on that faithful day or will the path this sends him on be the last of him???”

The horror genre will also be transformed with the fear of people misusing their quirk being a big thing in society.

As for fantasy, this genre will change with super-powered people being the norm, you can have to get more creative to make it truly fantastical. World building, visually, will be more important to distinguish it from our world, creatures too since there are literally people with bird heads, for example, walking around.

Not to mention the potential of quirks being hereditary that can be used in dramas where the partner has cheated or as plot point as grant reveal of a main character being related to one of the antagonists or even in gang movies as them training together to use their quirks and them all being the same. That would make for a cool visual tbh.

Disaster movies also will be different than they are now. With protagonist who can have quirks that work against them in their situation or if it’s a more hopeful movie how they work together, piling together their quirks and other skills to survive.

And the crime genre will be so intrinsically tied to hero society and with the police being seen as kinda useless, it will be so different than how we know it now. Did crime become part of the hero genre? Is this a piece of cop propaganda left wherein the police tries to save their reputation? I don’t know, but I wanna think about it.

It’s just interesting to me how in a world where the super is normal, media has adapted and this has been keeping my mind busy over the past few weeks.

The transformation in society of quirks as something dangerous that needs to be stopped, to a few brave people standing up for what’s right to finally the commercialization of heroes so that they can keep doing their job.

You see these changes, that’s unavoidable.

Media is such a powerful tool and it’s hardly referenced within the source material (which I understand because there are already so many movingparts), but with the fall of hero society it is interesting how all that propaganda for heroes might disappear back to when quirks first appeared and how the cycle may start again.

A/N:

There are probably so many genres and other stuff thatI haven’t considered, so tell me your thoughts about the media in BNHA!

((also I didn’t want to dive in how racism, homophobia, ableism will develop with quirks and notions people will have about them. It is important to think about, but I do not think that I am the right person to talk about it. If anyone does, tag me or comment the link, because I will 100% read it))

#RR writing #BNHA #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #quirks #quirks in society #quirks in media #movies #movie and film #idk how to tag this lmao

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Note

*Slurps on ice coffee* ey yo Mayra what's cracking? I need some good ole fashioned protective Sonic of Amy I̶'̶m̶ ̶b̶a̶s̶i̶c̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶ . Maybe something like the press or newspaper attack Amy's character which upset her and Sonic defends or tries to comfort her? That'd be great thanks *Puts on shades and skateboards away*

What up, homie? How’s the skate? Don’t get home to late, my man, you know how these streets be at night. OUR TOWN. That’s what’s up! -slaps hand into yours and does a bro-hold-

You can see my response and thinking for this on the Pajama Blogs! (x) Timecode: 28:12

Referencing my fanfiction: Trying to ‘Tap’ into Love

PROMPT REQUESTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, DO NOT SEND ANY TO ME, please and thank you ;3c

Prompt:

It was a pretty late night. I hadn’t seen Amy so upset before.

Usually, in the past, it wasn’t uncommon for Amy to come rushing to me--arms flung out and moving like a speed train with tears that sprawled into sparkling stars against the sky.

I always, usually, kinda-sorta, caught her and just let her cry it out with an awkward smile to my face.

But this time... Amy wanted to be alone.

That was weird. I first heard about it from Tails, who said that she had been reading some articles about the team and how they’ve said some pretty critiquing things about her... I’ve never really dealt with anything like that.

Joking, completely, I’ve totally had my fair share. But what about Amy? I always figured... well, she came off as pretty independently confident all on her own. I didn’t think she cared that much about what everyone thought of her.

So I was a bit concerned by Tails’s words, but I thought nothing of it. Waved it off as a momentary sadness for her, after all, this was Amy! She could bounce back from anything.

If it was really serious, I figured she would have come charging after me like before.

The stars weren’t here tonight... odd.

Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. The second time I heard anything a little more alarming was from Knuckles. Apparently, Amy had come to seek some solace from the unconditionally loving Chao--now this had been a solid day and half since I’ve heard about the incident of her wanting to be alone after reading some bad commentary on her--and she would shake the chao away from clinging to her.

He said he didn’t get it, cause she used to love to cuddle them and they all were really hurt by her wanting to keep her distance and just pat their heads.

Now, if anything were to set me and Knuckles off, it was that.

His face was so strained as he talked to me about it, I’ve never seen Knuckles trying to hold back so much worry and anger before. He said he tried to go over and give her a piece of his mind, but when she turned around, her eyes were vacant of anything but tears.

“It looked like she thought she had done something wrong before she even did it.” He stated, “I didn’t have the heart to continue yelling at her, so I just shooed her away, telling her to pick on someone else if she was feeling that crummy.”

“Harsh, Knuckles. Harsh.” I joked, but there was a low-key truth to what I said. “Tails said something about harsh comments on some articles she likes to read about us.” The old alter of the Master Emerald’s shrine was as stony and gravely as ever. The little pieces of chipped pebbles always grinded and dug themselves under my fur and into my skin every time I sat there, but Knuckles acted like nothing ever phased his tough skin.

