#I swear the bottom one has a harbor seal face

[scoriarose]

If you like both snakes and seals behold

a snake that looks like a seal

This is a baby elephant trunk snake also referred to as the Javan file snake and they are fully aquatic.

[orderforbrian]

an old lil comic about selkie parenting 🦭

jon is a good baba, he just gets in his head sometimes - luckily martin is there to support him 😊💞

[Start ID: A four page comic of Jon and Martin from the Magnus Archives with two unnamed babies. Jon is a Persian man with long curly hair in a ponytail and a full beard. He is wearing glasses and a simple shirt with simple pants. Martin is a mixed Polish/Korean man with wavy hair held back in a headband and a light beard. He has a beauty mark under his lip and is wearing a simple t-shirt and pants. He is also wearing a sea glass necklace. Both unnamed babies appear as baby harbor seals initially then as human babies with short curly hair. One has a beauty mark under their left eye while the other has a beauty mark under their right eye. Each seal pelt appears with grey spots and a white underbelly.

1st page: In the first panel, Jon is focused with a baby seal cradled in his lap. Off-panel, Martin says, "Okay, so - you just grab the pelt under their arm like this". In the next panel, Martin has the other baby seal cradled in his lap and is pinching his fingers until one of their flippers. He says, "Right under the armpit. Just like when you're taking off their shirts for bath time." In the next panel, he removes the seal pelt to reveal a sleeping, drooling baby. He smiles and says, "And there! Easy enough!". In the next panel, Jon rapidly pinches and pulls his hand away from the seal baby's flipper. He says, "Nothing's happening..." The seal baby appears unbothered. Martin off panel says, "You're not in the right spot, love.". In the final panel, Jon lifts up his hand in frustration, glaring at Martin. He says, "Liar. You told me armpit...". Off-panel, Martin says, "Well, I guess it's a little more specific than that...".

2nd page: In the first panel, Jon looks down with little confidence. It is presumed he is attempting to remove the baby's pelt again. Off-panel, Martin says, "No, not there. There." Jon says, "H-here??". Martin says, "To the le - stop. Stop, stop. You got it. Right. There." Jon says, "O-okay...? Not really where you said...". In the next panel, Martin laughs, "Jon, you can't - Don't be so delicate, Mr. Feather Light Touch. Really grip it". Jon lifts his hand away with concern and asks, "W-what if it hurts them?" Martin says, "I know it's weird pinching skin but it's okay, I swear!". In the next panel, Jon points at Martin in an accusatory manner and raises his voice, "What about a nursemaid's elbow?". Martin asks off-panel, "A - sorry, a what?". Jon continues, "Precisely. You haven't read the things I've read-!". Martin says, "Jon, dearest. Just try again please." with a simplified expression of him smiling but frustrated by the dialogue bubble. In the final panel, Jon appears at his wits end with wide eyes and a grimace. He says, "It's not working." Martin says, "You've got place and the grip...I dunno, you need the - the intent to take it off." Jon raises his voice again, "Intent? What do you even mean intent?".

3rd page: In the first panel, Jon cradles the baby seal to his chest and heaves out a big sigh, having officially given up. He looks down to the side in shame and says, "Face it, Martin...I can't do it because I'm not a selkie." In the next panel, Martin strokes his cheek with a tender expression and says, "Oh, love. Don't say that...". In the next panel, Martin cradles the baby to his shoulder, supporting their bottom. He smiles down at the baby and says, "I'm just happy you even want to try. Instead of leaving all the selkie stuff for me to take care of." In the next panel, he smiles at Jon with his eyes closed and says, "Why don't we take a break? Pups need to go down for the night anyways."

4th page: In the first panel, Jon looks down with sad eyes and says, "Yes, yes, you're right...Sorry for snapping. It's just...difficult for me to not be good at this. I don't have instincts like you." Martin off panel says, "That's alright, love. Let's try again tomorrow. Plus I want to cuddle." Jon says to the baby, "Right then, sweetheart, let's get you ready for night night." The dialogue bubble continues into the next panel and Jon says, "Just need to get your pelt off first though-". Jon is then holding a pelt in his hand and looking down with a surprised expression. The baby lets out a tiny yawn off panel. In the next panel, Jon and Martin are sitting cross legged from each other, Jon cradling a sleeping baby in his lap and Martin cradling the baby still by his shoulder. Jon continues to look down with a surprised expression. Martin gasps in happy surprise and says, "You did it, Jon! See, I knew you could! No selkie instincts to it-". In the final panel, Jon's eyes are obscured with tears and he has a wavering frown on his face. Martin gets a little teared up as well, still smiling and says, "Oh! A-ah, don't cry! Aww, Jon!!"

End ID.]

[spicysoftsweet]

zhongli’s pretty serious about his contracts, zhongli x reader

warnings: fem!reader, nsfw, zhongli gets a little irritated with you at the beginning but it’s alright

“For someone who seems to turn everything into a sort of transaction, you’re quite bad at keeping track of money,” you tease.

Zhongli’s eyebrows furrow over his golden eyes, and you realize that he hasn’t quite exactly grasped the meaning of your joke. You roll your eyes dramatically before you sigh and pull out your wallet. The waitress who has just brought you the check stands awkwardly looking between you two, wondering if the fact that the young man sitting with you now appears tense means an argument is about to start. 

There won’t be, at least not on your part, because you don’t mind paying; in fact, you expected to. You’d heard the rumors, and you’d been privy to his rather forgetful nature in person. You had to admit that a small part of you hoped that he’d be a little more careful, however. For you.

Zhongli crosses his arms. You can tell he’s embarrassed by the very slight darkening of his tanned cheeks and the fact that he won’t look at the waitress who counts the bills you hand her, but he absolutely won’t admit it, not to you when you have this particular mocking smile spread across your lips.

“I… simply forgot,” he finally murmurs once the woman leaves.

“Mhmm,” you hum, sipping the last of your tea. There is a silence that isn’t awkward but in which you attempt to hold in your laughter. But when you notice how his hands now seem to grip the table for steadiness, you can’t help but giggle.

“Zhongli, it’s really not a big dea-”

You stop when you see how upset he looks now looking straight at you, words sticking in your throat. 

“What exactly do you mean by I turn everything into a transaction?”

It’s your turn to knit your eyebrows and tilt your head ever so slightly to the side, gauging his expression. He doesn’t look upset but he feels upset.

Your hand instinctively reaches for his but he draws back ever so slightly before getting to his feet. You watch him stand, again stoic but his movements are less fluid.

He’s angry. Possibly angrier than you’ve ever seen him before, but he still appears superficially calm.

“We’re done here, am I correct?” he states more than asks.

You nod, somewhat more carefully than usual and you rise as well. His hand reaches out for yours, and you take it loosely.

---

“You do mention contracts a lot,” you finally speak up after minutes of walking through the paved streets of Liyue Harbor, brightly lit in the falling night by more lanterns than usual in lieu of festivities. It’s been quiet and while it’s not unnatural for him to fall silent between long soliloquy about parts of history long-forgotten and long-irrelevant to your life today, the air around him is softer… not sharp and jagged like pieces of rock.

His hand is still soft around yours, however, and that reassures you. 

He stops in his tracks, and his eyes lower to you, still upset.

“Contracts are not so simple to be compared to transactions, for one.”

You raise an eyebrow, but don’t protest. You’re a little annoyed that his hand has left yours now to cross his arms yet again and you’re starting to wonder if he could go more than 24 hours without that particular pose.

“Two, I feel as though by ‘everything’ you truly meant, everything, and thus, I must know: are you also implying that you believe that us, being here together today is another transaction?”

