#I'm Trot Singer

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

[heartfullofleeches]

OKG OMG CATMAN DILF PRACTICING HIS SIGNATURE OVER AND OVER FOR GOLDENRETRIEVER READER ASKIN FOR AN AUTOGRAPH- OMGOMG

Yan Ex-Idol Catman + Fan Golden Retriever Hybrid Reader

-

He's done it a million times before. This should be easy-

"Maybe it's time for me to move again."

Moving cost outweigh the humiliation. He can always find another house near a park or school. One so close to either is hard to find around these parts, but he'll manage. The neighbors, on the other hand... It'd be hard to find anyone like that sweet mutt next door.

"Shit...." The feline scratches behind his ears - molars nawing at the plastic heart glued to the pen grasped in his fist. Torn scraps of notebook paper flutter to the carpeted floor around him as he props his arms up on the table - written signatures of differing scale and quality penned on each. If he could rewind the clock a decade or so - and used a pen with better ink, he'd have done it right the first time. All he had at he desk where the glittery pens his daughter left behind during her last visit. The kind that only seemed to work every other stroke. Had he really sunk so low to blame the inability to write his own name on a cheap pen? Why was he even doing this anyway? The day he quit, he swore he'd live his life for his fans no longer. Why go through all this effort now?

"Makariy!!!"

Fingernails claw at his front door. Makariy closes the notebook, tucking it beneath the couch cushions as he climbs up into the furniture. He pauses briefly to check his shirt for stains before speaking.

"It's open."

A gust of wind scatters more pages across the living room floor as the door is ripped out. While he may have hide the book, the physical evidence was still present. He brushes a few of the notes beneath the couch as you enter - trotting up to the coffee table where you drop a fatter stack of paper.

"I brought your mail, made you some lunch, and.... Are those?....."

Kneeling, you gather up some of the pages off the floor. The accelerating wag of your tail creates a small vacuum to which the remainder are sucked into. You snatch them up as well - bouncing on your heels from all the excitement coursing through your veins.

"Are these the signatures I asked you for?" Your voice comes out in quick exhalations - barely sparing a breath between each word. "I mean I only asked you for one, but I can have these too right?! Wait, are they for other people? I'm sorry for being greedy if they are, I just didn't think you'd actually do this for me! Thank you, thank you, thank you- Sir!

Makariy jumps up out of his seat as you bow at his feet. He pulls you off your knees, dragging you up onto the couch as he hears you digging underneath for the other scraps s he hid. "Hey, hey- What did I tell you about that Sir, shit. I'm just your neighbor, got it?

"I know, Si- Makariy. It's just not everyday you mean the lead singer for your favorite idol group. Let alone have him as your neighbor. I hope the food I brought will make up for my outburst."

You have to be conscious of it by now. Even you can't be this oblivious. If you continue to look at him with those eyes there's no way he'll be able to get out of this neighborhood anytime in the near future. There's no telling when the wonder in them will fade once you realize he's nothing like he was back then... He's not sure if his heart can take it.

"You're fine. Just stay for once instead of running off when I start eating. Why do you do that anyway?"

"Just trying to respect your privacy, Sir! Ack- I did it again, and didn't I....."

Oh well... Better to enjoy things while they last.

[glassrowboat]

Princess. Boothill.

Summary: The summer is always the best time to sit back and enjoy the sounds of nature on a horse back ride, especially when it's with you by his side.

Word Count: 1,800+

The trot of horses on an old path was a welcome one as the trees covered the sky above, blocking out the beaming sun in a canopy of the most vibrant greens. Birds singing in tune with a stream nearby, one you know well from your many times running to it as the heat got the best of you just to kick at the waters for the chance of being splashed with a refreshing cool.

Fortunately enough, today wasn't unbearable. Hot, still, but that's nothing new.

“What's with ya and always takin’ it slow, princess?” A voice called out to you, trying to distract you from the task at hand. That being: getting used to riding a horse in the first place.

Your teacher for…well..the mare you were currently on top of.

“Cmon girl, I swear I taught you how to gallop by now. Less ya scared?” A snort came from him, unlike the ones the horses huff out after being ordered to go into a different direction than the one they wanted.

Stubborn creatures they were, but your teacher had assured you the one you were riding on, Crafty, was the least stubborn of the bunch. A ‘tamed lass’ or something along those lines. At least that's what he claims, but you've personally experienced being bucked off before.

It was unpleasant, to say the least. The moment you hit the rough patch of dirt, grass tickling your skin, you were unable to breathe despite your attempts to gasp for air. Quite literally knocked out of you as you choked on the spot. Your body refused to fill your lungs.

Now, you had never been much of a smoker but in that moment you would have gladly taken a puff from a spit covered end if it meant getting what you longed for.

It was only when you were breathing again that you noticed a certain someone (a complete prick) was standing above you holding Crafty's reins in hand and laughing.