I was acting kinda tough, too... to be real honest with you.

Knuckles huffed, grumbling as he picked up some berry juice he had squashed into a half-coconut bowl and passed one over to me. “Doesn’t excuse telling a kid they can’t hold ya.” He was right... but then again...

“Maybe she just didn’t want the sympathy.” It was hard to look at it from a girl’s point of view, I didn’t quite understand what would tip her over the edge like that. Maybe they said she wasn’t pretty enough..? Ehh..?

“Girls really care about how others view them, you know?” I took a sip. It did in fact taste good, and I leaned back to let the slight acidy feel tingle against my throat as its favorable burst went down the ol’pipe. “Ahh~ That’s the spot!”

“...I don’t think you should be acting so carefree about this, Sonic.”

His sudden tone made me stop enjoying the berry sensation and look back to him, a little surprised but not by much. Knuckles always chose the direct route in any conversation, it’s what made him so easy and frustrating to talk to.

I smiled and closed my eyes, putting a foot down a step to stretch it out and sighed.

“...Yeah. I know.”

“If you know, then why don’t you do something about it!?” Knuckles, always ready to pull his voice out and speak up when he sees something he doesn’t like. “The very fact that she’s a girl means you should do somethin’ about it! Girls aren’t meant to mope about, they gotta be treated decently! Ain’t that half your job?!” ...Still, it made me like him like that. He was a good guy, and had the real makings of a hero--at least, to my standards--and a good friend at that!

“Half, huh?” I took another sip. Did everyone think me and Amy were something more..? After all these years, I hadn’t the slightest clue. Seems everyone else held a standard in their mind about it though...

“I’m serious! Aren’t you planning to do something about it?”

“Am I?” I smirked, not liking to be asked direct questions about myself. I took the coconut drink down and set it to the side, getting up and stretching my arm out in a few simple gestures. Spreading it across my chest and pulling it with my other hand, then twisting my torso right and down as I put the other arm back and used the one I’d momentarily stretched to reach sky high with it. “Boy, that feels good!”

“Grr... Sonic... if you’re making fun of this, I’ll-!” Before getting Knuckles too wound up, seeing him lift his fists again, I flicked myself in my usual--Sonic Charm~

I winked and wiggled my pointer finger, turning one leg to be slightly bent as I was about to speed off anyway.

I had heard what I wanted too, now time to do some more digging before investigating it right at it’s source.

“Don’t worry so much, Knuckles! Like I’d ever leave Amy to her own assumptions.” I still wasn’t sure what she was struggling with... but wanting to be alone and not have anyone clinging to her in affection?

Didn’t sound like Amy Rose to me.

While heading to dart off the island, I stopped by the chao and asked them what their story was.

Squatting down, I think I mustered up enough of my expertise in games to figure out their charaded play. It seems the chao could tell something was off from Amy’s usual, cheery nature. To try and help, they tried to swarm her as she usually did with endless hugs, but she delicately plucked each one off at a time and set them back down.

All she wanted was to sit, looking sadly between her arms and legs--I’m guessing the chao were trying to do the fetal upright position but their budgy bodies just can’t do it.--and pat their heads.

It made them uncomfortable to not be able to love on her, I assumed, and they continued to show me great concern as they held my arms in different places and showed me their adorable eyes.

“I get it, don’t worry, Amy’s gonna be just fine.” I smiled the best I could, but hearing... well, seeing their side of the story really... heh, opened my eyes?

Puns. Always a defense mechanism when you don’t intend to use them that way.

Something had me wanting to wait before I saw Amy again, though. Usually, that wasn’t like me, but I wanted a bigger picture.

I sped over to Cream’s and Vanilla’s, where I thought more insight might be had.

Tails had already called them, doing his own work to try and collect the pieces before directly asking Amy. We all knew Amy could be a bit... Nah, I won’t say it. But we wanted a better idea before we approached her about it.

Just safer that way...

I rubbed my head, remembering how easily one could fall into that hammer’s swing if they didn’t word things a bit more carefully, as Cream and Vanilla recounted Amy’s strange melancholy behavior, and how she wanted to seem less-

“Feminine?” That threw me for a loop, and trust me, I’ve had my fair share of running through loops.

“Well, not quite.” Vanilla was sitting on her lovely coach with Cream and Cheese sitting adjacent but slightly on her lap. She looked down at Cream who held her chin up a moment, wanting to be polite as she addressed me.

I did my best to hold a steady and kind eye-contact, but I could tell she was struggling to admit what she heard and saw.

“Miss Amy kept asking me strange questions. Like... Was she too much on something. I didn’t understand and she kept insisting I shouldn’t coddle her or lie to her. I didn’t know how to take that... I would never lie to Miss Amy! I just... didn’t understand what she wanted from me.”

It pained me to see that Amy had hurt someone from her own insecurities.

That was everything Amy stood against, and that’s when I knew this was getting out of hand.

I had let her be for a day just to see if she would either work it out on her own or come crying to me... but she hadn’t done either.

She was now hurting those close to her... and so it was time to intervene.