Ah. There it was. You’d hurt his feelings.

Rather than answer, you step closer to him, and gently unfold his arms so that they wrap around your shoulders. He offers little resistance and you smile, resting your head against his chest. You know that you’re pushing it with the public display as he’s rather private, but it feels right.

“No, I like being with you,” you reply. 

He stiffens again, but for a different reason. You swear you can hear his heart speed up - does his heart beat the same way yours does? He is human now, he’s assured you, but yet…

... 

When Zhongli’s chest is pressed against yours (among other parts of his body), you’re reminded that yes.. .he is very human and not just in the realm of feelings.

Maybe too human. Superhuman.

In the bedroom is where he no longer has the composure of a displaced god but retains all of the power of one, from the indomitable lust in his eyes to the force with which he handles you.

It’s nothing excessive because elegance is still a part of him, intrinsically, but the grip he holds on your wrists, waist, thighs, face, wherever he can reach, reminds you that whatever link entangles your path with his is immutable. 

When he slips inside you, forcing a gasp and an involuntary arch of your back as you lay below him, he pauses, gauging your expression for discomfort beyond the norm.

“P-please move,” your voice is a whimper as you endure the sensation of him, only partially inside, stretching you completely. He bottoms out with your encouragement, fingertips trailing up your arms by your side to intertwine with yours, held firmly. His lips in the crook of your neck palliate the pressure and sting down below that gives way to pleasure.

“What do I get in return?” He teases back, a little petty for someone so ancient, but your squirm below him in protest has him laughing.

“Mean!” You whine.

“So we have that in common,” he quips before he seals a surprise kiss.

He pulls back to gaze into your eyes and again you see his edges soften. The first roll of his hips is deep and dizzying, and while he is quiet at the start, focusing on the music your body makes, he soon makes moans of his own with every subsequent thrust, with the sensation of your hands reaching around to claw at his back.

“Ah-”

He fucks you slow and deliberately, taking the task of pleasuring you as seriously as a covenant.

“Zhongli!”

He speeds up, his left arm wrapping around your body and raising you up ever so slightly and the right gripping the headboard that will soon crack under pressure for leverage. The speed at which he is moving makes you lightheaded but you can hear his praises through the thick fog that begins to set as you close your eyes and focus on the drag of his cock against your walls and the slap of his full balls at your entrance.

To have your love would be something priceless. There’s nothing I could exchange for it.

Your arms tremble as they wrap around his neck and hold on for dear life.

You believe that you have nothing to offer to a man who was once god, but you pray that he’s right, that your affections are enough.

[discotechque]

but would you tell me if you want me?

pairing: abed nadir/m! reader word count: 1.3k rating: T requested: yes

im really sorry this took so long but i had no idea what to write and idk bc i love abed so much but here it is

Abed is aware of the natural progressions in a relationship ( he’s seen cookie cutter romances blasted through a projector ). It’s always meeting with witty banter or shy smiles which doesn’t correlate with anything he’s experienced. Anxious hands inching towards each other underneath a gingham table cloth and when he attempted it, it only resulted with scraping past wet gum. And casual kisses that appear to be monoliths within relationships.

Films make it seem so easy but those are characters who have people be paid to bring humanity to them. Lacking a certain complexity about the human psyche and varying reactions to unprompted actions. How do you kiss someone without needing to ask? Does asking enhance the experience? When is the right time to kiss someone? It’s a series of questions with no real answer and he’s uncertain if he’s willing to hear the truth.

He thinks that now is better than never but he would never purposely cross boundaries that have not been set. ( He didn’t meet you in a scripted manner, he would not want that. ) Yet, Jeff and Britta have already given him tips; Pierce has starting saying nonsensical things he tunes out; and Troy, Annie, and Shirley are the only ones who seem to understand the natural progression of dating.

Now is better than never. He’s never certain as to when now is.

He sits on the floor of his apartment, slowly watching you shift through his DVD collection. Pondering what you might pick before jumping into his arms again. It’s a domestic scene, one he might’ve missed if he waited. Now is better than never but a kiss is different than a date. It’s different wanting to see what his lips feel like pressed against yours.

“Are you fine with Corpse Bride again?” he doesn’t answer, instead watching as you sit back on the couch and adjust to fit in his arms. He was made to mold around your form. “Abed?”

He blinks. Once then twice.

Nodding even though the question has fallen deaf against his ears. “Totally,”

“Awesome, cause I was worried you were gonna get bored watching this movie again and I was thinking of Kauffman but that just gets you tired. So maybe comfort was a nice go to, y’know?”

Abed doesn’t know, he just watches you ramble about things and enjoys the haven he finds within the action. Knowing what makes him tick and reminding him of it. A saccharine feeling settling within the scene. He loves it, he loves what you do, he loves you.

He rushes in as he catches your wide eyed stare. A yelp leaving you as his forehead bumps against yours and his nose pokes your cheek. “Ack!” The sound leaves you both as you nurse surface level wounds that will wear off within minutes. He’s quick to cover his face, find solace in the darkness so he does not have to spare another thought to this onslaught of embarrassment.

“Abed?” you softly ask but he does not move his shield of fingers until your gently pull them down.

He watched you, he could watch you forever and never be bored by the prospect. Yet, it is not the time for romantic idles that will only keep him stalling from the truth. He tried his hand at unprompted gestures that only failed. Abed Nadir is swearing off from impulsivity ( an unlikely promise ).

“Did you want to kiss me?” you inquire and the soft grin that tugs on your lips only furthers the small pot of humiliation harboring at his stomach. You are a complex being, one he did not imagine and plays along with his endless ideas ( so many that are questionable but you still stay ).

“You could’ve just asked.”

You say as if its the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he does not want to accept it.

“I—” Abed wants to protest but his lips fail to form any retort that could be reasonable. “I thought this would be more romantic like Pretty Woman.”

He thought romance was chronological. That there’s a right timing as to when moves can be brought out and what would make his boyfriend less upset. However, divine timing seems fictional at the moment.

“Wasn’t Julia Roberts a prostitute in that?” you question, smile only seeming to grow by the second. Ignoring his plight, instead trying a joke to help seal his hurt. You know him like the stars do the moon.

He retorts, “Do prostitutes not deserve romance?”

Your lips purse in thought, only pretending. A small huff leaving him as you do. He wouldn’t trade moments like these for some so formulaic and scripted. ( You’re real and all he’s ever wanted. ) The smile soon returns your lips with a firm nod.

“Very astute observation, Mister Nadir. I think that deserves a real kiss.”

Slowly, you lean in. Unleashing any prior tension as your fingers brush past his face and your mouth finds his. He doesn’t know what you taste like, a bit like toothpaste and chocolate that sit right upon his tongue as it glides along your bottom lip. Everything about this is new and untimed.

It’s the best kiss he’s ever had, he realizes after you lean back. His fingers loosely pressing into your waist as you still caress his face. ( His whole life in his hands. )

“We should do that again sometime,” he adds after and presses another peck to the corner of your mouth.

[fatefulfaerie]

Castle

Linktober Prompt Day 9/31

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild

Word Count: 2,018

Triggers: Anxiety

“Do you think strong hands can be gentle?” Zelda asked, her chin in her hand and her gaze out the window.

“Depends,” Urbosa said before looking from the book she read to the princess, trying to find where the question came from. The reason came quickly.

Outside the window of the Sheikah lab was Link, slashing the air with the sword that seals the darkness. Urbosa continued to lounge in comfort eyeing the princess, who had obviously gotten distracted from her own studies.

