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ofstarsandvibranium · 11 months ago

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Precious Truths: Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict follows you and Lord Montclair with a frown on his face. He seems to love to torture himself when he agreed to accompany Daphne as she chaperones your promenade with the marquess.

His eyes glance down to your arm hooked around the other man's and his brows furrow. Daphne looks up at her brother with a smirk, "Something the matter, brother?"

Benedict suddenly looks away clearing his throat, "No, no. Just, um, thinking about a piece I need to work on."

Daphne hums unconvinced, looking back at you and Lord Montclair, "They do make a handsome couple, do they not?"

"I suppose," Benedict replies as he casts his eyes down, paying more attention to the path rather than you and the marquess.

"Are you upset with me?" Daphne asks, pulling her arm away from her brother's and stopping to look at him.

Benedict looks at her with confusion, "Should I be?"

She purses her lips, "Well, I was the one who introduced the marquess to Y/N and considering your feelings-"

"Please, Daphne, I already endure this from Anthony and Kate. I do not wish to hear more of it from you," he takes a quick glance your way as the distance grows wider between you and he, "I may love her, but I cannot give her what she desires. He can," he nods to Lord Montclair.

Daphne sighs, hooking her arm around her brother's once more, "Regardless, I cannot imagine this being easy for you."

The second eldest Bridgerton sighs, "'Tis not. Hopefully, with time, it will be."

_____________________________

You hide your laughter behind your fan as you walk the path with Lord Montclair. He relays a memory he had of when he was a boy. How he tried to capture a frog and in his attempts, it jumped on his face, causing him to fall into a lake.

"That reminds me of when I was a child. I was probably two and ten years old. Be-I mean Mister Bridgerton and myself decided to sneak away onto a row boat. We had seen a fish into the lake and leaned over the edge too much. We both fell in. Our mamas were so upset with us, but we had a good laugh," you state with a giggle.

Lord Montclair chuckles, "So you have known the Bridgertons for a while?"

You nod, "Almost my entire life. They are like my second family."

"And you are the closest with the second eldest, Benedict?" the marquess asks with intrigue as he guides you to a bench for some rest.

You nod, following him to sit, "Yes. He is my dearest of friends."

Lord Montclair clears his throat, leaning closer to you, "I do not want to seem too forward, Miss L/N, but I think I have made my interest quite clear. Is it safe for me to assume that there are no romantic feelings between you and Mr. Bridgerton considering," he gestures between you and him.

You cast your eyes towards Benedict, who is now entertaining two women in conversation while Daphne speaks with their mama. You feel a twinge of jealousy as the women laugh with Benedict. No. You shouldn't feel this way. He is not yours. He never will be.

You turn back to Lord Montclair and give him a small smile, "I can assure you, my Lord, there is nothing between Mister Bridgerton and myself except for friendship."

Happy with your response, Lord Montclair changes the subject and shares another story of his youth. You nod, smile, and laugh at the appropriate times, occasionally glancing back at Benedict. Every once in a while, your eyes will meet and then look away. Your heart strings tug a little more with each wavering gaze.

It seems you like to torture yourself since you cannot help but keep your eyes away from Benedict entertaining women that wasn't you.

_______________

After your promenade and lunch with Lord Montclair and the Bridgertons, you arrive home to see your father waiting for you.

His eyes were glossy and his body slightly swaying, signifying that he was already drunk once more.

"I heard a marquess is courting you," he practically mumbles out.

"Yes, papa. I am certain he will propose before the end of the month," you respond plainly, no emotion and no love for the man who you are now unfortunate to call your father.

He hums, "And does he know of your...hobbies?"

"He only knows I enjoy reading poetry, not writing it."

"Good. A man does not want a woman who is too well-read."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to suffer from a potential strike to your face like previously, "Of course, papa." You dryly reply and head to your room.

You proceed to isolate yourself for the rest of the day. Although Lord Montclair is exactly the man many women would kill to have court them, you still cannot find yourself to fall for him completely. You don't think you ever could. You've lived a majority of your life loving Benedict Bridgerton, you aren't sure how else to live. Even if Benedict could never love you back, you will still continue to hold him dear in the depths of your heart for you and only you to know.

You didn't lie to your father that you are sure Lord Montclair will propose soon. He had spoke of marriage, children, just your potential future in general. Both of your desires and goals line up perfectly with one another and you are certain he sees it to.

Now only to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable.

________________

Benedict's heart drops to his stomach when he hears the news from Daphne: Lord Montclair plans to propose to you soon.

Obviously, he knew it was bound to happen. Of course he would propose to you. You, perfect, beautiful, intelligent, cunning, funny, wonderful you.

It was inevitable and it was becoming even more real that Benedict would lose you forever.

It was then that Benedict decided to drown himself in his art. Go to parties, brothels, bars, whatever he can as much as possible to forget the pain in his heart.

If only he wasn't so stubborn and truly listen to his heart and his family. He could be with you and give you everything you want and deserve.

But alas, he was just too blind and hard headed to see it.

Lady Whistledown, however, made it well known to the Ton of how she as well as a majority of Mayfair, expected him and you to marry.

__________________

Two weeks. It took two weeks of courting until Lord Montclair asked your father's permission to marry you. It was an easy "yes" from him, obviously. With the status of being the marquess and willing to pay well over your dowery, well, how can your father refuse?

Even though you were expecting it, you still felt hesitant. Your aunt joined you in the sitting room, watching as Lord Montclair, James, as you learned his name was, knelt down and presented his mother's beautiful ring.

"Mon cher, you have made me so incredibly happy these past few weeks. I think we can have an amazing future together. Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

You know you should say yes. But your mind immediately goes to Benedict. Your best friend, your first love, the man you saw yourself marrying and growing old with. But he didn't feel the same. If he did, he would've courted and proposed to you by now.

It was officially time to let go of your silly fantasies and face reality.

"Yes, of course," you reply breathlessly and James slips the ring onto your finger.

Aunt Eliza lets out a breath of relief, "I am so incredibly happy for you two! I plan to hold a ball in your honor at the end of the week, so be prepared for the fan fair that will be headed your way."

James takes your hand and kisses it, "I shall go. I must begin contacting my family so they can be here for the wedding."

"Of course, my Lord."

James smiles at you sweetly, "You may call me James now, mon cher."

You return a sweet smile back, "Of course, James. Then you may call me Y/N."

"I will see you later, future Marchioness Montclair," he gives you a wink and heads out.

You look down at the ring, the diamond sparkling in the sun. Your aunt rushes to your side and kisses your temple, "You did it, dear. You did it. You will be free soon enough."

You gulp and nod at your aunt, "Yes. I will be free."

____________________

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It seems that wedding bells are to be heard soon with now the engagement of Miss Y/N L/N and the Most Honorable Marquess, Lord James Montclair. The marquess had turned many heads since his arrival with Duchess Bridgerton. Many ladies of the Ton had hoped for a courtship from him. However, it was quite the surprise that our very own Miss L/N, one who has previously rejected the idea of marriage, set her sights on the marquess and lured him with her charm.

As I am sure many of you are disappointed by the engagement, I am certain no one is as disappointed as the second eldest Bridgerton son, Benedict Bridgerton. For we all knew those two were always at each other's side. This author thinks that perhaps the second eldest never proposed to Miss L/N because he knew he could never provide for her as a second son.

