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posttexasstressdisorder · 2 months ago

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Donald Trump’s Racist NYC Rally Was Vile. It Was Also Political Suicide

FINAL ACT

The Madison Square Garden rally, operatic in its repulsive bigotry, will almost certainly alienate more voters who might have voted for Trump.

David Rothkopf

Updated Oct. 27 2024 10:57PM EDT / Published Oct. 27 2024 10:49PM EDT

Opinion

To all those Republicans who shed crocodile tears because their feelings were so hurt that people were calling Donald Trump a fascist: stop.

To all the MAGA defenders who said it was over-the-top to compare Trump’s Madison Square Garden rally to that held by the German-American Bund in an earlier incarnation of Madison Square Garden: shush.

To all those who were falling once again for the bought and paid for narrative that Trump somehow had the momentum going into the final week of campaign 2024: nope.

Even Republicans Angry at Trump Rally Joke About Puerto Rico

‘MAGA ON STEROIDS’

Amethyst Martinez, Matt Young

On Sunday at MSG, Donald Trump engineered what will be seen by political analysts and later by historians as the coup de grâce that killed forever his prospects of being president and may well have set him on a post-election course on which he finally may be held accountable for his actions.

The interminable rally concluded by an interminable, disjointed, incoherent and yet clearly vile speech by the former president, might have been touted by Trump’s son Don Jr., one of the former president’s warm-up acts, as the “king of New York returning to reclaim his crown.” But Trump was never the king of New York. (Sorry, Lara, your father-in-law did not “build” New York. Immigrants did. But we’ll get to that in a minute.)

Trump has always been loathed in New York City, especially in his former home borough of Manhattan where the vote against him was and will be dependably over 80 percent. But if he was hated before, rest assured, he will be more despised after tonight.

That was clear early on when Tony Hinchcliffe, a man invited by Trump to give one of the introductory speeches—who in true MAGA fashion alleged without providing a shred of evidence that he was a comedian—offered a KKK buffet of nauseating slurs. He called Puerto Rico “an island of floating garbage.”

“There’s a lot going on. I don’t know if you know this but there’s literally a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. I think it’s called Puerto Rico” pic.twitter.com/IXbXqDijyU— Acyn (@Acyn) October 27, 2024

The “joke” was as stupid as it was repulsive because there are almost 600,000 Puerto Ricans in New York City and many more spread across regions of vtial importance in the upcoming election. It also happened to come on a day when Vice President Kamala Harris announced her detailed and thoughtful plan for Puerto Rico, an island Trump wanted to trade to Denmark in exchange for Greenland.

But this loser did not stop there. He offered unfunny commentary about his view that Latinos “love making babies” and a reference to how his Black friends liked carving watermelons.

You might think that a few super-racist comments from one speaker might not warrant comments that compared the Trump rally to the Nazi meeting 85 years ago. But his comments were hardly the worst. And the racism and the hate and incitement to violence and the promise of an increasingly authoritarian state continued from the very beginning of the event to the very end.

One speaker said that Harris was managed by “pimp handlers” and said of Democrats that “we need to slaughter these other people.” Disgraced and destitute former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani said, as did several others, that Democrats were behind attempts to kill Donald Trump. Another speaker called Harris “the devil” and “the antichrist.”

Former Trump aide Stephen Miller as is his habit went directly for the Nazi playbook saying, “America is for Americans and Americans only.” Tucker Carlson came out to offer more racist slurs about Harris. Hulk Hogan ripped his shirt off while declaring he saw no Nazis in the audience (thus proving that steroids abuse can not only shrivel up your junk but that it’s not really good for your eyesight either).

Elon Musk was there acting strangely and promising to slash the size of the government (except presumably the parts that are subsidizing his businesses).

Trump attacked the media, and egged the crowd on to boo journalists in the crowd. He said migrants had taken over Times Square (which Is 9 blocks uptown from where the rally was held). He called the US an occupied country which, while bad, may be better than his reference to it as a garbage can the other day. He called Harris a “low IQ individual.” He offered so many lies that cable networks tuned him out because it was impossible to keep up with fact-checking him. He returned to old themes like the bizarre notion that Harris would reinstate the draft and start World War III.

Most importantly from the perspective of confirming his fascism he reiterated at length his assertion that his opponents were “enemies of the people.” (You know the ones against whom he promised to unleash the US military.) He called them “the most sinister and corrupt forces on earth.”

In other words the entire event despite its marathon length and hodgepodge of z-list speakers, delivered over and over again a very focused message. The Trump campaign is about retribution and revenge. It is about the white supremacist desire to purge America of all their neighbors of different colors and beliefs. It is about Trump’s desire to seek out his enemies and punish them. And over the course of its Wagnerian length (and resonances) it single out group after group that would be deported or punished.

But worse still, unlike the Bund rally, Trump’s was not a fringe affair. It was led by a former president of the United States on behalf of very nearly half of the American people.

Its threats of authoritarianism were supported by efforts during the first Trump presidency to sidestep the rule of law and by crimes including a coup attempt we all saw with our own eyes. Its future plans for concentration camps in the US and for mass deportations and the use of the military against the American people have been carefully developed, and there is a plan to put them in place.

That is why Trump’s Sunday rally at Madison Square Garden was, as it turned out, far more ominous than its predecessor. It should chill Americans to the bone. But, I expect it will do more than that. I believe it will mobilize more voters to take action on Nov. 5 to stop the 21st-century fascism of Trump and MAGA.

Trump may be thinking the rally will help him mobilize thugs to violence when he contests his loss and we should be wary of that. But he has provided on the eve of the election the best case why he must be defeated that has ever been presented. In the end, because what unfolded was so foul and so offensive and threatening to so many of us, I believe that is why we will someday conclude that for all intents and purposes Trump’s final political act occurred on the biggest stage in America’s biggest city, a couple of blocks from Broadway.

David Rothkopf

djrothkopf

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glubsurleseuil · 8 months ago

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Don't be scared - Chapter 2

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic. First - Next

Chapter warnings: Violence, blood, discreet mention of a desire to die. It's just the beginning, it's about to get worse.

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: I found the gif at @pennydaddywise)

(Note 3: The "lyrics" of the song are actually quotes from Mr Stephen King.)

It was a difficult night. First, when you arrived home, your body's first reflex was to throw up in the toilet. Then your brain's reflex was to search your apartment from top to bottom to make sure no one was home. Then, finally, you curled up in a ball on your bed, scared out of your wits, unable to sleep. Every minute, you checked your phone, not wanting to believe that the clown's damn message had disappeared. You'd searched your whole phone but couldn't find it. And you hated for most of the night the incredible capacity of the human survival instinct to try and make you believe that all these strange and terrifying events never really happened. Finally, you fell asleep convinced that no, you're not crazy.

Of course, like every night for some time, you had a dream. But not the same one this time. This one was just as hazy and incomprehensible, but less terrifying, and you woke up more peacefully. It made you remember the clown's message: Don't be scared... You laughed nervously, shivers running through your body just thinking about your adventure the day before.

The day had gone by too fast for your liking, and you'd been unable to concentrate on anything, that damn clown haunting your mind at every turn. Then it was finally time for work.

It was a quiet evening, without too many customers. These evenings are often pleasant to spend, but this evening in particular, you could take advantage of it and go home early. The very idea of not seeing the sun when you leave the bar terrifies you.

"Are you sure? There's no one on stage tonight. You can sing if you want."

Your boss suggests you go on stage when there's no one there. You love these moments. Singing and playing on stage is the only time you feel your life isn't miserable. But singing tonight means coming home later, when it's dark... Fuck.

You can't refuse. These moments are too rare. You get up on stage and take advantage of this moment to forget everything, your rotten life, the sadness, the anguish... The clown...

Monsters are real, And ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

Your voice trembles slightly and you close your eyes to concentrate.

God is cruel. Sometimes he makes you live. The devil's voice is sweet to hear.

At the end of your song, the few remaining customers applaud. You hate that noise. It reminds you of harsh reality.

Finally, the bar closes and you leave through the back door. The cool silence of the night reminds you of the horrors of life and you look down the dark, empty alley. The lights are still malfunctioning, and there's a large section of the alleyway plunged into darkness. Obviously...

You reassure yourself that you don't have to go into the forest this time. Phone in hand, you make your way down the alley, lighting every nook and cranny, and you're soon relieved to see that there's nothing and no one there.

You move forward, a little more reassured, towards the exit, towards the light. And as you put your phone back in your bag, something touches your back. It's light and it bounces against you. You turn around slowly, cautiously, holding your breath...

A balloon? A balloon. Red, floating in the middle of the path, alone. The first thing it brings to mind is your dream from last night. Yes, there was a red balloon in it, which you grabbed and flew high into the sky...

Looking at it more closely, you see a piece of paper hanging from its string, wriggling like a hanged man. You untie it and unfold it. On it, in ink as red as blood, a message.

DON'T BE SCARED

You swallow your saliva as thick as sand and your whole body shakes with tremors, preparing to run. But as you turn to leave the alley, two gloved hands grab you, one by the nape of the neck, pulling your hair as you go, the other by the mouth, pressing down hard enough that you can't scream. And you find yourself facing those predatory golden eyes, one of whose pupils squints outwards. A multitude of gleaming, pointed teeth, dripping with slime, smiles at you, just inches from your face.

Faced with such an apparition, your first instinct is to punch the face you recognize as the clown's, but you instantly regret it. True, the grip of his hands has loosened, but you note with horror that his features have deformed where you struck him, his uneven teeth protruding from his mouth in an excruciatingly inhuman way. Blood is dripping from his lip... floating upwards would be more accurate.

You push him back hard and turn to flee, knowing full well it's no use. He grabs you by the arm and pushes you violently back against the alley wall. You grit your teeth as you feel your back and the back of your skull crash against the hard surface. With one hand, he grips your neck and lifts you to his full height. No matter how hard you pull on his arm, you're unable to free yourself and breathing becomes difficult. The clown brings his face close to yours like an enraged predator.

"I said... don't be scared!!!"

He finishes his sentence by slamming you back against the wall. You close your eyes in pain, your head begins to spin and you no longer feel strong enough to push him away. All you can do is watch him rage at you, hoping it's just another nightmare.

"You don't want to live, I know it! Then why are you afraid? Stupid, ridiculous humans... This fear... So beautiful, so appetizing. How am I supposed to resist this?!"

The clown hits you once more, more brutally. This is too much. As your arms fall unconscious to your sides, you faint under his fingers and everything goes black. The last thing you hear is the clown swearing to himself.

When you open your eyes, you're unable to understand where you are. An old-fashioned smell of mildew assails your nostrils and you see dust flying in the dim light of the room. You realize you're lying on something soft, covered. Probably a mattress on the floor. Soon, the pain in the back of your skull reawakens. You run your hand through your hair to find dried blood tangled in your locks.

You sit up abruptly, the events before you fainted coming back to you in an unbearable headache, and a question forces you to hold your breath. What else has this clown... this thing... done to you? Trembling, your hand raises the old grey blanket over your legs and you begin to inspect yourself... Nothing. At first glance, anyway. Everything suggests that he's just put you down there, nothing more. You breathe again.

Your gaze finally settles around you: you find yourself in an empty room, apart from the mattress you're lying on. The light is diffused, so unnatural that you want to define it as dark, even if that doesn't make sense. The windows are so dirty that you can't tell if it's still night. You have no idea what time it is or how long it's been since the clown attack.

You suddenly see your shoes tossed haphazardly around the room, as well as your bag. That's all it takes for you to rush out of the mattress and rummage through it, your phone being your goal. But you panic when you realize it's buggy. It doesn't look particularly broken though, it simply refuses to work, the screen displaying bizarre glitches and... The message the clown marked last time, in the forest. You throw your phone to the ground in anguished annoyance.

Close your eyes. Inhale. exhale. You've got to get out of here. A hint of determination returning, you pick up your phone, your bag and put on your shoes. Passing as quietly as possible through the first doors you come to, you arrive in a corridor with a staircase leading down a few meters from you. You descend carefully, the steps creaking beneath your feet. But there's no sign of the clown, and the door opposite the steps seems to be the entrance door. You suddenly have the foolish hope of getting out of here without any trouble.

You approach slowly, your hand sliding noiselessly over the handle of the closed door. You turn it slowly... but nothing happens. You pull, you push, quietly at first, then louder and louder, suddenly panic-stricken. But nothing happens. The door doesn't move. It doesn't move at all. As if it were an optical illusion painted on the wall. A groan of despair escapes and you hold back your tears. Inhale. Exhale. All is not lost, there are always the windows.

They're as dirty and dimly lit as those upstairs, plunging the house into an atmosphere of eternal twilight. Some are boarded up, but not all. In a room that looks like a living room, you work hard on one of them, but get the same result as with the door. In a fit of anger, you end up banging on what's supposed to be the glass, even throwing a stool lying around, in vain.

A few seconds pass before a cry of rage comes from your mouth. And you knew that all the noise you'd made would attract the clown. A weak but piercing laugh pushes you to turn towards the entrance to the room. There he is, leaning against the wall, mocking you without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"Silly, silly little human. Thinking you can escape from my house. So stupid, so angry..."

He pauses, and you can see his mocking smile break down, giving way to annoyance, his features turning stern.

"...So scared... again..."

You step back as he moves closer to you. You'd have thought his eyes were blue a second ago... You quickly bend down to grab the stool you threw at the window, tossing it at the clown to distract him and get around him, running towards the living room exit. You already knew it wouldn't work and you're not surprised to feel him propel you to the floor. He barely gives you time to turn around before pinning you down on your back. Your eyes see his face blurred by tears, while you feel warm drool running down your shirt. Above you, the clown shakes frantically, as if arguing with himself about what to do with you.

"Fear... so delicious... Maybe I should... eat you.... No! Or maybe... just a little...?"