Urbosa coughed a small laugh.

“You’re really head over heels for him, aren’t you?” She asked, expecting from the princess a hurried, insistent, and embarrassed regret that she ever told Urbosa of her feelings for her knight attendant.

“Mm,” Zelda hummed in reply, obviously not paying attention to Urbosa’s words in the slightest.

Urbosa stood up with a smile, her heels clunking and her Gerudo fabrics swaying as she made her way over to the princess. Urbosa waved her sun-shaded hand in front of the princess’ green eyes.

Zelda blinked herself out of her trance and looked up at Urbosa.

“Did you say something, Urbosa?”

“Nothing worth repeating, little bird.”

Zelda shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where my head is today,” Zelda said.

“Right up against your knight attendants, I’m sure,” Urbosa stated, with that signature Gerudo frankness. Zelda’s cheeks blushed pink almost immediately.

“Urbosa!” She said in a whispered exclamation. “He’ll hear you!”

“Unlikely,” Urbosa argued with a glance out the window at how he fought, before returning her gaze to the pair of youthful green eyes, which soon averted themselves.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Zelda asked, Urbosa listening attentively. “Studying guardian schematics here in this lab when I know father is in his afternoon meeting and using you as my alibi that I spent the hour praying. No wonder the sealing power won’t come…I haven’t been praying enough. Perhaps my father is right, perhaps the goddesses want me more devoted to the practice.”

“Zelda if you were any more devoted—”

“I’d have the sealing power,” Zelda interrupted with lifted eyes.

Urbosa exhaled an exasperated sigh.

“So you spend an hour a day out here studying Sheikah technology. Everyone needs a break, especially people who spend the rest of the day praying to a cold and silent statue. It’s no big deal.”

“Then why don’t I have the sealing power after so many years?” Zelda asked. Urbosa inhaled to answer, but it seemed Zelda wasn’t yet finished with her panicked monologue. “And then on top of my studies I do something as frivolous as to ogle over my knight attendant? Hyrule is frankly screwed.”

“Zelda—”

“I’m a curse!” Zelda exclaimed, standing up. “A curse to Hyrule wearing the mask of a blessing! I’m fated for failure, aren’t I?!”

Tears had gathered at the bottom of Zelda’s eyes. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, letting a tear fall down her cheek.

Urbosa’s heart was breaking as she looked at the princess, her little bird locked in a cage. She wanted to free her from her prison, but she knew the kingdom needed her sealing power. Zelda would have to withstand the pressure tomorrow, there was no choice. But today…

“We travel to Lanayru mountain tomorrow,” Urbosa said, her soothing voice like honey. “Your father expects you to unlock the sealing power at the Spring of Wisdom and that pressure is eroding at you.”

Urbosa placed her warm, comforting hand on Zelda’s shoulder. The princess looked up.

“You need a bigger breather than just an hour out here, especially before tomorrow. Take the afternoo—“

“Urbosa, I can’t afford to—”

“Take the afternoon,” Urbosa insisted slower. “Travel somewhere with your knight attendant, not too far from the castle but somewhere distant from it. I will make an excuse to the King.”

“I haven’t seen my father since he forbade me from studying the technology,” Zelda said. “If I squander the rest of the afternoon, he will only hate me more, not to mention the goddesses will never forgive me.”

Urbosa looked up to the doorway at the sound of soft footsteps, Zelda did the same with a soft gasp and, at the sight of who it was, turned away and attempted to wipe her tears to make herself presentable. Urbosa had already paced towards Link.

“Take her away for the afternoon,” Urbosa commanded, “somewhere distant from the castle.”

“Is she okay?” Link asked. His eyes danced with concern and Urbosa wondered if he too, harbored feelings for his companion.

“She will be,” Urbosa said. “She just needs a break. I will make an excuse to the King.”

Link nodded as Urbosa departed, his piercing blue eyes watching her leave before they settled back onto Zelda, who had a hand on the desk and was facing away from Link.

“We will leave when you are ready, Your Highness,” Link said, turning to leave and prepare their horses.

——————————————————————————————————

“I’m trying to bit a bit more empathetic,” Zelda said. “Benefit of the doubt, you know.”

Link’s gaze lingered on her as their horses paced calmly to Sanidin Park, even as Zelda returned her eyes to a forward gaze.

“Towards me,” Link prompted as he did the same.

“Yes.”

“Not yourself?” Link asked.

Zelda looked to Link immediately. She wanted to reprimand him for his bluntness, his bluntness that brutally exposed her vulnerability, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was beginning to love every part of him, and beginning to understand that his words were meant to expose her in a way not meant to hurt but to help.

“No,” she finally said. “You deserve empathy, I don’t.”

Link took such a long pause that Zelda figured the conversation was over.

“I can’t think of a way to convince you that you deserve to give yourself empathy, so I suppose I’ll have to give you all the empathy I can muster to make up for it.”

Zelda’s heart swelled and she cursed it. Her feelings for Link were a distraction she couldn’t afford, but she couldn’t deny that every passing day she found another reason to be in love with him. She tried not to think of his statement as meant in a romantic way until she kidded herself that it could have been.

The princess, freed from the castle for just the afternoon, had cheeks adorned with a warm blush.

They dismounted their horses in silence, Zelda taking the lead as they approached the falling sun. Link paced behind her with eyes that swam with an unrelenting focus on her. Call it concern, call it lust, call it empathy, whatever the word was, he was definitely distracted from his role protecting her.

If a Yiga came up from behind them, they would be screwed.

“See that mountain?” She asked. Link looked out at the horizon, the view aglow with an orange sunset, the mountain ranges outlined in the warmth of the sun. “That’s Mount Lanayru. It takes its name from the goddess of Wisdom.” 

“Lanayru’s decree is very specific. It say no one is allowed under the age of seventeen…for only the wise are permitted a place upon the mountain.” 

“I’ve prayed at the Spring of Courage and at the Spring of Power, yet neither awoke anything inside me. But maybe up there…perhaps the Spring of Wisdom, the final of the three, will be the one.”

“To be honest, I have no real reason to think that will be the case. But there’s always the chance that the next moment will change everything.”

“Tomorrow…is my seventeen birthday.”

Zelda turned around and Link’s heart skipped a beat. The horizon was beautiful when coated with the sun, but the princess had a beauty that ached his heart, the sunset behind her making her resemble an angel, a goddess, a divine entity Link wasn’t worthy to see, let alone exist alongside, let alone protect, let alone be in love with.

Yes, love.

That was the word.

Love.

How could he not love this girl, her shining green eyes, her resplendent golden hair, her lovely voice, her immaculate mind, her soul that was as troubled as his, her heart that didn’t know its power.

Her lips moved and Link heard no words.

“I-I’m sorry what?” Link said with a couple blinks of his eyes, breaking away from his trance.

Zelda narrowed her eyes, swearing she saw a blush on his cheeks but soon attributing it to the way the sun shined upon him. He wouldn’t betray his emotions so easily like that, especially not for a failure like her.

“You weren’t listening?” She asked. Link could hear the sadness in her voice, he could hear her heart breaking and panicked. He didn’t know how to explain his way out of this one without confessing right here and now, or lying and saying he spaced out because he didn’t care for what she was saying.

Link parted his lips. He didn’t know what to say and hated more than ever how he always lost his words at the worst time.

Zelda’s eyebrows furrowed, her balls fisted and she stormed off towards her horse, Link inwardly fearing that they had regressed to the tension of their very first interactions.

He wanted to stop it, find any word, as he turned around to her angry silhouette, walking towards her horse. Any words but ‘I love you’. Any words but ‘I love you’. Any words but ‘I love you’.