Nevertheless, I do look forward to see how Miss L/N will take to the role of marchioness. Will she crack under pressure or will it be smooth sailing? This author waits in anticipation.

Benedict crumples up Lady Whistledown's newest edition, tossing it across the room. His family's eyes are all on him.

His heart rate quickens, he feels a sweat coming on. The walls are closing in and he can't breathe. He doesn't like how his family looks at him with pity. They all know now. They know how he feels for you. There is a chance know how he feels for you now. A part of him hopes that you don't believe what Whistledown has to say. Not everything she says is always factual. Nevertheless, it makes the Ton talk.

"Excuse me," he abruptly stands from his place and Anthony stands with him, "Brother-"

"Please, don't. I need a moment alone," Benedict quickly says as he rushes out of the room.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #f!reader #fem!reader #female!reader

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haxkattpress · 6 months ago

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Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses

"Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order."

This has to be one of the most creative and meticulously researched fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading. If you haven't read it yet, don't walk— run! Citrusses is an absolute genius, and kindly gave me permission to bind her masterpiece.

The cover of this bind is made out four different shades of Allure bookcloth cut by my Cameo 4, and the centerpiece is printed and hand foiled. The banners were machine foiled in gold and black with hand foiled rose gold shading. The endbands were hand sewn with Gutermann silk thread.

You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.

The amount of inspiration this fic gave me was overwhelming, and Citrusses' writing fully immersed me in the world of competitive rowing. While designing this bind, I was struck by the sheer wealth of Oxford rowing memorabilia available to me. I settled on this 1929 illustration from an official publication on the Oxford and Cambridge Centenary Boat Race for the cover.

"How hard could it possibly be?" I thought, foolishly. The answer was HARD, but I'll get into that later.

Due to the wealth of design options, I believe that this may be the best typeset I have created to date. Thanks to the help of my friend @tsurashi-bindery, I was able to learn the basics of InDesign (kicking and screaming all the way). There will be spoilers in the text of these photos, so try not to read them if you haven't finished the fic!

For the title page, I modified To See the Crews in Training by Charles Pears (1930). I believe that this was part of a series of advertisements for the race in the London Underground.

For the chapter headers, I redrew the crest from an Oxford Oars, Flags, and Arms postcard, presumably pre 1914. I also had some fun creating a mock email using La_Temperanza's How to Mimic Email Windows on Ao3. Cormac's email makes me laugh every time I read it, and Citrusses provided an appropriately pompous subject.

I also had lots of fun editing the oars from the official OUBC logo to serve as dividers and decorations for the page numbers.

Additionally, I got to edit a full newspaper page for the fic! I was very excited find an opportunity to slip Leyendecker's The Finish (1908) in.

The fic ended beautifully, so I wanted to include one last element at the end to capture the atmosphere. I settled on L'aviron (1932) by Milivoj Uzelac. It makes me feel as though Harry and Draco will continue rowing together long after I've closed the book.

I of course had lots of fun sewing the headbands, and got to do it with not one but TWO copies!

Things got tricky when I had to recreate the cover. I had a poor understanding of how vector images worked, and ended up having to redraw it three times. Once I finally cracked and taught myself how to use Illustrator, the program crashed...and I had to redraw it a fourth time!

I set the vector to cut on my Cameo 4, and I assembled the pieces together like a puzzle on my Silhouette mat. I used Allure's indigo, skylight, white, and black bookcloth in the process. I will be making a tutorial video on this method, so I will keep it brief here.

I also cut a piece of bookcloth to 8.5"x 11" and fed it through my inktank printer to print the center design. I then cut it out using the print and cut feature on my Cameo 4. Both of these methods were a first for me, and they were very scary!!

To be perfectly frank, the foiling was a nightmare and I don't want to get into it. I machine foiled the gold, and then foiled black lettering on top of it. I foiled the rose gold shading by hand, and then foiled a thin black outline along the edge of the banners to make them stand out more.

I hand foiled the spines (because I'm scared of measuring), painted the exposed board (to hide any gaps in the inlays), and used transfer tape to lift my design from the Silhouette mat and onto the cover.

One more fun detail— my copy and the author's copy are sisters! The dark blue and the light blue are inverted on the author's copy, making it distinguishable from mine. This is the first time I have made an author's copy for a fic, and I was admittedly incredibly nervous. I always worry about what authors will think of my work, but Citrusses gave me an incredible amount of encouragement and support throughout the process! Thank you for trusting me with your precious fic!

This story is a work of fanfiction and can be read on Ao3 for free. My bind and typeset are for personal use only and not for sale or profit. Keep fandom free!

#book binding #fic binding #fanbinding #fanfic binding #drarry #our objective remains unchanged #harry x draco #my binds

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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The Brave Little Toaster

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

The AI bubble is the new crypto bubble: you can tell because the same people are behind it, and they're doing the same thing with AI as they did with crypto – trying desperately to find a use case to cram it into, despite the yawning indifference and outright hostility of the users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This week on the excellent Trashfuture podcast, the regulars – joined by 404 Media's Jason Koebler – have a hilarious – as in, I was wheezing with laughter! – riff on this year's CES, where companies are demoing home appliances with LLMs built in:

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-hgi6c-179b908

Why would you need a chatbot in your dishwasher? As it turns out, there's a credulous, Poe's-law-grade Forbes article that lays out the (incredibly stupid) case for this (incredibly stupid) idea:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bernardmarr/2024/03/29/generative-ai-is-coming-to-your-home-appliances/

As the Trashfuturians mapped out this new apex of the AI hype cycle, I found myself thinking of a short story I wrote 15 years ago, satirizing the "Internet of Things" hype we were mired in. It's called "The Brave Little Toaster", and it was published in MIT Tech Review's TRSF anthology in 2011:

http://bestsf.net/trsf-the-best-new-science-fiction-technology-review-2011/

The story was meant to poke fun at the preposterous IoT hype of the day, and I recall thinking that creating a world of talking appliance was the height of Philip K Dickist absurdism. Little did I dream that a decade and a half later, the story would be even more relevant, thanks to AI pump-and-dumpers who sweatily jammed chatbots into kitchen appliances.

So I figured I'd republish The Brave Little Toaster; it's been reprinted here and there since (there's a high school English textbook that included it, along with a bunch of pretty fun exercises for students), and I podcasted it back in the day:

https://ia803103.us.archive.org/35/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212_Brave_Little_Toaster.mp3

A word about the title of this story. It should sound familiar – I nicked it from a brilliant story by Tom Disch that was made into a very weird cartoon:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8C_JaT8Lvg

My story is one of several I wrote by stealing the titles of other stories and riffing on them; they were very successful, winning several awards, getting widely translated and reprinted, and so on:

https://locusmag.com/2012/05/cory-doctorow-a-prose-by-any-other-name/

All right, on to the story!

One day, Mister Toussaint came home to find an extra 300 euros' worth of groceries on his doorstep. So he called up Miz Rousseau, the grocer, and said, "Why have you sent me all this food? My fridge is already full of delicious things. I don't need this stuff and besides, I can't pay for it."

But Miz Rousseau told him that he had ordered the food. His refrigerator had sent in the list, and she had the signed order to prove it.

Furious, Mister Toussaint confronted his refrigerator. It was mysteriously empty, even though it had been full that morning. Or rather, it was almost empty: there was a single pouch of energy drink sitting on a shelf in the back. He'd gotten it from an enthusiastically smiling young woman on the metro platform the day before. She'd been giving them to everyone.