He shakes his head like an animal shredding a piece of meat, and the comparison terrifies you.

"No. No! You are..."

His gloved hand caresses your face with a gentleness that makes you sob. Your eyes close tightly, as if that's enough to make you forget everything that's going on.

"...perfect. I need you."

You feel the clown's breath coming closer and your eyes reopen in panic. You can see his lips curling over his sharp teeth, many more of them. Your brain refuses to believe what it's seeing and you start laughing nervously.

"Don't. Be. Scared."

It's an order and he emphasizes it by snapping his teeth together in a jaw-clenching sound that echoes in your head. At this point, he lets go and walks away, leaving you alone on the floor with your migraine, covered in drool. All you hear is the echo of your own delirious laughter, resonating in your eardrums as if it belonged to someone else.

#it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise x reader #pennywise x you #pennywise fanfiction #it #horror #tw: blood #tw: violence #I'm still writting this i'm so happy!!

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womenloverlmao · 3 months ago

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13 Days of Halloween - Day 1

Carrie - Charlie Walker X Reader

Charlie loved you, and everything about you. He loved your looks, your mind, your heart. He even loved your weird obsession with books, one that is known among quiet teenage girls. His favorite thing about that, though, was when you were done and he got to watch the movie adaptations of the books you read with you. When Twilight first came out, you read it, and he got to see it with you. There were many other stories like this, but with the speed at which you read, it was too many to name.

Recently, you had read Carrie for the first time. You enjoyed Stephen King as much as the next person, but you weren’t a huge fan. You knew the general plot of it before you read it, but you were pleasantly surprised when you read about it despite its anti-religion connotation. You loved the book, and this time you were happy to be able to watch this movie with Charlie.

You got to snuggle up that night with a couple snacks and watch a movie together like you did once or twice a week, depending on how you felt. It was a fun event for both you and your boyfriend to enjoy. You never really pointed out the book vs movie stuff, feeling no need to cause an argument between you and Charlie even if it was all in good fun. Carrie was no exception.

As Halloween started to come up, you knew what you were gonna be. You loved the book, and you liked the movie, so you knew that you were going to be Carrie White. You told Charlie that you were going to go as her, and he didn’t think much of it. You were specifically looking forward to doing a book accurate portrayal of her, because you didn’t like that they got it wrong in the movies. I mean, that’s what the whole point of a film adaptation is, isn’t it?

You were gonna go to one of Kirby’s parties and bring your boyfriend with you, and so you got ready on your own before you would go to pick up Charlie. You were wearing the red dress, you had managed to thrift one that didn’t look exactly as described–specifically with the sleeves–but was good enough. You had put some fake blood on your face, but not much. You put the crown on and then added some on there too, letting some get into your hair. It was gross, but you knew that you had succeeded and this was one of the best costumes you had done.

When you went to pick Charlie up, he was confused. “I thought you were being Carrie White?”

“I am Carrie White,” you told him.

“But her dress is white…?”

“No, that’s only in the movie. I guess it’s supposed to portray an innocence or some sort in the movies, but actually, Stephen King had originally mentioned that it was red and actually went into detail about what the dress was supposed to look like. In the movie, they don’t follow any of it. I actually don’t really like it, and I don’t like a lot about how the movie was made, but still…”

“Why would they need to portray innocence if she was just going to kill everyone anyways?”

“Well, you know how the pig's blood gets poured? When the red gets on her, that symbolizes that innocence being lost.”

Anyways that conversation went on all the way to Kirby’s, and as soon as you saw her, she immediately said. “Damn, girl. You’re beautiful, I…am gonna assume you’re Carrie?”

“Thank you. And, yes. As of tonight, that’s my name,” you said with a smile. “Charlie doesn’t believe that I’m Carrie because my dress isn’t white.”

“Don’t get me involved in one of those conversations, I heard it happen about Eragon back in like…Freshman year.”

You laughed, but you looked over at Charlie. You gave him a smile, one that said I win.

Anyways, you had a lot of fun with your boyfriend that night. After winning that little dispute, it truly was a Happy Halloween for you.

#rory culkin #charlie walker #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x you #scream four #scream #rory culkin scream #scream 4 #scream franchise #13 days of halloween

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hongjoongscafe · 2 years ago

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Bloody Love...

Chapter: IV-Secrecy-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 5.3k+

♠︎Warning: murder (decently graphic?), implied smut, good old stalking.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Power. It was something Jungkook loved with his whole heart. He could set the whole place on fire and no one could point a finger at him. He knew what he was and what he could do.

This power was the sole reason why he came this far. What was the use of power if he was not going to use it? He wanted every single breathing thing to know what he held. He loved when they shivered whenever he and his men would go around. There was another type of intoxication.

However… Nothing could reach up to the level of Coronis.

She was his new obsession and nothing was going to stop him from making her his. People felt like venom to him but she… She was the sweetest essence he ever experienced. He was a man who always got drunk by massacring his commoners.

However.

Coronis was not one of those. At first glance, he wanted to take her and just make her sit in his bed and keep on looking at her.

Her black, fierce eyes were looking into his eyes with a burn that he felt in his heart. His world paused and his inner demons calmed down after years and years of screaming. For the first time in his life, he felt that heat. The very heat that made him kill his own guard just for a crying girl who was crying for mercy for her sister.

Coronis.

A content sigh left his lips. His fingers itched to feel her cold skin against them again. He was thirsty to hold her up against his naked self and explore her every inch. His ears wanted to hear her moan his name. Her intoxicating self was enough to make him feel like a stupid virgin who saw a naked girl for the first time.

In the night sky, when foggy stars would dully twinkle, he would see her face carved on them. His heart would run miles, wanting to see his shining moon through those shabby bushes and into her slot where she would be sleeping like an angel.

“When will the day come when I will hold her here in my bed?” he let another exaggerated sigh while playing with her clothes. He was so proud of her. He felt like she would never betray him ever. But what if she did? Would she meet the fate others met?

“Jimin-ah…” he supported himself on his elbow as he looked at the man by his door. “Make sure to keep an eye on my little birdy. Make sure she doesn't fly away from home.” He said in his dulce voice.

“Taehyung along with Lando is already making sure to keep an eye on her grace. Two men, Jay and Stephen are on duty taking care of it. We will make sure nothing out of your liking happens,” said Jimin. “It was heard that her grace doesn't come out of her shack as often. She usually stays back and works.”

“Hm… Is that so,” he smirked. “Isn't she already a good girl… My little good girl.”

Nobody could see her the way he did. No one is no more allowed to touch her anymore. She belonged to him and he loathed it whenever someone touched his possessions.

A knock on the door shook him out of his head. Jimin slightly opened the door. His Highness saw Mingyu whispering something. Shortly, Jimin closed the door and turned towards him. “Your Majesty,” he began. “Amos is caught. They are waiting for your word.”

He hummed merrily. “Dungeon is good, don't you think? The boisterous dungeon.”

Jimin felt his hands sweating. He waited for a moment to see whether this was his final command. When his highness looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat. “As you wish, my lord.”

The guard opened the door slightly and passed on the command before shutting it close. The devil was going to overtake tonight. The one who was worse than he usually was. He was the devil that no one outside of the castle saw.

The sharp smirk on his face as he got up from his bed. His naked form walked towards the door in his room that had his attire. He dressed his lower body, keeping his chest bare. He didn't want to make a mess on his clothes but rather on his body.

Tonight, he was going to play and colour himself with blood.

…

Creepiness. It was crawling up her back like a spider. Our brains are built in a way that we can feel someone staring at us from a distance. When that happens, it gives an eerie feeling in our guts. It makes us want to look around and know the source of it.

That's how Coronis felt for days and there was no end. If it wasn't him, then someone else was constantly watching. She was getting agitated by this constant feeling.

When others watched, it was never as intense as his glare. Others felt ineffectual but his glare made her want to crawl under the ground and never come back.

The day she looked into his eyes was the day she felt like she got herself into something deep but now she realized that it wasn't just something deep but a whole hell hole. She stepped into the way of hell. She just hoped for an exit.

“What do you think would look better on me? Grey or this greenish white?” Nori asked Coronis as she stood with two gowns against her sides.

She looked up and examined the two dresses. It was Nori's cousin’s wedding in a few days. She was going to go to another village to attend it. They both were not happy to be away from each other for so long. So Nori asked her cousin if she could bring someone with her and they agreed.

But Coronis couldn't agree to attend the ceremony because she still had to prepare bread for the king. So it was impossible for her to go. Nori eventually decided to only go a day before the wedding and return after attending the ceremony.

“This green would look pretty on you. It compliments you so well!” Nori smiled and sat beside her. “You can wear anything and it will look beautiful… A dress only needs a gorgeous body to look good and you have that. Your pretty face will look the prettiest of all.”

They giggled. “I wish you could come with me.”

Nori lay down, resting her head on her lap. Coronis threaded her fingers through her hair and admired her soft features. She felt like a sweet dream. In a village full of monstrosities, she was a heavenly wind. Her words were sweeter than honey, and her voice was melodious which made Coronis want her to speak and never shut up.

“His Highness is too ruthless to let me go. He will probably wipe me out in front of your eyes for not providing him with his bread on time… Even though it is for three nights, I will miss you,” she kissed her forehead. “I wanted to see you all dressed up and ready for the ceremony.”

“Yeah? What do you think how will I look like?”

“Hmm… The prettiest of all. You can just go as is and you will look the most magnificent, pretty thing ever. No one can ever be so beautiful as you.”

Nori sat up straight facing Coronis. “You know who I think the prettiest is?” Coronis shook her head. “You. You are the most enchanting person I have ever seen. Your deep black eyes, those jet black long locks… a kind heart. Everything you touch becomes cosmic.”

Coronis chuckled shyly, “It's just because of your attraction towards me. I'm not what you say.”

Nori pulled her closer, caressing her cheek with her thumb and resting her forehead against hers, “You don't realize just yet. But you are the prettiest. Everybody wants a piece of you,” she let out a tiny chuckle. “I don't even know how I got so fortunate to get the whole of you. I just- I feel glad that you are here with me… I never want to let you go… Ever.”

Coronis pulled her chin and softly captured her lips in a warm kiss. Nori hummed and threaded her fingers through Coronis's hair. The moment for them was vehement. Their hands on each other, exploring their love.

The pang of guilt smothered Coronis. She was indeed putting Nori in this situation of vexation even though she (Nori) did not even realize it with the very little knowledge she had of Coronis. But was it really worth telling her about the demon that was breathing down her neck? Wouldn't it push Nori away from her? She couldn't afford that mental strain. It felt like she was her first hope of happiness.

Maybe just a little bit more.

“Coronis…” Nori pulled away. “Please, a little bit more…” she whispered.

“Tell me what you want, love,” Coronis tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You… All of you, please,” she begged her as she guided her hands towards her breasts. “Touch me a bit more.”

Moans and whimpers were all they could hear. For an extent of time, they forgot the horrors of the world and gave in to each other. The lingering touch woke their twisted sides. No matter how forbidden their relationship was, they let it cross the limits within the secrecy of their minds.

Coronis felt that if she let go of Nori's hand, she would lose her forever. Throughout these years, she had only been worrying about things. There was not a single day when she was not selfless. She spent her life taking care of and protecting the people she loved so dearly. At the end of the day, it was all draining. She felt unloved by people. Somewhere deep down, she needed affirmation of love, maybe just someone listening to her would be enough. But that never happened.

Nori was not only a sweet girl she saw on rare walks to the market but much more than that. However, her spiralling mind couldn't stop bothering her. Was it really love or just the vulnerability of the moment she caught her? Could she ever justify the feelings she had for Nori? Though she was forcing herself to figure it out, it still lacked the heat.

But then again, she never felt as assured in anyone's arms.

“Time flies by so fast,” Nori said as Coronis helped to tighten her corset from behind. “I wish we could just stop here and never stop existing together…” Nori licked her lips. “Don't you think- like,” she awkwardly chuckled. “That we belong together?”

Coronis's hands stopped. Her eyes stayed unfocused. “Do we?”

“Mhm,” Nori smiled and nodded her head ‘adorable’. “I think so. We are perfect! We might be so different, but that is what makes us entire. It's like–”

“You are the golden hour and I'm the stormy night,” she said.

Nori turned around, looking deep into her eyes, she said, “No. It's like we are separated swans that are meant to be together. Now, fate is bringing us together because you and I belong together. In the end, we are not that distant. Apart from some minor things, we are alike. I- I don't think that anybody could ever understand how we understand each other. I know that you are hiding so much from me,” her eyes were gloomy, thinking about things to herself for a bit but she shook her head and continued with a smile, “But that's entirely okay! We both have never been so intimate with anyone and now it feels new. And it takes time to open up emotionally. I understand that. I, too, have so much to tell you. That is how it works, isn't it? We wait for each other as long as it takes to be on the same page…”

“How far are we?” Coronis asked. “How far are we from being on the same page?”

Nori's mouth slightly opened to answer but nothing came out. They kept looking into each other's eyes. It felt like forever. What was she even supposed to answer? She didn't know whether Coronis shared the same feelings as her. In the end, their relationship began with being intimate with each other when they both were helpless, feeling the most down. As much as Nori knew she loved her, did she love her or at least like her? Or was it just infatuation for Coronis?

Nori's eyes blinked barely as she answered in a lazy whisper, “Why does that matter? As long as we are together… I think we– we,” tears brimmed her eyes as she looked down, hiding her face from Coronis. “I think we should keep on going like this till we feel like we are on the same page.” Maybe Nori could be a little selfish this time.

It felt like every day was getting trickier and trickier. Nothing made sense anymore. There were only two paths for Coronis but both felt sour. No matter what she chose, she was aware that chaos would happen. Her life was getting darker than the night. This was supposed to make her feel alluring. However, day by day, it became ghastly. It stifled her.