“Thank you for telling me that, Cream.” I purposefully spoke as tenderly as I could, “I’m sure that was hard for you. I’m very grateful you told me what happened.”

She buried herself into her mother’s chest, still hurt, and that drove a powerful fire through me.

That does it, Amy.

You don’t hurt people when you’re injured.

You come to someone stronger to help heal you if you can’t do it yourself.

At the time, I was really upset. Amy must have been polarized by the media.

They call her too traditional? Is that why she wanted to be more ‘tough’ like? Too protected? Too appeased?

Feminine... did she feel like a damsel in distress instead of our trusted friend?

I was trying to keep my head leveled, but I ended up closing my eyes during my run and letting the night’s air beat against me to try and cool myself off before finding her.

She wasn’t home, I checked the windows. No lights.

Unless she was sitting the dark, Amy always had a reading light on. She only turned every light off in her house when she was going to bed, so she could see the stars and feel like we were watching them together, no matter if we were far apart or not.

I looked to see she hadn’t any dirty dishes in the sink, and while peeking through the window, I noticed her drapes were down as well. That means she hadn’t been cooking or baking, and that she hadn’t opened the windows and pulled the drapes to let the smells carry, hoping I’d catch wind of it and invite myself in for a dinner with her.

I sped over to the city, thinking maybe she went on one of those ‘journey walks’ where she just window shops but ends up buying too many bags and waiting for me to bolt by and help her with them. She liked to think and experience things outside the home too... but I didn’t see her struggling with shopping bags anywhere.

She wasn’t watching Twinkle Park’s lights from her favorite outdoor restaurant, or purposefully losing her hat in hope’s I’d somehow see it and return it to her. She wasn’t sitting on her favorite spot with her favorite outdoor umbrella with her typical strawberry and vanilla shake and pretending she was too cold to finish it, bundling up and hoping I’d make a move and pull her closer or something.

She wasn’t in the fields where she’d pick flowers with Cream, or stare up at the clouds and reminisce about old times and stories we used to tell each other, or have her head on a bed of flowers so butterflies would come and sit on her still face as she dreamed of a future with me in it. Waiting for me to zip by and have the butterflies spread out and fly through my backdraft as the air around where I just blazed through would slowly return to a even, equilibrium.

She wasn’t anywhere I usually found her at.

I came up to my last spot I could think of. Why was this so hard? Amy could find me in a heartbeat... which... I couldn’t quite feel right now because it was fluttering dangerously like my shaky breaths.

I kept a strong look on my face, simply because I was worried my fear at not finding her would leak through and make her feel bad about being too well hidden.

I didn’t want her to feel bad... I didn’t want her to be alone for this long.

It had been the dark of the second day... I just wanted to see her. Make sure she was okay...

That anger that once fueled me was now popping in sparks of concern that made me walk around the rolling hills of Green Hill zone.

If she wasn’t here... looking for me... then I truly didn’t know where she was.

Eggman... would have been my next guess.

That, or Amy was replaced by a robot of his and was terrorizing the living daylights out of her friends!

... It was concerning. I wouldn’t worry. I couldn’t worry... Amy wasn’t a little girl anymore and hateful, spiting comments were to be expected when you live in the spotlight.

But I was just wanting to know where she was... how she was... It was starting to drive me crazy.

“Where are you... Amy?” I looked up to the sky, blank and black, and I didn’t like the omen it sent me. Like chills down my fur, the wind finally got to me. I felt the cold... empty world for the first time... realizing Amy was out in it without me.

Was she without her coat? Was she silently re-reading those awful articles?

‘Amy... Amy... Hear me... You’re not alone.’ My thoughts channeled through to my feet and I kept searching, darting here to there, scouting out east and west, north to south was like zig-zagging till every blade swayed left and right to make sure she wasn’t hiding somewhere in it’s darkened shade...

A crescent moon... not a full one. She liked the full moon.

‘Amy...’

As I ran through a rather flattened terrain of another zone, I watched to the side of me how the treelined slimmed down and the edge of the world rose up on a hill... that soon became a mountain.

Blocking my view... of any light the night could have brought to her.

She only liked the dark when she was about to sleep... it’d be too dark to really see her way home, soon.

I had confidence she knew her way home, that the world wasn’t that dangerous... but I wondered if her mind could be.

‘Amy...’ I bit down my teeth, charging forward in a streak of blue.

“AMMMMYYY!!!!”

----

As though hearing something in the distance, I raised my head and looked back over my shoulder.

Something kept telling me Sonic was looking for me... but I wondered if that was true this time.

I turned my solemn head with a sigh back to the last shred of light from the fading sun... I felt like... if I got any closer, I would feel it’s warmth envelop me completely... and I’d disappear from this world.

All these awful words in my head would cease, all this terrible feeling of not being enough, or too much, or just dull and unwanted... I wanted it all to go away.

I had cried and thought so much, self-reflected to the point of not even knowing where I was or how far I had traveled off too.