"Why did you throw away all my food?" he demanded. The refrigerator hummed smugly at him.

"It was spoiled," it said.

But the food hadn't been spoiled. Mister Toussaint pored over his refrigerator's diagnostics and logfiles, and soon enough, he had the answer. It was the energy beverage, of course.

"Row, row, row your boat," it sang. "Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, I'm offgassing ethelyne." Mister Toussaint sniffed the pouch suspiciously.

"No you're not," he said. The label said that the drink was called LOONY GOONY and it promised ONE TRILLION TIMES MORE POWERFUL THAN ESPRESSO!!!!!ONE11! Mister Toussaint began to suspect that the pouch was some kind of stupid Internet of Things prank. He hated those.

He chucked the pouch in the rubbish can and put his new groceries away.

The next day, Mister Toussaint came home and discovered that the overflowing rubbish was still sitting in its little bag under the sink. The can had not cycled it through the trapdoor to the chute that ran to the big collection-point at ground level, 104 storeys below.

"Why haven't you emptied yourself?" he demanded. The trashcan told him that toxic substances had to be manually sorted. "What toxic substances?"

So he took out everything in the bin, one piece at a time. You've probably guessed what the trouble was.

"Excuse me if I'm chattery, I do not mean to nattery, but I'm a mercury battery!" LOONY GOONY's singing voice really got on Mister Toussaint's nerves.

"No you're not," Mister Toussaint said.

Mister Toussaint tried the microwave. Even the cleverest squeezy-pouch couldn't survive a good nuking. But the microwave wouldn't switch on. "I'm no drink and I'm no meal," LOONY GOONY sang. "I'm a ferrous lump of steel!"

The dishwasher wouldn't wash it ("I don't mean to annoy or chafe, but I'm simply not dishwasher safe!"). The toilet wouldn't flush it ("I don't belong in the bog, because down there I'm sure to clog!"). The windows wouldn't retract their safety screen to let it drop, but that wasn't much of a surprise.

"I hate you," Mister Toussaint said to LOONY GOONY, and he stuck it in his coat pocket. He'd throw it out in a trash-can on the way to work.

They arrested Mister Toussaint at the 678th Street station. They were waiting for him on the platform, and they cuffed him just as soon as he stepped off the train. The entire station had been evacuated and the police wore full biohazard containment gear. They'd even shrinkwrapped their machine-guns.

"You'd better wear a breather and you'd better wear a hat, I'm a vial of terrible deadly hazmat," LOONY GOONY sang.

When they released Mister Toussaint the next day, they made him take LOONY GOONY home with him. There were lots more people with LOONY GOONYs to process.

Mister Toussaint paid the rush-rush fee that the storage depot charged to send over his container. They forklifted it out of the giant warehouse under the desert and zipped it straight to the cargo-bay in Mister Toussaint's building. He put on old, stupid clothes and clipped some lights to his glasses and started sorting.

Most of the things in container were stupid. He'd been throwing away stupid stuff all his life, because the smart stuff was just so much easier. But then his grandpa had died and they'd cleaned out his little room at the pensioner's ward and he'd just shoved it all in the container and sent it out the desert.

From time to time, he'd thought of the eight cubic meters of stupidity he'd inherited and sighed a put-upon sigh. He'd loved Grandpa, but he wished the old man had used some of the ample spare time from the tail end of his life to replace his junk with stuff that could more gracefully reintegrate with the materials stream.

How inconsiderate!

The house chattered enthusiastically at the toaster when he plugged it in, but the toaster said nothing back. It couldn't. It was stupid. Its bread-slots were crusted over with carbon residue and it dribbled crumbs from the ill-fitting tray beneath it. It had been designed and built by cavemen who hadn't ever considered the advantages of networked environments.

It was stupid, but it was brave. It would do anything Mister Toussaint asked it to do.

"It's getting hot and sticky and I'm not playing any games, you'd better get me out before I burst into flames!" LOONY GOONY sang loudly, but the toaster ignored it.

"I don't mean to endanger your abode, but if you don't let me out, I'm going to explode!" The smart appliances chattered nervously at one another, but the brave little toaster said nothing as Mister Toussaint depressed its lever again.

"You'd better get out and save your ass, before I start leaking poison gas!" LOONY GOONY's voice was panicky. Mister Toussaint smiled and depressed the lever.

Just as he did, he thought to check in with the flat's diagnostics. Just in time, too! Its quorum-sensors were redlining as it listened in on the appliances' consternation. Mister Toussaint unplugged the fridge and the microwave and the dishwasher.

The cooker and trash-can were hard-wired, but they didn't represent a quorum.

The fire department took away the melted toaster and used their axes to knock huge, vindictive holes in Mister Toussaint's walls. "Just looking for embers," they claimed. But he knew that they were pissed off because there was simply no good excuse for sticking a pouch of independently powered computation and sensors and transmitters into an antique toaster and pushing down the lever until oily, toxic smoke filled the whole 104th floor.

Mister Toussaint's neighbors weren't happy about it either.

But Mister Toussaint didn't mind. It had all been worth it, just to hear LOONY GOONY beg and weep for its life as its edges curled up and blackened.

He argued mightily, but the firefighters refused to let him keep the toaster.

If you enjoyed that and would like to read more of my fiction, may I suggest that you pre-order my next novel as a print book, ebook or audiobook, via the Kickstarter I launched yesterday?

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/picks-and-shovels-marty-hench-at-the-dawn-of-enshittification?ref=created_projects

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/08/sirius-cybernetics-corporation/#chatterbox

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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mistywaves98 · 1 year ago

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REQUESTING A PART TWO FOR SIREN SCARA? U GOT ME ADDICTED I LOVE HIM HES SO PERFECT <3333

Maybe he can turn into a human on land? I wouldnt mind hiding him from some hunters just for him to find us in our room/boat later <3

I've so many asks begging for more siren! Scara lmao, but I can't blame any of you, he is perfect 🙏🏻🙏🏻

✧･ﾟ:* ->Siren! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Pet name is used twice ('little captain'), Brief fingering, Sub! Reader, Dom! Character!

That old hag of a sea witch was pretty sketchy, but at least he can traverse land freely now, is what Scaramouche thought to himself as he cautiously practiced walking for the first time on the shoreline. So this is how humans move about everyday? Scaramouche figured that being able to zip around beneath the waves was much more efficient, but he would have to get used to these legs for a while if he was hoping to meet you again.

Despite having a human lower half, that didn't change the fact he still retained most of his sirenic features. And of course that was bound to be a nuisance. And a nuisance it was as Scaramouche found himself being persued by a group of hunters who only saw him as a walking money bag. He barely managed to get away, ducking into a dark alley way as they ran straight past.

Coincidentally, the building also happened to be the same seaside inn he saw you staying at. Scaramouche glanced up and saw the an open window illuminated by the glow of a lantern that no doubt lead to your room.

The last thing you were expecting as you curled up on your bed, reading a book peacefully, was to see someone climbing through your window with a grin on his face which showcased rows of sharp teeth. It didn't take long for his identity to click in your mind though as your eyes widened, slowly placing down your book as you sat up, "Scaramouche...?"