“I’m sorry,” Link said. Zelda stopped in her tracks. Link in particular looked at her hands, watching for when they would soften from tight fists. “I was listening…intently…but…I got to worrying about tomorrow and I spaced out for your last sentence.”

Zelda showed no change from what Link could see.

“I do care about what you have to say, Princess…more than you realize.”

“Because it has to do with the calamity?” She asked with a turned head to her shoulder.

“Because it has to do with you,” Link corrected.

Zelda exhaled a sigh, her hands finally softening.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she turned back around. “I’m just stressed out and I’m afraid I’ve taken it out on you. I merely said that we would be going up the mountain tomorrow. It is a fearful prospect, my potential failure, and that is something you understand.”

She shook her head.

“You didn’t deserve my anger,” she said. “You never did."

Link nodded.

There was only twice in those beginning times where the distance between Link and Zelda was any less than eight feet.

The first time was a ceremony subdued, where Zelda recited old tomes about the sword that seals the darkness with Link kneeling before her. The King hoped the ceremony would wrest the sealing power from where it slept somewhere within Zelda.

The second time was when Link rescued Zelda from the ruthless blades of the Yiga Clan, the gallant knight just in front of her and scaring off the insect-like Yiga footmen with nothing but his piercing blue gaze.

After that they became closer, physical and emotionally, bonding over their shared burdens and gradually, Zelda became comfortable with Link being right up against her. It wasn’t long before that comfort became flat out lust.

The closest they had ever been was when they danced together at the ball, Zelda and Link fearing their hearts would beat out of their chests and expose their feelings for the whole court to see, let alone each other.

So when Link walked forward with the intention of comforting Zelda, she didn’t move. She guessed at what he would do when, for the first time ever, he hugged her.

They spoke no words as they held each other, hands all at once gentle and rough. For longer than either of them expected, the other clutched tight.

“We’ll face tomorrow together,” Link finally said. “I will be by your side no matter what.”

Link felt her nod.

“Just promise me one thing,” Link said. “That you won’t forget it’s your birthday.”

Zelda smiled.

“I promise.”

[hawksmagnolia]

The Depths Pt 3

The Depths: Bucky x reader Mermaid AU

Part One is HERE

Part Two is HERE

Masterlist coming soon.

Part Four release is Friday 31 July!

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 2,315

Author’s Note: Please reblog and leave me some love. It really does mean the world to me! This has been an absolute labor of love and I can’t wait for next Friday. -xo-

The Depths Part Three: The Incoming Storm

&

so

she did

what any

rational woman

would do—

ever so calmly,

she reached out

& she tore

the starts

apart.

-amanda lovelace

I’d never been bound to any kind of schedule beyond the changing of the seasons and the pull of the tides. Those primal things that one who lives untethered to anything other than the sea instinctively knows.

The day it changed he sat on the crude wooden planks that make up his dock as he watched me crack crabs. As I picked out the delicate meat with my fingers I gave him some of the sweet meat of the claws.

“Sometimes, watching you eat is frightening.” I looked up, confused as I chew.

“You have those tiny little hands. They’re the same size as a child’s yet your claws…” He rubbed his chest absently and I know there are four thin scars from them there. I felt a wash of guilt and he must have seen it on my face. “I know it was an accident. And I can promise you that no fairy tale mermaid has teeth like yours.”

That’s because the fairy tale mermaids aren’t carnivorous predators. And I am.

I wrinkled my nose at him and he laughs. I’ve been practicing my human skills by imitating him. He’s a far better teacher than the selkies. He’s also been helping me with my English. When I am frustrated, I resort to swearing in Russian and find myself shocked that he is fluent as well.

He doesn’t explain why other than to say he spent time there. I do not like the expression on his face when he says this so I do not press him.

I cracked the shell of the body with my teeth and flicked the bits of shell back into the water for the little fish there to nibble.

“Why don’t you ever try to come on land?”

I stared into the crab’s hollow body. “I do not have a reason to.” I shifted my weight. I’d been spending more and more time in the shallow water so I can be closer to him. I have to keep my tail submerged to prevent it from drying out and cracking painfully. I can easily breathe in the air or in the water, simply by sealing or unsealing the fragile gill slits on the sides of my neck.

Having lost my appetite, I tossed the crab into the water. “Why do you not come into the water?”

“I can’t swim very well with only one arm.” He gestures.

“It is very shallow. I will help you.” I held out my hand and after a moment of hesitation, he pulls his shirt over his head and takes it. He slides from the dock and lands in the water with an ungainly splash. I laugh as he finds his footing on the round stones and mud at the bottom. I link my fingers with his and pull him towards deeper water. He kicks, keeping his face above the water until I twist my tail to give him some lift.

Now he is the one who laughs as he sits his weight on the end, the delicate fins brushing against the bare skin of his waist.

“I will never get used to the idea of sitting on a mermaid’s tail.”

I copy one of my favorite facial expressions, raising my right eyebrow at him. He laughs again, the sound echoing across the water. I love the sound of it. He likes to say I have taught him to laugh again.

He does not know that he has taught me to laugh again as well.

It all really started when he jumped into the water one day. He had been convinced that he wouldn’t be able to swim with only one arm.

She’d proved him wrong.

The muscles in his back and shoulders began to bulk back up, the muscles in his legs became more defined. Even Steve had noticed the change in him, asked what kind of routine he was doing so that he could copy it.

Bucky wasn’t sure how Steve would have handled the idea of a mermaid as a swimming coach.

The friendship that built between them was easy. Both of them feeling like outsiders around their own kind, a type of kinship between misfits. He knew he sometimes watched her more than a friend would but he kept those feelings pushed deep down in his heart.

And so his days went on like that. He stayed on his little farm near the banks of the lake, spending his mornings doing the work he alone put upon himself and afternoons he spent on the banks, bare feet dangling in the water off the makeshift dock he built.

Spending his time teaching a mermaid how to blend in on land.

He watches her as she practices making herself look human. She’s mastered eyes, bleaching the dark sclera into white, though they have more of an opalescent sheen than blank ivory. He can’t help but notice her chosen eye color matches his own. She also mimics his skin color, not quite the brilliant bronze from her first appearance here but a more subtle tan. Her hair remains a riot of coppers and bronzes while scales that arch over her breasts, curve over her ribs to her hips and tail are dazzling in the sunlight.

He’s taught her to braid her own hair though she learned the hard way she had to put away her fingertip claws, vanishing them into her fingers. When he asked where they went, she thought about it and then shrugged, another one of the human gestures she’d learned from him. Her small fingers are more delicate and nimble than his, she often convinces him to let her braid his hair away from his face since he cannot do it himself with one hand.

He’s careful to unbraid it when they part, lest anyone see it and ask how he did it.

The feeling of her fingers in his hair is soothing and sometimes he hears her humming under her breath. It’s no song he recognizes but it has the same style melody that one would associate with a lullaby. He asks her once but she clamps her lips together and refuses to sing it.

It occurs to him later that he may have literally heard a siren song.

He’s learned she cannot blunt all her teeth. Her canines remain sharp and when he calls her a water vampire, she demands he tell her what a vampire is. When he does, she’s fascinated and he finds himself telling her the story of Dracula. The story that he finds is still locked in his memory from when he and Steve saw the movie in the 1930s.

She asks about his childhood, curious what it’s like to be a human child. She tells him about hers in return, a childhood spent torn between two worlds.

He learns she hasn’t walked on land much since she was seven. When her father died. When he asks how many times, she doesn’t need two hands.