She knew that that man held power above any of them, just a little less than the King. If she betrayed him, which she was doing, he would bring hell to her doorstep and make her feel every inch of it. But if she went with Nori, she was afraid of what could happen. There was no right answer to what he would do to her or Nori.

No matter what she chose, it was going to be tempestuous, causing many inhumane steps to hurt whoever came in the way.

Nothing shall happen to Nori.

But wouldn't she break her heart by giving her hope now and then going away? Could she take it? Was Nori, the oh-so-kind-hearted little flower, able to take her perfidy? Coronis didn't know her own intentions for what they both have. Although, she knew she cherished the delicate lady with her whole heart. But was it possible to share the same sentiment as her?

Coronis shook herself out of her train of thought. “I think I should leave,” she said as she pulled the saddened body into her embrace. “We can sort it out when you come back. But there is still some time left. You must not think so far… Let's just live in what we have right now rather than worrying about tomorrow.”

She later smiled and looked up after wiping her eyes. “Mhm,” she pecked Coronis's lips. “I won't worry.”

Spending a little more time in each other's arms, Coronis took her leave, carrying twice as much burden back. Though she visited Nori to feel better just like before, now her heart was aching for another reason.

The walk back to her shack was a little distant. It took her no time to feel those creeping eyes on her. She looked around and caught a pair of eyes behind her at a decent distance. It was not him. She was getting used to getting stalked all the time. As much as her insides shivered, she didn't let it show outside. She looked like a cold-hearted person.

Keeping these creepers aside, her mind drifted towards another strain that was created.

“Coronis? Where did you get that locket from, that you were wearing yesterday?” Martha questioned as Coronis returned after seeing off Nori.

Coronis froze on her spot and looked Martha, dead in the eye. This was not supposed to happen. No one needed to know about any of this so how did she know about the locket? She could not even lie about it knowing it was made out of precious metal. Thinking for a second, she played dumb. “What do you mean? What locket?”

Martha sighed. “Do not act like that, Coronis.”

“I'm not acting like anything!” she exclaimed, already feeling on the edge of her emotions.

“Do you think I'm stupid? I have eyes and I see everything! What exactly are you hiding from me, Coronis?! I saw how you were wearing that forbidden thing around your neck! So please, tell me what is going on,” Martha stressed and held Coronis's arms.

“It's nothing that you should know,” She shoved her hands away and walked towards her slot.

“Coronis, you stay here! I'm talking to you!” Martha was losing her cool.

“And I am done! As I said there is nothing that you should know! Leave me alone!” She did not want to bring her family into her mess. It was already tough for her to go through this and letting anyone know about this would only bring weight to her burden.

“I'm your mother!” Martha screamed. “I deserve to know what you are doing behind my back! Are fucking one of the men?! Why did he save Circe even though he had no reason to save her? Or are you going behind my back and being whore for all?! Is that what it is, right? There is no way things could work the way they did!”

Coronis was tormented after hearing what her mother had to say. Her brain stopped working and all she could hear were her mother's words. They echoed and mocked her over and over again. “Do you really think so lowly of me?” she asked with a low, shivering voice.

Martha scoffed. “What else am I supposed to think of you? Huh? No wonder why people talk about you like a puppet. They must have seen you fooling around.”

Coronis laughed like a maniac. Tears flowed down her cheek as her laughter got higher. “You,” she choked on her words. “You really are something else! This place, this hell of a place sees every single person with a cunt as a puppet that they can fuck and throw around! But you are so wrong about me. I can't believe you call me your daughter and yet you know nothing about me! Even if I don't tell you something that does not concern you, you should have some faith in me. I spend my time making sure you all are not hurt. I even take care of Circe and beg for mercy just to keep this family alive!” her breath huffed. She felt like someone was holding her neck and choking her to death. “Do you want to know what is going on?” She took sharp steps towards her mother. “Do you want to know about the locket? Okay then, listen to me carefully… I won't repeat myself ever again.”

Martha listened to Coronis. She told her every single detail of what she had been going through since the day she made eye contact with him. Mother's heart slowly started to break until it was totally shattered beneath her feet. She regretted every single insult she threw at her daughter. She could not put her voice into words, they were too hurtful. She had never been in Coronis's place. She could not relate to what she was saying.

“Do you even know what it feels like to get watched every moment? To feel someone's eyes on you constantly?! I can't even breathe without someone noting it down. I'm tired! Okay?! I am not being a whore around! I'm just trying to survive without troubling any of you!” Coronis wiped her tears. “You know what? Don't talk to me for a while. I need time for myself.”

With that, she barged into her slot and banged her door closed, leaving no room for any more connections.

Since that day, Martha started to overly protect the house. She would cover the windows all the time, the shack always looked gloomy and that scared Circe. This was exactly why she didn’t want to tell her about the whole ordeal.

Martha’s paranoia was making everyone sceptical of things and Coronis was devastated. She had to make excuses on behalf of her mother to justify her actions. She would try to minimize Coronis's outside trips to the market which only made her work lousier. She was limited on material for the bread, too, just because her mother was not letting her out.

It wasn't saving Coronis. She had a feeling that this might end up stabbing her in the back.

…

The loud thud of the dungeon door echoed under the castle ground. The footsteps were coming closer with every second, making everyone around eerily silent.

Boisterous dungeon.

It was a place where his majesty played his wicked games. No one wanted to be called in this place. Only the people working in the castle knew what brutality happened there. This was the core of hell.

“Amos,” a raspy voice of his majesty resounded in the dungeon, making every single soul shiver. “Long time, no see… Hm? Where have you been?” He asked as he stepped in front of the man who was chained up. His hands were locked above his head with heavy chains, and his feet were chained to the ground.

The dungeon was reflecting orange from the flames of the flame torches hanging on the walls. There was no window or anything from where the natural light could come in. Anyone could go crazier than before if they spent a few days in it. It was a death trap in itself. And the king just made it stay true to it.

Amos trembled like a leaf. “L-lord Jeon, f-for-forgive me pl-please,” he begged.

He chuckled at his pathetic words. Circling him around, he held the tied man’s cheek in his hand and caressed it with his thumb. The blood drained from his face. From far away, they might look like a couple into freaky kinks. One was naked and tied up and the other's torso was bare.

“Ah…” his highness sighed. “I have been itching to feel you against my skin, Amos. Finally, I can touch you.” His hand ran down his chest, digging his nails into his skin. “Why are you scared of me, hm? What is it that you wronged? Tell me… I might let you go,” he whispered near his ear.

“Y-you will?” Amos asked.

“Mhm, why can't I make an exception for my best man,” he made a little distance between them, “In the end, you are one of my men… So come on, be a good man and tell me everything.”

Amos thought for a moment before gulping. He looked into his dark, maniacal orbes. There was an odds for him to get away with this. “I… Um, I said th- things th-that I shouldn't have.”

“What are those things, Amos,” his sweet voice relaxed the weak man. “Say it all.” He walked towards a table in the corner of the dingy place and opened it, back facing Amos. The King sounded like a lover with that honey-kissed voice he spoke with.

“I said that his grace l-looked… Looked,” he coughed. “Looked… Like fine meat.”

“Mhm, keep going,” he said. “And tell me why you said that?”

“The day when you checked up on her grace for the first time, I saw her,” he hesitated. “I saw her naked.”

His Highness giggled like a child. “Yeah? I think I brought you with me so that you could keep an eye outside… Not inside.”

“It was a misfortune!” he quickly exclaimed. “I was just checking on you but my eyes fell on her form!”

“Okay,” he sighed and frowned his lips. “I think I heard you say something the day she was begging for mercy.”

Amos's last hope left his body just when his words left his mouth and turned around with a lethal smirk and a hunting knife in his hand.

In the light whispers of the village, the painful cries of a child echoed for a person named Coronis. He was on his horse along with his men when these cries distracted him from his work. Though, he would not usually go and check it himself knowing his men are doing their work when someone becomes a hurdle in their way.

However, he caught a familiar figure running towards the crowd and fought her way into the deeper core. His body worked before his mind could and guided his horse there.

The back of his man was towards him and was holding a little girl who was wailing. Then he heard a voice that broke his stone heart a little. He squinted and saw another woman who was begging on her knees and hands folded.

“Please, I beg your mercy! She is a child. She doesn't know much. Please, let her go! Take me instead! Kill me, not her!”

It was her.

All he could see was red. Who had the audacity of making his pretty girl beg such a low caste? He could not bear seeing her beg like this in front of the whole village. He could see how she let herself down for a child that now he felt hostility toward.

He hated the child for bringing this situation to his sweet girl. He wanted to strangle her and make her realize but knew better than that. Coronis would not like it.

So he did a good job as he got off his horse and pulled his sword out. They say when you pull your sword out of the sheath, it yearns for blood. It screams bloody murder and who is he to make his sword pity for it. He would give whatever his sword wants. Just like that, when he took his next breath, he took one away.

The whole village fell silent. Not a single being dared to utter a word. Never in a million years has this happened. But he was not the one to explain himself to anyone. He was about to turn around when Coronis kneeled in front of him and thanked him for sparing that ungrateful girl’s life. And she cried and cried loudly.

Through all of this chaos, he heard Amos say something that made his eye twitch.

“She looks so fine begging like this. I would fuck her when I can make her beg for mercy like this,” Amos had whispered.

“You called it upon yourself, Amos,” he chuckled. “I don't care why you hid away from me because it is the least of my worries. But do you really think that you can look at my princess and fucking fantasize about her like this?! See her naked like that and expect me to be fine with it? Thinking about fucking a girl that is mine, do you even realize who you are playing with?”

Amos could not get a word out. He knew he was done for. It was too late to defend himself from anything his useless mouth said or button eyes saw.

The King held the tied man’s chin tightly, “you looked at her with these eyes, right? You saw her naked with these eyes. I don't think you deserve them anymore, Amos.” He whispered.

The utter panic painted Amos's face. The dread settled in much clearer than before. He came aware of what was going to happen and he was sweating out of it. “No, no no. Please, I beg you. Please! I have got a wife and kids to take care of!”

“Where were they when you were thinking about fucking my princess?!” The King roared. “Did you not think of them when you were eyeing what was mine!?”

“Please have mercy on me, I will be better. I won't look around! Please!”

A wicked smirk widened on his face, “isn't it great that I'm the last person you are going to see?” he said as he brought his knife closer to his eyes. “Now let's say goodbye to these.”

“No!” a piercing scream echoed throughout the castle, shaking the hearts of all. They were accompanied by the loud laughter of the King who was enjoying tearing apart every single vein in the traitor's body.

The King wanted him to remember this in his next life. He wanted his soul to fear and tremble every time. Nobody could get away from him. And he wanted this to be copied into everyone's useless brains.

The knife did not show any mercy. Just like other times, it gashed the quavering man again and again. His eyes were gone, his throat was cut open. There were punctures in his heart. But the King did not stop.

“This. Is. What. You. Get. For. Messing. With. Me,” he screamed. His irises were blown out, his eyes were bloodshot, his face red from rage, and body covered in blood. He enjoyed it. He loved the metallic scent on him. He laughed and laughed like a madman that he was.

No one, absolutely no one could stand in front of him let alone think about touching his obsession. His ego was hurt. Even though Amos knew that that girl belonged to his highness, he still dared to think of touching her in ways that only he could. It was a shame on the king and he was rectifying that now.

His men or not, he did not care. The only thing he cared about now was Coronis and nothing else. There was no other being that he cared about. “Fucking remember this for an eternity, you bloody bastard. Never ever raise your eyes towards my princess!” he made sure that the dead man would get nightmares filled with him, haunting every single day and reminding him of his sins. “You let me down, Amos. I thought you were my loyal dog but you just turned out to be a fucking filth who pissed on me,” he stabbed him again and again. “You wanted your useless filthy dick inside of a goddess, now take this. This is what you get for thinking like that. She is mine and only mine. Get this thing into your thick skull!”

After hours, everything fell silent. He was sitting there in the puddle of fresh blood that he drained. He was feeling delighted again. The ego hicked above the skies. He kept looking at the man whose insides were hanging out. He loved it. He loved how pathetic loser was dead and cut open in front of him. He loved how he could see the gashes on his organs and how the blood was draining out of them like water out of bucket. This is what he loved. He wanted to do more but he had better things to do tonight.

He wanted to see how his little princess was doing. She was clouding his mind all the time. Her face would appear in front of his eyes all the time. Regardless of what he was doing, he would think about her and pause every thing. No one had enough balls to make him do otherwise. All he cared for was his little princess who needed to be protected by any means and he was there to do it.

Not a single person could get in between them. Or else he would make sure they met a worse fate than Amos. More painful death than anyone ever before.

“You are only mine, my love. Once I get to keep you, nothing will ever separate us. I'll make sure you love me and I love you till the very end. I'm not playing only to see you walk away. I'm playing to get you and keep you forever with me, hidden away from the nasty world. We are one and you can not deny it, my precious.”

The King walked out of the dungeon and handed his soaked knife to one of the guards. “You know better what to do next,” he said and walked away, his chest painted in blood and a satisfied smile on his face.

He wanted to make sure everyone knew what could happen to those who look at his princess in a way no one but only he could.

“Do not ever dare to reach the thing that is mine.”

.....