“Well, it was bound to happen ‘ventually.”

Those words made you want to punch him as your teacher leaned down, hand taking your own, and helped you up.

Afterward, you immediately ran off to shower. The need for a break and a good wash far too tempting to resist after getting knocked off your ass.

Since then you had been dubbed-

“Princess?”

That.

You glanced over at him, despite knowing you should keep your eyes forward lest Crafty follows the direction you're gazing at, to catch the sight of his black and white hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. Hat, as always, perched right on top of his head.

“Everytime you call me that, I want to call you Cruella De Vil.”

Your teacher awwed at your words, cooing the harsh tone in your voice. “You wanna give me a nickname now? I didn't know we were at tha’ stage in our relationship yet.”

“We are in nothing close to a relationship.” You snapped.

“Wowy pardner, way to-” You glared at him, waiting for your teacher (Cruella) to dare and even try to finish his sentence when you both knew he was going to attempt to say something along the lines of ‘shit on my parade’- “rain on my parade.”

“Yeah, that's totally what you were going to say.”

“Obviously.” He said, drawing out they ‘ly’ the same way you would when mocking how a country singer says the word whiskey.

You found yourself going “uhuh,” nodding in agreement just to get him off your back. Shame it didn't work as well as you wanted it to as Cruella over there kept jabbering. Stuffing your ears full of words like a tamale.

“Ya know, if it gets any hotter I'm sure we could fry an egg just by puttin’ it on a rock to sizzle up real nice. Would you like that, princess, me cooking you up a meal? Maybe we can have a beer or two to top it-”

Eventually, you found your legs squeezing the horse below you, signaling her to pick up the speed. Your hips meeting the same beat hers did as she ran, just like you were taught.

it's easier that way, apparently. Puts less stress on your body.

Hoofs beating against the well-worn path, but your teacher was far more comfortable going at a faster pace, making him catch up with you easily as he whistled at the horse to slow down. Her legs were already betraying you as they moved back into a slow trot all the way to a stop. Crafty staring back at you like she was expecting you to give her a treat for the treacherous behavior.

Well, she was certainly well trained, at least. Maybe he did have a point in saying Crafty was a tamed lass.

“Tryin' to run from me now?” He asked, laughter in his voice even as your teacher clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“You were the one complaining about us going too slow earlier.”

“Huh? Can't seem to recall that.” Reaching over, he took the reins from your hands, slipping them as easily from your gasp as any trained pickpocket might. “Mind getting off ol Crafty here so we can talk?”

“I'd rather not.”

“Course not. Real shame you're always so stubborn.” If he wasn't so close, you might have missed the part your teacher whispered about how he should have expected you to be harder to deal with than a newborn foal.

Yeah, fuck you too cowboy.

Running a hand over Crafty's neck, you couldn't help but cringe slightly at the feeling of her fur being so coarse. You'd have to remember to brush them down after cleaning out their hoofs. Something you like to do before and after every ride. After all, they deserve it for carrying you around like this.

“I don't know how you put up with Cruella over here.” You say to her. “Not when I'd never know when he's planning to turn my hide into a hat.”

Your teacher barked out a laugh as he picked his hat off his head, waving it slightly in front of your eyes so you could get a proper view of it. “It's not even made out of horse hide, ya see?”

“Yet.”

“Yet.” He repeated with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I'll give it until Crafty's leg finally gives out.”

The last thing you saw before your vision was covered was your teacher rolling his eyes right before he placed that dusty hat on your head. If you remember correctly, didn't that mean something like you were his girl or….

Ah.

Ah!

With a face as hot as the blazing sun shining down on you two, right in the midst of summer, no less, you shoved the hat back towards him. “That's sweaty and gross! I don't want it!”

Laughter caught on the wind as he took it back, holding it to his chest as your teacher pouted.

“Ya wound me. Here, a simple cowboy is offering you something to block out that blasted sun, and you don't even make use of it?”

“I can manage just fine without it.” You hissed.

“You have also been riding with narrowed eyes this entire time, princess. It kinda gives you away.”

“I said,” taking the reins from his hands you pulled them back into your grasp, careful not to accidentally kick Crafty up by startling her, “I'm fine.”

Turning around on the path you both had been riding down, you were met with the sight of the lush greenery you two had passed and two sets of horseshoe prints littering the ground.

“And I'm heading back.”

“All on your own? Didn't know you could handle that by yourself.”

“Yes, on my own, cowboy.” You said with a firm nod. “I'll fill the hay and everything so there's no need to worry about it.”

Even if it meant getting that blasted stuff in your bra. It always had a way of sneaking in there despite your best efforts and highest collar shirts.

“All covered then, eh?” He asked as Crafty nickered underneath you.

This time you didn't grace him with a response as you made your way down the path, the sound of the bird chirping and Crafty's tail trying to wack any bugs away from her your only company as your teacher watched you go.