When he helps her translate her way of telling time into his, he learns she is far older than she looks. Based on her memories of significant weather events, he guesses her birthdate to be in the fall of 1920. She is literally just a few years younger than him.

He had guessed she was mid-twenties at the most.

He’d done some discreet research with the help of the Wakandan Princess. Shuri had brought him the information he’d requested with questions in her eyes but none had passed her lips.

Sedna. Inuit Goddess of the sea and marine animals.

Was it a coincidence that his Sedna shared a name with this Goddess? She’d claimed the selkies of Dutch Harbor had named her. Maybe they’d drawn inspiration from mythology. His old self would have brushed it off but hearing Steve’s stories about the God of thunder named Thor…well, the world was a very different place in this century.

All of that changed the day she’d come to him in a panic. The waters were acting strangely, stories of unnatural tides brought to her by the birds. Something was very wrong.

That was the same day His Royal Highness and two of his guards appeared carrying a large rectangular box.

“Bucky!” My voice is higher than normal, threaded with panic. It is early morning. I usually am asleep at this time, curled up on the bottom of the lake not far from his dock. It is safest for me to sleep there.

He appears from the door of his little home. He looks disheveled, dirty. He has animals he cares for, I suspect he has been up for hours.

“Sedna?” He jogs down the path that leads to the dock. “What’s wrong?” He takes in my appearance and comes to the dock, laying flat on his belly and grabbing my shoulders.  

“Something is very wrong. The water…the water is wrong. There are fish coming out of the caverns, they say the tides are acting strangely. The birds, the land animals….everyone is running.”

His spring blue eyes search my face. “Running where?”

“Away. They all say something is coming. Something bad. Evil. Not right. They’re telling everyone to flee, to hide.” My voice shakes and Bucky puts his hand on the side of my face, his thumb tracing over my water-soaked skin.

“I will find out. Stay hidden. I will come back and tell you.”

I shook my head and felt the prick of tears in my eyes.

Apparently sirens can cry.

I hear voices coming from behind him. “I will be right back.”

And then he kisses me.

It’s not gentle. It’s a hard kiss of promise, one that fills me with a small measure of reassurance.

I’m still half-stunned when he pushes from the dock and heads towards the voices.

I hear the words that frighten me to my core.

“Where’s the fight?” He asks.

“On its way.”

Bucky stares at T’Challa. “How serious is it?”

He and Okoye exchange a glance. “Very. Captain Rogers is on his way to Wakanda now.”

“You think this Thanos will attack here?”

“We know he will.”

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes. “Alright. Let’s get it fitted.”

Once the arm is secure and the others have left after he promises to meet them at the palace within an hour, he heads back to the water’s edge.

He finds her waiting for him. She is leaning on the dock, her arms crossed, fingers interlaced. As he approaches, her blue eyes focus on him.

“It is bad.” It’s not a question. She presses her lips together into a thin line.

“Yes.”

“I know it is bad because you have agreed to an arm again.

He lays back down on the dock, propping himself up on both elbows and he puts his hands over hers.

“You have to go.”

Her eyes narrow. “Do you want me to?”

“No, of course not. But it’s not safe. You have to promise me you’ll go to safety.”

“The world is not a safe place. I accept this. I am not running away scared. I can fight.”

Bucky closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers. “This is not your fight. This is not a fight you can win. I need you to be safe. Please.”

A sigh trickles over his cheeks. “Only if you promise to leave my Tear on.”

“I promise.”

When he pulls back from her, he’s stunned to see tears running down her cheeks.

“I will come back. I’ll come back to you. But you have to stay safe.”

She nods, and part of his heart twists when she doesn’t argue. He tilts her face up and kisses her again, this time softer. This one is full of promise, of possibilities.

“Go. I will see you soon.”

I wait until I can no longer see him before I sink beneath the surface, my fingers clutching the Tear in my hair. A small comfort is feeling the faint thump of his pulse through it.

Underwater, no one can see you cry.

I’m not sure how long I stay there. I fall asleep curled around one of the posts of his dock.

At first, I think it is an earthquake.

I awake in a panic, thrashing free of a nightmare but straight into another one.

Except this one is real.

When I break through the surface of the water, I hear sounds of war. Screaming, explosions, and horrible screeching that is not human or beast. I see black creatures with vicious claws and teeth run past, their frenzy destroying the small building.

They are headed towards the village.

The small fishing village where I have played hide and seek with the children. The ones where the mothers leave baskets of clams and crabs as offerings.

There is no one who can stop them. Bucky is away, at the palace which is the opposite direction. I hear the sounds of battle from there.

There is only screaming from the village.

There is no one who can save them.

Except me.

I push up onto the dock and sit, leaving my tail hanging down. Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth against the pain, the scales begin to part as flesh emerges. Fins become feet as I will myself to the form of a land walker. I grab Bucky’s abandoned shirt and pull it over my body as I breathe through the pain. It hangs over my body.

I pray that it’s not my funeral dress.

I grab my Tear and squeeze it, hating to break my promise, but there are children there.

There is no one else who can save them.

So I stand, raise my hands to the sky and rain down hell upon my enemies.

......to be continued...

Tag List : @nano--raptor @cchellacat @eurynome827 @jobean12-blog @book-dragon-13 @aesthetical-bucky @marvelgirl7 @sallycanwait68 @buckys-broody-muffin @softpeachbarnes @godofplumsandthunder @azurika-writes @ikaris-whore @this-kitten-is-smitten @randomfandompenguin @bucky-plums-barnes​ @bugsbucky​ @littleredstarfish​ @emilylyoness​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @daughterofsteven​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @theycallmebecca​ @nomadicpixel​ @bluebell-24​  @sevans-is-my-weakness @sebastiansloserclub @justvnash​ @worldofmarvelaficionado​ @undiscovered-misunderstood​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @jewels2876​

[fresh-outta-jams]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 12

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: You’re in college when your soulmate tattoo shows up, an address. You figure it couldn’t hurt to send a letter, right? Note: I’m so excitedddddddd oof here we go, y’all. Warnings: Some swears, soulmate fluff. Word Count: 3.5k

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Epilogue

Nervous didn’t even begin to cover the emotions coursing through Namjoon’s body. He was terrified, excited, elated to be getting on the plane, and as soon as he sat down, it all sank in. The next time he got out of this plane, he would be in your state, and then soon after, in a car on the way to your school, and then even sooner after that, he’d have you in his arms, smothering you with kisses and affection. God, it was almost enough to make him pass out.

It had been a while since he’d flown somewhere alone, Namjoon reminisced. He missed the chatter and laughter of his brothers, filling the plane. Instead, sitting in First Class alone, he had to turn to his phone and computer for entertainment. He’d told you a few hours ago that he’d broken his phone, another lie, and that he wouldn’t have it for the rest of the day until it got fixed, so the two of you wouldn’t be able to FaceTime. And, if the problem arose, he’d lie to you about his webcam being dysfunctional too. It was a fourteen-hour flight and you couldn’t have any idea he was on the way, if he wanted the surprise to pay off.

Lily and Grace had offered to keep an eye on you, making sure you stayed at the library, which was where he planned to meet up with them, and therefore, you, when the time came. God, thinking about it made his heart race.

After this flight, he’d be with you. After this flight...He’d. Be. With. You. It was going to drive him mad. Figuring his best bet to pass the time was sleeping, Namjoon lowered his seat and pulled his Koya sleeping mask down over his eyes, his headphones playing something soft and romantic. He had no idea how he would ever be able to sleep when something so exciting was waiting on the other end of that dreamy tunnel for him, but he figured he’d have to if he didn’t want the minutes to crawl by.