Sanaa's note:

It took me a little longer to finish this chapter😅. But it's done now (phew). My flat is about 80% done. Hopefully, I'll be able to sleep in my own bed today or tomorrow. But anyhow, how are you guys? Did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know! Your feedback motivates me a lot and makes me write even more. I love you all! Feel free to talk to me and send an ask! 😊

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jjkreblog @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby

Have a nice day/night💓

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bitterkarella · 1 year ago

Text

Midnight Pals: It's about ethics

Stephen King: oh boy this is embarrassing Poe: what's that? King: well, see, we kinda King: accidentally King: agreed to let this nazi a story Poe: oh boy that is a pickle King: yeah its a real whoopsie doodle

Poe: did we already tell him yes? King: yeah Poe: well criminy Poe: not much we can do then Poe: that'd be like going back on a pinkie swear King: yeah it'd be like King: kinda awkward Poe: who was in charge of the paperwork Poe: was it howard

David A Riley: Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this the tale of the nazi supermen who are our superiors Riley: look, i'm a big fan of howard there Riley: not of his writing so much Riley: mostly just his racism

Riley: what if some dusky kids turned into big scary monsters and killed a nice unassuming white person? Riley: what about that?? Riley: [sitting on chair backwards] i know it sounds like science fiction but actually this scenario is playing out everyday right here in Britain

Riley: the blacks and the jews are going to make the full english breakfast illegal, you know Lovecraft: i-is that true?? King: ok you've had enough for tonight howard Riley: and let me tell you what the hoodie scum are doing to the soil

King: listen david some of these ideas are a little King: umm King: they're a little Barker: they suck Barker: they suck ass King: yes thank you clive King: i think that says it all, really

Riley: i am being silenced! King: we really don't think we should have actual nazis here Riley: YOU ALL SAID I COULD Riley: oh oh now you're going back on your word!!! Riley: you know what that is???? Riley: UNETHICAL Riley: this is all about ethics in campfire storytelling

King: yeah i think we kinda goofed letting a nazi in Riley: you let howard stay here King: well, howard's just howard King: he's a lovable archie bunker kinda racist Lovecraft: it's true, i am

King: see the thing with howard is August Derleth: I'LL tell you the thing with howard Derleth: he is only as racist as the average man of his time Derleth: he didn't, like, run for office as an actual National Front candidate Derleth: [turning to audience] you can google that

Riley: wow, so apparently just because i'm a literal nazi who literally ran for office as a nazi candidate Riley: who wants to eradicate asians and jews Riley: suddenly I'm not welcome here? Riley: wow Riley: just wow

Riley: that's fine, i don't need you anyway Riley: i'll always be welcome in the pages of the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction Barker: yeah you sure about that pal? Barker: feel like that might be a mistake Riley: NO Riley: IT IS NOT A MISTAKE Riley: SHUT UP

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #hp lovecraft #august derleth #david a riley

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space-mermaid-writing · 3 months ago

Text

Consort and King [IronStrange]

Summary: Anthony Stark, King of Midgard, needs a spouse. Whether he wants one or not. So he accepts an arranged marriage with the Prince of Kamar-Taj – a man he has never met in his life to the day they are standing in front of each other at the altar, speaking their vows. Is it possible that the feeling of duty grows into something more? Will their future be happy?

Relationship: Tony Stark / Stephen Strange

Tags: arranged marriage au, royal au, strangers to husbands, enemies to lovers, slow burn, idiots in love, fluff, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, all the good stuff

Author's note: I just love writing ballroom chapters, okay? Beta by @kvjjjjjj

Chapter 10: The Ball

In Tony’s opinion it wasn’t proper to be the first to show up at an event, so by the time they reached the ballroom, the celebration was in full swing.

Stephen had humored him, not really caring about these things anymore ever since he joined the ranks of the sorcerers. He figured he should go back to caring, considering he was going to be a king soon. Even if it was just for Tony’s sake. Stephen wanted to be a good partner and spouse to him. One that Tony could rely on.

Wearing the gloves as usual in public, Stephen had his arm linked with Tony’s, who led them to the hosts in order to greet them; as it was custom.

King Odin and Queen Frigga stood near the thrones, surrounded by people that wanted to talk to them. It bore no problem to Tony slipping through and getting their attention anyway – as Stephen noted with amusement.

“Ah, King Stark.” Odin noticed them first. His eyes wandered to Stephen. “And it’s Consort Strange now, isn’t it?”

“Congratulations on your wedding,” Frigga added, stepping next to her husband.

“Thank you,” Stephen said, while Tony and Odin shook their hands in greeting. Then Tony took Frigga’s hand and blew a kiss on the back of it.

“You look lovely as ever. May your upcoming year be as bright as today’s summer solstice.” Tony had his charm on full blast and the Queen’s pleased smile told it wasn’t too much but just enough.

Tony also registered that Stephen kept his hands to himself and didn’t offer them to the king and queen – who in return didn’t seem offended by that.

He remembered what his husband had told him: he had been here quite a lot after his accident, they knew about his hands and were polite enough not to comment on it.

“Thank you.” Frigga gestured around the room. “Make sure you enjoy yourself tonight. Eat, drink and dance.”

“We absolutely will.” Tony barely held back a wink, because that had been his plan all along; he was going to enjoy the evening with Stephen.

He caught Frigga's gaze; she was watching him and Stephen. It made him wonder what the two husbands looked like to bystanders. There wasn’t any tension between them anymore. At least not the bad kind. Instead they had established a flirty banter, and Tony felt a lot of affection towards his partner.

Oh how much had changed since their wedding. Although it had been merely a few months.

Tony preferred how things were now; by far.

He and Stephen followed the request of the hosts to join the guests of the ball.

People were chatting with each other in small groups or dancing to the music. The murmur of voices is ever present in the lovely decorated ballroom.

Some people toast to each other. Stephen heard the clink of glasses and in the corner of his eyes he noticed the light from the chandeliers reflected in the crystal glass.

It was a game that was familiar to him; after all he grew up with this. And as a prince, eyes had always been on him. He knew it was the same for Tony.

It had been a while since he attended an official event. After he had left the Royal Palace of his parents and started the Mystic Arts, he had taken no interest in them. He had thrown the few invitations that had reached him in the Sorcerer's Temples, straight into the trash. But tonight he found himself excited to make the most of it. A pleasant smile took over his face and he angled his body closer to his husband; who was clearly a vital reason for his good mood.

“Stephen.” Someone called from behind them.

The sorcerer sighed, closing his eyes for a second, before his face became a polite mask and he turned around. “Mother. Father.”

Of course the King and Queen of Kamar-Taj were also invited to the ball. Stephen had been a fool for paying it no mind.

His mother hugged him, although it felt stiff and weird, and was more for show than anything else. She had been the one calling out to him, too. His father practically ignored him and turned to Tony at his side instead.

“King Stark. We finally meet.”

“It’s about time, I would say.” Tony had his charm on full blast when he greeted his parents-in-law. But even while trading pleasantries he stayed at his husband’s side, his hand not leaving the small of Stephen’s back. As if to reassure him that he wasn't alone.

Stephen hadn't talked much about his parents, but it was enough to keep Tony on his guard and his smile not entirely honest.

The King and Queen of Kamar-Taj were happy how the alliance between the two countries had turned out. The trade was growing and everyone agreed that the union had turned out well.

Tony was fully engaged in the conversation about politics and Stephen was glad that he didn't have to contribute much. This was even enjoyable. Maybe his relationship with his parents could take a turn for the better; perhaps he just needed more distance after all. And honestly, that had been one of the reasons why he had turned to magic after his accident: to get space.

But then his father said to Tony, “You seem to handle my son quite well.”

Stephen wished the floor would open up beneath him and swallow him up.

“Pardon?” Irritated, Tony looked at the other king.

“Oh, we know he can be a handful, if you catch on to what I’m saying.”

Tony was still smiling, but his voice got a sharp edge. “I don’t. Please elaborate.”

“Tony, don’t,” Stephen asked him quietly, but his husband didn’t listen.

“No, I want to hear this.”

The king and queen were visibly uncomfortable he was insisting on this.

“Well, he has told you about his accident, hasn’t he?” King Strange was suddenly unsure. And rightly so, because it hadn't been mentioned at all during the wedding negotiations. His parents had sent Stephen away to let him deal with it on his own. They had been sure: by this point, more than half a year into the marriage, he had told Stark about it.

Had he not?

Tony nodded and motioned to them to go on.

Stephen's father wet his lips, finally glancing at his son, even if just for a second. “His hands haven’t been the same ever since. He always needed extra attention after it and-…”

“Oh, he gets all the attention he needs,” Tony interrupted him. “And his hands are magical.” He darted Stephen a gentle smile, before looking back at the parents, ready to attack. “He is quite skilled with them too, if you ask me. Kept me up in pleasure plenty of nights – if you catch on to what I’m saying.”

The king and queen looked scandalized, while Stephen was clearly amused. Tony decided that the conversation was over and led the sorcerer away. He was fuming, but for the sake of this event and his husband, he breathed through his anger.

He stopped in a quiet corner of the ballroom.

“I’m sorry about that,” Tony apologized. After all they were still Stephen's parents and ruler of an allied country. Even if they were shitty.

Stephen stared at him in disbelief. “You are sorry? I am sorry about my parents. They are…” He tried to find the right words, when Tony helped him out.

“A handful?”

The sorcerer huffed a laugh. It wasn’t a full chuckle, but he visibly relaxed. And he felt much less self-doubt than usual after talking to his parents, probably mostly due to the fact that Tony stood up for him.

Tony was just glad to see that frown on his husband’s face gone. “I don’t know about you but I could use a snack.”

Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the nearest servant with a food tray and took plenty for them both. Back at Stephen's side, he handed him a tartare.

Stephen took it and bit into it. It was really great. “Thank you, Tony.”

“You really don’t need to thank me for food.” He knew this wasn't about the food, but neither of them said it out loud.

Tony couldn’t get over the fact that even though their son had married someone none of them had ever met before and they hadn’t seen their son for months, they didn’t even ask Stephen once how he was doing. If he was okay.

The more he thought about it, the more angrier he got again.

His relationship with his own father hadn’t always been the best, but he at least remembered his mother’s love that he received before she died way too early. And he knew that his father’s actions were based on grief. That he hadn’t been able to cope with the loss.

It didn’t excuse anything. But Tony had matured enough to understand it.

His mind wandered to Peter, who wasn’t even his own son, but he still treated him with more care and affection than Howard ever did with him.

But a ball wasn’t the place nor the time to think about these things. Tony chased these thoughts away by stuffing the last few bites into his mouth and grabbing Stephen's wrist. "Have you met Lord T'Challa yet?" he asked with his mouth full and when the sorcerer shook his head he dragged him into the crowd.

As they mingled with people they realized that their circle of mutual acquaintances was quite large. Of course, this was not surprising in the sense that they both came from royal families. What was more surprising was the question of how they had managed to not meet before their wedding.

As the evening progressed, they parted company to pursue various conversations.

Stephen was talking to some royal scholars when – unexpectedly – Loki appeared at Tony’s side.

“You found yourself a rather handsome consort. Kudos. I didn’t think you had it in you to pull Strange of all people.”

Tony wasn't sure which one bothered him more: the lack of any manners or the prince’s presence in general. “Jealous?” he asked, not willing to put any effort in this conversation.

The corners of Loki's mouth twitched in a hint of a smirk. He probably had fun annoying the king. “His parents would never see me as a good fit for any of their children.”

That wasn’t a no, and somehow thinking about Loki and Stephen soured Tony’s mood. The two of them clearly had a history, as their meeting in the garden had shown. But of what kind?

Tony tried to sound nonchalant when he stated, “You two seem rather close,” but he failed; judging by Loki’s face.

Instead of answering, the prince requested, “Let’s dance.” It really sounded more like a demand, but Tony decided to play his game. Since his attention was on Loki, he failed to notice that Stephen had spotted the two of them talking in the crowd and furrowed his brow when he saw Tony leading Loki to the dance floor.

It was a slow waltz, which gave them plenty of time to continue their conversation and sure enough Loki did not fail to rub it in his face, “Powerful magic wielders tend to gravitate to each other. Either because of admiration or hatred for each other.”

“And in which category do you two fall into?”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Loki answered cryptically.

Tony left it at that and they continued to dance in silence. His eyes wandered back to Stephen, who was still engrossed in conversation but he glanced over to the two dancers every now and then.

Tony had never thought about his husband’s magic abilities. They were just there. Sure, he had witnessed Stephen using his powers in his everyday life. Mostly for small things, to help with his hands. Tony had come to terms with it, but he admittedly knew relatively little about his magic.

“Is Stephen that powerful?”

Tony had seen a glimpse of something more the day they had been sparring. He had pulled Rhodey off his feet easily.

Loki looked at him as if he was exceptionally stupid. “He would have become the next Sorcerer Supreme if it wasn’t for his marriage with you.”

Even Tony knew that this was the highest position any mage could ask for – no matter if they preferred the Mystic Arts, Seidr or any other form of magic.

“Can’t he do both?”

"There's a reason that in Kamar-Taj the royal house and the path of magic are separated.”

His words made the king pause. He knew that his magic was important to Stephen. They had talked about it. And it didn’t sit well with him that he was the reason for Stephen’s relinquishment – the arranged marriage his parents dictated onto him.

He spent the rest of the dance caught up in his thoughts and Loki let him.

When the music stopped, they did as well. Tony turned to leave the dance floor, but Loki held his hand tightly. He briefly glanced at the crowd before leaning down to the smaller king and whispering into his ear. “For a Stark, you don’t dance half as bad. It’s a shame it comes with that face.”

Before Tony could open his mouth to complain, Stephen suddenly appeared at his side, his eyes on Loki, coldly. “If you don’t mind, I would like a dance with my husband.”

The Asgardian finally let Tony go and stepped back. “Don’t think too hard about what I told you,” he winked at the king before he left.

Tony already knew he would think way too hard about it. He let Stephen lead him into the next dance, as the music resumed.

“What was that about?” Stephen asked.

“Actually, I’m not sure. I think he insulted me at least twice.”

“He does that,” the sorcerer agreed.

There was something different about him. His eyes felt more intense, when Tony finally looked up. They were clear blue like the sea. But a storm was brewing underneath. He looked determined, like a man on a mission.