“She's so stubborn, ain't she?” He found himself asking. Though the grin on his face was a clear indication that the thick headed nature of yours wasn't exactly minded.

“Guess I gotta try harder to build up a romantic mood to confess next time. I'll get her to listen for sure. I just need a bit of time.”

In return, your teacher was met with the huff of the horse he was sitting on as his hand moved up to block the sun in his eyes.

Back then his hand was flesh and blood.

But now?

His metal hand was blocking out the full moon, bright as it could be as he gazed up at the stars reflected on the aluminum coated surface he was still learning to get used to. The way they moved was nothing like real fingers that would hurt at the slightest papercut.

He would always stick the hurt finger in his mouth and say that would do the trick even as the little miss royal ass would insist he wash off.

Soap and water.

He needed a bath, or at least his hair needed to be washed off. The rest of him maybe needed a shining? Maybe a good wipe and oil capped off?

Boothill dropped his hand, letting it fall to his side as he looked back up at the sky.

If he closed his eyes right now, could he pretend it was sunny as can be? That the leafs above and Boothill’s hat were the only thing keeping his eyes from being blinded, that there was a stream right down the way he could hear just as clearly as the trot of two horses side by side?

Could he, just maybe, hear your voice?

Yet all he heard was his own breathing that was…altered in a way. Affected, just like the rest of him the moment he took on this hunk of a junk body.

It was agonizing to wake up from such a peaceful dream. One he wanted to go back to despite it long since having burnt to ash. Crumpled between warm fingers that had once touched your hand, now gone like the rest of him.

Grabbing his hat, Boothill got up where he was standing, trying his best to once again walk away from your memory. The same way he did as Boothill realized he had to flee that fateful day without erecting some sort of monument for everyone in their honor.

For Nick.

For Graey.

For his little girl.

For his princess.

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 9

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Family death, grief, unexpected complications, family secrets, mentions of military service, loss/death, surprises around every corner. Summary: Making a stop at the local food pantry on your way to the soulmate chapel leads to a surprising revelation, and it is only the first of many for this day. Notes: I apologize for the extra delay! It appears my flare up was not done flaring, but I didn't want to make everyone wait a whole extra week for this chapter. Happy reading!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

“It will only take a few minutes.” Zach promises. “And it’s on the way.” He feels strange to be arriving to the food bank dressed in the immaculate suit that had once belonged to your grandfather. One of the half-dozen that your grandmother had saved, and he honestly wonders if it had been his wedding suit. It fits so well with the dress you are wearing.

"I don't mind at all." He's taken the lead in driving around over the last few days, and when he pulls into the parking lot of the church that runs the local food bank you're just happy and starry-eyed in the front seat next to him. Your grandmother's dress only needed a few pins to fit perfectly, and Zach is maybe an inch or two taller than your grandfather was based on the way the suit fits – but not different enough for him to be uncomfortable or for him to look anything over than devastatingly handsome.

He gives you a brilliant smile and leans over to kiss you. “Want to stay here?” He asks. “I can get everything out.”

“No, no, I want to help.” This is something that means a lot to both of you, and if you get to show off the fact that you’re obviously wearing a wedding dress? Well…you’ll be very happy to tell anyone who asks why.

He chuckles. “Don’t get your dress dirty.” He warns before opening the door to the SUV to hop out and go around back to open the trunk. There’s several boxes and the cooler with all the cold things. A good donation haul that can hopefully put some food in someone in need’s home.

“I won’t!” The dress, or the nearly convenient blue flats that you wore today that are now your something blue. You stack up two of the smaller boxes in your arms and trot up to the side entrance of the church at Zach’s side.

Zach had called first, to make sure they were accepting donations, so the doors open quickly. The preacher obviously watching out for the donation.

"You must be Mr. Wellison." The preacher opens the door wide to let you in and stops short when he sees you slightly behind your now fiancé. "Bunny! What a surprise." And all at once he understands. "These...these donations must be coming from your grandmother's house. I'm so very sorry for your loss, dear."

"Thank you, Reverend Michaels." The best you can offer is a small, polite smile. It doesn't seem right to be beaming with joy that you're about to marry your soulmate when someone offers their condolences. "But, yes. We thought that these would make a good addition to the pantry, especially since it's not the usual time of year for donations. There are a few more boxes in the car outside."

“Absolutely.” He nods, “I’ve got some extra hands here.” He turns back into the church. “Darrel! Come lend a hand, son.”

It figures.

It absolutely figures.

The spare set of hands the reverend has to offer is none other than your ex-boyfriend.

Darrel comes in from the other room with a smile on his face that drops the second he sees you and Zach – and his expression says it all.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it.” Zach insists. Although he knows that Darrel hasn’t pressed any farther since you’ve talked to him, he doesn’t like the idea of taking anything from him, including help to donate food.

"It's okay." Darrel's head hangs a little, but he dusts off his hands and motions toward the door. "More hands make light work. It...looks like you're on your way somewhere, anyway."

