#Ezra x ofc

[nerdieforpedro]

The Lake between Us Masterlist

Summary: You can't sleep and often retreat to you back porch with some alcohol, juice and a candle. You've tried everything to make yourself sleep. One night you see your neighbor across the lake between your homes. It seems he can't sleep either. Watching each other drink grows into silent company in the early hours of the morning.

Is there more to this beyond the gazes? Could the two of you cross over the lake and embrace the sweet relief of someone who understands what prevents you from truly resting?

AO3 Link (updated along with Tumblr)

Ezra AU x Seraphina plus size OFC (Nickname is Moonbeam/Sundrop)

Part One - The Nurse who’s frayed at the seams (03/03/2024)

Part Two - The Solitary Captain’s Circumstances (03/10/2024)

Part Three - I see you over there (03/17/2024)

Part Four - What you look like during the day (03/24/2024)

Part Five - Closing the distance (03/31/2024)

Interlude One - A Negative into a Positive (04/03/2023)

Part Six - Gravitational Pull (04/07/2024)

Interlude Two - Tell me about her (04/11/2024)

Part Seven - Merging the Star Clusters (04/14/2024)

Part Eight - Binary Stars (04/21/2024)

*This series is complete as of 04/21/2024* 🥰

Taste-testers of Ezra’s gumbo 🍤: @rav3n-pascal22 @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @survivingandenduring @bonezone44 @magpiepillsjunior @yorksgirl @gemmahale @missredherring @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @megamindsecretlair @readingiskeepingmegoing @pedroshotwifey @tinytinymenace @inept-the-magnificent @vivian-pascal @jessthebaker

Ezra Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[artemiseamoon]

Teaser: Epigaea repens pt 2

Read on A03

Melanin May 🤎

Pt 2 to this

“Lost to the Green. An unpleasant tale for another day, if you care to hear it. I know, “Ezra followed her line of sight, “no longer the handsome drifter I once was. Time and struggle will change a man-”

Ezra went quiet as her warm palms met his cheeks. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but her touch? It nearly knocked the breath out of him. She ever so carefully cradled his face.

“I thought you died - they told me you never made it back from that place.”

“I was damn close. But I endured.”

“More lives than a cat,” Dawn smiled sadly, “more damn lives than a cat,”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Starlight — Prologue

pairing: fae!ezra x princess!oc (Marigold)

rating: M (first person POV, split second mention of death, strained paternal relationship, arranged marriage, fantasy elements, i literally created a world and lore for this so if none of it makes any sense that is why, this chapter is just meant to build the world—we meet Ezra in the next chapter)

wc: 1.2k

a/n: hi everybody!! i’m well aware this book will not be one of my more popular series, but i really just wanted to write something fantastical, and even if i’m the only soul who reads this, it’s fine! we love a bit of self indulgence every now and again! anyways, hope you guys like this little prologue. i’m hoping to have the next chapter out within the week 🤍

series masterlist

All I’ve ever known is summer.

In my world, Etos, there are five kingdoms: Heims, Oceanus, Florere, Ember, Nox, and Solis. Anywhere else is far too dangerous for a mortal to step foot into, even if they could manage crossing the sea that separates us from the Fae lands and beyond.

The furthest land from my own is Heims, a frosty wonderland full of people hardened by the perpetually cold weather. Most of our coal comes directly from Heims, as well as my father’s toughest soldiers. My eldest sister, Wilhelmina, or Mina, as far as our family is concerned, married the charming Prince of Heims, Kristofer, and currently resides in the castle made of crystal so clear it almost looked like ice, setting the standard for the rest of my sisters.

Oceanus, too, was an important ally to have—their land producing the entirety of our fish as well as guarding the coast from those who seek to take back Etos. My father knew this well, and soon arranged for my second eldest sister, Peregrine, or Peri, to be married off to the King’s highest ranking emissary, Lord Titus, assuring the alliance between our lands. Luckily for soft-natured Peri, Titus seemed to be a gentleman and truly in love with my sister. I would have never allowed my father to marry her off if he wasn’t. Her gentle and kind spirit was far too precious to me to allow some man to ruin it.

Ember, a land of constant autumn, was where the academics went to study the arts and the sciences. My sister, Wilhelmina, was the actually the very first woman to be admitted into the university. I always admired her tenacity in the face of adversity, but even in my admiration, I feared her intellect and drive, just as my father must have after breaking down and allowing her to leave Solis.

The softer lands—at least in the minds of the northerners—were Florere, a land of eternal spring, and Solis, my land, the eternal summer. Octavia, the sister closest in age to me and by far the only one I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy due to her mean-nature and competitiveness, had recently left Solis to be with her betrothed, the Prince of Florere, Ignacio. I didn’t bother to vet her partner, but from what I could see by his solid gold carriage and fine regalia, he seemed to be just as pretentious as she was. A perfect match as far as I was concerned.

Even in all the beauty of Etos, all the varying climates and scenes, I never wanted to live anywhere else but my home. Solis.

Here there was no reason to be cruel and cold. Here, we appreciated the arts, and believed that leisure itself was an artform. We worshipped the sun, we worshipped our gardens, and when it came to love, we worshipped one another.

My father, his mother, and her father before her all wore the golden crown of Solis. Warmth and sunlight was woven into my bones, tanned my skin, softened my heart. My mother once told me, long before she passed, that my sisters and I were all born beneath a blazing sun at her request. I suppose she believed a warm birth meant we’d all live warm lives and die warm deaths.

As I wandered through the garden contemplating my newly revealed fate, I couldn’t help but wonder if her efforts were in vain.

My father, a once-loving, soft man I cherished more than the sun itself, had changed since my mother’s shocking and violent death after she was mauled by an injured wolf while attempting to remove an arrow from its side in the very forest I now padded my feet into. He grew cruel and hateful towards me, his youngest of five girls. I suppose I understand why, if I truly think about it.

Unlike my four older sisters, I took after my mother so much that even I found myself shocked at the resemblance. And even if I didn’t have her shimmering, gold eyes, or her caramel-brown head of long curls, or the same dimple in my left cheek, I had her heart. Soft, curious, and empathetic. Everything my father once loved about my mother, he now hated about me.

Of course he found it hard to look at me, to talk to me. I was his grief personified.

But even in all his iciness and hatred, I never expected that he’d sign my life away to the coldest, darkest realm in the world. To Nox. To marry the infamously insufferable King Kaius and become the future queen of the starland.

Whether I wanted to or not.

It felt personal, his choice in my betrothed. A daughter of the sun being forced to never see it again. It almost felt like another death to endure. Everything I have ever known and loved gone overnight.

As I found my place underneath my favorite elm tree, the one me and my mother used to sneak off to with our stolen bundle of sweets from the kitchen, I couldn’t bring myself to loathe him the way I wanted to.

Perhaps the distance would chill the warmth I still held in my heart for him.

Perhaps then, I could hate him the way he deserves.

My sister, Cosabella—the most cautious and maternal out of the five of us, happily married to the head of our father’s King’s Guard—and my father stood in front of our palace, its white marble and green grass beckoning me to stay. To fight for my right to live here in the sun, just as my mother had. But one look at my father’s cold and emotionless face and I knew there was no point.

This was how he wanted it.

“Take care of yourself,” Cosabella warned, slipping me a golden dagger. “Do not trust anyone. Write when you can. I will see you…” She trailed off, but I knew why. She didn’t know when we’d see each other next, if at all. “Just…be careful. Remember that just because the sun is gone, does not mean mother isn’t right there with you. She lives in you, Mari—“

“Enough,” my father shouted, gesturing behind me at the carriage waiting with two footmen and two Kingsguards. “Off you go.”

“Yes, father,” I replied, my voice as small as a child as I gave Cosabella one final hug, memorizing the citrus of her perfume.

“Go on, now,” she smiled as she pulled away, wiping the tear from my cheek. “Go introduce Solis to Nox. Bring them a little light.”

“I love you,” I managed, nodding my head at her command. “I will see you.”

“I love you too.”

I knew she wouldn’t promise me anything she couldn’t assure, but it didn’t help my cracking heart as I climbed into the carriage, leaving everything I’d ever known behind.

I placed my hand upon the glass window and watched as she lifted her own, waving at me before resting it over her equally breaking heart.

“Make yourself comfortable, Princess,” the footman that I’d known since I was a child called back into the carriage. “It’s a long ride to Nox.”

To the eternal darkness.