So, he let his breaths slow, and he let the music carry him off to a happy place filled with coffee shops and a girl with pink hair and a camera.

***

You were decidedly itchy. No, maybe itchy wasn’t quite the right word. You were antsy, more like it. It was seven. You’d just woken up from a very odd dream about an airplane, which you’d written off as anxiety about your upcoming first flight.

Today was Monday, the first day of exam week, which certainly contributed to your itchiness. And once you unlocked your phone to scroll through the night’s notifications, you got some more answers as to exactly why something felt off.

Unknown Number: Hey jagiya! It’s Namjoon! Your clumsy boyfriend dropped his phone, so I won’t be able to text or call you today. I’m sending this from Hobi’s phone. I just wanted to let you know that I love you so much and I’ll talk to you tomorrow! Have a good day studying for your exams. I know you’ll do well! Fighting!

It was sweet, very sweet. How thoughtful of him, to send you a message instead of leaving you to wonder if your amazing wonderful boyfriend was ignoring you. But that was what Namjoon was: thoughtful. And yet, something still felt off about it, yet you couldn’t put your finger on it.

So, you sat up, stretched, hung your sleeping mask on its designated Command hook, and started down your ladder to begin one very uneventful day of studying.

***

You were a strong believer in study breaks. Cramming without stop always made you more frustrated than anything else. So, every couple of hours, you took a thirty-minute break to talk to the other two friends who had come to cram with you. Well, at the moment, it was one. Lily was taking her Psychology exam, so that left you with Grace, who had her nose in her American History book, jotting notes down in her red, white, and blue notebook.

When she looked up, and caught your gaze, she set down her textbook and smiled, stretching. “Break time already?”

“Yeah, it’s like three.”

“Holy shit that went by fast.” She checked the time on her phone only to find that what you’d told her was accurate. And also, she’d received a DM from your soulmate, the one person you could not know she was messaging. She snatched up her phone as quickly as she could.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, that sinking feeling you’d been harboring since this morning returning in full force. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” She blurted too quickly, clearing out her notifications, and with them, any remains of Namjoon’s message. “No, I just, uh, my professor emailed me a study guide and I really needed it.”

“Oh, that’s good…” You nodded, attempting to take a sip from your now-empty glass of tea. Luckily for you, you’d been saving up your meal dollars, so you had enough money for all the tea you could ever drink...and then some. And, in addition, you had to spend all of them before the school year ended, so you figured you may as well use them.

Standing up from the table, you grabbed your empty cup and tossed it in the trash, walking up the stairs to get another one from the tea place on the second floor. While you were gone, Grace unlocked her phone and opened Twitter. It was Namjoon, of course, messaging in the group chat he’d started with Grace and Lily.

RM_fan_94: Around five or six hours left on my flight. How are things going? Is she okay?

GracieGirl: She’s fine, Namjoon. She has consumed around six cups of tea since we’ve been here, tho. Your girl has a problem…

RM_fan_94: She sounds like me with coffee haha

RM_fan_94: Do either of you have tips for when I get there?

GracieGirl: I’m going to send you navigation from the entrance of the school to the library, but besides that, it should be fine. We’re sitting in this little area on the bottom floor.

GracieGirl: It’s her favorite spot, so there’s no way we’re moving.

GracieGirl: Plus, this place is full bc of exams, so we couldn’t really move if we tried.

GracieGirl: Once you get here, go through the door on the front of the building (facing the giant bird statue) and go down the stairs. It’s basically impossible to miss her. She has hot pink hair.

GracieGirl: Also, she’s wearing a BTS shirt.

RM_fan_94: Awwwwww that’s my girl.

Lilyyyy: Exam is FINISHED!! Operation Babysit (Y/N) Commences!

RM_fan_94: I hope you did well!

Lilyyyy: Omg where did she find you? You’re so perfect?? And sweet?? Did she make you in a lab??

RM_fan_94: Probably haha omg. But no, after many debates over the topic, I’ve concluded that she is the perfect one in this relationship. I’m just her hype man.

GracieGirl: Oooookay, Mr. Superstar, whatever you say.

Lilyyyy: Y’all are cute as fuck. I can’t wait for tonight!!!

Namjoon paused for a while before he typed out his next message, sighing to himself as he laid his head back against the seat again.

RM_fan_94: Me either…

***

You sat at the table, drilling film terms until your head started buzzing.You had watched your project so many times, you couldn’t stare at the editing program for another second, or you were sure you would go insane. So, instead, you were studying for your Film Analysis class, reteaching yourself about motifs and mise-en-scene and all of the other terms from the beginning of the semester that had been buried by all of the new things you’d learned thus far.

You still felt itchy. Maybe moreso now than when you had woken up, but itchy nonetheless. It was an odd feeling, like something was hanging over your head, something real and heavy and dropping fast. And yet, the more you thought about it, the less it made sense. Nothing was happening. You were fine. Everything was fine. It was just stress. Yes, of course, that’s what it was. Stress. Logical.

The only thing hanging over your head was your exams and the upcoming flight to Korea. That’s all it was, and it made perfect sense.

You sighed and checked the time on your phone. It was six, and you were hungry. You’d had a muffin for brunch and nothing since then. Time for a break, then. You got up and both Grace and Lily looked, wide-eyed.

“Where are you going?” Lily blurted when she saw you grab your keys.

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh. Gotcha. I’ll come with.” Lily offered, picking up her keys too. “If we take the tunnels, we don’t even have to go outside.”

“That is a good point.” You agreed, waving to Grace, the appointed guardian of your things for the time-being, seeing as she had grabbed food thirty minutes ago while you and Lily were busy working.

The two of you walked through the library and through the tunnels that connected the learning center to the building next to it, where there was a selection of fast food places. You got in line at the sandwich place and scrolled through Twitter, your thumb moving to send something funny to Namjoon until you remembered, stopping in place, that Namjoon’s phone was broken.

Your heart sank a little, but you saved the link so you could send it to him later.

“You okay?” Lily nudged your arm and you nodded. “Something wrong?”

“Namjoon broke his phone, so I can’t talk to him…” You sighed. “But I’m glad he told me. Is it weird I miss him? Also, I’m itchy.”

“You’re...itchy?” Lily giggled. “You might want to get a cream for that, sweetie, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“I know, it’s weird.” You agreed, laughing with her. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just nerves from...everything, you know?”

“Yeah, I think I kind of get that.” Lily nodded. It was a good thing you were busy with your phone or you definitely would have noticed the knowing smile blooming across her features. If only you knew what was in store for you in two short hours…

***

When Namjoon got off the plane, he was shaking. Every part of him, trembling in anticipation. He fumbled with his suitcase, struggling to get it out of the luggage check without dropping it. His heart raced. He was here, like twenty minutes from your school, and as soon as his Uber texted him, he’d be on his way.

Namjoon reached into his pocket to check the time. It was around eight, so according to your friends, you’d still be in the library by now, but he figured he’d better send a heads-up just in case. His fingers were shaking almost too much to punch in the message, but somehow, he managed, pressing send after reading over it once or twice.

RM_fan_94: Just landed. Uber should be here soon. I’ll be there twenty minutes after that. Keep her busy.

His face was flushed, heart pounding, banging against his ribcage in hopes to escape and run down the street to find you. God, you were so close. You two had never been this close. There had almost always been an ocean between you, at least, since you’d started communicating. And now, all that was standing in his way was a car ride. Namjoon almost couldn’t stand it.