“We are.” Zach’s jaw clenches slightly, but he doesn’t refuse his help a second time, it would be rude and the reverend would notice. He’s starting to think that Darrel is either the sweetest man in history, or he’s somehow bugged you to find out where you are. He wants to believe the latter rather than the first option.

"We're just dropping a few boxes off." You explain needlessly, and head rather immediately for the door.

"Headed to Windrixville?" Darrel guesses, shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows you out the door.

Zach pauses and looks over at you. Wanting to tell him yes, but it’s not his place.

He's right. It is up to you. Which is why you roll your shoulders back and try to find that poise you're somehow capable of onstage, even in the dirt parking lot of the church. "We're getting married," you tell him honestly. There's no point in being coy – he already guessed.

“Wow, uh, congratulations.” He offers, biting his lip before he offers you a smile that might not be completely genuine, but it’s not mocking or brittle.

"Thank you." While you're very aware that it's not what he wanted to hear out of your mouth, and you don't really want to hurt anybody, the fact is that ending this whole confusion once and for all is going to be a good thing. "I'm sorry about whatever my parents might have said, Darry, but this is it for me. Zach is it for me. And I don't say that lightly."

“He’s your soulmate.” Darrel acknowledges. “Your parents were always against soulmate matches, but- I know that you aren’t.” He swallows and shuffles slightly before moving to grab a box out from the back of the SUV. “Well, the quicker we get this unloaded, the sooner you can get married.”

"We appreciate the help." It's even more awkward than you thought it would be, and for a second all you can think to do is nod your head and reach for the cooler in the trunk.

“Babe, let me get that.” Zach tuts. “Here, take this smaller box, I don’t want you to ruin your dress.”

"Still tryin' to do more than you need to, Bun?" Darrel almost laughs as he shakes his head and looks to Zach. "One day you're gonna wake up to your whole house being redecorated, and she'll do it with a broken arm or something."

“I don’t doubt it.” Zach appreciates the spirit of the comment, and relaxes slightly. “Only reason our suite hasn’t been redecorated is because all the furniture is built in or bolted down.”

“Cruise ship,” you explain, when Darrel looks like he’s about to get a spinning cursor on his forehead trying to wrack his brain for the full context of Zach’s comment. “We’re working on a cruise ship.”

“Right.” Darrel laughs at himself, shaking his head. “I guess I had no idea they bolt down the furniture. But that makes sense.”

“It would make rough seas a bitch.” Zach admits. “Not showing up for work because you got knocked out when the boat rocked.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Darrel admits. He grabs the largest box from the trunk and tucks it up against himself carefully. Safely. “Furthest I’ve ever gone from home is Dallas or maybe Texarkana.”

Zach can’t relate. “I’ve been a lot of places.” He admits as he hefts the cooler up after taking it away from you. “Some I didn’t want to be and never wish to see again.”

“What branch?” Darrel knows that sentiment all too well from his old friends.

“Marines.” He knows that you broke up with Darrel before his tattoo, so he’s not bothered by the question. “Baghdad, Fallujah.”

Darrel shifts the box in his hands and offers one outstretched hand to Zach in all sincerity. “Thank you for your service.”

It’s surprising, so much so that he nearly drops the cooler instead of setting it down inside so he can take the man’s hand. It’s been a long time since he’s been thanked and probably the first time since coming back that he doesn’t mind it. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.” He admits sheepishly. “So, uh, yeah.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do.” Darrel acknowledges. “I lost my kid brother in Fallujah.” His eyes shift to you momentarily, knowing your parents would have told you when it happened, before he looks back at Zach. “Life is complicated. And not usually what you expect. But…it seems like things are looking out okay for you now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Zach murmurs quietly. “I understand completely, even if they weren’t my brothers by blood, I miss every damn one of them everyday.”

You hang back, as surprised as either of the guys are for this encounter but trying to give the whole situation a chance to be less awkward. It seems like they might actually be on a path to civility, and you would love for this trip to end on a positive note. Darrel and Zach being on polite terms would be a hugely positive note.

“It was difficult, but we got his letter a few weeks later.” Darrel tells him quietly. “The guy who was with him when he died mailed it to us.”

“Robby was a good kid.” You offer, knowing that it would have been a strain on the entire family to lose their middle son. Your parents had talked about it like losing a pillar of the community.

“Robby???” Zach looks bewildered and slightly nauseas. “Robert Tyler Rodriguez?” He asks softly, praying that it’s not the same person.

Darrel pales instantly, freezing in his tracks as the puzzle pieces in his mind fall into place. He knew the name Wellison sounded familiar but he just thought maybe it was a client whose house he had worked on or the name of some long-forgotten classmate.