I wasn’t sure how they managed any of it. How cold they must be, not only their bodies but their hearts and minds. I couldn’t imagine any beauty in a black sky.

I’d heard about stars in my astronomy courses, learned that the sun itself was a star, but it never seemed to make any sense to me to spend time contemplating a billion little specks of light when I could lay beneath the biggest. A light bright enough to shine over the entirety of the world—except for Nox.

My father had said it was cursed by the fae Kings and Queens who once ruled over these lands, a punishment for the mortal revolution. And based on the description he gave of his own visits, I was inclined to believe him then. But now…

Curse or no curse, this was my fate. I could either accept the cards dealt to me and make something of them, or I could fold.

My mother taught me to never fold.

[all-the-things-2020]

All Our Future Prospects Masterlist

Summary: A corporate scientist meets a one armed prospector named Ezra while fleeing a planet that will soon be too dangerous to stay on, and her life is changed forever. So is his.

Total Word Count: 55,250+

Rating: Mostly PG-13 (some mildly graphic sexual content, but those chapters will be noted)

Characters: Ezra, Cee, original female character (Claire)

Notes: My take on the world of Prospect is a somewhat dystopian version of the future. None of my three main characters has a last name, since Ezra and Cee do not have canon last names. Claire is vaguely described but does have hair long enough to fall into her face when it’s loose and she leans forward. Otherwise, she looks like you or anyone else you want her to.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight - contains sexual content

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

[artemiseamoon-ficart]

Queen of Poisons

Moodboards 3

Fic info

[pebblesmustard]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me darling @radiowallet 💛

I haven't done much writing lately but here is one of the excerpts I wrote looong ago for my Ezra WIP "As It Was" that is still mostly made up of no context scenes, inspo pics, and a playlist 😂

The ease with which she had found herself tangled all around him had scared her at first. Maude was never concerned with the feelings of it all. Sometimes a nightly affair was just that. An exchange of good feelings. A "scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours and we’ll see if we’re having enough fun to do it five more times" type of thing. And then came Ezra. As small as a storm, as quiet as a hurricane, he had caught her in the air, never allowing her to be sucked into the eye of the storm, grip loose enough to make sure she enjoyed the ride, firm enough to remind her that he had her. He had had her. Until his hands left her so quickly, she wondered if she ever had them around her at all.

Tagging whoever wants to play and YOU reading this!

[sp00kymulderr]

chapter 1

Warnings: None for this part, 18+ for the series as a whole

Pairing: Ezra x ofc

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Escaping a world that offers nothing but hopelessness, Mireya starts a journey to a new beginning. On the transport where her voyage starts, she meet an intriguing man with his own dark past. He might just be an important piece to finding the way to the new life Mireya has always dreamt of. Or perhaps he’ll be her undoing.

A/N: You may have seen this before, but it was deleted. I'm trying to write more of what I love and I have always loved this story, thank you @chronically-ghosted for inadvertently reminding me of that. Set before Prospect. Part one is really just an introduction, and a very limited introduction at that to our oc because of the nature of the story.

The small, elegant Cerphain soars along the dangerously rocky coastline of Zjara’s outer-lands with a grace few other creatures can manage. The bird flies free; weaving amongst the jutting rocks of the cliff-face where it nests, then sharply diving to skim the water for sustenance. It’s black feathered wings spread, catching the wind to guide it on it’s way wherever it wishes to go.

Mireya Seda had always envied those birds, watching them from her one spot of solitude on the whole miserable planet of Zjara – once a world of natural beauty full of creatures like those birds, now a barren land turned grey and cold by it’s uncaring inhabitants. Every night for years and years the young woman had dreamt of flying, of sprouting wings and finding her way out of the arid commune with the ease and grace of a Ceprhain.

There was never anything for someone like Mireya on the planet, she had known that for all the cycles she had been there; no warmth, no hope, no soul. Just the grey, rocky plateau and the waning moon peeking through the never-ceasing thick blanket of clouds. A place of purgatory with it’s vicious icy rivers and the bleak landscape of a dying place.

It had been that way since she arrived; eleven years old when she had been sent to the commune. Now twenty-four, every day of that time Miyera had only wished to escape.

So she found a way out, a way to fly even higher than the birds. Running away with a clear path of chaos left behind, destroying what had held her in place for so long. No more fear, no more duty. No more. Paying her way on to a visiting shuttle that would dock to the Deonida - a long distance hauler - and take her across the system and away from the miserable bone-deep cold of Zjara and it’s people.

It’s funny then, Mireya thinks, that the hulking metal transport that will take her away from purgatory feels almost as claustrophobic and caging as the settlement did. Somehow after a week on the ship she feels more jealous than ever of creatures who don’t have to rely on the suffocating, behemoth vessels to find their place.

The Deonida is huge and oppressive in it’s structure, but it’s the only hauler that could traverse across the system all the way to Tereverus in exchange for her hard earned credits. With all she has to her name – credits earned in secret through various skills cultivated in years of captivity – Mireya can afford to pay board on the ship, a bunk in a cabin shared with too many others, and a one-way journey to a world with endless potential and a future that could never be dreamt of in Zjara. A chance of freedom, if she could only make it several weeks on the labyrinthine transport full to the brim with wayfarers just like her – looking for their new start.

One of the few blessings of the grimy, overpopulated Deonida is the observation deck. Often empty - the vast expanse of stars seemingly unimpressive to the drifters who spent their lives travelling through space – the large windows with a narrow metal bench facing them is where Mireya finds herself more often than not, in some state of wistful meditation that helps focus on what’s to come instead of where she is stuck for the time being.

She sits silently and watches the stars in quiet wonder. It makes her feel so small – a speck of dust on a map so vast and encompassing that she might vanish to thin air in a moment. It’s often like that on the hauler too, left to her own devices and only interacting when trying to find a crew she could go to Tereverus with, on Zjara she learnt well how not to draw attention to herself and that modest manner meant she was left alone for the most part now too.

It’s a shock then that when Miyera is standing at the window, hand pressed against the thick, cold glass as she wills herself to feel some peace amongst the beauty outside it, she is lulled out of contemplation by a deep, distinctive voice of a man.

“I wondered if we might cross paths here soon...” he starts, making the woman gasp lightly in surprise. Turning she finds the source of the words to be a man with tired, brown eyes and a mess of dark brown hair – an unusual tuft of blonde at the front. He looks worn and weary, but greets with a surprisingly pleasant smile. It is unusual, for the occupants of this ship.

“Oh?” Mireya responds gently, pleased beyond expectation to be able to share words with someone after what felt like years of silence. On Zjara, it was rare for her to speak.

He nods, looking surprised for a moment before speaking again.

“I noticed you in the mess...you’re not the usual type to...well, I suspected this might be your first ride aboard a long-haul transport?” he queries politely, sitting on the bench as she turns towards him. “Very few spend their time observing the cosmos after their first passage”

His demeanour is non-threatening. Pleasing, the way he leans back with his legs outstretched as if he is completely relaxed in her presence despite their being strangers. There’s a certain and clear charm to him which to Mireya can only translate as friendly – after all he is the first person to speak to her about anything other than shuttle maintenance. Somehow, and perhaps naively, she feels an air of calm wash over as she contemplates the stranger.

His clothes and shoes are clearly worn-in, he doesn’t own many more, and she quickly notices the calloused, overworked hands when he rubs his fingers against an itch on his neck. He’s handsome, but not in an obvious way like the clean-cut folk from Central. A wanderer, almost certainly a prospector – dirt under his fingernails and caked in to the tread of his boots.

Immediately it’s clear this is a man who knows the stars and his place in them, and she can’t help but find herself intrigued.

“I travelled long-range once before, when I was very young. The stars were like magical beings to me, they still fascinate me now. I never really got to see them on…on my home planet” the words are barely more than a whisper, looking away from him as she thinks back to the long, long journey from Central to Zjara as a child. How different things might be if she had never had to take that trip…

The man continues to watch, a crease between his eyebrows as he sees Mireya’s expression change following those words. Does he see that pain? The shake of her hands before she’s clasping them behind her back? No one can know where she came from, not until that place is far far away.

“How many times have you been on board?” Mireya asks the man quietly, trying to distract from the change in demeanour. “Does it always feel this…this…lonely?” the last word a whisper.