Stephen led this dance and Tony didn’t even question it. The touch of his scarred hands felt light but for once they didn’t tremble. He had to use magic for that.

Tony blurted out, “Do you miss Kamar-Taj?”

Stephen barely missed a beat. “Yes.” But it didn’t sound remorseful. Instead he added, “I miss how it used to be. But I know it wouldn’t be the same if I returned. I have found a new place. At your side.”

Tony’s smile was gentle, happy even, at that confession.

For Stephen it looked like the early rays of the morning sun.

“I’m glad to hear that. We could visit anyway. I would love to see that place.”

Surprised by the proposal, Stephen blinked. “If you wish.” His eyes had softened, the storm shrinking. But his words were too formal for Tony’s taste.

“No, if you wish. I’m not insisting on it. Just telling you I’m open to the idea if that is something you would like to do.”

When Stephen would look back later, he would realize that it had been this moment for him. The moment he knew everything would turn out fine and that the marriage had been the right decision. That Tony was worth all the former reluctance, their arguments. Everything. It had been worth it.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” He asked and Tony nodded, not minding the change of topic.

“Sure.”

After the song ended they left the dance floor and with their fingers interlaced, they made their way through the crowd.

A door led them onto a balcony. Despite the late hour, the sun was only just making its way to the horizon. They stepped up to the balcony railing to watch its descent.

Below the palace was the golden capital of Asgard. Colorful lanterns hung everywhere and people were on the streets, celebrating the summer solstice in honor of the queen. People were laughing, dancing and drinking. The air was buzzing with their excellent mood.

Stephen and Tony were content in each other’s presence. Tony was leaning against the taller man, while Stephen had his arm around his waist.

“It seems like we’re in luck to see a rare pink sunset. They are very special,” Stephen explained, his gaze fixed on the endless sky.

And really, the light of the setting sun colored the sky in a pinkish hue. In fact the color changed – slowly but steadily – the closer the orb came to the horizon. From a pinkish–lilac to some kind of orange and yellow.

It was a phenomenal view.

“Isn’t it fascinating how the same thing can look so different, depending on the point of view?” Tony muttered more to himself.

Stephen made a sound of agreeing anyway.

The colorful sky lasted only for a few minutes. Then the sun disappeared and night finally fell. It immediately became darker, but the many lanterns in the city bathed everything in a cozy light.

Tony turned in Stephen's arm, now looking up at him. Their eyes met. At that moment time didn’t matter. It was just them.

Tony cupped his husband's face; and Stephen met the kiss halfway. It was gentle and full of affection. Until Tony opened his mouth and the kiss became more heated.

Their bodies pressed flush against each other, they basked in each other’s warmth.

Stephen was the first to remember that they were at a public event. When he detached from Tony, albeit reluctantly, his cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen. He shared Tony's lopsided smile.

There was so much he wanted to say to Tony. He felt grateful for tonight; to have this handsome man at his side; for being able to call him his husband; how Tony handled Stephen’s parents; everything.

He wasn’t used to things turning out fine and remaining good. Without any catch whatsoever. He realized he was waiting for the shoe to drop.

It was ridiculous.

Stephen was willing to allow himself to just be happy. To enjoy life.

Before he could voice any of that, Tony pulled him towards the door. “Let’s go back inside. I want to dance some more with you.”

Stephen was only too happy to be pulled along and did so without any hesitation.

They danced and mingled with the people. They ate and drank and had a lot of fun. It was late at night when they retired to their guest room. Or early in the morning – depending on the view.

Tony put his crown off his head onto a table.

“Are you fine with sharing a bed?” He asked while his many rings followed the crown.

Stephen scoffed. “We are married. I think I can manage.”

Turning towards him, Tony raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said on our wedding night.”

And they really were at that point of being comfortable with each other that they could talk and joke about this without feeling personally attacked. They had come a long way.

“My wish for having a space of my own has nothing to do with my willingness to share a bed with you,” Stephen stated without looking at him. He shed his outer robes and laid them neatly folded over the back of a chair.

Tony blinked at that. He walked to the bed and sat on it to take off his shoes. “Could have fooled me,” he muttered.

That made Stephen pause.

“I have to apologize,” he realized. Tony looked up, surprised, but Stephen continued, before he could open his mouth. “You had been welcoming me into your home and been nothing but nice in those first days, although you were also forced into this marriage. And I didn’t even try to get to know you. I was determined to resent everything.”

The sorcerer wrung his hands, either due to nervousness or maybe even regret. He exhaled, sighing.

Tony’s eyes softened. He patted on the mattress next to him. “Come here, Stephen.”

Stephen sat down, his posture stiff. It wasn’t easy for him to open up about his emotions. And after Tony met his parents, he no longer wondered why.

“It’s true, we didn’t have the best start to begin with and it could have gone better. But we’re over that now. At least I feel that way. I mean, tonight was a lot of fun and you’re quite a decent dancer, so that’s definitely a plus. I guess what I’m trying to say,” Tony concludes because at this point he was starting to ramble, “I’m glad it’s you I’m married to.”

“You’re not so bad of a husband yourself.” Stephen’s smile was gentle. “You never cease to amaze me with your passion and your ability to love; your people, your men, Peter…” He cupped Tony’s face. “And I’m proud to call myself your consort.”

He leaned in and kissed Tony. It was a slow kiss – a promise for the future, for his willingness to make this work.

“You may take your last statement back, if you steal my blanket tonight.” Tony tried to muster his most serious face afterwards.

“Oh?” Stephen's eyebrow shot up, immediately catching on. “Will you be proclaiming a territory of high ground on your favorite bedside next?"

The king grinned ambiguously. "I'd be open for negotiation."

Stephen chuckled, but didn't entertain the idea further. It was late and both of them were more than ready to go to bed; each on their own side.

After the last candle was blown out, it didn't take long for Stephen to fall asleep. Tony heard the steady breathing from the other end of the mattress. Crossing his arms behind his head, the king stared up at the ceiling. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The light from the stars shone in through the window.

It had been nice to attend the ball with a husband and not alone.

Tony turned his head, watching Stephen's relaxed features. For the first time he truly felt like he was married, like there was someone at his side he trusted – and he had to admit: it was really nice.

With a soft smile on his lips, he closed his eyes and soon after he was fast asleep.

_____________

Taglist: @goopierthenyou (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

#ironstrange #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark #tony stark x doctor strange #Consort and King #marvel #mcu #spacemermaid #Janora #enemies to lovers #slow burn #strangers to husbands #angst #hurt/comfort #miscommunication

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conjuring-ghouls · 2 years ago

Text

Stained Glass Windows

Papa Emeritus IV x Female Reader

Author’s Note: This is just a little something I wrote yesterday at 3 am to make me feel better about Copia's possible death.

I don't write anything in years and my articulation in English sucks so excuse the poor writing. Comments are welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! 😊🖤

Warnings: Fluff, Copia on his sparkly blue suit, mentions of smut, adult language, slightly nsfw, 18+.

The ministry was empty as you both stumbled the dark corridors to Copia's quarters, the few souls who chose to stay instead of going back to their families for the holidays already long asleep.

You were both tipsy from the wine you had, your hands eager, searching, teasingly touching each other while you made the way upstairs to the Papal wing in the north tower, moonlight shining through the stained glass windows and forming mysterious shades as you walked.

There was something in the air tonight; it might have been the alcohol, the winter sky, or maybe the moonlight, you didn’t know for sure, but the love and passion between you was so intense - so much more than usual - it was palpable. You felt it all the way through the night.

You went out for dinner at this tiny little place in town you knew Copia loved. It was an Italian restaurant next to the hillside and it had been such an intimate night; you both had such a good time in each other’s company. And you had been teasing each other all night long.

He’d been silly and innocent, yet so hot at the same time - just like his usual self - and made you laugh all night with his clumsy personality. Truth was, you missed him. Work at the ministry was stressful and exhausting and Copia had been busy lately, burnt out by all the responsibilities and anxiety that came with his position.

You missed this; going out together, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. Laughing together and talking about everything and nothing, like you did when you first fell in love with each other, when he was still Cardinal Copia and Papa was a distant title.

Now, back to the ministry, after many glasses of wine and already all worked up, it felt like you just couldn't get your hands off each other. You were quite a sight. Both your lipstick and his face paintings were blurred and spread all around each other from the kissing you shared just minutes ago when he pinned you against the ministry’s front door.

You were in your midnight blue dress (the one you picked out carefully hours before, especially because you knew he loved it). He was wearing his blue sparkly suit - the one that always made him look so hot. He was so unaware of the fact that he could bring you to your knees so easily while he was wearing it - if only he asked.

When you finally reached the top of the stairs, he separated from you for just a second to open his quarter’s door. The room was light when you walked in - the full moon reaching through the lancet windows, Stephen King’s Salem still sitting on the bed, exactly where you left it.

You moaned when he held you again, lifting you by your thighs and placing you on his dresser, touching you so tenderly, as if you could disappear the moment he let go of you - as if it hurt to be apart from you for more than a few seconds.

You were quick to place your legs around his waist, longing for his touch, to feel his body pressed against yours. His arms pulled you by your waist and held you even closer, ending every possible gap between you. Copia's mismatched eyes stared into yours for a second. You smiled and let out a soft moan; it felt so good to be held by him, to have his arms around you. Satan, how you'd missed him.

You took in the man in front of you. He looked especially beautiful tonight, the moonlight hitting his face and jacket through the window next to his bed, sending light spots all around the room. His hair neatly slicked back as usual, with the exception of a couple loose locks that you couldn’t help but slide back with your hands in a sweet, loving gesture.

In a way he looked like a deer: so pure and innocent. Bright and needy eyes starring back at you - filled with love and admiration, wanting you, longing your approval, needing to be loved. You also knew, though, he could be like a wolf if he wanted to: a predator ready to devour you in the best meaning of the word. But above all he was your Copia, your Papa, your husband and you just loved him so deeply and intensely it almost hurt.

He stopped and also took you in for a while - unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell you how tonight was wonderful, how beautiful you looked in your midnight blue dress, how sexy your thighs looked coming out from the slits on it. How much he missed you and wanted you, in all the ways possible. How he'd been waiting the whole night to touch you like this, to feel your heat. How he wanted to lift you by your tights again, place you on the windowsill and fuck you - then and there, with your back against his stained glass window - not fast and merciless, but desperately and tenderly.

So many thoughts and so many things to say yet nothing came out of his mouth. He was so overwhelmed by you, it was hard to put anything into words. He closed his eyes for a while and rested his forehead on yours, feeling you, touching you, your legs around his waist, his breathing heavy.

"Dolcezza… I…" he tried and at the mere sound of his voice, you were inundated with sheer love and admiration for this clumsy, adorable sexy man. Before he could continue, you couldn't help the instinct of lacing your hands behind his neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss.

He moaned in your mouth, you could still taste some of the alcohol in his breath. He tasted so delicious, so yours. His hands went from your waist to your ass and then to your thighs and squeezed them - lovingly and filled with respect for your body but also intensely - touching you, convincing himself that you were real and you were there, right in front of him. Despite all his insecurities and pathetic imperfections, and for all the reasons he would never ever understand, you chose him and you're his - forever.

He decided that was all that mattered. All the imminent uncertainties and fears - the pressure and anxiety he was going through lately, the thoughts that he might be replaced or - Satan forbid - killed, forgotten for just tonight.

You would think about it in the morning. You would find a way, figure something out - together. You would run away together, if it got to that. But tonight you only chose to love each other. You just needed each other’s touch.

“Papa?” you moaned in his ear when you broke the kiss.

“Yes, amore mio?” was all that came out of his lips, eyes still shut, still overwhelmed by your smell, your taste, your breath tickling his neck.

“Will you just fuck me, now?” you begged, squeezing your thighs even harder around his waist.

His hips instantly came forward and pressed against yours, in the attempt of closing the already unexisting space between you, and you could already feel his hard length - how needy he was, how he needed your heat, your touch, your smell all over him.

How could he say no when you asked so sweetly for him? When you looked that beautiful when you begged? When he missed you and needed you as much as you needed him?

“Forever, tesoro” he whispered in your ears, before bringing his lips to your neck and kissing it, marking you there with some more of his black face paint.

#the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #copia #ghost fanfiction #ghost fics #papa emeritus iv x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #the band ghost #papa iv #cardinal copia x female reader #my writing #be patient with me i suck 😭#trying to make this a fun experience and not beat myself up over the imperfections

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goodluckclove · 29 days ago

Text

The Resistance Against Classical Literature (a ramble)

So I was talking a lot tonight to my colleague and editor @xarrixii, who is also one of my few field reporters regarding the state of Modern Precocious Youth Culture. They were telling me that the new average in English classes is - I think their exact words were "lower than you'd expect". I knew this already to some extent as I've heard more and more about the rise of varying degrees of illiteracy in younger generations.

I see a lot of people my age or older dunking on these kids and young adults for being near illiterate, some of them with a tone implying that this is somehow the choice, much less fault, of the students in question. Students these days are so aggressive and can barely read or write! Yeah dude I don't know about you but I get the sense those two observations are connected.

Anyways, while talking about why that may be, I mentioned how I'd seen a pretty major dislike for classic fiction and literary fiction in online spaces. When I saw the comments shrugging it off or condemning it as a genre, I responded with mainly brief confusion before moving on. But I feel like exploring the concept now and I guess that's going to be the problem of whoever follows past the read more.

So the first thing I figured was that Classic Fiction and Literary Fiction are two genres with pretty loose definitions that can vary depending on who's defining them. Literary fiction, after some quick research, generally seems to be considered a work of non-genre fiction that focuses on style, theme, and characters over plot. Most of my bookshelf is literary fiction, mainly from like the 50's to the modern age. That's just what I'm into. I also have a ton of books of Stephen King and Chuck Palahinuik. I'm complicated.