But no. The name Wellison had been printed in block letters on the letter that told his family that their bravest son was never coming home again. He wants to be angry. He wants to be furious. But all he can feel is the ring of hollow sadness in his chest that is left after losing his brother...and a thick feeling of something emotional that has him setting down the box on the stairs up to the side door of the church. "You're the one who sent us the letter," he says finally, when he remembers to speak again.

“Yes.” He had thought it was a fucking coincidence, plenty of people live in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Plenty of people have the last name Rodriguez. Robby had called his brother ‘Dee’. “You’re Dee.” He swallows harshly and wishes he was anywhere else but here. Ready for the onslaught of blame and accusations. After hand delivering Tommy Mansfield’s letter and accompany his body home, being slapped and screamed at for being the lone survivor, he couldn’t come to Robby’s home. Already sinking into a depression that nearly made him eat a bullet, he had just mailed the letter off with his own written note, saying he was sorry.

For the second time today, Darrel Rodriguez holds his hand out to the man who has everything he ever wanted for himself. And for the second time, there is nothing but sincerity behind the gesture. "Thank you for writing that letter," he intones, quiet and serious but no less true. "It couldn't have been easy. And we appreciated getting something other than a paper-pusher on our doorstep to tell us the news."

Zach frowns, staring down at the offered hand and then back up to Darrel’s somber eyes. He cautiously takes the hand again. “You don’t— blame me?” He asks, his voice low and almost disbelieving.

"I admit, it was tempting. The letter came and..." he shrugs slightly, shaking Zach's hand firmly once more. "Grief is sticky. But Robby–" His voice waivers for a second and he takes a breath. "My brother knew what he was signing up for, when he joined up. He knew the risks and the responsibilities. So while it might be cathartic, to wrap up all the blame and put it on your shoulders–" He glances at you and you know in your gut he isn't just talking about Robby, but Darrel goes on. "That wouldn't be fair. You're not responsible for the fate of the whole world. Other people make choices, too."

“I miss him every day.” Zach chokes out. “Like I know you must- only more so.” He would never compare his grief to losing his friends and brothers in arms to losing a true brother. “I still have nightmares about it. I miss them all so fucking much.”

"He wrote to us about his brothers." Darrel admits. Now that they're standing face to face, he has to admit the hand of fate has bashed in his door rather thoroughly. "It's– I didn't think I'd ever actually meet one of them. After everything. Well– you know."

“I’m the only one that survived.” A fact that he has tremendous guilt over every single day. Since getting back on his feet, meeting you, he has vowed to make sure that it’s a life well worth the sacrifice. He still doesn’t know why it was him that made it home, but he doesn’t hide away from it anymore.

“Well…” Darrel clears his throat gently and gestures to you. There’s more than a time of sadness in his voice but he still tries to mask it. “You had something important to come back for.”

Zach understands his meaning and gives him a solemn nod. “Yes I did.” He agrees.

If you're honest, this unexpected connection is something of a relief. Darrel isn't the enemy, after all. He was misled by your parents and has been gracious since meeting Zach. It's awkward, sure, but not ill intentioned. "I'm glad you guys got a chance to talk," you tell them, and are very happy to mean it.

“I owe you both an apology.” Darrel murmurs softly, glancing between the two of you. Zach shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything.” He promises, knowing that he can’t blame the man he has learned so much about from his younger brother. He had been told he was a good man, and he’s glad to learn that is true. He might have been a little overeager in his plans, but he was accepting the situation now.

"The people who owe an apology are my parents." And you will be insisting that they give it.

“Babe.” Zach shakes his head. “I don’t think they will think they’ve done anything wrong.”

The fact that he's right is frankly upsetting, but you'll wrangle with that later. On a day when you aren't looking forward to marrying your damn soulmate. Instead of pressing it, you nod a little. "My parents and I have a little work to do between us, I think. But that's...that's not something to dwell on today." It does impact the fact that you're essentially eloping, but again...that is a thought for a different day.

“No, today is for us.” He agrees, shuffling slightly and moving over to your side. “Are you ready?” He asks, the boxes donated and the air cleared between you and Darrel it seems.

"Absolutely." The one thing in this life that you're absolutely certain of is Zach. No hesitations. So the question of whether or not you are ready to marry him is unnecessary.

Zach takes your hand and starts to turn away. Not sure what else to say to Darrel, but the other man surprises everyone, even himself. “Do you want a witness?” He blurts out.

“What?” You turn around in confusion, certain you must have heard him wrong.

Instead of denying that he said anything, he straightens his shoulders and repeats himself. “Do you want a witness?” He asks again.

"I–" You glance over at Zach, who looks just as startled as you do. "I mean...it would be helpful..."

“Why would you want to do that?” Zach asks seriously. “I know you have deep feelings for her. It- it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Because—” Darrel pushes out the word and shoves his hands in his pockets. Zach is right. He does have deep feelings for you. He has for years. But pining doesn’t make him a bad guy. “All I ever wanted was for her — for you — to be happy.” He tells both of you. “You folks made it seem like you weren’t. You were still trying to find your way, and like you might come home any time. But you—” If he jams his fingers into his pockets anymore he’s gonna break a finger. “You obviously love your life. And your guy. And if I’m gonna claim that all I ever wanted was your happiness? Then I gotta step up and acknowledge that that means it might not be here with me.”