“Far too many to divulge. Travelling long-haul can be a laborious task, I’m well aware of that” The man’s voice has a pleasing lilt, an odd accent she doesn’t know. “If you ever need a companion to ponder the galaxy with I’d be pleased to offer some succour”

A soft sigh, barely heard, escapes her lips. It’s easy to be alone but being lonely is another beast, snarling and ugly, one which she spent far too much time with on Zjara. Perhaps this unknown person will make escape easier on an anguished mind.

“I...I’d like that…” Not without hesitation but the words come out quick.

“Ezra” he offers his name and extends a hand.

“Ezra” Mireya murmurs back, a pleasant sound from her lips.

Sitting besides him, she turns her gaze back to the glowing specks surrounding on all sides while he begins to tell her some fast flowing tale about his experiences amongst them. And while she listens with rapt attention, Mireya can feel something intangible rise within her soul – regardless of who this man is, his presence seems to be a catalyst for something spectacular to begin in life.

All at once Mireya understands that, finally, this is the start of her story.

[nerdieforpedro]

The Lake Between Us - Part Two

The Solitary Captain’s Circumstances

Ezra AU x plus size OFC (Nickname Moonbeam - has a name in later parts)

This fic is for those 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 945

Warnings: crime, heist, police involved shooting, death, Ezra being cute also disturbed, anxiety, PTSD, alcohol, fire, nightmares, voyeurism,

Notes: We’re continuing to introduce our lovely pair. It’s Ezra side of things. How he got to where he is now and what he may be dealing with. My bad Ezra, he is a very haunted pookie. I left him his other arm so something had to go. 👀 I might be a tad deranged.

Main Masterlist/ Ezra Masterlist/ The Lake Between Us Series

Ezra used to be able to sleep anywhere. It was a necessity of maybe having a life that was outside of the conventions of society. He needed adequate rest to be able to plan, scheme and think. That period of his life is over, he’s had his large paydays and invested the money in his home, his airboat which he does some tours occasionally and in his charge Cee. She was an unforeseen variable at the end of a heist fifteen years ago with her father Damon. The dim-witted sod hadn’t fully grasped the escape plan that was gone over thrice in detail leading to him being on the wrong end of the police’s overzealous shooting. The man’s light was snuffed out in a violent instant.

His death allowed for the crew’s escape and for them to sort out which of their band of scoundrels would care for a wee human of four years old. Arguments ensued so Ezra suggested a completely diplomatic and fair way would be to draw straws. “The smallest straw gets the short stack.” He recalled stating. He always overestimated his luck in these situations and had the shortest straw. Since he had proposed the idea, he couldn’t back out. Thus began his journey with the child Cee.

Things were tenuous at first but they worked out she’s to call him ‘Uncle’ or Mr. Ezra. It worked better in social situations and she became his little ‘Birdie.’ Scaling down the jobs he took on to mitigate risk was a challenge and were worth less but he had to live not only for himself now. The pair moved around some before he enrolled her in school in Louisiana but ensured that he taught her when she came home in the evenings and on the weekends. The child hated the extra lesions, but it enabled her to be leagues ahead of her peers as far as studies went. Ezra was determined not to suffer another fool and would do what he could so that Cee wouldn’t follow in her father’s steps of idiocy. The results of his care, diligence and support was realized at both her high school graduation which he had never imagined attending anyone’s graduation except his own and to travel with his charge to see the college she’d chosen.

Cee was away studying at Columbia University as she’d gotten a full scholarship with room and board on her own merits. Ezra did not have much to hang any pride on as he viewed it a way to a quick death but he couldn’t help but feel well pleased that he’d had some part in her success.

His charge would write and call, which he’d accept, not letting on how happy he was that she’d call. On the last break, Cee visited with her girlfriend Zora and they stayed at his home. The young woman he’d raised expressed concern about the circles under his eyes and his unfocused eyes. Ezra denied her claims stating, “I am fine my sweet Bird. It’s something you’ll encounter when you reach the privilege of middle age Birdie. This weariness of life. I will find my way through it and gallop to the other side.” She shook her head and laughed him off as the three spent time together and Ezra drove them to the airport. It was rare that they embraced but it felt appropriate as he knew it would be a while yet before he saw his little Bird again.

It was roughly a month ago that he first saw the striking vision that was across his lake.

He’s come out to his porch after spraying on some bug repellent. He brought out his whiskey and glass. He had closed his eyes and was confronted with the scars that remained on his soul. He’d long thought that he rationalized them away. It was part of the life he once lived but not now. The still eyes and distorted features that he saw through the fire… “Dammit to hell. The shit’s still there. It was for a reason, there were reasons behind all of it, why must I recall that now?” His fingers massaged his temple as he poured his first glass of the night. He quickly swallowed the alcoholic elixir and peered up at the moon. It was full tonight and dancing across the small waves on the lake’s surface.

A moonbeam. It’s the first thing he thought of when he saw her. She was wearing a white nightgown - if he had to guess cotton with a thin robe about her shoulders that she decided to slip off. That’s a good choice, it’s a bit warm out tonight. Her hair is under a purple bonnet which she removes as well and sets it on top of the robe, both are on the back of her rocking chair. Black voluminous hair fell around her shoulders, it looked pillowy to the touch like the rest of its owner. Her substantial legs carried her to a small table beside her where she lit a candle. The minimal light makes her face glow. He can make out full lips, round cheeks and bright eyes behind her glasses. She eases down into her rocking chair and pours herself a brown liquid that looks similar to his and orange juice maybe? Well she could be one for mixed drinks. He wonders why she would be up at this ungodly hour drinking? She couldn’t have similar demons to him could she? Maybe some unknown or known fears? Could she be separating herself from someone inside the home?

Ezra is left with many questions and no answers. This does not please him.

Part One Part Three

Taste-testers of Ezra’s gumbo 🍤: @rav3n-pascal22 @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @survivingandenduring @bonezone44 @magpiepillsjunior @yorksgirl @gemmahale @missredherring @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @megamindsecretlair @readingiskeepingmegoing @pedroshotwifey @tinytinymenace @inept-the-magnificent @vivian-pascal

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: A light at the end of the tunnel

Ezra x ofc , ft Cee

Words: 3,140

December entry for Artes’s Year of Whump ( and fluff) @yearofcreation2023

Summary: As Ezra struggles post recovery, Cee plays cupid and finds his lost love.

Warnings: recovery, depression, loss of a limb

An: This is the official end of Arte’s Year of Whump. It was so fun, thank you yearofcreation! I know I missed some months, but glad I could close out December. I love this story so much, it’s open for later expansion. More notes at the end…

Preview below, read in full on A03 (account holders)

Sunlight peeked through the curtains, sending rays of light across the bedroom. This might be the first time he’s woken up before sunset in weeks.

His eyes settled on his new arm. It was still a strange feeling, having a robotic limb. But it did provide a small comfort as the loss of his arm, on top of everything else, sent him into the darkest place he’d been in years. Ezra told himself, he didn’t need a replacement, he would learn his way with one arm, and be just fine. He’s a man who weathered many storms. But he found his phantom arm haunted him. His mood, his self-esteem, and his sense of purpose all plummeted.

Ezra sat up with a groan and followed the scar on his torso with his eyes. Sometimes he could still feel that jab, sometimes he woke up in a sweat thinking it was happening all over again. He’s endured worse, he’s gone toe to toe with no hesitation with some of the meanest, more dangerous men and beasts one could face. Still, the events on the Green haunted him the most. Sometimes he could still hear that disturbing music in his ears.

Ezra died twice on that noxious moon; when he lost his arm, and when he was stabbed. But he was revived too. Cee, bless her heart, dragged back some version of him to civilization, a shell of him he didn’t recognize. The price of that job was the highest he’s ever paid; one he was still paying for now.

Ezra coughed as he rummaged the surface of the nearby table, then he found it, the recent letter from Cee.

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A03: Artemiseamoon (u need an account to read my work)

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More Ezra

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About this year long challenge:

Works from this challenge that have more to come:

1. Is this how it ends? Turned into a full fic, we are on chapter 4 or 5 now and it's ongoing.(TF, dark Santi, ofc)

2. Dial up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey will have a part two. (Agent Whiskey, ofc)

3. The thing about second chances will have a part two.

Stay tuned by subscribing to those fics.