Classic fiction is even weirder to pinpoint. It seems to just be a notable book that stayed notable over the course of time over the course of generations for some reason or another. Maybe it's a great example of the genre. Maybe it's emblematic of a certain era in time. Maybe it proposed ideas divisive enough for people to argue over perpetually. That appears to be it, though.

Immediately you may notice this covers a TON of ground. This list of 200 notable books starts in the 1800s and covers a lot of the dusty go-to titles. Pride and Prejudice, Moby Dick, Great Gatsby - the kind of thing you probably had to read in an English class at some point. But go on and you find a way different vibe. The Haunting of Hill House. Beloved. American Psycho. All of these considered just as influential as something in the 1800s, just slightly newer in the scope of human existence.

I kind of figure the more prominent issue is that when people lament about classics they're actually talking about the Literary Canon, which is a sort of nebulously growing collection of what some authority of academia determined to be the best, most influential books to humanity as a whole. Are they right? To some extent, I'm sure. Domino effect and all. But since it's major push in I think the 1920s, it's been altered and expanded on to include people who are something other than white and biologically male and predominantly European. I know while I was still in high school the curriculum in California barely got the message.

I don't blame the teachers. Teachers have far less control over the material they can cover than what you might think - at least in public school. But when people say classics as a genre exist exclusively of [Stock photo ID:1083619858 from iStock.com], they are wrong and also have a perfectly sensible reason to think that.

I think execution plays a huge part in this. There's a deceptive glory in being well-read that starts great (It is objectively a good thing to be exposed to a variety of stories and ideas regardless of whether or not you end up liking them), but becomes so self-involved that it eventually becomes harmful to the cause. Maybe it's that the curriculum goes by at such a speed that you're unable to read and process a story as the author intended. Maybe you're in a space where you don't feel like you can say that you find a book held in Such High Regard to be mediocre, or even straight-up bad without it being a whole goddamned thing. As someone who was briefly an English Major, I am fully aware that there is a collection of books and writers that certain people are just insufferable about.

This is not an anti-intellectual thing. I would not take someone who - let's say, sees me reading Franny and Zooey by JD Salinger and sees it as an excuse to ramble bitterly about Catcher in the Rye unprompted - and call them an intellectual. I would consider that person to be someone who really likes to hear themselves talk and refuses to acknowledge that debates should be consensual.

What I mean is that there is a way to talk about older authors, revered authors, authors with big ideas that have lasted for years and years, and fucking pitch them better. The authors of even the oldest literary novels weren't dead-eyed back cover photos, artfully brooding and just exuding genius. They were writers, which means more often than not they were prone to some form of wacky neurosis.

Ernest Hemingway was a drunk and a fighter who loved guns but not gun safety. There's a much darker punchline to this setup that you're probably thinking of, but when I wrote it I was really referring to how he once shot himself in the calves by accident while fishing. He also opened fire on a hotel toilet during a messy divorce. Hemingway is also widely considered to be some variation of gender non-conforming.

Franz Kafka was an angsty guy who loved cocaine and simping over his long-time editor, and his dying wish was for all his work to be burned because the man was dramatic to the end (But also weirdly funny and apparently would crack himself up at his own writing). Jules Verne, the reason why I spent the latter half of one summer plodding my way through 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea, tried to hop a ship as a Cabin Boy so he could bring a coral necklace to the girl he loved - who was, incidentally, also his cousin.

These people wrote profoundly influential works. If you only read modern authors, those authors were almost certainly influenced by an older author they read and loved at some point. The Western Canon may no longer have the same use it once did, but there's a definite benefit in exploring books that gained a great deal of lasting notoriety, regardless of whether you love or hate them. It's good for everyone, but if you're a writer I go as far as to say it's crucial for development and inspiration.

Yes, there's good books now. I agree! But if you're someone who is avoiding the entirety of the 20th century in terms of literature, I would love for you to explore why. They don't have to be cisgender, straight men. They don't have to be white or American.

You aren't like an inherently cooler, smarter and more morally righteous person for reading these books and anyone who says they are is weird and boring. At the same time, there is an expanse of literature guarded at times by just the lamest doofuses that has the potential to make you feel something. It can change your perspective even if you hate it. Invisible Man had an ending so haunting when I finished it I walked out of class without saying a word and cried in the rain. Like Water for Chocolate annoyed me enough that I decided to try more of the genre to see if it was all like that and now I'm way into magical realism.

10,000 Leagues Under the Sea still makes me so fucking angry because Jules Verne was crazy horny for listing fish. Also his cousin, i guess? God damn, man.

Anyways it's late and I've lost the topic a long time ago. Books good. People who get super snobby and reverent over authors to the point where they're no longer people who wrote books are dumb. It's kind of making more sense in retrospect that Hemingway could've been some form of queer because while I did like A Farewell to Arms his work does tend to be aggressively Straight Man. I just learned the whole gender-y thing about him tonight so that's kind of blowing my mind.

#writeblr #bookish #literature #classics #hot takes i guess #this one got LONG FUCK #i have OPINIONS

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lifeinacartoon · 3 months ago

Note

Hay haw are you 😊I thought as it’s Nearly Halloween donlowen prompt. one were mark thinks his holtel room is hounted becuse he keeps hearing noises and the dorm opens and closes by itself. Gary and howard hear him screem and wimper so thay sleep with him for the night in Howard’s room. I can’t deside if this should be a barlowen donlow donlowen or mark/howard. What do you think,🙂

I changed it a little, I hope you don't mind, but wanted to fit with the Halloween theme still. All Hallows Eve

The Stanley Hotel loomed against the Colorado sky, its historic grandeur framed by snow-capped peaks and an eerie mist that clung to the building like a shroud. Gary, Mark, and Howard sat at a small table in the dimly lit bar, the wood creaking beneath them as they leaned closer over their drinks.

"You know this place inspired The Shining, right?" Mark’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes darting around the room as though expecting to see something move out of the corner of his vision. "Room 217 is where all the worst stuff happened. Guests have seen things—heard things."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was just a story. Stephen King stayed here, sure, but ghosts?"

Mark huffed. "More than just a story, mate. Footsteps in empty corridors, laughter when no one's there. They say the fourth floor’s the worst. Kids’ laughter late at night… but there’s never any kids."

Howard chuckled, swirling his whisky lazily. "You’re too easy to spook, Mark. It’s just an old building with creaky pipes."

But as they swapped stories, there was an undeniable tension creeping in. The shadows seemed darker, the chill in the air sharper. The fire in the hearth flickered, casting long, warped shapes against the walls. When the clock struck midnight with a loud clang, they all jumped, laughing nervously at their shared unease.

"I think I’ve had enough of this ghost talk for one night," Gary muttered, pushing his chair back and draining his glass. "I’m off to bed."

Mark hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as if the room was watching him. "Yeah, same." *

By the time they’d all retreated to their rooms, the corridors of the Stanley Hotel felt ominously still. The walls, clad in dark wood, seemed to close in around them as the silence settled.

Mark’s room, dimly lit by a single lamp, felt too large and too quiet. He lay in bed, trying to drift off, when he heard it—a soft, distant whisper. He froze, straining his ears. Was it his imagination? But then he heard it again, faint yet unmistakable, coming from the direction of the bathroom. With his heart racing, he slowly got up, each step heavy with dread. He pushed the bathroom door open, but the room was empty, the mirror fogged over as if someone had just taken a hot shower.

He bolted out of the room, heading straight for Gary’s door. *

Meanwhile, Howard had been lying on his bed, staring at the flickering ceiling light, the rhythmic hum of the bulbs unsettling in the stillness. It had been doing that for the past half hour, and no matter what he tried—turning it off, banging on the wall—it wouldn’t stop. Eventually, he’d given up, throwing his arm over his eyes, hoping sleep would take him soon.

In Gary’s room, Gary had been trying to brush off the nagging feeling that someone, or something, was watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up every time the wind outside rattled the window, as if a presence was trying to get in. He tried to tell himself it was all in his head.

Just as he was drifting off, a knock at the door startled him awake.

"Gary? You up?" came Mark’s muffled voice from the other side, frantic. "I’m not staying in my room, no way."

Gary opened the door, his eyes wide. "Mate, what’s happened?"

"I heard something. Whispering. There’s… something in my bathroom." Mark’s voice trembled, his hands shaking as he crossed into the room. "I’m not staying alone tonight."

"Alright, alright. You can crash here." Gary nodded, pulling back the duvet on his bed. "Howard can join too if he’s freaked out." *

It wasn’t long before Howard’s flickering lights pushed him over the edge. He wandered down the hall in his slippers, shuffling along the plush carpet, the soft sound of his feet the only noise in the otherwise dead corridor. As he reached Gary’s door, he hesitated, feeling a strange chill in the air. With a quiet sigh, he knocked firmly.

"Gaz? You still up?"

The door creaked open, revealing Mark already nestled in Gary’s bed, looking much too small beneath the heavy covers.

"Howard?" Gary blinked in surprise. "What’s up?"

Howard stood in the doorway, arms crossed and expression sheepish. "My lights keep flickering. I’m not staying in there with all that weirdness going on."

Gary motioned for him to come in. "Alright, mate, you can crash here. Sofa’s free."

Howard shrugged, yawning as he padded inside and dropped onto the sofa. "Just keep the ghost stories to a minimum, yeah? Some of us actually want to sleep."

"Night, mate," Gary chuckled, but as he closed the door, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Howard was already sprawled out on the sofa, seemingly oblivious, his soft snores filling the space.

It seemed all he needed was the assurance of his friends nearby to feel comforted, the eerie hotel no longer a bother now that he wasn’t alone.

Mark shifted in Gary’s bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. "This place really gives me the creeps."

Gary slid in beside him, the bed too small for the tension now building between them. "It’s all just stories," he said softly, but his voice wavered slightly as Mark’s warm breath brushed his shoulder. Their hands touched, fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Mark turned his head slightly, eyes locking with Gary’s. "Are you sure about that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and though the room was cold, heat bloomed between them as they lay there, faces inches apart.

Gary swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken. "Pretty sure," he murmured, but as Mark shifted closer, his hand brushing along Gary’s arm, it became clear they were no longer talking about ghosts.

The distance between them closed, their lips meeting softly at first, then more urgently, as though the strange energy of the hotel had pulled them together. Mark’s fingers tangled in Gary’s shirt as they deepened the kiss, the soft rustling of sheets the only sound in the room, save for Howard’s quiet snoring across the way.

Oblivious to the growing heat in the bed, Howard slept on, blissfully unaware of the unspoken intimacy unfolding just metres away.

Mark pulled back for a breath, his voice barely audible in the darkness. "Think we’re safe now?"

Gary smirked, drawing him in closer, lips brushing Mark’s ear. "I’d say we’re in good hands."

#Halloween #spooky season #Take That fanfic #gary barlow #take that #mark owen #howard donald #take that fandom #ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #tumblr writers #prompts #the one where #music

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spidercookie18 · 1 year ago

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𝕋𝕃𝔹 𝔾𝕠 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕆𝕍𝕀𝔼𝕊!

I realized; while rewatching some spooky movies, that TLB would/could have watched some of the ones I like. So, while i was watching the movie, I wrote what I imagined the boys would say. You can rewatch the movie along with the post if you don't remember some scenes so well, but there is a bit of explanation for the scenes in italics.

Anywho, here's TLB watching Creepshow (1982)

Word Count: 3k ish Tags: General violence, swearing, mentions of drinking, smoking, sa, gore, death, bugs - it get's kinda itchy at the end

Marko was dying to come watch this new horror movie, Dwayne was already an avid Stephen King reader at this time, and David thought it looked relatively interesting, so off to the movies they went. Paul just went because he wanted skittles and popcorn.

They went opening day. Got their snacks and went to find some seats.

They sat in the middle of the back row, the order was Paul on the left, Marko, then Dwayne, and David on the right. They are the kind of people to talk through the entire movie; so, if it helps, you can imagine them speaking through their bond.

Opening Scene:

Marko: Pssst, Dwayne pass the popcorn.

Dwayne: I don’t have it, ask Paul.

Paul: Nah man, I have my candy. And its only MINE tonight

David: Marko, here’s the popcorn, but I want it BACK. *Reaches over Dwayne who shifts uncomfortably away from David’s arm*

Marko: Cheers man.

Paul: Dude, stop saying that.

Marko: But I like it :(

*House comes into frame*

Dwayne: Hey, like that pumpkin

Paul: Hey, we should make pumpkins.

Marko: I’ve been saying this!

David: Dude that dad is a dick.

Dwayne: Who does that remind you of

David: We should egg his house before we go home.

Paul: Ayeee sex books *high fives Marko*

David: Damn, all that over a book?

“All that horror crap-Dead people coming back to life?”

Paul: Hey, dead people can come back to life.

*Creep comes into frame*

Marko: Woaaah, someone needs to moisturize.

Dwayne: Thank fuck we don’t have to worry about the Sun anymore.

David: Marko, popcorn

Story One: Father’s Day

*Well-dressed people come into frame*

Dwayne: Get a load of these assholes.

David: Fuck, I want a cigarette now.

Marko: Who eats like that?

Paul: *chewing with his mouth open*

Marko, Dwayne, David: *stare at Paul* Gee, who knows.

“Wasn’t she the one who killed her father?”

Dwayne: Honestly, same

“When he was 184, he had a stroke.”

Paul: Hey, David, aren’t you coming up on 184?

David: Ahaha, fuck you *chucks popcorn at him*

“She based her father’s head in with a marble ash tray.”

David: Dude, I need that ash tray.

Marko: I’da killed his ass too if he shot my husband *rubs Paul’s arm*

Paul: *Is turning the box of candy into his mouth, feels Markos hand on his arm. Looks down and smiles with a mouth full of candy*

*A driver speeding down the road comes into frame*

Dwayne: Damn, that old broad likes to speed.