Tails said I was acting too sensitive to words that random people that didn’t even know me had said. Knuckles yelled at me when I tried to change my behavior so I wasn’t what those people had written about. Cream even got tongue-tied trying to voice her own thoughts about me... and ended up just saying something to ‘feed my ego’ as they put it.

No... Cream wouldn’t do that. Tails wouldn’t try and be so dismissive of me like they said they all are. Knuckles... Okay, Knuckles is loud and yells a lot, but he meant well..!

She groaned and let herself flop back to lay against the cold grass, still holding her arms around herself as she was getting terribly cold in her heartache.

Knuckles just didn’t like how the chao were reacting to my new behavior... it’s understandable they would have been apprehensive to me trying to love them a little less directly... But practicing my new, refined self on them didn’t seem to have any good effects...

Maybe I’m overthinking... but I just want someone to tell me... I’m alright.

She put her arms over her eyes, refusing to look up at such a dark and ugly sky tonight.

“I just-” she sniffed, feeling the hot tears break through her already stained, sticky cheeks full of her earlier dried tears again. “I just want someone to tell me I’m perfect the way I am..!”

A sound arrowed itself into a bow along the plain of where Amy was, a sound that soared through her like a sonicboom that cracked through to her heart and made her sit up, looking as though with outrageous hope towards the last lowering light of the sun’s touch...

The grassy hill behind her seemed to have made a sound like something was moving quickly across it’s tundra... like something was refusing to let her sit in the quietness to let her thoughts overwhelm and consume her.

Her thoughts could hear someone calling her name...

“Sonic..?”

She lightly whispered his name out.

Then, as though pushing her lips back to not bother him, but wanting more than anything to jump into his arms-!

“SOOONIICCC!!!”

-----

He zoomed back to the sound, his eyes raising as though elated to finally get a trace of her.

And those tears that sparkled and lit up the entire night sky with stars...

And those arms that reached out for him, as though stretching on for eternity... a never-ending yearning he always accepted, granted a little half-heartedly, but never refused.

That scene was forever imprinted on him... and he wasn’t letting Amy leave his sights till she was her usual, teasingly flirty and emotionally unbreakable, spirited and youthful self again!

#The pining..!!!! The yearning..!!! Ahhh!!!#sonamy #sonicxamy #cutegirlmayra #sonic prompt #sonamy prompt #sonamy hurt/comfort #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose

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serialreblogger · 4 years

Note

Hey! I'm thinking of reading Dracula, and knowing that's your eternal hyperfixation, I wanted to ask your thoughts, if you had any comments, suggestions, ect.

HEY WHY DIDN’T I SEE THIS SOONER I’M SO SORRY FRIEND

okay okay okay okay (...several people are typing...) SO

the first thing you should be aware of when reading Dracula is that it’s quite Victorian, so you might find it easier, especially on a first read, to get an annotated version (the Norton Critical Edition version is quite good) that puts footnotes in to explain all the outdated references to like, London penny-meat merchants and stuff. I would say it’s significantly easier to read than Lord of the Rings, but because it was written 200 years ago the difference in language means it’s not a simple read. (However, if you have absolutely any attraction to the Gothic aesthetic, Dracula is so very much worth the brainpower to slog through the rougher sentences. Like. “...the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky.” The whole book is like that. A bit stilted to contemporary readers, but also breathtakingly spot-on in its Spooky Factor.)

the second thing you should be aware of is that Dracula is extremely gay, but in a Tormented Victorian Closeted way. There’s a part where Jonathan climbs out a window that just. It’s uh. The descriptions are very,, metaphorical-sounding. Again, the whole book is like that, and sometimes it’s very fun and sometimes (lookin at Lucy’s whole thing) it’s significantly more unsettling if you pay attention to the weirdly sexy descriptions of how the protagonists interact with the vampires, but I think that’s part of what I find so fascinating about Dracula--it’s unsettling and strange and the pieces don’t fit together clearly, and I still don’t know quite what to make of it, but all the same the feeling of what Stoker’s saying comes through quite clearly. There’s a reason why so many Dracula adaptations have this narrative of a protagonist falling in forbidden love with the tormented Vampyre, yknow? There’s something so unmistakeably sympathetic about the character of Dracula, even when the narrative of the story goes out of its way to establish that he has no redeeming qualities or even proper personhood, that he’s just a monster. Because there’s something about the story (even without getting into the whole “Mina and Jon murked their boss” thing) that makes a reader wonder if that’s really the whole truth. If there isn’t something tragic about Dracula. If there isn’t something in him, if not of goodness, then at least of sorrow, instead of only fear.