[lincolndjarin]

The Thing That Gives

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day thirteen - afab!reader x ezra

prompt : tentacles [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 2.4k

summary : you find yourself in the slimy grip of the unknown.

warnings, etc. : dubcon/noncon (these tags apply to ezra, i wrote a reader who is like really into tentacles), dead dove do not eat, smut, tentacles, reference to pornography (reader reads hentai lmao), sort of tentacle horror i guess lol, reader is into the tenacles of it all like i'm gonna be so honest she's like hell yes about tentacles she's a real weirdo in this (she just like me fr), t in v?? (tencacles in vag??), tentacles in every hole, anal, oral in the tentacle receiving sense, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, ambiguous ending

a/n : i'm so so glad someone requested him with this prompt bc it's so ezra like let's be real. originally i wanted to write something where he's a tentaclly monster and lowkey if people like this i might do that in the future lol. anyhow this is def the craziest thing i've ever written but it was so so much fun, happy friday the 13th!!

“Pretty little thing like you? Shouldn’ta been on the Green in the first place.” 

That’s what that son of a bitch had said when he’d locked you in that abandoned ship ages ago, those words have been replaying in your mind ever since. You’d been skeptical to trust him in the first place, he spoke in strange, strung out sentences and he had a smile that immediately made you suspicious but he’d just been too damn charming. 

It didn’t help that you’d just lost your partner. 

She had been your protector and navigator, as a third generation prospector you were equipped to do one thing, harvest. She had done everything else for you but after an unfortunate incident where her suit had gotten caught on some rubble you were left alone with the entire harvest and no one to watch over you. 

Maybe that’s why you’d been so naive to his allure, and his promises to keep you safe on your journey back to your ship. 

Stupid. 

You practically handed your ship to him on a silver platter. 

“This looks familiar, I think we’re nearby.” 

You had signed your own death certificate with that. 

He’d wrestled you into an abandoned ship minutes later, firmly sealing it shut and taking you entire harvest. He doesn’t even give you enough time to feel angry with those parting words, you just feel dumb. 

It took you days to get out of there. 

You’re lucky you stay stocked up on rations in case of emergencies but you don’t get to feel good about that fact. You’re too busy mourning the loss of your harvest. 

When you finally manage to pry the metal doors open you immediately go off in search of your ship. You’re certain it’s a lost cause. Ezra probably took off ages ago but what else are you supposed to do? So you keep on marching through the Green.

It only takes a few moments more before you’re shocked to see the outline of your ship in the distance. 

Had he somehow missed it? 

Sure he was a scumbag but he was a smart scumbag, he should have found this with ease. It’s an easy hike, down a steep hill and back up another, that’s the quickest, most straightforward way there. 

But of course you fuck even this up, because that’s just your luck these days. 

You stumble over a tree route, tumbling down the hill before your helmet collides with a stone at the bottom, your nose slams against the glass with a sickening crunch and just like that, you’re out cold. 

When you finally come to your senses you’re shocked to find yourself face to face with the man who betrayed you in the first place. You’re used to hearing his sickly sweet, over complicated sentences, you’re convinced he enjoys the sound of his own voice more than anything else on this godforsaken planet. But for the first time since you met him, he’s speechless. 

It doesn’t take much to figure out why, as you blink a few times, clearing up your vision. You rake your eyes across his form, he’s held in place by several slick and constantly moving tentacles, his space suit is in tatters, his helmet thrown to the ground along with your own and you briefly wonder how he’s even breathing, but based on the way his chest rises and falls he’s perfectly fine.

“B-birdie?” He rasps out. Your first instinct is to slap him but you realize quickly that you’re in a similar predicament, your suit discarded on the ground with your limbs being restricted by the throbbing appendages. 

Well this probably isn’t good. 

There’s a lot going on in your head right now. 

You sort of wonder if you died during your fall and this is some sort of afterlife. You’d heard reference to the eternity after this life, people often talked about it but you never really believed it until now. But now you think of the magazines back on your ship and wonder if this is your afterlife, is there some higher power out there who knows you spend your free time looking at dirty magazines featuring people in the exact predicament you found yourself in now? 

That doesn’t exactly make sense though. 

If this was your perfect afterlife it would just be you and the tentacles, why is Ezra here? 

You don’t get much time to question anything going on because the tentacles start pulsing, almost violently, squeezing your limbs tightly before starting to frantically surround you and your ex-partner. 

“No- please, Kevva above.” You watch curiously as a tendril wraps around his throat, he’s a few feet from you, directly across from where you’re propped up. 

You can practically feel the fear coming off of him. You swear he’s about to cry as the tentacles remove his remaining undergarments. 

“Not again, please, please-” His prayers are cut off when one of the pulsing limbs pushes past his swollen lips. You almost feel jealous, is this your afterlife? To watch Ezra living your dream and not appreciating it? You want to feel its sweet caress, sliding into your mouth, slipping under your clothes and holding you with its entire being. You frown, practically green with envy. 

He isn’t even appreciating it. He thrashes and whines through the slimy flesh between his teeth. You don’t have to be bitter for long, the tendrils surrounding you are gentler than his, almost sweet with how they move across your goosebump riddled skin. There’s so many colors, swirling purples and greens and grays until one finally presents itself in front of your face, as if it was looking at you. 

You don’t know what compels you to do it but you open your mouth, letting whatever it is slide across your tongue. Tiny suction cups prodding at your taste buds as it slips further into you. 

You should be choking, or at the very least gagging as it bumps against the back of your throat, but you don’t. Ezra certainly doesn’t seem to have the same luxury, his chest heaves and his eyes water as the tendril in his mouth pushes itself in further. You experimentally let your tongue swirl around the appendage, sucking slightly and you’re rewarded with a sweet taste that hadn’t been there until now, closing your eyes you suck it in deeper, letting it slide further down your throat. 

It’s giving you air. 

That’s how the two of you are still alive, whatever this thing is provides you with it. And you desperately want more. You want to be one of the girls in those comics, you want to be ripped straight out of the magazines you love so much. 

So you moan.

Almost as if to show it how good it makes you feel. How thankful you are. 

And deep within the depths of your subconscious you know how happy that makes it. How long it’s waited to have its affections reciprocated, and in return it is gentle. It doesn’t tear your clothes the way it did Ezra’s, it doesn’t even fully remove them, the tentacles slow from their frenzy as they lift your shirt above the swell of your chest and tug the waistband of your shorts down to your knees. You don’t even get a chance to feel self conscious because at the same time Ezra spits out the tentacle in his mouth, groaning as the remaining scraps of his clothing is fully destroyed, and boy is he a sight. 

How long has he been here? The entire time you were stuck? It looks to be that way, his cock red and aching as the tendrils slide across the already leaking tip. He’s a mess. More so than he usually is. It looks almost painful. How many times has he come? 

You're snapped out of your thoughts when your own tentacles mirror the movements of his. The one in your mouth slowly retreats but you whine, running your tongue against it and it stills, no longer filling your throat but still letting you leisurely suck it. 

Ezra once again opens his mouth to speak but instead of it filling him once more it just slides across the bottom of his face, still rather effectively silencing him. You can feel one of the thicker tentacles spreading your legs, it isn’t much of a strain, the others help keep you balanced. You can’t look down but you’re certain if you did you’d see yourself dripping for this unknown being. You don’t have to wait. It simply slips past your folds and finds its home against your cervix. You almost sound like Ezra now as you scream, except yours is more of a squeal, overjoyed and blissed out as it pulses within you, never actually moving in and out, just expanding and shrinking inside of your weeping cunt. You’re having a bit of trouble focusing in your haze of pleasure but you realize that it moves as one. With every pulse inside of you it matches the pattern when it slides up and down his shaft. 

It’s like he’s fucking you without touching you, sort of.

Although this is better than sex. 

At least for you, Ezra continues to look at you frantically, tears spill from his eyes now and you can tell by how his muscles tense and his balls tighten that he’s coming yet there’s no physical release, it’s like he’s already spent. He doesn’t even have a chance to go soft, the tentacles continue without missing a beat and he’s still hard in their grip. You don’t feel all that bad for him, not after what he did to you, and it’s hard to feel bad about anything when the tendrils wrap themselves around your breasts, circling them until they jut out, a pair of suction cups attaching themselves to the peaks of your nipples, the same happening to Ezra as you both begin writhing. 

Are you even going to be able to go back to normal sex after this? Your first orgasm tears through you violently. Your entire body trembles and you fight the urge to bite down as you scream.    