His smiled seemed to widen at your recognition as he wasted no time in crawling onto your bed, hastily pinning you down with his body. He leaned down, licking the shell of your ear sensually as he whispered,"Yes, my little captain. It's me, surprised? I knew you'd be. I went through quite a bit of trouble to get you, so I don't suppose you'll let me reward myself a bit now, do you?" Scaramouche's eager hands fiddled with the hem of your pants, already hooking his fingers around the waistband to pull them down.

You blushed at his forwardness, still in slight shock that the siren who was supposed to be sea-bound was now pinning you to your bed and begging for your pussy. But you weren't complaining but the urge to tease him for his eagerness was too strong,"Oh— Not even a hello..? You know, it's pretty rude to just climb through one's windows without notice," Scaramouche chuckled at that, bringing up a hand to grab your face, nails digging into the soft skin as he spoke in a tone that contrasted his deathly grip,"Trying to tease me now, are you? It's all fun and games till I'm the one teasing you with the thought of cumming. Is that what you want? For me to edge you till you cry?"

Your answer didn't really matter to him, all his mind was focused on was getting to put his dick in your pussy. Before you could get another word out, he used his nails to slice away your pants and underwear, leaving them in shreds as your folds glistened in all their glory. His pupils narrowed at the sight, red splashing his cheeks as he looked up to meet your embarrassed face,"So you wanted to 'take it slow' while you're practically dripping for my cock. Ironic, isn't it?"

Scaramouche dragged his index along your slit, gathering your slick before bringing it up for you to see. The way he was taunting you about your own arousal made you bite your lip as you shifted uncomfortably, hands fisting the sheets. The siren revelled in your movement, it was like holding the little fish he would catch and eat for dinner, so wriggly and desperate.

Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, knuckle deep before pumping them in and out at a steady pace. You inhaled sharply, face heating up,"Scara—!" "Mm.. Yes, my little captain, say my name like that.." His fingers worked their way inside of you, occasionally doing scissor motions to try and loosen you up in preparation for taking his cock. When he decided that he'd done enough prep, he removed his fingers from your gaping hole, watching it clench around nothing as you attempted to protest.

A hand covered your mouth to silence you before you suddenly feel a stinging burn in your lower half as he penetrates you, bottoming out immediately. He groaned as your walls clenched around him, he'd never felt anything like it before. And he wants more, he wants to feel your walls convulse around him forever. Scaramouche holds your hip with one hand, the other moving from your mouth to push down on your chest as he thrusts into you, albeit a bit sloppy at first but eventually picking up a pace, going deep and hard.

Your breath struggles to stay even as you grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself. Each roll of his hips against yours sends you to heaven and back, the room filling with the sounds of your moans and skin on skin. Your orgasm is inevitable, and you let him know through gasps and cries for more,"Ahn...! C-cumming—! Nngh..—!" Scaramouche's grip on your hips tightened as he heard that, fins twitching with anticipation as he muttered huskily,"Do it. I wanna watch you come undone on my cock.."

He didn't need to repeat himself as you felt the knot in your stomach snap, cunt clenching around him one last time before coating the base of his length with a creamy white ring. The look of utter bliss on your face as you came made him come too, pace faltering as he buried his load inside of you. When his thrusts finally came to a stop, he let himself collapse on top of you, nuzzling the crook of your neck as he engulfed you with his arms.

Scaramouche didn't bother to pull out, preferring to just lay there with you as you both panted heavily, basking in the aftermath of your actions. Your body twitched, thighs trembling as you take a few minutes to process what just happened. His seed is still hot inside you, making your lower half feel warm,"That..that was amazing.." You managed to whisper, a low hum coming from him in response.

You felt a combination of his tongue licking and teeth nibbling a fold of skin on your neck, his face flushing as he tasted the salty tinge of your sweat,"Mhm...It's worth taking the risk to see you. I'll be doing that more often from now on.."

"So expect a lot of surprise visits from me. Maybe I'll even bother saying 'hi' this time.."

#genshin smut #smut #x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scara smut #scara x reader smut

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paperultra · 2 years ago

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mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

#opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #once again i underestimated how long this would take. hoowee #opla zoro my grumpy old man :)#good thing reader is coming along otherwise he'd NEVER make it to mirror ball island rip

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la-muerta · 5 months ago

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[ENG SUB + Translation] Hou Minghao's farewell message to Zhao Yuanzhou, 16 Nov 2024

"There's always a breeze or two in the mortal world that can send me on beautiful dreams for 18,000 miles."

This trip in the mortal world is a journey that I, Zhao Yuanzhou, had to make.

A one-word spell: Dream. Now, let me tell you a story...

In the Great Wilderness, everyone knows me, and everyone sees me as the Great Demon that has committed every evil deed, deserving of death. But I made the unexpected choice to enter the fray with sworn enemies, old friends, and new acquaintances, embarking on a new path investigating cases and hunting demons together. To voluntarily sign a contract that decided my death date... most people would think that is an ill-omened beginning. But to me it was a relief, to finally be free of the prison that was of my own making...

Fate bound our demon hunting team together, and as we solved cases together, we got to know each other's true hearts. Some amongst us conquered might with gentleness, some amongst us were full of righteousness, some soft-hearted despite our tough exterior, some are lively troublemakers, some holding on to a true heart. Such a motley crew coming together and the only thing they seemed to be able to agree on was: that I wasn't to be trusted. They know me as Zhao Yuanzhou, but they can't forget all the evil I did as a Great Demon. But it didn't matter since I didn't hold much hope for myself as well, so all these other emotions didn't mean anything to me.

If you asked why I came here, I would tell you it's because I am the Great Demon Zhu Yan, forced to bear the burden of being born as a "vessel". I lost control and made an unredeemable mistake, and only death can eliminate the pain in my heart. Living is torture; Death is the gift of relief. However, I also wanted to give myself a chance at redemption, a boat rowing against the current.

Along the way, the demon hunting team encountered many complicated cases, but we worked hand in hand to solve them and the blades that we had pointed towards each other were turned towards the outside. Sworn enemies became comrades in arms, and as we took one step closer to saving the world, we also uncovered wounds that had already scarred over. As we saw each other's past wounds more clearly, we saw the past laughter that was used to hide the pain. Those who had a responsibility to protect found themselves unable to, those bearing the burdens of upholding the family's honour were just trapped in a dream, and those should have grown up with no worries found their world turned upside down overnight...

If you have a nightmare, someone might comfort you by saying don't worry, everything that happens in a dream is inverted. But what if it's a beautiful dream? Everything I'd experienced felt so real to me. As I journeyed on, I began to get lost in the dream. I started to wonder, what was I going to do if I was the one who lost everyone else in the end? I have to confess, I began to feel reluctant to part with everyone...

The lonely boat travels across the bitter seas, but friendship caused waves to rise in a heart that had died. Along the way, we mended each other bit by bit. What I have experienced is too beautiful for the other "me" to ever understand. The wish to enjoy the passing seasons and happiness of an ordinary life held great hidden strength, so that even though I already knew the ending, I did not give up the struggle. Because of all of you, I was driven not just by my thoughts of despair, but by my desire to protect all of you.

Be it the Great Wilderness or the mortal realm, everything must return to its original path. If you grieve over the fact that Zhu Yan did not get a chance to choose, then I will tell you that it was only a dream. If you are looking forward to embarking on a new journey with Zhao Yuanzhou's companions, then you have to wake up to hear the rest of the story. By the way, don't forget what I said – in the future, when it rains, that means I've come to accompany you. Turn the boat around and think of it as a big dream. On the other shore, someone is searching for me. A one-word spell: Wake.