Anyway I digress but I think we all knew that was gonna happen; point is: Jonathan and Dracula definitely had sex, Mina and Lucy were definitely in love, Seward’s got something weird goin on with the old professor (and also he’s just very weird, full stop. sir. sir please stop experimenting on your asylum inmates. sir i know this is victorian england but please Do Not), and Quincey, well, Quincey is an American cowboy with a bowie knife, and I think that’s all we really need to know.

ok and! the third thing you should be aware of is The Racism. Imperialist Britain, yo. Bram Stoker was Irish so like, it isn’t half as bad as some other authors of his time period (Rudyard Kipling anyone), but the racism is real and I don’t wanna gloss over that. The g**sy slur is used with abandon for a huge assortment of people groups, there’s a tacit as well as overt acceptance of the idea that West is superior to East, and because the educational system where I grew up is a joke and I can only learn things if I accidentally fall down the wikipedia hole of researching the insect genus hemiptera, i genuinely still don’t know how accurate the extensive history of Romania recounted in the first third of the book actually is. Oh also casual and blatant anti-blackness is verbalized by a character at least once. I’m pretty sure the racism has a metaphorical place in the framework of Dracula’s storytelling, but I couldn’t tell you what it is because I am not going to bother putting myself in the mindset of a racist white Victorian man. This is the mindset I am trying to unlearn. So: read with caution, critical thinking, and the double knowledge that even as the narrators are meant to be unreliable, so too is the author himself.

Finally, regarding interpretation: so personally I’m running with the opinion that Dracula is, at least partly, a metaphor for Stoker’s own queerness and internal conflict re: being queer, being closeted, and watching the torture his friend Wilde went through when the wealthy father of Wilde’s lover set out to ruin his life for daring to love his son. Whether this is true or not (I think it’s true, but hey, that’s analysis, baby), you can’t understand Dracula without knowing the social context for it (as with all literature--the author isn’t dead, not if you want to know what they were saying), and the social context for it is:

- Stoker was friends with Wilde, growing only closer after Wilde was outed

- Wilde was outed, as I said, because the father of his lover was wealthy and powerful and full of the most virulent kind of hatred. This is especially interesting because of how many rich, powerful parents just straight up die in Dracula and leave the main characters with no legal issues and a ridiculous amount of money, which is the diametrical opposite of what happened to Wilde

- Stoker idolized his mentor Henry Irving. Irving was a paradigm of unconventional relationships and self-built family, in a world where divorcees and children born out of wedlock were things to be whispered about in scandalized tones, not people to love and embrace. Irving was also famous for thriving off of manipulating those close to him and pitting friends against each other. Given the painstakingly vivid description Stoker provides for his titular vampire and how closely it matches Irving’s own appearance and demeanor, Irving was widely understood even at the time of writing to be the chief inspiration for the character of Dracula

- the book is dedicated to Stoker’s close friend, Hall Caine, a fellow writer whose stories centered around love triangles and accumulation of sins which threaten to ruin everything, only to be redeemed by the simple act of human goodness

- Stoker was Irish, but not Catholic (he was a Protestant of the Church of Ireland, a division of the Anglican Church). This may come as a surprise when you read the book and see All The Catholicism, Just Everywhere. Religion is actually a key theme in Dracula--most of the main characters start out your typical Good Victorian Anglican Skeptics, and need to learn through a trial-by-fire to trust in the rituals and relics of the Catholic Church to save them from Dracula’s evilness. Which is interesting. Because not only do these characters start off as dismissive towards these “superstitions” (in the same way they dismiss the “superstitions” of the peasant class on the outskirts of Dracula’s domain), but the narrative telling us “these superstitions are actually true!” cannot be trusted, when you know the author’s own beliefs.

(Bram Stoker is not saying what his characters are saying. This is the first and most important rule to remember, if you want to figure out Dracula.)

- The second-most famous character in the novel, after Dracula himself, is Van Helsing, whose first name is Abraham. Note that “Bram” is a declension of Abraham. What does this mean? I legitimately have no idea. But it’d be a weird coincidence, right? Like what even is the thought process there? “Oh, yeah, what should I name this character that comes in, makes overtly homoerotic statements willy nilly, and encourages everyone to throw rationality out the window and stake some vampires using the Eucharist? hmmmm how about ‘Me’”

ok wait FINAL final note: you legitimately do not have to care about any of this. I love Dracula because it has gay vibes and I love trying to figure it out, like an archaeologist sifting through sentence structure to find fragments that match the patterns I already know from historical research; but that’s not why you should love Dracula. The book itself is just straight up fun to read. Like I said, Stoker absolutely nails the exact vibe of spookiness that I love, the eerieness and elegance and vague but vivid fear of a full moon crossed by clouds at midnight. The characters are intriguing, especially Quincey gosh I love Quincey Morris but they’re very,, sweet? if i can say that about people i, personally, suspect of murder? They come together and protect each other against the terrible threat that is Dracula, and you don’t get that half as often as I’d like in horror media. I don’t even know if Dracula could qualify as “horror” proper, because it’s not about the squeamish creeping discomfort that “horror” is meant to evoke, it’s not the appeal of staring at a train wreck--it’s not horrifying. It’s eerie. It’s Gothic. It has spires and vampires and found family and cowboys, and to be honest, I don’t know what could be better than that.