You can’t possibly ever feel this good again, it’s just too perfect. You assume it can’t get better yet somehow it does, a thing tendril wrapping around your leg before a smaller suction cup latches onto your clit, at that point you’re a goner. Your body evaporates into muffle moans and squeals. It barely even registers when another thick tendril slips between the swell of your ass, pushing into your other hole, taking you completely in its slippery hold. 

Now it’s perfect. 

You watch with wide eyes as a matching tentacle slides up Ezra's leg. 

You’re one in the same, if there was another here with you would they receive identical treatment? You have so many questions that you’ll know you’ll never get answers to, the idea makes you a little sad but almost as if it knows you’re mood has shifted it pushes up deeper into you and you unravel all over again, shrieking as you come, your slick mixing with whatever already coated the tentacles. 

You must be the spitting image of your favorite illustration in the magazines, the page that you can flip to purely based on muscle memory. A woman, vaguely resembling you, stretched out with a tentacle in every hole, you probably look as happy as she does as well, drool leaking from the raised corners of your mouth. 

You want another orgasm, one more would be nice. You aren’t sure how many times Ezra’s come at this point, you do suppose that if it kept at this all day long you might eventually snap, after a certain number of orgasms it would probably get painful. 

In all honesty you aren’t sure you care though, it’s kind to you, whatever it is, a part of you thinks it wouldn’t let you hurt. The moment the thought crosses your mind you come one last time, this one catches you a bit of guard, following the last in quick succession. Maybe you could live like this, here with whatever this creature is, watching Ezra would eventually get sad but you would adapt, this thing, whatever it is, is gentle, and it loves. 

You make a conscious choice to give yourself up to it completely.

You could live here and be happy with this creature. 

And in an instant you’re released, the tendrils slide out of you, setting you down. 

All you had to do was give in to it and it let you go. 

You gasp for air as it drops you to the ground, fumbling for your helmet, taking in several gulps of filtered air as you retch. You’re eternally grateful to the fact that your helmet didn’t crack during your fall. It takes several minutes to find your bearings but eventually you manage to resituate your suit and fix your clothes before you stand face to face with him. Despite watching what you did to escape it doesn’t seem to register with him as he continues to thrash and fight, he must be exhausted at this point. 

Stubborn bastard isn’t ever gonna relax.

Poor thing, you almost feel bad for him. 

Almost. 

You tilt your head as you stare at him, the tendrils still stroking his red straining cock while he gives you a pleading look. But you only have eyes for the case at his feet once you remember its presence. You reach down, taking it in your hands and clicking the locks to see if it’s all still there and much to your delight everything is accounted for, you swiftly shut it and look up at him once more. The tendril slides away from his mouth, it’s giving the two of you a chance to speak.

“Plea-“ His words are cut short as you watch a tentacle tweak his nipple, you reach out a gloved hand to run a thumb over his puffy chest.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have been on the Green in the first place.” You grin at him before crawling out of the ravine, the sounds of his strangled moans follow you until you close the doors of your ship behind you.

Maybe you’ll come back for him. At the very least you’ll come back for the experience of being held by such a creature as the tentacles beneath the earth.

It doesn’t matter all that much. 

Either way you won’t be back until you’re sure he’s learned his lesson.

a/n : ooooo hope everyones having a frightening friday the thirteenth and i also hope everyone enjoyed this lol

[all-the-things-2020]

For this badge, I humbly offer All Our Future Prospects, which starts out with some forced proximity. Imagine if you will being stuck in a small shuttle pod with Ezra …

[the-blind-assassin-12]

• Friday Five •

Hi friends! I hope everyone’s weekend is off to a fantastic start! Mine is starting with indecision! (Not that this is a surprise or different from any other day, it just happens to be Friday.) Want to help me pick what to work on this weekend?

Here are snippets from 5 of the wips I’ve been working on lately. If any of them seem particularly interesting to you, please do feel free to weigh in or ask about them!

Petrichor - long overdue follow-up to Point of No Return - Ezra x OFC Clara - the rainy season is here.

Leaning her temple against the cool pane of glass, she looked out and up at the sky, at the endless churning of slate gray and deep purple clouds. The occasional rumble of thunder tumbled down as one cluster crashed into another. Sometimes it was low and distant, drumming out a slow beat. Other times it sounded like it was right over their heads, shaking the walls and rattling things on shelves. The first truly loud boom had made her jump and gasp, her eyes widening before they rushed to find Ezra’s across the table, frightened for a second that the roof might cave in or the ground would collapse.

“Not to worry, little bird.” He’d said it with a wink. “We’re safe and sound in here, I guarantee it.”

Recall - Part 3: Un(f*cking)believable - Jack Daniels x F!Reader - Jack finally opens his big brown eyes in this one.

A metallic taste filled your mouth as you glanced over at him and finished your thought. I don’t know how yet but it’s connected. It has to be.

“When did you last hear from Merlin and the Galahads?” Champ asked. “And what’s the status of their mission?”

Their mission. Right.

In the chaos of dealing with Jack you’d almost forgotten what had preceded his arrival in the lab

Unfinished - Part 3: They Haunt Me in The Night - Marcus Pike x F!Reader - Ghost AU - taking on a trope I’ve never done in this one.

You turned into the hallway just in time to see Marcus open the door to the guest room. As he froze in place, head cocked to the side in confusion, you realized you’d forgotten to address the one logistical hang up of his visit. He spoke your name, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Am I missing something?”

“Shit.” You winced, fingertips coming up to rub at your closed eyelid before dragging your palm down over your face. I completely forgot about - you groaned. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I forgot to tell you. Bill took the guest bed when he moved out.” You gave a pathetic little shrug. “It was technically his, so…”

Trailing off, your eyes widened as another realization hit you. Oh, fuck. Because of how the night had gone, the sheets for the pullout couch that you’d thrown in the wash that afternoon had never made it into the dryer. “Shit!” You half sighed, half hissed through another wince. “I fucked up, Marcus. I left the sheets for the pullout mattress in the wash and now-“ You clicked your tongue and threw up your hands.

Untitled ACR one shot - Nico x F!Reader - angst x comfort - a dinner party goes a little sideways in this one.

Since you’d been reunited, the tether rarely stretched farther than the confines of your home. When it did, when Nico had to go into the office for work or when you had meetings with your editor, it didn’t ache like it did when you had no idea where to find him or if you ever would again. You felt it, sure. But you knew that by the end of the day he’d be right beside you. That you’d fall asleep coiled in his arms with the tether so relaxed that the hook in your ribs could latch right onto his without the elastic between them.

Now, as he finished closing the distance from the house to the pool’s edge, the hum of his proximity soothed the unease leftover from Petra’s comment at dinner. Somewhat, anyway.

“Mind if I join you?”

You didn’t look up as he spoke, your eyes cast down at the water as you watched the way it shimmered in the beams from the submerged light. “Sure.”

Aphelion - Part 12 - cowritten with @something-tofightfor - Oberyn Martell x F!Reader - Vampire AU - girl’s night feat. Toban

The past two weeks had been surreal in every way. Just fourteen days ago you were at Golden Lion’s Halloween party, and the biggest shock had been the fact that Oscar, the alluring and attractive stranger you met in a chance encounter a few days prior, was also in attendance. Since then you’d been attacked, watched that same stranger wield what you thought had been a prop blade in fight in an alley as he saved your life while risking his own, and learned that his name was not Oscar but Oberyn Martell - Prince of Dorne and one of the immortals known as Others that you always assumed were just the stuff of ancient folklore.

All of that would have been enough to fill your Bingo card of things you never even dreamed were possible. But it was only the beginning.