The days I spent with Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, confining myself to my shell and experiencing a life seeking an inevitable end, but I also felt the redemption in the countdown. For an actor, this was a very special creative process. The director's help, encouragement, and trust played a huge role in letting me experience this unique and meaningful role of Zhao Yuanzhou. He gave me a lot of room to interpret the one and only Zhao Yuanzhou, and with this support, I was able to accompany Zhao Yuanzhou through this journey, and finally entrust him to you, the audience, with peace of mind.

Also unforgettable were our companions who were with us every step of the way, and the process of everyone coming together in the creative process is very enjoyable, very satisfying, very worthwhile, and I will remember those scenes vividly. I will miss the Great Wilderness, the Demon Hunting Bureau, and the Kunlun Mountains... places where we left our joys and sorrows. Thanks to Wen Xiao, Xiao Zhuo-daren, Pei Sijing, Xiao Jiu, Ying Lei – because of our little demon hunting squad, Zhao Yuanzhou left knowing he was loved. Thank you to my ride-or-die Li Lun, we didn't forget our oath to protect the Great Wilderness. Thank you to my dear friend Zhao Wan'er, and Grandpa Yingzhao, who gave Yuanzhou the rare warmth of familial affection! Last but not least, I would like to thank all the crew behind the scenes for their hard work over the past few months. I have woken up from the dream, but my heart will always remember.

Signed, Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, with remorse but no regrets

#fangs of fortune #hou minghao #zhao yuanzhou #zhu yan #it was such a beautiful and heartfelt farewell letter that I had to share it #大梦归离 #侯明昊 #赵远舟 #朱厌 #LM's translations

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joeyalohadream · 2 months ago

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💕☀️Joey's Masters of the Air Fanfiction Recommendations - Part 1 ☀️💕

Being part of a fandom that is small, yet so incredibly talented has been such a breath of fresh air for me. My reading list has been a mile long (and growing every day!) for far too long and I've recently been making more time for myself to simply read. And I wanted to take some time to shout out some of the wonderful stories and authors that I've really enjoyed lately.

All of these recommendations are Clegan stories because that is what I personally most enjoy reading. But there are other blogs and talented authors out there that write for all sorts of pairs in the fandom that I encourage people to engage with!

Adding a cut because it’s a looong post!

☀️ The Bucks in a Boat by magic_glow (not sure if the author has a tumblr!)

Explicit, Post-War, Falling in Love, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort

This is an AU based on the movie The Boys in the Boat (starring our lovely Callum). The plot follows John returning home from the war, where he still served as a B17 bomber pilot. But he enrolls in school and times are tough, so much like in the film, he tries out for the rowing team for the free room and board. Where he meets, and immediately forms a strong bond with, Gale Cleven. The author manages to keep the characterizations true, while still making them their own. They manage to incorporate almost every Mota character in a meaningful way and I especially love the sweet friendship between John and Brady in this one. It deals with the trauma of War and life and also displays a beautiful sense of camaraderie as they form as a team and learn to lean on one another. It’s wonderfully written and the world building is phenomenal. The pace is perfect and the story is compelling and John and Gale’s connection is explored with care. This is my current ‘comfort fic’ and I look forward to reading how it all develops. (And the title is so cute!)

☀️ He may be the Reason by c_goldthorn (@c-goldthorn)

Explicit, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy

This a modern au based on the movie Notting Hill and I recommend this one, whether or not you've seen the movie! As someone who has never seen the movie, this fic is my first experience with the plot and I'm loving every minute of it. The author infuses humor and care and love into her stories and you'll fall in love with all of the characters in this one. It's romantic and sweet and angsty and the longing is palpable. I am always patiently waiting for me. (And she has a couple of side stories in the universe posted as well that are very sweet!)

☀️ one way, or another by hart (@blixabargelds)

Explicit, Kidnapping, Strangers to Lovers, Getting Together

Okay, so literally everything that she writes is fantastic. No one quite hurts Gale like she does (lol) and it's done with care and reason and it's beautiful to read. This story though, it's hard to find words to describe it. It's a modern au where Gale orchestrates his own kidnapping (for reasons) and John is the kidnapper. A truly unique plot that is executed so perfectly that I read it twice in one weekend. It's angsty, especially as Gale's circumstances seem to get more and more bleak, yet there is this light, romantic air to it throughout because of the dynamic the author creates between John and Gale. It's FUN. And reading should be fun. It's truly a masterpiece and you'll be hooked from the first paragraph.

☀️ before you say 'cut', wait five more seconds by phlegmatic (@irregularcollapse)

Explicit, Actors AU, Workplace Relationship, Sharing a Bed

She is one of those gold standard creators in my opinion. Not just in the Mota fandom, but just in general. The way she tells a story is captivating and you get the sense that every word written is there for a specific reason. The care she puts into the craft is evident and appreciated and while I’m too shy to have ever really interacted with her, I’m such a huge fan. I could rave endlessly about her work, but onto the specific story I’m recommending! This story follows Gale, an up and coming actor that gets his 'big break' when he's cast as one of the leads in a big movie. He's starring alongside John, who is already an very established name in the industry. They fall into bed (and never really leave for long) and along the way, start to fall for each other. It is clear that this universe the author created means a lot to them. It is so authentic and focused on acting as a craft, as an artform and I learned a lot about the industry from reading this. The turmoil, buzzing under the surface, that Gale feels about his career and his future is so palpable and so vivid, I felt the anxiety along with him. Her version of John in this story is one of my favorites. He's sweet and raw and brash and caring. I really could gush forever about this one. The characterization is so impressive, they're them, but they're also hers and they're layered and real and beautiful. Honestly, just go read it. You'll understand why I rambled and still couldn't manage to say anything eloquent.

☀️ Packages and Pet Names by youllneverrecme (@recmeidareya)

Modern Setting, First Meetings, First Dates, PTSD

Any pet name you could possibly imagine John using for Gale, this author has already thought of them (and more!). In this one, Gale is a war veteran and John is his local UPS driver. I went into this one thinking it would be a silly, funny, sexy story (and it is!), but it also so much more than that. It's tender. And it's sweet and it's gentle. The way this author writes Gale is beautiful. He feels so real to me. The care and thoughtfulness that clearly went into his background as a Soldier is very important to me. And watching him open himself to new things, to John and to love? It's been a wonderful journey to be on. And John in this? Absolutely amazing. He's funny and sharp and soft and he cares about Gale so much. I am genuinely enjoying watching them fall in love in this and I can't wait to read more. Every one should be reading this.

☀️ just stay with me (baby stay with me) by bcoflove (@bcolfanfic)

Teen+, Modern Setting, NYC, First Kiss

This story is so sugary sweet. The author has created a 'Cornerstore AU', on tumblr and posted a fic on AO3 on Super Bowl Sunday and I'm a little obsessed. Gale moved to NYC and ended up in bad living situation. But he finds solace in visiting a corner store where John works. I'm in love with this version of Gale. He's unsure of himself and he's awkward and he's so sweet. And John is a force of nature. Funny and kind and in Gale's corner. I hope the author is inspired to write more for this au, because I'd read a 100,000 words of this.