It’s a very eye-opening outlook and Zach knows immediately where Robby got his sunny, upbeat attitude. “Your brother and I promised we would stand up for each other when we found our soulmates.” He tells him. “I think- it’s….a way to honor him and I would be honored if you would. But it’s not just my decision.” He looks over at you. “What do you want, baby?”

A hell of a lot of thoughts are running through your head at the moment, if you’re honest with yourself, but not the least of them is relief. And some kind of gratitude. This whole issue with your parents can be put to bed with Darrel supporting your marriage, and he deserves to be able to move on after carrying a torch for you for so long. A part of you hopes that this could be that for him. And a way to honor his brother, to boot. “I think it would be nice to bury any grievances,” you admit, looking at both men. “And to have a witness that has a real connection to our pasts.”

“Let me say goodbye to the Reverend and I’ll be ready to go.” He frowns for a moment before looking down at his jeans and work jacket. “I’ll need to change though. Make sure that it’s understood that I support this.”

“Do you still keep a change in your truck?” You ask, figuring that would be easiest. “Windrixville isn’t far. I’ll check what time the chapel closes.”

“No, but I had just picked up my suit from the cleaners.” He chuckles, shaking his head at the irony. “Let me grab it and change. Although I’ll be in my work boots.”

“Doesn’t matter to us.” He could’ve just come along in jeans and it would be the gesture that mattered most. “Take your time.”

“I’ll be quick.” He nods towards both of you and disappears out the door to grab the plastic covered suit out of the back of the truck. It might not seem like the best idea to some, but he knows that it would send a clear message to your parents.

“Well…this stop turned out…unexpectedly.” You turn into Zach’s side and tilt your head to look up at him. “You okay, baby?”

“I never put it together.” He admits sheepishly, shaking his head. “Robby talked about his family a lot.” He murmurs. “I— I came so close to coming out here, but after the first time….” He trails off, knowing you would understand.

“It was still so fresh back then.” With one hand, you gently rub his back. “Grief settles over time. It doesn’t go away, but it’s less harsh. Less angry.”

“I wonder if that’s how we were supposed to meet?” He wonders softly. “He had invited me back to Oklahoma to visit when we came back on leave.”

“Oh…” The realization makes you sag a little. “Maybe. I did…back then I used to come home for thanksgiving every year.”

“He had told me that his family used to do a huge BBQ every year. Something about an entire cow.” He chuckles. “Said I would love it.”

"They do it every year." You nod and blow out a long, slow breath. "The day after Thanksgiving. This great big, day-long thing. People pop in and out all day as they come back from or leave to go Black Friday shopping. His Dad loves it, it's–" Instinct as you hugging Zach tighter, like you're hanging on to that past chance meeting that never happened. "We always used to go for the afternoon. My mom makes this mashed potato casserole that everybody always goes nuts for." It's how you would have met. Years ago. Zach would never have been through the terrors and the hardships of being alone with no place to go, and you wouldn't have been through your own bullshit out in New York. You would have been together.

“Isn’t it amazing how a few seemingly inconsequential decisions completely change the trajectory of your life?” He asks, knowing you are feeling the same.

"It's...weirdly discouraging and encouraging." The feeling is a little disorienting, if you're honest. "Knowing that things will always end up where they're supposed to, but that the journey might be pretty fucked up along the way."

He hums, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “We’ve had a rough road, but it’s getting better.” He admits. “Better now that we are together.”

******

The little chapel in Windrixville is built on the top of a hill where an old church burned down back in the 60s. The space around it is manicured now instead of just being a wide-open field, and soulmates who choose to get married here in a less formal ceremony have the chance to take a few pictures in the chapel's flower garden. Zach pulls the rental car into the mostly empty parking lot and Darrel's truck parks right on the other side.

"Are you ready to do this?" He asks after shutting off the engine. He knows that you are protected legally, the pre-nup already signed and filed, but he wants to make sure that this - done this way - is what you truly want.

"Absolutely." You take his hand and lean across the center console to give him a kiss. "I wanted to be married to you. To start that next step together."

“Are you sure you don’t want the entire big thing?” He asks, smiling softly.

"Do you?" It's worth making sure that he's not just doing this for you. That he isn't missing out on something he's dreamt of just because you don't care about skipping the expense.

“Baby, I have no family but you.” He reminds you softly. “All that matters is that you and I are together.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You’ll remind him later on that he had so many people who love him as well as a kitchen full of staff who admire the hell out of him. For now, you have a wedding to focus on.

“What indeed?” He grins and notices that Darrel has climbed out of his truck and is standing in front of it, doing something on his phone.