•••

[baronessvonglitter]

Here are the things I've been loving on all month! Please refer to the individual warnings of each title, and give some love to the authors and check out their other amazing works 🌷

dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics 👑

ALL FIC RECS

Dieter Bravo

Chloe or Sam by @whocaresstillthelouvre ~ Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

gravity's pull by @tinytinymenace ~ Dieter Bravo/OFC!Dr. Marie Morris

I Think of You All the Time: part 1, part 2 by @schnarfer ~ Young Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Dave York

good kitty by @sizzlingcloudmentality ~ Dave York x f!reader

Starving Season by @wannab-urs ~ Dave York x f!Reader

Stolen Lunch by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Dave York x f!reader

Under False Pretenses: Ch. 14 by @joelalorian ~ Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader

Max Phillips

I Wanna Do Bad Things With You by @chronically-ghosted ~ max phillips x f!reader

Scotty Doesn't Know by @cxrsed-angel ~ Max Phillips x Fem!Reader

Din Djarin

i'd look for you by @jolalibrary ~ din djarin x f!reader

The Things She Sees by @criticallyacclaimedstranger ~ Shy, inexperienced Mando x blind ofc

Jack Daniels

Departure by @lady-bess ~ Jack Daniels x F!Reader

Javier Peña

Ashes by @inept-the-magnificent ~ Javier Peña X f!Reader 

Blurred Lines by @yxtkiwiyxt ~ javier peña x f!reader

Dodge by @604to647 ~ Vigilante AU Javier Peña x fem!reader

The Lie by @oliveksmoked

Romance by @punkypiscesell-writes ~ Javier Peña x f!reader

unexpected kiss by @greenwitchfromthewoods

Joel Miller

Daddy by @hotgirlbedtimescenarios ~ Joel x f!reader

A Doctor's Care by @pedge-page ~ Doctor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Give it to her like a man ~ by @sceletaflores ~ dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

Good Boy by @sp00kymulderr ~ Joel Miller x trans male reader

Hungry Man: Ch. 2 by @slimybeth69

Incomprehensible by @lilyinmysoul ~ JacksonJoel x F!Reader

On a razor's edge by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Joel Miller x F!reader, no outbreak

pierced by @hellishjoel ~ joel miller x pierced f!reader

sickening desire by @ace-turned-confused ~ stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

the police officer pt 2 by @myownwholewildworld ~ police officer!joel x f!reader

where there's smoke by @joelswhcre

Frankie Morales

Coraline by @tateypots ~ Frankie Morales x wife!reader

good boy by @sunshineispunk

laughing through the kiss by @greenwitchfromthewoods

Three days til sunset by @sawymredfox ~ Frankie Morales x fem! able-bodied reader

Ezra

Honey Spilt Over by @rulexofxnines ~ Ezra (Prospect) x F!reader

Like Family by @max--phillips ~ Ezra x afab!reader

Clint Flood

crying through the kiss by @greenwitchfromthewoods

Inescapable by @cavillscurls ~ clint “freaky tales” x f!reader

You oughta know by @milla-frenchy ~ Clint Flood x fem reader

Marcus Pike

the great pretender by @wethairjoel

sam and diane, eat your heart out by @chronically-ghosted ~ marcus pike x f!reader

Marcus Acacius

I can't hear it now by @joelmillerisapunk ~ acacius x f!reader

Little Showgirl by @604to647 ~ Modern AU Marcus Acacius x fem!reader

Max Lord

Risky Business by @ghostofaboy ~ Max Lord/Male OC

Harry Castillo

Ace of Hearts by @pedgito ~ Harry Castillo x reader

Lavender by @galaxyedging ~ Harry Castillo x f!reader

Multi

Down Bad by @myownwholewildworld ~ police officer!joel miller x f!reader x javier peña

the interruption by @toxicanonymity ~ Javi x Steve x you

The Party by @tateypots ~ dark!Joel, dark!Tommy, dark!Frankie, dark!Javi P, dark!Ezra, dark!Dave x f!reader

Touch and Go by @sunshinehaze1 ~ virgin!Din x bi!Frankie

Self Recs

Vulgar Display of Power ~ Marcus Moreno x OFC Cat Cruz

Distractions ~ dbf!Dave York x f!reader

kiss it better ~ joel miller x f!reader

Star-Crossed ~ Dieter Bravo x gn!reader

Lunch in an Elevator : When Marcus Met Cat ~ Marcus Moreno x OFC Cat Cruz

paying off the debt ~ joel x fem!plus size!reader x clint

[for-a-longlongtime]

Hey Anon, I saw your message this morning! 💜

You pointed out "Yall need to be careful of bi erasure" and linked to a post someone made about me. I appreciate the heads up! To be honest, I’m not concerned about people suggesting that I’m doing bi erasure. Whether it’s regarding Pedro characters in canon, head canons, or bisexuality in any other way. But hey, everybody can have their opinion about things, including what they think about me.

I dont talk much about myself here, but my tumblr bio has said from day 1 that I’m a bi woman. My master list mentions most of my fic “is queer (m/m, bi4bi, m/m/f, non-binary and trans characters)”. Folks who have read my fic know I've written pairings where every character is explicitly bi ( Frankie x f!reader x Santi; Peña x Rockford x OFC; Ezra x f!reader x Benny Miller, and WIPs with Joel and Marcus M, Frankie x f!reader x OFC and Maximus x Acacius x Lucilla).

Can bisexual people still do bi erasure? Sure!

Do I worry whether straight folks or other random folks online think I'm involved in bi erasure? Nahhh.

Anyway, I did make some posts the other day based on anons submitted to me about issues re: queer representation in this fandom. Let me just direct you to the several posts I made on that day, which started in response to a question about Renaldo:

"Was Renaldo Gay in the SNL sketch?? I've seen a lot of blogs saying he wasn't?". TL;DR version of my response: the ending of the song states "word to the wise, if you've got wives, hide them from the three bros!" suggesting that Renaldo, Domingo, and Santiago all hook up with women/wives. Considering Renaldo hooked up with Matthew, that probably makes him bisexual (and not the fact that he had Sophie, aka Sabrina's character, dancing up on him) - or queer, or someone who doesn't like to label himself. However, while 'hide your wives' works linguistically as a great punch line to wrap up the song, it does not refer to Renaldo's affair with Matthew (now that is bi erasure, if you wanna be exact), so I did point out that 'hide your spouses' would've been more accurate - but understandably, that's not as catchy. I'm currently writing a Renaldo x Matthew one shot, and I said my headcanon has Renaldo as gay - but that's my interpretation/hc/fic.

Someone wrote to me: Some blogs in the fandom is hellbent on taking away any attention away from anything mlm based with his characters anyway so it wouldn't matter in Renaldo was gay - someone would find a loophole to make him like women. TL;DR I agreed, because there are people who definitely do that. It became part of a longer thread of reblogs with some other folks in which we talked about how Pedro's mlm (men loving men) characters, such as Oberyn, Dieter and Silva in particular, either tend to be canonized primarily as bisexual by people but in fic are almost always paired with women (f!reader or OFCs). Which is fine, but people are definitely interested in seeing more m/m representation for those characters. Someone also brought up that when Pedro characters are paired with non-binary reader inserts or OC, it tends to be mostly afab!nb (or afab!trans characters), and that they were surprised that there weren't more amab!nb characters - that's a great point too.

I made a post with an anon message that pointed out "MLM includes bi, pan and queer men. They might like women. (And/or other genders, but they still like men)". Very correct!

Finally, there was an excellent long message from an anon saying "We need more representation of bi people in same-gender relationships represented" and that even in threesomes or throuples (fic) that include two men, there should ideally be more mlm representation. Once again, I fully agree. Everybody should write whatever they want, but I do often see threesomes that are listed as Pedro Character 1 x reader x Pedro Character 2, but in the fic it's more like reader having sex with two straight men at the same time while they're trying to not cross swords, rather than mlm being represented. THIS IS DEFINITELY CHANGING THOUGH: it's wonderful to see a big increase of mlm characters in threesomes/throuple fics over the past year!

So here is my main issue with a lot of people who are raging about 'bi erasure', and why I've made several posts about queerness within this fandom (not just recently, but from the start). Of course bisexual people exist (hello, it me, for one). Pull up some statistics if you want: there are a lot more folks who identify as bisexual than there are folks who identify as gay or lesbian. I'm an older millenial, so if you wanna talk about bi erasure: the measure in which it happens today is nothing compared to the bi erasure and deeply engrained homophobia we experienced in our teens and twenties from society at large. However:

🏳‍🌈 In your rush to point out bisexuals exist, you're shutting down a much broader dialogue with people within the LGBTQIA+ community. 🏳‍🌈

Because have you noticed how gay men, nonbinary/genderqueer fans, amab!trans or amab!nonbinary FANS (not fic characters; I'm talking actual people) are extremely underrepresented in this fandom? In addition to in fic? And that these fans won't have their fiction or actual posts shared all that much? Or that when they carefully speak up, e.g. about being happy to see Pedro portray Silva as a gay character, they're immediately rebuffed and called biphobic or that they're trying to erasure bisexuality?

Yeah. That part.

It's messed up.