#dracula #linden writes an essay #linden's originals #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK FRIEND I WILL ALWAYS WANT TO INFODUMP ABOUT DRACULA #ask linden

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coreymichaelsmithson · 3 years

Text

The Lights of Treasure Island

For the past few years, I've been living on a barrier island named Anastasia. A sandy, sleepy, slow place, just off the coast of our nation's oldest city, Anastasia Island features tall palm trees and gorgeous beaches, along with excellent sushi and a surprisingly active arts scene. Its most splendid attraction, though, is an old lighthouse, one striped with a black and white spiral and crowned by a bright red lamphouse. It towers commandingly over the dunes, casting a long beam that can be seen from nearly anywhere in town.

I've always liked lighthouses. In days of old we set these magnificent lanterns on the edge of the sea, to guide sailors through dark and treacherous waters, to show them the way home. Lighthouses represent so many things we need: safety, comfort, reliability, navigation. But in my mind, these structures hold the magic of candles, the magic of illumination itself. When we speak of enlightenment, we may be speaking specifically of rationality and discovery, but we are also conjuring images of light prevailing over darkness. And in this way the lighthouse emerges as a powerful symbol of the spirit.

This February, for my 47th birthday, I explored the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where I saw several amazing lighthouses. Impressive as they were, I did not think they quite compared with the singular majesty of the structure that stands on Anastasia Island. After a harrowing return journey, one in which I drove with no working alternator (and sometimes without headlights or windshield wipers) through nearly 700 miles of tornadic thunderstorms, I felt the most profound relief when I finally crested the peak of the SR-312 bridge, which connects my island to the mainland, and I saw those familiar black and white stripes in the distance, signaling that I had made it home. Less than half a year later, my feelings about this special lighthouse of mine would be forever changed by a chance encounter.

Just under two months ago, I received a brief and rather unremarkable message from a stranger on Scruff, a queer dating platform that I use. One might charitably call Scruff "a social club for discerning gentlemen" ... it appeals to men who are hirsute, meaty, perpetually horny, and even a few of us freaks who defiantly straddle the line between "butch" and "nancy". Since this man's profile didn't really offer all that much information, and his one available picture wasn't particularly compelling, I promptly tucked his message away and forgot about it, and went for my customary sunset walk on the beach.

I live exactly one mile from the southern boundary of a state park, which offers a four-mile stretch of pristine dune habitat, completely undeveloped and sparsely occupied. The only man-made objects in sight are a few empty lifeguard stands, the city's sightseeing pier, a radio antennae, and our lighthouse. Dolphins gather here, their dorsal fins rising and falling between the breakers. Squadrons of pelicans fly in tight formations, gliding only a few feet above the water's surface. Terns and sea turtles nest in its sands, and I've found many shark teeth among the sea shells and ghost crab burrows. This is a special place, a holy place, and I've made a daily ritual of enjoying its cloudscapes and crepuscular glow as I explore the edge between land and sea.

After a pleasant stroll, maybe an hour or so of blissful meditation, I turned around and started heading back towards my car when I caught sight of a man who had just walked out of the water and was now drying himself off. We locked eyes.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Arrestingly beautiful, the kind of handsome that stops you dead in your tracks. I just kind of gulped for a second, and then walked right up to him, with an audacity that I didn't even know I possessed, turned on every damn bulb in my Christmas tree, and murmured, "Hi!", making the word shimmer like tinsel. In a short amount of time, I learned that he was a Russian artist, born in St. Petersburg but living in Moscow. I had met him during a brief pause on his long drive from Jacksonville to Key West; he had only intended on stopping in St. Augustine long enough to explore our old Spanish fort and take a swim on our nicest beach. He possessed a keen intellect, a quick wit, and a laudable command of English. As we spoke, he kept giving me flashes of the most mischievous smile, and so when I finally asked him what he was grinning about, he revealed that he was the same man who had messaged me earlier. This came as a surprise, for I hadn't recognized him at all ... I had only been drawn in now by his gorgeous movie-star looks, the undeniable sex appeal of his dripping wet body, and some weird sense of destiny.

We talked. We talked some more. We went to dinner. And then he stayed for the better part of three days.

In my bed, we enjoyed the most astonishing kind of communion. Our nights and mornings were filled with such tenderness ... soft eyes, soft caresses, fearlessly sustained gazes, the kind of kisses that tell a hundred little stories. One by one, various secrets were brought to light. We shared toe-curling carnality, thunderous climaxes, an unalloyed and unembarrassed intimacy. We shared joy.

On our second day together, I took him to the top of Anastasia Island's lighthouse. We lingered on each landing to kiss and giggle, and our embraces grew more intense. We felt a stronger and stronger pull towards one another. I knew that this was more than just a simple infatuation. By the time we reached the lantern's round balcony, and stepped out together onto the most spectacular view of St. Augustine, I knew that I was falling in love.

I don't blame you for rolling your eyes at this. You may, in your justifiable cynicism, think it ridiculous for a man to utter such a powerful phrase within such a short time. But if you've ever known me, you've come to recognize by now my considerable capacity for love. My passions and appetites may rise to the surface with little interference, and will I admit some recklessness in how I've invested my energies, but I am no fool. I am neither naïve nor desperate. And I can say in all sincerity that what we felt then was, at least for a short while, genuine love.