"Everything good?" You ask, slipping out of the SUV and back into Zach's side. Darrel's face is drawn in concentration.

“Yeah.” He sighs and slips the phone into his front jacket pocket. “Ranch stuff.” He tells you. “My parents are talking about selling.” He’s been trying to change their minds, but the decision is ultimately theirs.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Your shoulders drop again, knowing that must be devastating for him. Darrel always loved the ranch so much.

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “This isn’t the time to worry about what might happen anyway.” He shoots you a smile. “Let’s go get you crazy kids hitched.”

The girl sitting at the reception desk inside the chapel smiles when three people walk in the front door, two of them obviously matching in nice clothes. "Well hey there." She chirps happily. "What can we do for you folks today?"

Zach walks up the counter with a nervous, yet eager, grin. “Uh, we want to get married.” He tells her, pointing between you and him.

"That's what we're here for." She smiles and starts shuffling through some unseen things at her desk. "Let me get the paperwork together. I'll need legal identification for both of you and I'll get the chapel ready. The justice will be down to see you in a moment." She waits just long enough for you and Zach to hand over your driver’s licenses, then thanks you and hustles off down a hallway that you hadn't noticed.

“Well that was pretty easy.” Zach murmurs, sure that there would be some kind of test or proof required that you are soulmates.

"I'm sure they'll want to see our marks. But that's easy enough."

“We can just show the initials .” He reaches for your hand and rubs his thumb over the webbing between your thumb and finger. It’s a calming pressure point for him and apparently for you too, he’s discovered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Just that little measure of sweet steadiness from him has you feeling comfortable and confident again.

If there was even the slightest sliver of doubt that this man was your other half, part of your soul, it dies when you smile at your soulmate. Darrel realizes that he’s never seen that light in your eyes, at least never directed towards him. You are looking at Zach like he hung the moon in the sky, responsible for the stars sighing bright. You had always enjoyed looking up at the stars and you are looking at Zach with the same wonder. It clicks that door shut permanently inside his heart and relegates you towards the bittersweet first love you has always been and he had just not been able to accept.

The man who comes out to meet the new, happy couple asks a few questions and takes a peak at shared marks, all the while explaining how these short ceremonies work. “And you’ve brought a witness.” He looks very pleased at that. “Fantastic. Is there anything special you would like to include in your ceremony this evening?”

“Babe?” Zach turns towards you and lifts his brows. “Anything you want?” He knows next to nothing about weddings and what is expected, so he will leave it up to you. He’s just wanting to be your husband.

For a second you consider, knowing that the important part of today is just that you want to be married to your soulmate. “Do you have a version of your ceremony that talks about partnership instead of obedience?” You ask finally, deciding that while the old-fashioned wording is fine, what you and Zach have really is about being a team.

He smiles when you say that, nodding in agreement when the man discreetly looks over at Zach for his opinion on the issue. “Partnership.” He echoes. “That would be perfect.”

"Of course." The man nods politely and brings the three of you into in a large circular room that is mostly walled in glass. This ceremony room looks out over the garden surrounding the building and is lit with soft, romantic light as well as having some gentle music playing. It's not cheesy like you had expected one of these places to be, and you slip your hand into Zach's as you walk inside together.

This is actually pretty romantic, like it would actually be a venue a planned wedding would choose. He’s impressed and he smiles over at you. “Should have gotten you a bouquet of flowers.”

“It’s ironic,” you tell him, happily clinging to his arm. “We get each other flowers all the time. But don’t have any today.” Every opportunity to get a few fresh flowers on a land excursion always results in a bouquet in your room. It’s amusing that they’re missing today, when other people would consider them mandatory.

He chuckles in approval and nods. “It’s fitting.” He agrees. “The irony makes it even more so.”

The ceremony, for what it is, is short. The justice lays out a few pieces of paperwork and has you and Zach check the pertinent information that the receptionist filled in from your IDs, and then he asks Darrel to stand to the side of the small altar while he says a few words about togetherness, partnership, and commitment. It's actually a very nice speech, and one that you're glad that you saw a copy of amongst the papers on the altar with your soon-to-be signed marriage license.

It’s surreal, standing with you and Zach can’t concentrate on the words being spoken. Focusing on the way your eyes soften and melt as you look at him, obviously moved by what the justice is saying. He just knows that he is the luckiest man in the entire world right now, bonding himself to his perfect soulmate.

It’s like being wrapped up in a whirlwind, the way reality has become fuzzy around you, and all you can see is Zach. You both manage giddy, teary I do’s, and the pronouncement of: “You may more kiss your bride” makes your heart leap.

With the hand not holding yours, he reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “Until my dying breath.” He vows, nudging his nose against yours and then softly pressing his lips against yours in the sweetest kiss.