Nobody is even making demands. Nobody is even saying "what writers are doing is wrong". They're just saying, "This is a bummer". And some of us are pointing out that mlm Pedro characters in m/m pairings are hard to come by, which is too bad because it's not only us queers who read m/m Pedro character pairings - there are lots of straight fans out there who have indicated they like reading that, too.

Are you gonna call that bi erasure? Or marginalization of women? Or anything really except for what it actually is? Fans are just saying "yknow, I wish there were more fans/fic characters/bodies in fic represented in this fandom that look and feel more like me". People seem to have finally understood that in varying degrees when this applies to body type or racial/cultural background (which took many white people a lot longer to fully grasp; BIPOC folks have been saying this for such a long time already) - it's about diversity and wanting to feel included. But when gay or transfolks say this about mlm, a whole bunch of y'all are crying bi erasure?

In short (and I can't believe I need to even fuckin' say this):

The Pedro fandom or its fic does NOT belong exclusively to women.

It does not belong to cis folks, to straight people, or any other particular group of people.

Aren't we all just trying to be a community? Then stop acting like people reading Silva or Renaldo (or any other character) as gay are erasing bisexuality - that's not the case or the damn point.

And anon-- my critique truly isn't directed at you, I'm not dragging you in any way. You took the effort to bring something to my attention, plus you clearly care about people, and I appreciate that a lot. But there are tons of people who don't dare to speak up about this in public settings, so I can't help but take this opportunity to not only clarify what I said earlier -- but also to address the bigger problem at large. Read or write all the gossip blogs you want, by all means, but maybe also consider using that time to actually connect with people.

[all-the-things-2020]

All Our Future Prospects -Chapter Two

Summary: Claire and Ezra settle in on the transport and she learns a bit about his past.

Rating: PG

Claire woke up to the sound of Ezra tripping over a loose cable on his way to the lavatory. He mumbled a few choice curse words before shutting the lav door as quietly as he could.

“I’m awake,” she said when he emerged a few minutes later. “You don’t need to try to be quiet.”

“Sorry for waking you, birdie,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. “Should have cleared the path to the lav before we bunked down.”

Now her own bladder was clamoring for attention, and she folded back her blanket, bracing for the chill across her shoulders as she sat up. “It’s okay,” she said. “Probably would have woken up soon anyway.”

Ezra had kicked the cable out of the way, so she had no problem navigating the short walk to the lav, even in the dim light. On her way back to bed, she glanced at the chronometer on the computer panel.

“Five hours,” she yawned. “I need at least eight.”

Ezra chuckled from beneath his blanket. “Five hours is a pleasant night when you’re out prospecting,” he said. “I’ve managed on less, although I agree that eight is much more satisfying.” He let out a long, contented sigh. “I must say, at least we’ll be assured of getting all the rest we need. No shipboard duties, no tools to clean, nothing to repair … just a comfortable bunk and plenty of time to dream.”

She snuggled back under her blanket. “Nice if it was a little warmer, though,” she said. It wasn’t exactly cold in the capsule, but it was chilly.

“We could always share our warmth, if you’re amenable to that,” Ezra said hesitantly.

“Let’s keep that option in reserve, shall we?,” she replied, her heart pounding. “I’m not in the habit of … sharing warmth … with people I’ve just met.”

“Fair enough,” Ezra said. “Sweet dreams, little owl.”

And just like that, he dropped the subject. In the silence that enveloped them, Claire concentrated on calming her breath. Ezra’s rather polite proposal had put her on alert, her body coursing with adrenaline. The problem was, she didn’t know if it was from fear or excitement. And she was even less sure if she was grateful or disappointed that he’d let the matter go so easily.

It was ridiculous to think about sharing a bed with a man she barely knew. If they’d been in danger of hyperthermia, of course, it would be a matter of survival, but they were perfectly safe. There was no need to share the blankets or anything else. Still, as she began to relax, she wondered how effectively Ezra was able to hold someone close with only one fully functioning arm. Her mind was still mulling over the details when she drifted back to sleep.

************************************************************

Other than eating and sleeping (and the daily radio check from the transport crew), there wasn’t much to do in the capsule. Ezra filled the hours with his stories. Some were from his own rather eventful life; others were things he’d heard second or third hand from those he’d encountered during his travels. Listening to him was soothing at first, since he didn’t expect any response from her. With Lillian, she had always had to be alert, scrabbling in her mind for an answer to a question or a lie to cover up the fact that she had no answer.

After a while, though, Claire started to feel guilty about letting Ezra do all the talking. She wanted to contribute to the conversation, but her life, in comparison to his, had been narrow and boring.

“You don’t have to keep me entertained, you know,” she said one day.

“I’m entertaining myself as well,” he replied. “Although, I wouldn’t mind a story or two from you, if you’re so inclined.”

She snorted. “I don’t have any stories. Unless you want to hear about the time I had to take an exam with a fever of 38 degrees and my parents were more upset about the 75 percent I scored than anything else.” She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

“Not all stories have to be exciting,” Ezra said. “Some of the best stories are about small things, the inner workings of the human psyche, the relationships between people, the quiet battles fought within ourselves. Take great literature, for example. When we think of Hamlet, we think first of his great soliloquy, not the sword fight at the end. It was not the clash of armies that won the day in The Lord of the Rings, but the humble friendship of two hobbits who put one foot in front of the other, and the madness of a third, who ended Sauron’s ambitions.”

“Those are still more exciting than my life,” Claire said. “I went to school, got into university, signed a contract with FlanCorps. That’s it.” She paused. “As far as my parents are concerned, I’m a success. I’ve achieved far more than they ever did, and that makes them happy.”

“But you aren’t happy,” Ezra said.

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m safe, and that counts for a lot, don’t you think?” How many times had she heard of childhood friends who had thrown caution to the wind, followed their whims and dreams, only to end up living paycheck to paycheck, never knowing how long a given job would last, without the safety net a corporation contract provided? She remembered days when one of her parents would come home to announce they had lost their job, the lean and hungry days that followed while they searched for a newone, anything that would bring in a bit of money. For a while, her mother worked three jobs, sleeping only four hours a night, while her father worked a day here, a day there. And all the while, she herself was studying as hard as she could, until her back ached from hours in the uncomfortable wooden chair, her eyes exhausted from reading in dim light on a cracked old tablet.

“I’m sorry, what?,” she said, realizing Ezra had said something while she was lost in her ruminations.

“I said, safety isn’t everything, little owl,” he repeated. “Some of the best days of my life were also the most dangerous.” He chuckled. “They certainly have given me my best stories. Which reminds me ….” He launched into a story involving a jealous husband hunting down a business associate who had been using Ezra’s name, but Claire only half paid attention. Ezra might have better stories than she did, but she wouldn’t trade her safety for anything. Her life might be dull in comparison to his, but it was hers and she’d earned it through years of study and mental hard work. Better the predictability of a corp job than the uncertainty and risk of an uncontracted life.

**********************************

Claire was running. It was dark and her footsteps echoed weirdly. Sometimes it felt like she was in an immense chamber; at other times, if felt like she was in a narrow tunnel. Something was behind her, she could feel it, but she couldn’t hear it. Her heart was pounding, her lungs burned and her muscles screamed at her to stop but if she did, it would get her.

Suddenly, she tripped over something hidden in the darkness and fell full length onto the ground, which felt like roughly carved stone, sharp and pointy and decidedly unfriendly. She felt the hot breath of her pursuer on the back of her neck and she tried to scream, but her throat was frozen. No sound came out. Then a hand (or paw) fell heavily on her shoulder. She screamed again and flailed out with both arms.

“Holy moly, little owl,” Ezra said, rubbing his jaw. “You pack a hefty punch for a scientist.”

Claire sat up, her heart still pounding. It had been a dream. The hand had been Ezra’s.

“I’m sorry,” she babbled. “I’m so, so sorry. I was having a nightmare … I thought you were … I don’t know what it was but …”

Ezra laid his hand on her shoulder again, very gently. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I should have known better than to grab hold of you while you were in the throes of such terror. I should have shaken your foot or something.” He lifted his hand and rubbed his chin again. “I forgot that owls have talons.”

At the word “talon,” a shiver went down her spine. Whatever it was she’d dreamed about, it had claws.

Ezra sat beside her and pulled her fallen blanket back up around her shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

As his arm hesitantly settled around her, she felt tears sting her eyes and she let her head fall onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “For waking you up. And for hitting you.”