☀️ Driving In Your Car (I've Never Felt Safer) by Thetrystingtree (@alienoresimagines)

GA, Mutual Pining, Boys in Love, Fluff

One of my favorite things about this authors writing is that it always feels a bit like I’m reading poetry when I read her stories. There’s a lightness, a beauty to the way she weaves words together. It’s vivid and authentic and I can clearly picture the settings and feel the emotions in her stories. This story in particular is such a sweet premise. Gale is tired and John drives him around base in the jeep to allow him to rest a bit. The other night, I was lying in bed and I wanted something calming and gentle to read before I fell asleep. So I went to this authors page and found this story to reread because I knew her words were what I was looking for in that moment. It's sweet and funny and, just like all of her stories, always the perfect bedtime story.

☀️ I Won't Go Where You Can't Follow by stars_remain2 (@stars-remain2)

Teen+, Whump, Violence, Protective John

If you know me, you know I have a weak spot for Gale whump and John being protective and this story has both in SPADES. It is a canon-divergence, looking a what if? scenario where Gale doesn't go over the wall and is punished for his escape attempt. He's beaten while John is forced to watch and it's brutal and painful, but so well written and so beautifully explored. The way the guys rally around Gale to help him get through the march, the way John cares for him, the way Gale is so self-sacrificing...it's all woven together into a fantastic story. The cliffhangers are killing me, but I'm hanging on because it's too good to stop. And I just know some supreme comfort is coming after all of the hurt.

☀️ Looking for Eight by VoluptuosPanic (@weimarweekly)

Explicit, Modern Setting, Rodeo AU, Repressed Feelings, Love

I'll embarrass myself if I go on to much about this fic because it brings me such joy. John is bronc rider and Gale is farrier. In this modern au, they met and spent a few days together on a road trip, years ago and then they reconnect at a rodeo. This story is so calming and so gentle and so tender it will melt you into goo. The authors style is so unique and beautiful. Her words flow together in a way that honestly reminds me of water running over river rocks in a stream. I swear I have a dopey smile on my face while I read each chapter (and then reread it). This fic is breathtaking and wonderful and just one of my favorites I've ever read. I've never read a sweeter version of Gale and John. They're so tender with each other I could melt into goo just thinking about them. Read it!

☀️ cicada season by Swify_Fox (@swifty-fox)

Explicit, Modern Setting, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Therapy

Oh, Swifty. A fandom staple and a masterclass talent. This fic is no exception. A modern au where Gale is a Phd student, working on an intense thesis breeding a rare breed of frogs and John is a contractor, hired to remodel the house Gale lives in with Crank and Marge. The research that went into this is evident and impressive and makes the story that much more compelling. Gale is practically made of barbed wire in this (for good reasons I dread to learn) and he's so three-dimensional. Each chapter begins with a therapy session for Gale as he works through trauma from his childhood. It's such a well crafted story in every aspect. John and Gale's dynamic is so fun and contentious and full of potential for something more. I'm in love with this one. You can feel the care that went into this one and every word you read means something special. Rachel's mind is truly a marvel and you are missing out if you haven't given this one a go yet.

This was fun! There is so much talent in this fandom and I have been having such a good time reading. As I was making this, I kept thinking of more and more, so I'm sure I'll be making another one of these at some point. 💕

For now though, I'm taking a little break from Tumblr. I'll still be writing and reading and posting on AO3, but I need some time off from social media for personal reasons.

Just wanted to spread some love before I disappear for a little while ❤️

#buck x bucky #mota fanfic #mota fic rec #I hope every one checks out these wonderful stories

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girldriveroscar · 23 days ago

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Ngl the first race & seeing all the hate ln4 fans force onto Oscar constantly has unfortunately forced me to turn evil and be 81 pilled soooo bad this season. It’s so bad I’m about to join the ranks of people calling landoscar PR. Like wow true! Can’t believe McLaren force them to make intense eye contact and give each other tender touches………

have to put these two asks together bc they are making me lol hahaha. got too serious about the oscar prop I Have To Remind you all I am a Firm Encourager of F1 Drivers going down on each other for the love and hate of it all. like I Do actually believe there is a lot of oscar's honest personality coming thru in how much he just Likes and Respects Lando and is Genuinely pleased with himself how much closer they've gotten (since he seems incapable of Not reminding us this year??? Guys.)

I might've agreed w that sentiment like... a few months ago HONEST TO GOD. at least to the fact that they were closer to acquaintances than even Friendly coworkers but idk man... IDK... they're Really pushing it and I think Oscar has come out of his shell so much in just this season that I'm very inclined to believe he speaks earnestly about his relationship towards Lando. bc. waves hands. tone. breaking from the script. relaxed nature about it. I think it is genuine to some degree yeah. and I say this as like. a Major 81head. like do you understand how badly I Wish that were the case. do u get how badly I wish it was psychological warfare and Oscar wasn't Actually just giggly and sweet about a MANNNN,,, HIS #1 COMPETITOR....

like im sitting here saying lando's the soft one and Oscar has the means to be stronger mentally. and he is Humiliating me. He is Being So Honeymoon Starry-Eyed in love. Oh may God. I hope mark webber is turning in his grave. the never-ending horrors for that man.

I am still so confident in Oscar beyond the RPF narrative but the last race alone has me honest to god doubting Myself. like. We all know the two number one drivers thing is a bad idea so Why Are They So disgustingly sweet about it. why are they both so bashful propping each other up... What is happening in the house of mclaren. ONLY TWO RACES IN THOUGH. I remind everyone. Only two in. still have solid belief in all I've predicted for Oscar. he just needs to lock in and keep ahead el oh el. God I can't wait for the WDC to get serious.. holding out for Genuine calamity and MORE toxic yaoi... zak brown kinda is insane for this when u think about it..

its rly like. so freeing to enjoy 814 whilst the Bigger Horrors of Ferrari are taking up my Emotional Bearings. Like my ship is fucking sinking we are going down the main hull is Flooding. but look at these two idiots making out in a row boat across the way.. god. Great entertainment. half my cargo is at the bottom of the ocean. but look how cute Oscar is when he is happy. look how in love my boy is Oh God.

#never liked you zak brown. but I can't deny you know how to fujo the fuck out...#landoscar #raceblogging #asks

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bwobgames · 2 months ago

Text

They see a slumped, defeated looking Owen and a pensive Simon on one of the tables.

“Now that’s not the mood for a fancy train ride. Cheer up, strange creatures!”

“No can do, for the future only brings ruin. Forked paths. Uncertain fate. Such an herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“What”

“We’re thinking”

“Are you?”

“They’re bummed out because they have to choose a career for university”

“WHA- WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?”

“Around”

“Is that what’s worrying you? Career prospects?”

“It’s more than that! I took a year off to ~find myself~ but uh. I mostly played videogames and got a cool haircut”

“And now I have to actually do the damn thing, and I still haven’t found out what I want to do!”

“It’s alright Owen, the university life is not for everyone.”

“No no, I know that! But I need to know what is it that I want to do for the rest of my life!”

“That does sound like a Herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“Well, what is it that you like to do?”

“Uh. Listen to Medieval versions of popular music?”

“…As like. A hobbie”

“Don’t worry, a lot of people don’t end up working as the thing they studied. I was a security guard for a good while!”

“Security! That’s it!”

“A security expert? That’s a noble job”

“I’LL BECOME THE NEXT DOMINION!”

“The guy is nowhere to be found, and people found he sold all the stuff he stole so he must be loaded, right?”