From the top of the lighthouse we could see everything. The old downtown, with its mixture of colonial and Spanish Renaissance buildings. The Matanzas River, named for the 1565 massacre of shipwrecked Huguenots, separating my island from the mainland. The harbor of St. Augustine, crowded with sailboats and pleasure craft, a forest of masts. And then the sea, blue and inviting, the sea that would soon separate us. We held each other tightly and looked upon the Atlantic together, casting our dreams towards the horizon, into this vista of seemingly endless possibility and hope.

On our last night together, we took a naked midnight swim in my pool, which is lit from above by a row of blue lights. A light and warm rain fell on our heads as we twined our legs underwater, and our ardor cast a web of rippling refractive patterns on the pool's concrete bottom. He looked me in the eyes, kissed me with the utmost gentleness, and formally invited me to come stay with him in Moscow. I accepted with my new magic word, "Да."

The following morning, our parting was so sweet, and so warm. We solidified our promise to be reunited. He drove down to Key West, enjoying a music playlist I assembled for him, and then he flew up to New York for a week's visit with old friends. After he returned to Moscow, we embarked on a passionate long-distance affair via telephone and social media apps.

I plunged right away into the Russian language, practicing for hours a day, rediscovering my knack for linguistics. I bought books on the cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg, books on Russian verbs, flashcards, a portable dictionary. I subscribed to online learning programs, put apps on my phone, read up on the country's history. I was all in, bringing every available bit of my enthusiasm, work ethic, and inventiveness to the challenge. Every day, I would send him sweet little videos or text messages ... sharing good news, conveying small but significant events of my daily life, showing off my rapidly accelerating grasp of Russian. I sent him notes of encouragement, pictures of me looking my cutest, small but enjoyable details of my life on Anastasia Island. I sent him a short clip of the black skimmers that sliced back and forth across the thin swash of the surf, their beaks dipping into half an inch of water. I sent him pelicans, beach crabs, waves, paintings, difficult words, idioms, cute terms of venery, sunsets, clouds, kisses, evidence of my changing body. I sent him love, every day. "каждый день," I promised him, placing my hand on my heart, "каждый день." Every day.

My love deepened by the hour. I know this is going to sound so gushy and gross, but I really pushed the lighthouse metaphor pretty hard, calling myself "твой смотритель маяка" or "your lighthouse keeper". I meant this in all sincerity, without a drop of bathos or schmaltz. Our time atop the lighthouse was sacred to me. I promised him that I would keep its light burning bright.

Over time, however, things shifted. As my interest grew, his began to dwindle. He sent less and less of himself, slowly removing from our conversation his humor, his sexuality, his warmth, his trust. It was like seeing a fully assembled jigsaw puzzle get lifted into the air, and watching all the pieces falling out ... at first only a few at a time, then more and more, until there was only a jagged perimeter where there had once been a lovely picture.

The nadir came when he lost his temper with me over my visa. I was confused about the process, as the Russian consulate and other sources were providing patchy and often conflicting information, and his own explanations changed from day to day. During our last video chat, I asked one too many questions, and he snapped. He rolled his eyes, effectively called me stupid and childish, and hung up on me three times. My many attempts at reconciliation were completely rebuffed. It was both baffling and extraordinarily painful.

Two days after our fight he was in a terrible car accident, one from which he miraculously escaped unharmed. He posted on social media an impassioned paragraph about the event, and how it drew into sharp focus all the love he had in his life, how he felt that he wasn't deserving of such love, how grateful he was for his friends. Yet instead of contacting me, inviting me into this experience, or trying to repair our frayed connection, he spent his evenings logging back into Scruff, the aforementioned dating app. He continued to ignore me, choosing instead to pursue (or perhaps refresh) other opportunities. I tried in vain to reach him, to restore our bond, but was met with only the most chilling silence.

How had I been so wrong? Had my desire devolved into mere obsession, albeit one artfully disguised as love? Had my zeal somehow suffocated him? The irony for me was that this disastrous affair unfolded during a period of rapid and positive transformation. In the space of the last seven months, I'd already changed my diet, fixed my teeth, joined a gym, paid off a chunk of my debt, reorganized my home office, purchased a standing desk, resumed my daily beach walks, started seeing both a psychiatrist and a therapist. My relationship to my body was improving, I was working at a higher level of professional responsibility, gaining new clients, writing my fourth novel, and churning out the finest paintings of my career. A recent experience with ayahuasca had given me valuable insights into my adulthood. It seemed only right that this Russian should be the cherry on my sundae, a prize I had been working so hard to deserve.

And so, after admitting my own disenchantment, I surrendered. Reeling from an overwhelming feeling of loss, I wrote him a heartfelt letter in Russian, one in which I explained the hurt his indifference was causing me. I poured a lot of benevolent energy into this letter. And then I said to him the saddest word I've learned in Russian, "Прощай", which is the type of goodbye you use when you think you are not likely to see someone again. It translates, literally, into "forgive me."

Here is the letter I wrote to him, translated into English:

***

"V_____, beautiful V____:

Okay. I give up.