“I need my caaaakeeee you dirty bitch.”

David: Fuck your cake buddy, your old ass needs a dirt nap, eh?

Marko: Get his ass.

Paul: *chomp chomp chomp*

Dwayne: She didn’t even bash his head in, he just got hit one time… I’ll show you how to bash a head in… *grumbles*

David: Easy big guy, we’ll go fuck with Max later.

“Everything I wanted he wanted for me!”

Marko: *mockingly in a bad British accent* Chew bich, chew dorty bich

*The dead come back*

Paul: Guys! Jim bean is the elixir of life.

David: This fucking guy still wants that damn cake?!

*Dancing couple*

Marko: Awe, Paul, we should dance.

Paul: *waggling his arms around trying to Vogue* You like my moves?

Dwayne, David: *start copying Paul and wiggling their arms around in bad dance moves*

*Cemetery scene*

David: Dude, what the fuck are you doing out there, eh?

Dwayne: *leans to David’s ear* Your Canadian is showing.

David: Oh, fuck off… I need a cigarette.

Paul: Hey, that headstone is falling…. No seriously dude its falling…

Marko: Is he not gonna move??

Dwayne: Dude!

Marko: The dead zombie guy is the least of your worries you gotta move!

*CRUSH*

Paul: Ope… too late.

David: *Grumbling about his cigarettes*

“He’s your husband, I don’t even like him.”

Dwayne: Catty *chuckles*

Paul: Yooo, I think the maid is dead.

Marko: He’s still on about that fucking cake.

*In the parlor*

Marko: You think I could pull off the two chains look?

Dwayne: Honestly?

Paul: Marko, he can’t even- wooaaaah.

David: Ayeee he finally got his cake.

TLB: *halfheartedly applaud*

Story Two: The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill

*Jordy comes into frame*

Marko: Woah! David, he looks like you!

David: Shut the hell up, my teeth aren’t that big.

Paul: *snickering* No, they are.

David: *growls*

Dwayne: *Grabs David’s chin and wiggles his head side to side* Oh come on, it’s cute.

David: *sneers at him and pulls his head away. *

“Dat’s a meteor”

Marko: *mockingly* dats a meteor

“200 for dat dere meteor”

Dwayne: Dude, ask for more money.

David: Aren’t you a communist?

Dwayne: …shut up.

Marko: *mockingly* idjits

*Jody getting water from the well, sticks his fingertips in his mouth*

Paul: Ew, those things were in his mouth.

David: Yeah, that can’t be good.

*Jody dumping out the meteor juice*

Paul: Hey, what do you think they used for the glowey stuff?

David, Dwayne: Glow sticks

Paul: But it hissed when it touched the ground.

David: *chewing popcorn* They add the sounds after they film it.

Paul: Oh… Hey we should get glow sticks.

Dwayne: If you’re good, we can get glow sticks.

Paul: YUS

“Meteor shit!”

Marko: *giggling* oh this guy is gold!

*Meteor plants start growing outside*

Dwayne: Oh damn, he’s still sucking on his fingers.

David: Well, he obviously isn’t very smart, now is he Dwayne.

Dwayne: *stares at David* Don’t start with me.

David: *snorts *

*Doctor scene*

David: I don’t trust that doctor…

Dwayne: *with his fingers waggling in David’s face; making a voice* It’s going to be extreeeemely painfuuullllll

David: Shut up, dork.

Dwayne: You’re the dork.

*Plants growing all over Jordy’s body*

Paul: Hey, you think that thing can grow weed?

Marko: Paul, you idiot. It’s killin him.

Paul: Well, I know that! But, like… it looks sticky.

*Jordy goes outside*

Marko: Wow, that got everywhere fast.

Paul: Yeah, that might be too much weed.

David: Never thought you’d say that.

*Jordy pulls out a bottle and a pitcher*

Dwayne: Woah, that’s too much vodka…

Paul: Buddy’s gonna die.

Marko: I think he’s already dying.

David: Oh, I’m gonna need a drink if you guys keep talking.

Marko: Cheers

“I’m growin”

Paul: Me too Jordy, me too *eats some skittles*

*TV tone*

David: Fuck, I’m so glad we don’t have a tv in the cave.

*Shows Jordy’s house covered in green*

Marko: *eating popcorn* we should do that to Max’s house.

David, Paul, Dwayne: Agreed

*Jordy, checks his pants*

Dwayne: Is it on his dick!

Marko: *clutches his jewels*

David: Oh, that’s gotta suck.

*Jordy gets into the tub*

Marko: I wouldn’ta done that.

Paul: Yeah. That’s horror movies 101.

*Jordy pulls out shotgun*

Dwayne: Woaaah, dude, it’s not that serious.

David: No, I’d do the same thing.

*BANG*

TLB: Ayeee *claps*

Marko: Cheers

Paul: Dude, fucking knock it off

Marko: Fucking make me >:[

Story Three: Something to Tide you over

*Nice apartment comes into frame*

David: Ugh, I hate that tile.

Paul: You would

“I can bench-press 300lbs.”

Marko: Pleeeease, that’s nothing

Paul: What a nerd

“We were gonna sit you down and tell you.”

Paul: Hey that guy is touching the tv! That’s not your tv!

“There will be no alimony, none of that crap.”

David: Alimony? That old guy used to bone that guys wife?

Dwayne: I think the guy in the robe is banging the old guy’s wife.

*Pulls out tape recorder*

Marko: I should get a tape recorder.

Dwayne: How many people are you torturing and kidnapping?

Marko: Mind your business.

David: If that guy threatened MY bitch… *starts growling*

Paul: Yeah, you tell em David! Don’t touch my bitch or my tv!

“She’s waiting for her knight in shining corduroy.”

David: Yeah, tell no one where you’re going, idiot.

Paul: Noooo, he killed his wife??

Marko: that’s an empty grave, for sure

“Jump into that hole.”

Dwayne: Fuck that, hit him.

David: Idiot hopped in

Paul: Maybe he’s got a plan.

Marko: His plan is to die.

“You’re not gonna burry me alive.”

David: *chewing popcorn* But you’re already in the hole ain’tcha bud?

Dwayne:

David: Don’t say it.

“I’ll let ya see Becky.”

Paul: I don’t believe him.

Marko: Gee, what made you think he wasn’t trustworthy?

*Crab*

Dwayne: *cracking up* Get his ass.

Paul: OMG! That’s a big crab!

Marko: HE KICKED IT!

David: *snickering*

*TV of the Becky*

Paul: Fuck, he buried her?

Dwayne: That’s a bit harsh.

Marko: I could get out of that.

David: No, you couldn’t

Marko: Yuh-huh

Dwayne: It’s packed, wet sand, you couldn’t get out of it.

Marko: Bet I could.

Paul: Uh-oh, tides comin

David: Marko, you would drown.

Marko: I bet you a week’s hunt that I could.

Dwayne: For the both of us

Marko: Yeah, sure, fine. If you win, I’ll do the hunting for both of ya for a week.

Dwayne: And on the very slim chance that you win?

Marko: You guys do my hunting for a month.

Paul: Oh no, the tv is getting wet.

Dwayne: Fine.

David: …how did he keep it running for so long, I thought it was hooked up to the Jeep…

*Interior, old guy’s house*

David: Ugh, I hate those statues.

Paul: I hate how this guy treats tv’s.

Marko: I hate that they haven’t gotten out of the sand yet.

Dwayne: I hate how stupid you are.

Marko: *Nips at Dwayne*

Dwayne: *wagging his finger in Marko’s face* You get one.

Marko: *grunts* David, gimmie the popcorn

David: *hands him the popcorn*

*Drowning scene*

Marko: Fuck, these people take forever to die.

*Interior, night scene*

Dwayne: Dun dun dun!

Marko: Man, they are getting seaweed on everything…

“I’m warning you; I have a gun!”

Paul: *yelps*

David: Geeze, Paulie, it’s a movie.

Paul: Not that. I dropped my skittles!

David: Why am I not surprised…

Marko: I knew this would happen, *reaches into his jacket* that’s why I got ya these *hands unopened skittles box to Paul.*

Paul: Oh man do I love ya.

*Shooting the drowned*

David: Ew,

Dwayne: Ya know, he should really have a guard.

Marko: Or a dog

Paul: We should get a dog.

David: *stretching his arms above his head* You’d never feed it.

Paul: But someone would

David: Yea, *pulls his shirt down over his tummy* I’d end up being the asshole to feed it.

Dwayne: Oh snap, they buried his ass *laughs*

Marko: That’s wicked

Paul: David pleaseeeee

David: The poor thing would die of neglect.

Paul: *pouts*

Marko: *pats his arm* it’s okay Paul, we’ll get you a dog.

Paul: really?

David: NO, YOU WONT

Paul: :(

Story Four: The Crate

*Janitor flipping a coin comes into frame*

Dwayne: 5 bucks he’s gonna drop it.

*CLANK, rolls*

Dwayne: ooooh! You owe me 5 bucks!

David: No one bet you, dork.

*Garden party*

Marko: Damn, that lady is so loud.

Paul: Math department???? *sneers*

David: I hate that dress.

Marko, Dwayne, Paul: You would

David: >:(

*Lady in red dress keeps talking*

Dwayne: Holy fuck, does this lady ever shut the hell up?

Paul: How, uncouth

Marko, Dwayne, David: *stare at Paul*

*Janitor on phone*

Dwayne: 1834?

David: Don’t say it.

Paul: *snickers*

Marko: Well, whatever’s in there should be long dead.

David: *sighs*

Marko: Like David

David: Fuckers

“Hey Wilma!” *BANG*

Paul: Oh damn!

Marko: Thank Christ

Dwayne: THEY’RE CLAPPING?

David: Oh please, you’d kill her in a heartbeat.

“It came from the Artic?”

Paul: Daavid, where’s the Artic?

David: *burping* Yukon

Paul: Oh, okay

Marko:

Marko: You have no idea where that is do y-

Paul: No, not a clue

“It’s like, something moved on its own.”

Marko: What do ya think is in there?

Dwayne: Snow devil

“That tobacco smell makes me want to Ralph” *strangle*

Dwayne: Damn, he wants to kill her so bad.

David: Welp, I can see where this is going *reaches into his pocket to pull out a flask*

Dwayne:

David: *takes a swig*

Dwayne: *pouty face*

David: Fine, but don’t tell the others.

Dwayne: *takes a quick swig*

*Opening the crate; chimp noises*

Paul: Aww, it’s a little monkey.

Marko: Paul, it’s probably not a monkey.

Dwayne: Don’t stick your hand in there.

David: DO stick your hand in there.

*CHOMP*

Marko: Yup, not a monkey

*Janitor slumps against crate*

David: I would movie from there

*Yeti face*

TLB: HOLY SHIT *they cling to eachother*

*Chomp chomp chomp*

Dwayne: great mask!

David: Fucking sick

Marko: Those teeth are so real!

Paul: Hold me Marko

*Yeti moving the crate in the basement*

David: Ope, what’s he up to

*Blood trails*

Paul: I’m getting hungry.

Dwayne: I bet the damn thing is too.

Marko: *munching popcorn* Shhh, eat your skittles.

David: Marko, munchies me *puts his hand out to Marko.

Marko: *dumps a fist full of popcorn in David’s hand, spilling all over Dwayne*

Dwayne: *dusting off his lap* fuckers!

*Grad student going under stairs*

David: *munching popcorn* Oh yeah, go under there.

Marko: Why’d you pick up the shoe like it’s gonna do anything?

*Yeti attacks; grad student hits it with wrench*

Dwayne: You shoulda hit that thing a lot harder.

Paul: Guys, I’m gettin hungry.

Marko: *shoving the popcorn bucket to Paul* We’ll eat later. Besides, Dwayne and David are doing my hunting for the next month.

Dwayne: We gotta burry your stupid lil ass first

Marko: IM GONNA DO IT!

*Guy with shitty wife going to university basement*

David: I don’t believe, for a second that someone shipped a man killing, blood thirsty yeti without telling anyone. There should be records or something.

Paul: *snorts* Okay, Mr. ‘I keep all my files since the 1800’s.’

Marko: I don’t believe anyone would be that stupid to go down there with a gun.

Dwayne: I do

*Watching the man clean up the blood*

Marko: That’s a good friend

Dwayne: That’s a bad co-worker

David: He assaults a girl and kills her and then tries to hide it?

Paul: Wait, is that what’s happening?

Dwayne: That’s what he thinks is happening.

David: Nah, he’s tryna lure his bitch wife there.

*Wilma driving over holding a glass*

Marko: This bitch got milk?

Dwayne: Where’d the fucking yeti go?

David: *jokingly* he’s shy *bats his eyelashes*

“What kind of a mess has Dex gotten himself into?”

David: *tittering*

“How bad did he beat her? Is she conscious?”

Marko: This bitch is sick.

“The girl is under the stairs; she won’t come out.”

TLB: *watching intently*

“DINNERTIMEEEE”

David: Maybe divorce woulda been easier *giggling*

Dwayne: At some point it shoulda been.

Paul: Is he trying to kill her?

Marko: Where the hell did that stupid yeti go?

“No good at all in bed, when was the last time you were a man in our bed?”

David: *snickering*Ruthless

Marko: Wow this thing can really sleep through an episode.

“Just tell it to call ya billy.”

David, Dwayne: *cracking tf up*

*Closing the crate*

Dwayne: I can’t believe this thing never broke out of a stupid wooden crate.

Paul: Where is he taking that thing?

Marko: Bet he’s gonna kill it.

David: He’s definitely gonna kill it.

Dwayne: I’d kill it.

Paul: WHY?

Marko: The hell do you mean ‘why’?

Paul: He was just hungry! Like us! You wouldn’t kill us!

David: *takes a swig* Sometimes, I think about it.