“And! I get to have a cool costume!”

“You think it’s cool…?”

("He thinks it's cool?!")

“Owen that’s how you get in jail. And at least a few broken bones. A person needs to be borderline crazy to believe they can pull off the stuff Dominion did”

“Because he was like no other, truly. Amazing, mysterious, charming…”

“A complete lunatic”

“less than three”

“wh- Did you say the heart emoji out loud?”

“Well, if I can’t be Twominion then what do you think I should be, Mr. B- Oliver Beebo?”

Hmm… Something that Owen would enjoy…

“I think you’d do it well”

“Well, that does sound fun, but uh, isn’t that a bit… low on employment?”

“That is true, but. Does it really matter for your type?”

“My type?”

“Rich people."

"You have connections. Your parents have connections. No matter how low-end a career path might be, you’ll get to do anything because of your family’s name”

“Ollie, you’re not wrong but I don’t think that’s what the kid wants to hear right now…”

“Why not? It means he’s free to do whatever he wants. Look at Nadia”

“Oliver…”

“She’s studying film. In a country with barely any movie productions. Less so known ones aside from some closed circles. On a private University.”

“Yet she’ll be able to do all the movies she wants and be successful because the Margulis name is strong”

“…Excuse you. Are you implying I’m not able to be successful on my own?”

“Ah, you certainly have talent Nadia, I wouldn’t say anything against that”

“But that talent can be found in millions of people. People who might be even more talented. But we’ll never know because they won’t be able to reach the place it has been given to you on talent alone”

“You will. Because you have money. Because you were born with money.”

“…You-“

“SIMON! HAHA WHAT ABOUT YOU SIMON? HUH? WHAT DO YOU WANT TO STUDY HAHA”

“C’mon Beeb, only I’m allowed to fight the child”

(“Fight?")

Simon thinks for a second

“…Marine Biology”

“Although mom always gets weird when I say it. I think she might hate fishes”

“Bu- But you are good at cooking yeah? Didn’t you love cooking?”

“I am good at it but… The cooking scene isn’t very nice…”

“And I refuse to cook Lobster! It’s terrible and cruel!”

“Well, what if you become a vet! And specialize in fish! Or become the owner of an aquarium!”

“That just seems like a roundabout way to get to marine biology”

“You could have your own restaurant! Fish free!”

“I think it’s fine."

"If you like it and you think you can make it, then go ahead. Biology is hard though, think about that”

“I’m pretty good at it”

He seems relieved.

While he can’t speak for the others, his blonde roots and white shirt made his eyes look… almost green.

Eugene never got to study what he loved. He’ll make sure Simon does.

<-PREV START NEXT->

#children time #i wanted one of the options to be 'french' but i resisted the urge #detective beebo overnight train

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month ago

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Hello professor trein! Umm.. this is a bit embarrassing and I understand if it's too personal to answer, I just have to ask. What was your and wife's favorite anniversary date? I was thinking about my own and my mind kinda wondered to you since you told us some stories.

Mozus 'The Rizzler' Trein-- I tried to pack in as many Disney references as I could into his anniversary dates :3c

***Warning: character death + grieving over that loss depicted.***

A Storied Past.

Trein coughed loudly into a fist.

"W-Well, now! It’s rather inappropriate for you to interrogate your instructors about their love lives," he stuttered, cheeks uncharacteristically colored

Trein lowered his gaze to a photograph on his desk—to the woman in a long gown and a flowery bonnet. He reached for her, but his gloved fingertips only came in contact with the glass that protected her visage. After a moment’s pause, he blew out a longing sigh.

“… I truly treasured every second I shared with her. To place a single anniversary above the others would be a disservice to her memory.

“Our first anniversary was a quaint and humble one. We walked arm and arm through the city, viewing the flowers. We stopped by our favorite bakery as a pitstop, and before the day was over I had purchased a bouquet for her. She had taken a daisy out and teased me with it. There is a children’s game in which you pluck the petals off a flower. One for “loves me”, the next, “loves me not”… and the petal that you pluck last represents the feelings the other holds.”

“The time after that, we ventured to a rural village to pick apples. Fresh off the tree, they were most succulent and sweet. We danced under the stars and in the shade of the orchard.

“Next year, I rented a boat and we took a ride vis the waterways. It took me some time to get used to rowing. Out there, drifting upon the waters… It was as though we were in a whole new world of our own making.

“We attempted horseback riding once. Never again. My steed bucked terribly—ah, but my wife had herself a grand old time. She happily fed the horses afterward, thanking them for their time.

“The fifth year, I made dinner arrangements with an upscale restaurant. We ordered many dishes, but the highlight of the menu was the Starry Night Spaghetti. Have you heard of it? Supposedly consuming it with your lover under a starry night is said to bind you eternally.”

Story after story poured out of Trein, each one just as saccharine as the last. You lost count of the anniversaries, of all the joy filling a jar and overflowing. Your professor, glowing with nostalgia.

But then came the shift.

No longer were they out exploring or experiencing the world. She had to stay indoors, for fear of aggravating her condition--so he brought the world to her. Gifts, photographs, anecdotes. And she would smile weakly and thank him.

Trein didn't say it, but you could feel it in his tiredness, the worry that pervaded his face. He was slowly losing her, and it hurt every last inch of him.

Her health declined in spite of his efforts. She was confined to a sterile hospital room, hooked up to a needle that dispensed all the things she needed to simply survive. The woman became gaunt as a ghost, the light and color leeched from her.

"On our anniversary, the last one before she passed..." Trein choked up. He took in a breath, but did not speak again for several moments. "... I apologize. I do not think I can..."

"It's okay," you said quickly. "That's enough. Thank you for entrusting me with your precious memories. I'll, um... see myself out?"

He did not respond.

You took the hint and scurried out.

Once the door shut behind you, Trein pinched the bridge of his nose. Wetness collected in the corners of his eyes, and he forced them shut.

He was in the hospital room again. Pure white and impossibly clean. The window was open, letting in sunshine, fresh air, and a glimpse outside, where his beloved would never again venture. She was there, laid out in her bed like a corpse in a coffin--yet she offered a shadow of a smile when she turned to him.

"Mozus," she whispered, thin as the sheets that she was wrapped in, "do you remember our very first anniversary?"

"Yes, dear. How could I not? We went flower viewing in the city."

"I miss them. The flowers. Ordinary as they are, they're magic. They come every year without fail. No matter how relentless the snow... spring will always come. That can be called nothing short of magical."

"Shall I fetch you new ones to spruce up your room? The roses are starting to wilt."

"... No. No, it just wouldn't be the same as seeing them fresh on the tree." She had shaken her head then, and he wondered if she had known then that she wouldn't last another year, that she was trying to save him the grief of a broken promise. "Surely you saw some on the way in. Can you... Can you please tell me about the flowers? What were they like this year?"

"As you wish. I will recount them to the best of my ability."

And that year, he had held her hand and silently wept as he spoke of the flowers and their rebirth.

No matter how relentless the snow... spring will always come.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"... Yes. Yes, you're absolutely correct, my dear."

Spring will always come.

Surely.

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #Mozus Trein #Reader #self insert #sing sweet nightingale #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #tw // character death #angst

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ynbabe · 1 year ago

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bffs with the rookies- incorrect quotes 1!

Just a lil sum sum to show more abt the relationships in the AU

Y/N: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. Oscar: Yeah, you just catch it. Logan: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Arthur: Then I just use a spear instead. Y/N: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?