Your silence gave me a very clear and very painful answer. You have been entrusted with something rare and beautiful, and you have shown that you do not want it. So now it's gone.

I'm sorry my heart bored you so much. I will no longer annoy you with my desires.

The love that I offered you ... pure and strong, given without demands or jealous limitations ... does not come often.

It pains me to realize that you do not appreciate what I have tried to give you. It is even more painful to realize that I may have aggravated the situation with my zeal. But the distance that you put between us is your choice, and I must respect that.

It seems that the epiphany you experienced in the car accident, the moment you thought of all the love in your life, did not include my love for you. Your priorities are yours, and I accept that. But you almost died yesterday, V_____. And instead of choosing to bond with a man who cares about you so much, your focus shifted to Scruff. Your indifference is so obvious now. Please do not say anything ugly or cruel in response. There is already enough sorrow on my island. I feel both grief and embarrassment, but not anger. I've always wanted the best for you, and it's still true.

I sincerely wish you a long and happy journey. I hope you enjoy many successes and find many pleasures. I hope you stay healthy. I hope the man you choose deserves your best gifts. I hope you find a better lighthouse. I must direct my light now to those who are really looking for it. So now I must tell you the saddest word that I have learned in your language.

Goodbye."

***

Please allow me now to rewind a few years, and tell a correlative story.

In the autumn of 2019, during a period of intense sadness and frustration, I fled from Anastasia Island and drove impulsively across the state to the Gulf Coast. I didn't have a clear destination, I didn't pack enough clothes or supplies, and I was so blinded with tears and unexpressed rage that I didn't know where I was, or even care much about where I might land. While getting lost somewhere in the vicinity of St. Petersburg, I glanced at a map, dragged my finger along the squiggly coastline, saw the name Treasure Island, and thought, "That's gotta be the place."

I don't know what I was expecting to find there. Something about the name sounded so exciting, so exotic. And as the evening wore on, my anticipation grew. I thought, in my desperation, that everything would be all right once I got to Treasure Island. Over the next few hours, I convinced myself that I'd finally feel good again in such a place, that my pain and confusion would certainly evaporate once I reached this safe haven. I'd check into a nice hotel room, preferably one with 300 thread-count sheets and a coffee maker, and I'd dream about pirate ships and gold doubloons, and when I opened my eyes and yawned and stretched against the sun-dappled pillows my life would basically feel like a commercial for some bougie brand of almond milk. When I arrived, however, I was deeply disappointed to see another narrow stretch of high-rise hotels, littered beaches, rank seaweed, and greyish-brown water. I found the cheapest hotel room around, one of the few remaining vacancies on the shore, and there I found neither crisp bedsheets nor good coffee. The view from my balcony, however, was utterly amazing: I could see not only a broad curving swath of the beach, but also a glow of distant resort hotels, some of them reflected in the waves. It was strangely romantic, seeing these twinkling lights ... red, gold, green, blue ... and their silent conversation with the stars, a dialogue of jewels above the warm churning waters of the Gulf. But it wasn't the salvation I had been hoping for.

When I got up the next morning, I was still facing the same problems, the same irritations, the same heavy sorrows. Treasure Island would not, could not, rescue me from myself. So I drove back home to my own island, back to my lighthouse, and was relieved to discover that it was in fact even more stirring than I had remembered. During my absence Anastasia Island had become a magical and restorative place, quite different than the one I had left only days before.

What I should have learned back then, but have only come to realize now, was this: I didn't need to travel to a distant island of treasure and twinkling stars, for my own island already had plenty of both. I didn't need to seek the incandescence of a handsome man to light my way, as my own inner flame was at last beginning to shine without the shutters of inhibition or profligacy.

I am now recalling my disappointment with Treasure Island, while concurrently considering my grief over the Russian. At first, I wanted to hate him for his carelessness, for how he squandered my gifts. But I don't hate him. Not really. There's no need to wring my hands any further over his callousness. I don't even mourn his absence anymore. My mood has shifted today, and I no longer choose to see this abortive liaison as being so devastating. For I know, deep down, that the failure here was not really mine. I am not a loser for investing myself unreservedly in someone who could not fully appreciate me, nor I am not the weaker man for feeling injured. I will not be permanently depleted for having offered all that kindness to an undeserving recipient, as my wellspring of love remains inexhaustible.

I tried to share my lighthouse with the Russian. But he did not recognize how special it really was, and he declined to follow its beacon to a rewarding harbor. And thus, our romance was destroyed, and his memory became just another broken boat littering the shallows.

I have seen so many ruins in my years: bad relationships, lousy jobs, soured opportunities. My life story reads like a ledger of dashed hopes. It seems sometimes that both the island I occupy and the more elusive island I am eternally seeking are surrounded by shipwrecks. Yet the lighthouse of my spirit still stands, sturdier and stronger than ever. The waves may batter its bricks, salt may scour its surfaces, it may occasionally groan under its own weight ... but it will not crumble, it will not fail, and even in the darkest of hours this lamp of mine will continue to shine: bright, focused, undiminished.

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