So, nervous as all hell, Namjoon started pacing in the lobby of the airport until he finally got the notification and went sprinting for the front doors and into the van of his Uber driver.

Every atom in his body was buzzing, buzzing, buzzing and burning as he got closer and closer to the gates of your college. He read the signs on the side of the road. Twenty miles turned to ten, which turned to five. Namjoon felt dizzy, suffocated by his rapidly-approaching destiny. He was sprinting towards it, now, a handful of miles standing between him and the love of his life.

In the passing streetlights, Namjoon could make out the lettering on his wrist. The tattoo that had started this all. He remembered his excitement the moment his fingers brushed against your first letter and the words tingled into existence on his skin. He remembered when all he had to go on was a name and the fact that you were from the States. He remembered the overwhelming joy that washed over him when you sent him the first picture of you, dressed up as Wonder Woman and smiling like you didn’t have a care in the world. He remembered your first phone call, the way his veins pulsed when he finally heard your voice.

All of it was coming to a peak, now. The precipice. This was the beginning of something very new, something uncharted for himself and the rest of the members in BTS.

Without warning, his Uber driver reached the traffic light to turn onto campus. It flicked from red to green, and he drove across the halted lanes of opposite traffic, under the giant arch that marked the beginning of your school. This was it. There was no going back now.

***

Something was wrong with Lily and Grace. They were acting weird. Both of them had gotten a notification from some mysterious group chat, and now neither of them could look you in the eye. It was odd, to say the very least.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Just peachy!” Grace lied through her teeth, beaming at you innocently. Something very, very strange was afoot, but you were too burned-out to attempt to get to the bottom of it.

So, seeing as your drink was empty once again, you stood up and began the trek to the tea store up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Lily asked, almost shooting up out of her seat.

“I need more tea.” You shrugged, looking from Lily to Grace. “I’ll be back in like five minutes tops.”

“Okay.” Lily nodded, walking to the bathroom to cover up the fact that she’d shot up so fast to attempt to stop you.

Shaking your head at the strange behavior, you finished walking up the steps and stood in line at the tea store, ordering yet another iced drink. By this time, the barista didn’t even need to ask. It only took him a few minutes to get your drink to you and then you were on your way back down the stairs to the table. You were sitting down when your phone rang with a call...from Namjoon. Your eyebrows furrowed until you realized it was like ten in the morning in Korea, so his phone must have gotten fixed.

Brightening immediately, you picked up.

“Hey babe! Did you get your phone fixed?”

“I did…” His voice sounded weird. You could hear his tone and his breath shaking with each word. “Good thing, too…”

“Joon, is everything okay?”

“Great, baby, everything is great. Super, super great. I just...God…” And then he hung up, his connection cutting out, assumably. Your eyebrows furrowed, waiting for him to call back, like he usually did when your Skype calls cut out, but he didn’t.

“Something wrong?” Lily asked, almost unable to hide the grin on her face. Grace subtly held her phone, obviously recording. She had been since you got back with your tea. And yet, your head was buzzing too much for you to notice.

“I think his phone cut out.” You said softly, staring at the screen as you contemplated calling him back. You waited for a few more seconds before you noticed someone standing at the bottom of the steps. He was tall, his long frame dressed in an oversized black shirt and ripped jeans, tufts of pink hair sticking down out of his black baseball cap.

Maybe it was the pink hair that caused you to look back down at your work for a split second before your heart lurched and you did a double-take. You studied him, frozen and wide-eyed. You urged your legs to get up so you could get a closer look, but they weren’t listening.

You put your hands on the table, pushing yourself to a standing position as Lily and Grace giggled. Your legs wobbled with each slow step over to him. He was frozen, too, an amused grin on his face as he watched the wheels turn in your head, dimples on full display.

“N-Namjoon?” You whispered, tears fogging up your vision. You covered your mouth with your hands, taking a step forward and then a little step back, still unsure if this was actually happening or if it was some cruel hallucination, cooked up by twelve hours of staring at a book and taking notes.

“It’s just me, baby.” He reassured softly. “I’m right here.”

That was all the reassurance you needed. He set down his duffle bag and opened his arms, waiting for your legs to finally get the message from your brain. Eventually, they did, and you broke into a run, closing the distance between you until you were jumping into his arms, legs wrapped tight around his hips. One of his large hands came to rest under your thigh, and the other fastened around your back, rubbing comforting circles as your floodgates finally opened, a cascade of tears following.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He tried to hush your sobs, but he realized after a few seconds that he was crying too.

“How did you get here?” You croaked. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to come surprise my girl.” He chuckled softly, happy tears rolling down his cheeks. “I knew you’d need a little pick-me-up for exam week.”

“So you just came at the drop of a hat?”

“This has been planned for months, baby. It’s all worked out, I promise.” Namjoon was still holding you, your legs firmly gripping his waist, but he pulled away to look at you up close. You were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, even with trails of black mascara running down your cheeks. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

“I look like a mess.” You shook your head, chuckling at how much of a disaster you probably looked on today of all days. Of course on the one day that mattered, you looked like you’d just been hit by the bus.

“Baby, you’re the most beautiful person on the planet.” Namjoon pressed a long kiss to your forehead, closing his eyes before murmuring, “You look perfect, always. I love you, jagiya.”

“I love you too.” You took a moment there to look at him, to really look at this man who held the other half of your soul in his heart. You raised your hands to his cheeks and gave his dimples a pinch, earning a laugh from him. “You’re real…”

“Weird, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t count how many times he’d heard that from ARMYs all over the world. Although, it was never as tender or careful as this statement.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, studying his features up close, squishing his dimpled cheeks together. “Joonie?”

“What?”

Your eyes lingered on the pillows of his plush lips. They were calling to you. “I want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.” He replied, leaning in slowly to meet you in the middle. It was electric, sparks flying the moment your lips melted against his larger, warmer ones. You almost forgot you were in public until you heard cheers from all of the other brain-dead students flooding the library currently. Blushing, you reluctantly pulled away from Namjoon, finally unwrapping your legs from his hips and settling yourself back on the floor.

“Was it worth the wait?” You whispered, taking his hand and leading him back over to where your grinning friends had pulled up a fourth chair.

“I would wait a hundred years for you if I had to.”

“You’re cheesy.” You scrunched your nose and looked up at him. You knew all along that he would tower over you, but up close it was entirely different. Namjoon seemed to notice too, as he looked down on you gingerly. He leaned forward and pressed another lingering kiss to your forehead, pulling you against his chest.

“So are you.”

“That’s fair.” You giggled into the fabric of his shirt before finally sitting down with him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you no matter how hard he tried. But eventually, he did turn to give his thanks to Lily and Grace.

“Thank you, ladies. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Grace smiled. Lily nodded in agreement.

You, however, looked between the three of them with wide eyes. “You knew???”

“Explains a lot, doesn’t it?” Lily chuckled, shrugging as she got back to her studying.

“Congratulations, you two.” Gace bidded before slipping her headphones back over her ears.

Namjoon took your hand in his own, scooching his chair closer to yours. He studied your little fingers with a smile before bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. This, he imagined, was what the rest of your little forever looked like, and he wouldn’t have it any other way...