Dwayne: Let’s get a big crate to put Paul in

Paul: NOOOOOOOOO

Dwayne: Ah we’re just kidding Paulie * reaches behid Marko to punch Paul’s arm*

“That thing is drowned in its box 70ft down.”

David: It survived 150 years, no food, no water, no sunlight. Bet it’s not dead.

Marko: Oh, NOW he breaks out of the damn box.

Dwayne: The damn thing was just being lazy.

Paul:

Paul: You guys don’t actually think theres yetis do ya?

Marko, Dwayne, David:

David: That one really scared ya, eh?

Paul: Just a bit

Marko: We could kill a yeti no problem!

Dwayne: Yea, and then Marko would have something new n’ furry to tie to his bike haha!

Story Five: They’re Creeping Up on You

*Scientist and a jukebox come into frame*

Dwayne: Man, haven’t seen one of those in a while.

Paul: They were soo cool.

Marko: You think that vaccum thing could suck other stuff?

David: I DARE you to put your dick in that.

“There’s not gonna be anymore damn bugs!”

David: *eating the last popcorn in his hand* What the hell did bugs do ta him? *snorts*

Marko: Thank God we’re never gonna go bald.

Dwayne: Max can’t say the same.

Paul: *snickers*

“They’re dying of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

Paul: Hey, David, what’s carbon monoxide?

David: Poison

Marko: THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE AN APARTMENT?

Dwayne: Bet he’d have a stroke if he saw the cave.

Paul: Yeah, but we don’t have a ‘bug problem’

David: Not one that matters.

*Cockroach on his glove*

Paul: EW EW EW NAStYYYYY

Marko: SICK

Dwayne: Guess they’re not gonna put the ‘no animals were harmed in the making of this film’ at the end.

David: Oh, that’s seriously a bad roach problem.

“Yes, he told me your husband went out with a ‘bang.’”

Paul: This guy is a serious douche.

Marko: *winces* I feel bad for laughing.

“You can take your wife and kids to Disneyworld on your fucking welfare check.”

Dwayne: I’m gonna eat this guy.

*Checks the food processor*

Marko: Omg, he didn’t…

Dwayne: He did!

Paul: I’m gonna be sick *fake sobs*

David: Hey, I kinda like that trick

“You people, people of color”

Marko, Paul: Woah

Dwayne: Not shocked

David: I’ve never heard a black person talk like that in real life, why do they make them talk like that?

Dwayne: T’s Hollywood man, they’re super fucking racist.

*Roaches in the ceiling, drain, walls*

Dwayne: Hey now, this shit is starting to make me itch.

Marko: Tell me about it. I used to live in New York, it’s really fucking bad.

Paul: Maybe he should just move.

David: *takes a long swig*

Paul: *starts itching vigorously*

*In the clean room* “I hope you die.”

Dwayne, Marko: *shudders*

Paul: Oh gnarly! I’m gonna hurl.

David: *subtly itches his forearms*

“What’s the matter Mr. Pratt, bugs got your tongue?”

Paul: Oh, I’m not hungry anymore *gags*

Closing Scene:

*Garbage men come into frame*

TLB: *scratching*

“We can’t get a voodoo doll?”

TLB: *still itching and scratching*

*Voodoo Doll scene*

Marko: *scratching his thighs* good for him, he got the doll to work

Paul: *scratching his neck* Yeah, those things never worked, remember the one we got for Max

Dwayne: *scratching his arms* Actually, me n David got it to work

*Roll credits; the boys get up to leave*

Marko: Really? *Scratching his shoulders*

David: *scratching his stomach* Yeah, see the trick was to use both our magic, instead of one

Paul: *scratching the backs of his hands* So what did you guys do?

David: We set him on fire.

Marko: Ah

Marko: Hey, lets go burry me!

Dwayne: Anything to get those damn roaches out of my mind.

TLB: *shudder*

#the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #tlb david #tlb marko #tlb paul #tlb dwayne #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys

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daisyishedwig · 6 months ago

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So my plan was originally to do these recaps every month, but that didn't happen. So instead, here's a reading recap for the first 6 months of 2024 in which I read 99 books, a concept that is still insane to me considering my goal for the year was 50. Pictured are my highlights, the god-tier books that left me screaming or the ones that I left feeling like a new person.

And here is the full list of everything I've read so far this year. (Bolded are the books pictured and italicised are books reread)

January My Dear Henry by Kalynn Bayron 4/5 The Seven Husband of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid 5/5 Padawan by Kiersten White 5/5 Dark Heir by C.S. Pacat 5/5 You’re Not Supposed to Die Tonight by Kalynn Bayron 3/5 The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones 5/5 Teach the Torches to Burn by Caleb Roehrig 5/5 The Star Host Trilogy by F.T. Lukens 5/5 Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa 4/5 Harley Quinn: Die Laughing by Jimmy Palmiotti, Amanda Conner 3/5 Coffee Boy by Austin Chant 5/5 Star Wars: Vader: Dark Visions by Dennis Hopeless 3/5 Caroline’s Heart by Austin Chant 5/5 Stranger Things: Flight of Icarus by Caitlin Schneiderhan 2/5

February Self-Made Boys by Anna-Marie McLemore 5/5 Pretty Boy by Jett Masterson 1/5 The Prince’s Dearest Guards by Beau Van Dalen 3/5 The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab 5/5 A House Unsettled by Trynne Delaney 3/5 Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid by Ngozi Ukazu 5/5 The Chalice of the Gods by Rick Riordan 4/5

March By Any Other Name by Erin Cotter 5/5 From Here to Eternity: Travelling the World to Find the Good Death by Caitlin Doughty 4/5 Family Business by Jonathan Sims 5/5 Hook's Tale: Being the Account of an Unjustly Villainized Pirate Written by Himself by John Leonard Pielmeier 4/5 Mapping the Interior by Stephen Graham Jones 4/5 Ouran High School Host Club by Bisco Hatori 5/5 Peter Darling by Austin Chant 5/5 Night of the Mannequins by Stephen Graham Jones 3/5 Darling by K. Ancrum 5/5

April The Candy Shop War by Brandon Mull 2/5 A Worthy Opponent by Katee Robert 5/5 Circe by Madeline Miller 4/5 The Never King by Nikki St. Crowe 4/5 Ben and Beatriz by Katalina Gamarra 5/5 Hide: The Graphic Novel by Kiersten White 3/5 The Darcy Myth: Jane Austen, Literary Heartthrobs, and the Monsters They Taught Us to Love by Rachel Feder 4/5 The Dark One by Nikki St. Crowe 4/5 Their Vicious Darling by Nikki St. Crowe 4/5 Ledfeather by Stephen Graham Jones 5/5 The Fae Princes by Nikki St. Crowe 4/5

May Black Butler by Yana Toboso 4/5 The 2000s Made Me Gay: Essays on Pop Culture by Grace Perry 4/5 Pan by Christopher Ruz 3/5 Devourer of Men by Nikki St. Crowe 3/5 The Promised Neverland by Kaiu Shirai and Posuka Demizu 4/5 A Sea of Unfortunate Sould by Jay R. Wolf 3/5 Someone You Can Build A Nest In by John Wiswell 4/5

June The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan 5/5 Red Rising by Pierce Brown 4/5 Neon Gods by Katee Robert 5/5 The Girl From the Well by Rin Chupeco 5/5 The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan 4/5 What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher 4/5 The Titan’s Curse by Rick Riordan 5/5 Hooked by Emily Mcintire 4/5 Anger is a Gift by Mark Oshiro 5/5 A Spindle Splintered by Alix E. Harrow 5/5 A Thief in the Night by KJ Charles 5/5 How To Bite Your Neighbor and Win A Wager by D.N. Bryn 5/5 His First Bite by D.N. Bryn 5/5 The Lost Boy by Joshua Grant 3/5 Tink and Wendy by Kelly Ann Jacobson 3/5 The Wicker King by K. Ancrum 5/5 Epically Earnest by Molly Horan 4/5 Otherworldly by F.T. Lukens 5/5 White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson 5/5 Dark Heir by C.S. Pacat 5/5 A Mirror Mended by Alix E. Harrow 5/5 Peter Pan in Scarlet by Geraldine McCaughrean 5/5 Night of the Living Queers: A Queer Horror Anthology 4/5

#personal #milo reads

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hayanwulf · 5 months ago

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For the wip game: I’m curious about the How to kill your dragon

(WIP Game)

I am starting to feel self-conscious about how highly detailed all my fic plots tend to be.

Anyway,

Royalty + fantasy + a/b/o AU. Vaguely inspired from How To Train Your Dragon as well as Frozen.

Stephen is a sad lonely (omega) dragon who just cannot live a solitary life like the other dragons seem to happily live. The solitary lifestyle drives him insane. So the obvious solution is to shapeshift into human and live amongst them, right?

For those who are familiar with a/b/o verse, sometimes there's this element in the story that Alphas are able to control/command Omegas using pheromones / "Voice".

Since Stephen is a dragon, a human Alpha's Voice should not work on him. Biologically speaking. Heck, dragons don't even have the same concept of Voice as humans do, so their Voice shouldn't work on him at all. But it does, for reasons he doesn't understand yet.

It was a concern in the past [ insert past trauma ;) ] but ever since King Howard Stark's reign, there have been many laws put into place for Omegas' protection. So Stephen decides to try living as a human. He develops keen interest in the Healing Arts, finds a mentor by the name of The Ancient One, and manages to become a part of her small pack.

So, his life is good here. Until it isn't...

Recently, a large purple dragon by the name of 'Mad Titan' has been attacking the Kingdom of Rakshida, and Prince Tony is tired of sitting inside a stupid palace, waiting for the next attack to strike their Kingdom.. so he sets out in search of this dragon, and that leads him to the Kamar-Taj province.

Something something unfortunate circumstances meeting unfortunate timing...

There's more. God, so much more. For now, I'll let this Frozen-inspired snippet do the talking.

As he was walking towards the stairs, he caught a conversation between two people in the lobby that made him freeze.

“Oh, I can’t imagine what Prince Anthony must be going through, to have finally captured the dragon, but then lose his parents to it!”

What!!?

“I pray the Vishanti will curse that beast with a thousand years of pain.”

“We should rather pray for our safety. The dragon escaped from the prison right outside the Capital. What if it came this way?”

“Don’t be ludicrous, it hasn’t been spotted at all in days. It probably went back to its...”

Stephen didn’t have patience to sit through their useless gossip, even less so right now. He marched up to the pair of omegas, unabashedly intruding into their conversation. “What were you saying just now?”

Both the persons were startled as they turned to him. “What..?” Asked the woman.

“About Prince Anthony.. What were you saying? What happened to his parents?”

The pair looked at each other as though Stephen had just asked a stupid question, then turned to him again as the man replied, “Two days ago King Howard and Queen Maria were killed. By the dragon that Prince Anthony had captured.”

Stephen’s entire world seemed to come to a stop.

The King and Queen were dead.

Rakshida’s King and Queen were dead.

The people who had allowed Stephen to create a safe human life for himself, were dead.

Killed.

Killed by the dragon.

Stephen had killed them.

Stephen had murdered the two people who had given him his new life.

A murderer.

Useless. Weak. Good for nothing.

Can’t even control his fire.

A monster—

“Hey, I think you should sit down..” The woman steadied him with a hand on his arm, snapping him back to reality.

“I think he needs a healer—”

“No,” Stephen cut the man off. “No,” he said again, releasing his arm from the woman’s grip. “I’m fine,” he said while wobbling in his steps. Both the persons tried to reach out to him, but he backed away and ran towards the stairs.

With only half of his conscience still working, he somehow found the room that was his for tonight. Gripping the key between his fingers that now shook way more that they should, he tried to insert the key into its lock, growling under his breath and eyes tearing up when his hands wouldn’t listen.

“Come on, you useless thing!” He growled out louder than he should, and in a split second channeled way too much magic into his hands. All the luminescent lines of his body lit up a bright white-blue, excess magic seeped out of his skin turning into blue butterflies, and instead of putting the key through the lock, he accidentally crushed the entire lock in his grip.

He froze up, staring at the broken lock in his palm, and then at all the bright magic lines that ran down his hands disappearing under his sleeves, felt each of the magic line under his skin pulsating with magic.

And then he felt his throat growing warm.

No.

NO!

He smacked his free hand over his mouth, trying to will the fire down, and rushed into the room to lock himself in, praying to the Vishanti to give him strength to control himself. He leaned against the now closed door and slowly let his body slide down, until he was sitting on the floor.

There was a knock against the door, and he flinched, a flicker of blue fire escaping from his mouth. He brought his other hand over his mouth too, covering it fully, ignoring the soft murmur of ‘water’ that came from outside.

He trembled in fear. He was going to lose control. He was going to spit fire absolutely everywhere. He was going to burn down all of these innocent humans who had done absolutely nothing to him. He was going to kill everyone. Like he killed the King and Queen.

Vishanti, why had he unleashed his fire back there? What had he been thinking? That he’d be able to control his neutral fire? That had already failed when the Prince had attacked him. His ‘neutral fire’ had melted their armor. Why did he ever think he would be able to control it at all?

His throat felt too hot. He choked on his own fire as more magic started to escape his skin, materializing into butterflies. He closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks as he tried to summon any bit of willpower that still remained inside him.

It wasn’t working. He couldn’t do this. His head was spinning and heavy. There was too much magic trapped under his skin. He was going to lose it. He needed to run. He needed to get far away from these humans.

He tried to get up on his knees, but immediately collapsed to the ground.

He should have never come near humans. He should have never left the mountains. He should have locked himself up in his den forever.

If he was always going to be defective, he should have never been born.

Why was he even alive yet..?

His vision and thoughts faded into nothingness.

#wip game #ironstrange #fic #fic talk #dragon stephen strange #omegaverse #hayans writings

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