Ezra chuckled. “I said it’s okay. We cannot control our unconscious mind and in the depths of the night, our psyche can create some truly frightening and irrational things.” He rubbed his hand gently up and down on her upper arm. “Are you good to go back to sleep, or do we need to sit up for a bit?”

She almost lied and told him to go back to sleep, but it was nice to be able to relax, just for a moment. “Can we stay up a little while?”

He nodded. “Of course, little owl.” He scooted back on the mattress so his back was against the bulkhead and tucked her closer under his arm. “Let’s get comfy and I’ll tell you a nice bedtime story.” He’d had to let go of her to adjust his position, hampered by the lack of his right arm.

“Can I ask you a question?,” she asked. “You can say no if you don’t want to answer, I completely understand,” she added quickly.

“Ask away,” Ezra said. “I will only answer that which I feel comfortable sharing, you know that.”

She nodded. “How … how did you lose your arm?”

He sighed. “That is … an interesting story,” he said slowly. “I would be willing to share it with you if you tell me what you were dreaming about that made you clock me like that.”

She recounted her dream. When she finished, she felt Ezra nod, his chin tapping lightly against the top of her head. “A worthy reason for striking out at me,” he said. “I forgive you completely. Instincts are a powerful force, and yours work admirably well. Fight or flight; those are the choices when confronted by a terror like that. You tried flight and when that failed, resorted to fight mode.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry for hitting you,” she said. She felt more than heard his chuckle in reply.

“Water under the bridge, birdie, water under the bridge. Now, you inquired about the loss of my arm.” He stiffened just a bit, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

“You don’t have to,” she offered, but he shook his head.

“No, I said I would share if you did, and you bared the inner workings of your unconscious mind. This is nothing more than plain facts.” He launched into the tale, but with none of his usual colorful asides and flourishes of phrase.

He had been prospecting in the Green. His associate was killed in an encounter with another prospector, who was unfortunately wounded and exposed to the spores that filled the atmosphere. Ezra performed a mercy killing, unaware that the man’s young daughter was nearby. Both now alone, Ezra convinced the girl that they needed to work together to get off the moon before the last run of the shuttle service. But Ezra suffered a wound to his arm that was infected with the spores. He needed medicine from the inhabitants of the moon, but they were unwilling to trade. He and the girl managed to get off the moon, but Ezra’s arm had to be amputated.

“And there you have it,” he said. “I lost an arm, but I saved a child, so in the end, the balance sheet came out even.”

“What happened to her?” Claire asked carefully.

“Well, no one questions much out in the edges of space,” he said. “People go missing all the time. The government doesn’t care, and neither do the corps. We could have reported her father’s death, and she could have been put into the care system, but we didn’t, and she wasn’t, and everyone assumed we belonged together, so we carried on. I found a nice residential school on Galadon and we had a bit of aurelac we’d managed to scavenge on our way, so she’s there, living the life a teenaged girl should be living. And I’m out here, trying to earn enough money to keep her there.”

Claire bit her lip. She sensed there was more than Ezra wasn’t telling her, but she didn’t want to press him further. “Thank you,” she said. “For telling me about it. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugged. “It was bound to come up sooner or later,” he said. “Even I’m going to run out of stories at this rate. Are you good to go back to sleep, or do you need to sit up a bit longer?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I’m sure you want to get back to sleep.”

“Don’t lie to me, birdie,” he said firmly. “I’m not going back to my bunk until I know you’re good.”

It wasn’t very comfortable, propped up against the bulkhead, but Ezra was warm and his arm around her felt safe. “Maybe a little longer,” she admitted.

“A little longer it is,” he replied.

They sat in silence, until Claire felt her eyes begin to droop. Her head fell against his chest, and she fell asleep to the slow, steady beat of his heart.

******************************************************

She woke to find herself tucked back in her blankets. Ezra was in his own bunk again, snoring lightly. How he’d managed to extricate himself from her and get her under the blanket without waking her — and with only one arm — she couldn’t fathom. She was a fairly light sleeper, always the first one to wake up when there was a weird noise in the dorm room at university or when one of her roommates was sneaking back in long after curfew.

She curled up on her side, facing away from the bulkhead so she could see the shadowy form of Ezra in his bunk. She trusted him, though she didn’t know why. All his wild stories framed him as a bit of a scoundrel, and he played the part well, but knowing that he had taken in an orphaned girl and was out there risking his life prospecting with a missing limb just to pay for her schooling convinced Claire that deep down he was a good person.

Back in university, there had been many discussions about what qualities constituted a “Good Man.” A lot of the girls put money at the top of their list, of course, but kindness, intelligence, and a sense of humor were always up there as well. Ezra certainly didn’t have any money, but he ticked the rest of the boxes. He even ticked the “nice body” box, which made her face hot. She hadn’t seen much of his body, hidden away in a bulky landing suit, but he was handsome in a rugged sort of way and that little patch of blond hair …

Get a hold of yourself, Claire, she thought firmly. He’s a nice guy, but this is only temporary. He’ll be gone soon, off to find another way to make money, and you’ll be sent off to your next assignment. You’ll never see him again. And you’ve only known him a few days anyway. You’ll forget easily enough.

She hoped she was telling herself the truth.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Reverse 1999 and child soldiers (just rambling) (global friendly)

It doesn't take long for anyone to realise most of the cast (excluding awakened, entities like Voyager and AlienT, and people like Eternity) are young: ranging from most being 17-16 with adults around their 20s and Shamane currently being the oldest (excluding the above) at around 40. (Edit hes 45 thanks for clarifying)

Alright you say, this is a gacha game ofc the characters would be around these ranges and we hope every patch to get character that is above 40 (wdym someone like Tooth Fairy isn't 30? Same for Kakania and Isolde, how are they 19 and 18 respectively?For example). Hey I would like more older characters too, but I think the ages are partially intentional if we look into lore on a thematic level.

Ok. We already know the Foundation, Laplace and now Zeno (though it was ofc from Lilya) they produce child soldiers, workers and scientists:

Vertin is the Timekeeper at 12

Sonetto probably became a field investigator around 14-16 at best (correct me if we have a better frame of reference)

Ms Moission in her character profile apparently was a field investigator at 14. (I spelt her name wrong I think)

Mesmer Jr started working at the age of 12

As of the release of the Zeno anecdote we know Lilya around 14 was already in field missions and has seen the state of war.

(Probably could include X, Horrorpedia here but I don't have much info)

What am I getting at? Characters being young in their fields of work is completely intentional, one due to the Storm in the case of the Foundation as the first had taken nearly the entire workforce (plus Child Labour Laws) so in desperation to maintain numbers and order the age to become investigators, soldiers and scientists became much lower. I don't know if the SPDM existed before the Storm but the way it functions primarily serves to replenish those lost workforce.

And two: the perception of arcanists and the importance placed on the manifestation of their arcane skill as young as possible.

We see this in the case of Mesmer and Isolde/Trista.

Mesmer Jr once she was tested to see if she had her arcane skill immediately was set to manage mentally unstable patients at the age of 12. (She alongside Vertin probably needs the most therapy)

For Trista this was the seance her mother brought to at the age of 3, dying as a result and leading to her mother with Isolde to delay by 3 years. (Acting as if that was a mercy which it really is not)

There is an emphasis on an arcane families and arcanists maintaining their societal status/ relevance through children developing their arcane skills as soon as possible plus the idea of childhood and working is flipped on its head with the presence of arcanum.

Ok idk if worded that bit correctly but in short: our idea of when a child should be working (which is never) or the time someone should be in teaching before they get into a profession (TF, Kakania and Madam Z) is warped and absent in R1999. For Kakania, shes 19 but I would argue this is because of how she had dropped out and decided to be an unlicensed doctor. Most characters being younger is the result of arcanum being present in the world.

Moreover there is a general theme of lost childhoods/ forced to grow up fast in the younger cast. Exclude characters like Ezra, Matilda (so far) and Spathodea since they are relatively fine/ not deeply traumatised. Everyone else, Vertin, Sonetto, Mesmer Jr and characters like Eagle, Monlicht, Oliver Fog were forced to grow up fast despite their young age.

Summary: characters being in younger age ranges either being literal child soldiers or certain adults being relatively young is the result of the devastation of the Storm alongside the different perception of age in the arcanum world, there the manifestation of your arcane skill seems to be used as a sign of maturity and readiness to be thrown into work (Mesmer and Isolde being put om their respective career paths at a very early age) (or your Constantine celebrating the erasure of Child Labour Laws)