Tagged: @iie-wakarimasen , @ffantasylandd, @jooniefluff, @chimchimsauce, @mrs-saeyoung-choi, @theprinceoftheundead, @angyexoxo, @copenhagenspirit, @lovelylittlekittn, @lilgaga98, @iminlovewjjk, @feed-my-geek-soul, @loveandwitch, @recoveringflowerchild, @demonic-meatball, @maddieisaacs, @scissorsandtonfas, @carirosesg, @backtonormalthings, @local-mochi, @faliwi, @spoopyela, @nanie5, @ingenu--e, @undiscovered1personality, @andalos, @calspixie, @filtermono, @huhuehuey, @mikey-girl12, @lilliaflurr, @hypophrenium, @sitkafay, @spiicyari, @andeerwilson, @btswerewolfaus, @oyasumi7, @mycurrentusernameisalreadytaken, @gangstavixsta

[scarffile0-blog]

Roseanne Should Know Being Racist is a Reverse Facial

Listen. I don’t use the word “ugly” but to describe people who are hatemongers. Racists are hatemongers and their outside seem to reflect it, as their insides spill out in the form of faces that are meant for radio: audio only please. It’s like your spirit just decays from all the prejudice you make it engage in. Like your entire being wrinkles from the core.

Note: if you are going to comment about me face-shaming someone, and kumbaya and high road, save your words. I don’t care. Calling racists on their ugliness is my form of resistance. Carry on. You’re welcome.

I’ve already talked about Steve Bannon at length. His soul rot keeps showing up in a way that his visage always looks like it’s on the brink of melting. Like halfway through melting, it found some resolve so the process paused. Seriously. Read my blog post on: Steve Bannon’s Face is the Physical Embodiment of Soul Rot. If shame had a human form, it would be him.

But the thing that kills me about racists is that their hate is so illogical, they end up feeling bold enough to call themselves superior. Or talk about what other people look like. Today’s asshat is Roseanne Barr, the Mother of  Proud Redneck Americans. It’s like the first MAGA hat was a fitted New Era and they used her head size as prototype.

Anywho, today, Roseanne felt herself feeling froggy and decided to tweet:

VJ refers to Valerie Jarrett, President Barack Obama’s senior advisor and powerful Black woman.

The sad excuse for a homo sapien, Roseanne, whose show just got rebooted almost just so she can spew her love for Cheeto Satan, fixed her fingers to compare a woman who is widely respected to an ape.

And I got mad. I was livid. For logic reasons. Even if one of my favorite pastimes wasn’t defending Black women for troglodytes. Let’s just talk facts here.

Roseanne making fun of someone’s looks is like Donald Trump aka Cheeto Satan calling someone’s hair “ridiculous.” Like, girl, you got ALL THE NERVE in the world. So much nerve. Peak nerve. Ultra nerve. The thing about racists is that their mirrors also lie to them. Or their eyes get cloudy with self esteem cataracts. Racism is a reverse facial and ain’t no amount of face peels or vitamin C serums to cure the effects of harboring so much hate.

N’an one of yall living right.

This fool trying to come for what Valerie looks like should let you know how truly STUPID racists are. Ma’am. You cannot challenge ANYBODY’S LOOKS. You just don’t have the range or the right. You coulda shut the entire fuck up for free. But alas… what’s a queen to a goblin?

Racists be out here looking like God put them together with spare parts and wanna have the nerve to talk about what other people look like. As if God had a few rough drafts He just let out cuz He wanted to see something real quick. I DON’T HAVE TIME. But I got time.

And the internet had time too. People been dragging her for her eyebrows since this morning.

I took to Facebook to fight the air and you know LuvvNation is undefeated. They had some things to say:

Sue: Whaaaat? Valerie Jarrett is just so poised and lovely all the time and Roseanne looks like someone who just finished cleaning out the garage.

Nicole: Sue, I think you’re being generous. She looks like she lives in the garage.

Maxine: Rosanne outchea walking around looking like a leaky bag of curdled milk. FOH

Aprill: The fact that it took her decades of continued plastic surgery to achieve an average face definitely makes this more appalling.

Lisa: Roseanne trying to insult somebody, out here looking like unwashed first cousin sex, high fructose corn syrup, and prices dropping at WalMart.

Biafra: Ol popped can of biscuits, bottom of the Cracker Barrell looking ass. Miss Mississippi Methhead looking ass.

Eva: When, after years of surgery, your neck still looks like lasagna edges, can you really talk about anyone? I say nah.

Mak: Roseanne looks like a pile of warm mayonnaise lightly sprinkled with dollar store black pepper.

Kara: often with a teeth-to-tattoo ratio that is not favorable…. 🤔

Shel: Oh dear, that teeth to tattoo ration describes my meth infested town to a T(eethless)! I repeatedly state that if you go into a bar, collectively the entire place has a full set of teeth.

Jasmine: Roseanne has a lot of nerve talking about anyone. Out here looking like curdled milk and melted candle wax. Stand down, madame.

Tata: Every racist I’ve ever fought with in Facebook comments or in real life be looking like they on their last horcrux

Dee: Sit yo’ refurbished lookin ass down!!!

Noelle: The thinner the lips, the worse the opinions…

Lana: My momma calls them Chicken Lipped Bigots.

Tanya: I found out Katie Hopkins is a few months older than me. I saw her picture and presumed they were talking about dog years not human years cuz clearly the years have not been good to her. She is proof positive that God don’t like ugly.

Katie Hopkins. This is a woman who SHOULD have a winning personality. For reasons.

Lynn: Look, I’m a full 10 YEARS older than her. I refuse to believe that she’s not a walking Dorian Grey portrait of some spectacular looking Hollywood actress.

Tanya: I saw her picture and was like what in the AARP geriatric dog yeared hell?!?

Shaquane: It’s always the sponge bob shaped, no lip having, stringy haired, yellow teeth having racist who have the most to say about someone’s look. You can’t be ugly and racist, pick a struggle.

Tisha: I swear God put those people together at 11:58pm on Saturday night cause he thought he was done early and was probably out celebrating when one of the Angels tapped Him on the shoulder and reminded Him and he was like “oh crap….I’ll just throw all these left over parts together and hope for the best

H Loretta: Kate Hopkins and Roseanne Barr out here lookin like a chewed on toothpick and sour milk got the nerve to be outchea talking people?

Isis: Be looking like relatives of the Crypt Keeper but always have something nasty and mean to say about other and how others look.

Dayyanah: Bannon, for one. Steve out here lookin like some hybrid produce… the looks of a potato and the shelf life of an avocado. 😒

Elia: Seems like it’s always the ones with little or nothing to offer that blab about everyone else being mean/ugly/inferior.

Patrick: Those racists don’t use 23andMe. More like 22andGodOnlyKnows.

Whittley: All the way outchea smelling like every thing wrong with wet dreams and built like sofas from a 90s sitcom. Lookin’ roughed up, ran through, beat down, full o’ funk, and sittin’ low. Just sad. Sad, sad, SAD.

Kendhra: Oh fa’sho. Looking like they were created at a hot dog factory.

Morgan: Lookin like a dusty leather bag on clearance talmbout ~superior genes.

I’m just saying. Today has been for one thing and one thing only: drag Roseanne. Nothing else I put on the list got done.

Wait. I did finish this blog post so I can cross that out too. And since it was essentially to drag Roseanne, DOUBLE CROSS OUTS!

All this dragging did serve a purpose, cuz with the entire internet on their tail, ABC had to act quick. They swiftly cancelled that foresaken reboot of hers. Roseanne is out of a job because she wrote a wrong ass check that her loud mouth could not cash.

If you need me, I’ll be over here cackling like a drunk seal. Sometimes, things go right. Roseanne losing these coins made today go right. Shoutout to Channing Dungey, the president of ABC Entertainment, who also happens to be a Black woman. She is now officially an Apollo legend for her work.

Y’all be blessed.

Source: https://www.awesomelyluvvie.com/2018/05/roseanne-racism-rot.html