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Oscar: It’s Christmas! Are you all in a Christmas mood?! Logan: Merry crisis. Arthur: Jingle bells, jingle bells, single all the way. Y/N: Hoe hoe hoe. Oscar: Guys, please.

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Oscar: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Logan? Logan: Arthur, easily. Arthur, laughing: What the fuck, man. Logan: Well, Y/N would be too easy. She’d probably be into it. Y/N, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

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Logan: How do I ask someone out? Y/N: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Logan: No! Arthur: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Logan: Stop! Oscar: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Logan: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

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Y/N: Fight me! Arthur: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? *Later* Logan: Why is Arthur crying? Oscar: Y/N kicked him really hard on the ankle.

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Y/N, to Oscar: When was the last time you let someone hug you? Oscar: *thinking* Oscar: 2012. Arthur: 2012…? Oscar: Yeah. I almost died and it really freaked Logan out so I let him hug me.

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Lando: You know what? Lando: When I joined this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit. *Y/N, Arthur and Oscar continue screaming about mold water* Lando:Not the other way around. Logan: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mold water.

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Lando: Mice are having sex in my walls. Arthur: Tattletale! Logan: You're just being ungrateful. Y/N: It's their home too, you know. Oscar: So what? Don't slutshame them. Lando: The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.

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Oscar: Team A will consist of myself, Arthur, Lando, and Logan. Oscar: Team B will consist of Y/N, cause she scares me.

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How Lando and Y/n became friends:

Logan: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Logan, to Arthur: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Y/N, to Lando: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Oscar: There are two types of people.

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Charles: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Arthur: *Incoherent mumbling* Charles: Huh? Y/n: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

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Charles (brainstorming ideas for pranking Max): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Y/n: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Charles: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Y/n: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Charles.

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Y/n: I'm gonna eat the chicken breasts! Arthur, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack. Y/n, deadpanning at Arthur Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.

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Arthur, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs? Charles: It means like in hand-to-hand combat. Arthur: Ohhhh- Y/n: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

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Logan: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Y/n For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Logan: Mean.

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Y/n: Dumbest scar stories, go! Oscar: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Charles: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Logan: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Arthur: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Max: Max: I have emotional scars.

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When Max and Charles got spam called by Y/n and the group after their party:

Max: I CAN'T DO IT! Charles, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Max: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Lando: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Max: Max: I appreciate it, Max: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Charles: Max- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Lando: Max we gotta- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Max: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Max, motioning to Y/n, Oscar, Arthur and Logan: NOT FUCKING THIS

#f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 incorrect quotes #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #lando norris x reader #lando norris #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc

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cosmowgyral · 3 months ago

Text

Jude's Main Story

Both Ends Bonus Snippets

So sorry guys for being terribly late with this one. I had typed it down somewhere while reading it back then but couldn't manage to find it in the end. So I had to rewrite it.

MDNI

The story is entirely from Jude's POV.

It's been several seasons since Jude's been 'cursed' and his research for developing a rocket capable of reaching the moon is still ongoing.

MC walks into Jude's office and feels that Jude is in a good mood. Jude claims she must be imagining things, but when she persists, he replies that he received news from the researcher working on the rocket, that the issues of balancing air pressure regulation and oxygen supply have been solved. It had been a concern for a long time.

When they head over to the lab to witness the results for themselves, they discover the debris of the rocket scattered all across. It appears the initial attempt was a success, but the second verification didn't proceed correctly. Jude noticed MC was making a sad face and he realised he had given her false hope and happiness.

Jude states that this was better since it would have caused a larger issue if the rocket had exploded mid-air. He asks the scientist to carry on with his research while he prepares the necessary funds. He doesn't plan to quit halfway as that would mean he spent for nothing.

That night, MC barges into Jude's room and requests him to follow her. Despite his initial reluctance, Jude accompanies her at a lake where she rows them out to the center of the water.

"Jude: A boat in the middle of the night."

"Jude: What? Ya trynna commit suicide now?"

When they arrive, she tells him she wanted to touch the reflection of the moon floating in the sky. Jude understood that although he sensed her sadness back then due to her dream being distant, it was really because she believed that Jude would be upset because of the failure. She had been seeking a method to encourage him following that. She tells him that their dream is certainly absurd and perhaps even unachievable, yet he must always strive for it, regardless of how many times he might fail in the future.

She then asks him to touch the moon's reflection as well, but he refused, stating that his hands would get wet. So, she says she will touch it for him, but then she abruptly leans forward, tilting the boat and sending them both into the water.

Back at the castle, MC regretted disrupting her plan and apologized to Jude for getting him soaked.

"Jude: I'm freezin' 'cause I got wet. So go on 'n warm me up with yer body."

And so... *coughs*

"Jude: You're squeezin' too tight. ...Hah, what a nice 'n sloppy face."

"Jude: Even so, you're really hot. Yer inside, skin 'n everythin'. Make sure to share the whole lot with me."

While at it, Jude recalls how he has always longed for the moon. I am putting an excerpt of his monologue here since it was very soul-stirring.

I've always had a longin' for the moon.

Even though I say I hate it 'n it's annoyin', the truth is, I've always been starin' up at the sky.

In my pitch-black life, far from any bit o' happiness, the moon was the one thing that ever shone.

But then, I thought this to myself.

(This hand o' mine will never reach the moon.)

Never thought anythin' shiny would ever come into my life.

Talkin' of hope-- I was already knackered 'n worn out.

('N yet)

My fingertips are now touchin' the moon.

Sometimes carefree, sometimes brazen, a woman who’s always goin’ on about love to me, nearly every day.

This woman is the moon that suddenly appeared in my pitch-black life.

Only gotta hold the moon 'n live my life, that's all.

Maybe it's 'cause I'm used to misfortune.

But the thought that it might slip through my fingers again pops into my mind.

Like the moon fadin', I wonder if it'll just up 'n vanish off somewhere.

She was on top of him but then he reversed their positions, pinning her down on the bed.

"Jude: If ya ever run away from here on, kill me."

"Jude: 'Cause as long as I live, I ain't lettin' ya go 'till you're nothin' but bones."

(Do you see how deep his feelings run? Who would want to leave you, huh?!)

"Jude: You've completely lost yer crisis management skills 'n yer taste in men, haven'tcha?"

(I don't care, I want you.)

"I laugh 'n say I'm happy, even though every day's soaked in blood."

"I'm sure I'll be laughin', even down in the depths of hell."

A few days later, MC storms into Jude's office again. She says that the researcher has genuinely succeeded with the process this time. Inspite of it being his research, he feels that she is happier than him. He claims her to be as dazzling as the moon that unexpectedly appears during daytime.

"--My fingers are now, touchin' the moon."

(I know this wasn't the first time I'm reading it, but I'm in tears AGAIN. 😭

Oh baby, you deserve ALL the happiness in the world.)

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With this, I'm done summarising his route. I will once again say, that I deeply love this man and his route didn't at all disappoint me. It rather made me fall for him more. *sighs*

About the two routes, I liked the BLE a teeny bit more. MLE just had the spicier chapter. But Jude is still Jude no matter which route it is. I love him SOO much ughh.

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[Masterlist]

#jude jazza #ikemen villains #ikemen series #ikevil jude #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikevil #ikemen villains jude #ikevil jp

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