Three sets of hands applaud politely, while you are off somewhere on Cloud 9, and in the furthest part of your mind you can swear that you hear bridal music playing. None of it matters, though. Nothing beyond standing here being joined with Zach and being able to go forward into your future with him.

This is the bliss you never trusted yourself to dream about. Strive for. It’s right here in your hands.

******

Three hours later, Zach pulls into the driveway of your parent’s house, the blissful euphoria of getting married isn’t even dimmed by the upcoming confrontation. Another family dinner. One where Darrel has been invited again, this time by you and Zach. He shuts off the engine. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready.” Back in your regular clothes — and happily relaxed after celebrating your marriage back at the hotel room — you give his hand an encouraging squeeze and lean over the car’s console to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He’s not sure how they will react, but he’s sure it won’t be good. His fingers play with your new - handed down - wedding set.

In the time since the wedding you’d not only celebrated enthusiastically, but also stopped at a large fine jewelry store in the city to pick out a wedding band for Zach. He’ll probably choose to wear it on a chain while he’s working in order to stay safe and not have it get crushed with ingredients every week, but it was importance to both of you for him to have the simple gold band on his finger. “We’re in this together, babe,” you remind him, pushing open the car door and flashing him a grin. “Whatever happens, happens. They’ll probably be more upset about the inheritance than the marriage.”

“I hope not.” He frowns, shaking his head. “I know Ms. Flores said the will could be contested, but it would be foolish.”

“We’ll see what happens.” Honestly, your parents are more of a wildcard than you had ever expected, so tonight is a bit of a question mark as far as they are concerned. “We should go in.” The bottle of bubbly you picked up as a gesture of celebration is in one hand and you take his with the other, then head to the door.

As agreed, Darrel will be arriving in less than five minutes. To create a buffer, or distraction if it’s needed. Zach knows that your mom had an appointment with the attorney today and is surprised that you haven’t heard a word from them.

“Mom?” When you open the front door the house is silent, and you can’t think of anything more foreboding. “Dad?”

Maybe they are in the kitchen?” He asks softly, holding tight to your hand as you both step inside and he shuts it behind the two of you.

They aren’t. They aren’t on the back porch by the grill, and they aren’t in the living room.

Where your parents are, is upstairs in your bedroom. And the sight is as confusing as it is unexpected.

“Do you want me to give you a minute or stay?” He doesn’t know exactly what this means, but he sees the confusion marring your beautiful face when you see your parents in your childhood bedroom.

“No.” You shake your head and reach for his hand instead of letting him move away. “No. Whatever is going on, I want you with me.”

“Then I’ll stay right here.” He promises softly, frowning as he turns back towards your parents.

"I–um–" Despite being sure that this is going to be awkward, or perhaps because of it, you're not quite sure where to start as you step closer to your bedroom. "Hi, guys...? Are we not having dinner tonight?"

Your mother looks up, her head buried in an old photo album and she bites her lip. “You’re so grown up.” She shakes her head and looks down at the photos when you were probably three or four. “I can’t believe how much things have changed.”

"Yeah, it's..." You don't want to point out the obvious – that of course things have changed – since this might be an unexpected part of your mother grieving for her own mother's death, but it does strike you as odd. "It's been a long time since those were taken."

“You were such a happy little girl.” She murmurs, flipping the page and catching sight of a photo of you and your grandmother. Her breath catching on a small sob. “So close to her.”

"I miss her too, Mom." Yes...this is definitely an odd part of the grieving process. Your eyes turn up to meet Zach's and he nods, urging you forward to go into your room. He's close behind when you sit down on the bed next to your mother. "But she's with us every day as long as we take the time to remember her."

“I can’t believe it.” She murmurs softly. “I never really believed that she would be gone.”

"It's going to be hard to get used to." For once, you agree with your mother wholeheartedly.

Your father hums as he pats your mother’s back. “It will be better in time, dear.” He comforts her.

"Do you want to bring some of the photos downstairs?" You offer, wondering if they might have lost track of time and forgotten that you were coming for dinner tonight. "Zach and I can cook so you two can look through photos, if you like."

“Dinner?” She frowns for a moment and then her eyes widen. “Oh my god! I forgot about dinner!”

"It's totally okay, Mom," you promise her. Your hand is on her back now, too. Rubbing soothing circles. "Let us take care of it, okay? Darrel should be here any minute and we can all share stories. How does that sound?"

“Darrel?” She frowns and shakes her head. “You said— why would Darrel be coming? I didn’t invite him.” Her eyes beg you to believe her, knowing how upset you had been earlier when he had shown up that first day.

“I know you didn’t.” A gentle pat of your mother’s shoulder as you sit behind her doesn’t seem like quite enough, but she isn’t a very huggy person. That’s your father. “We invited him.”

“You did?” The confusion in her voice is clear, much like the frown on your father’s face. Both of them had been unhappy with the boundary you had set and now you seem to be throwing that all away.

“We ran into him earlier and had a good talk,” you explain. It’s time says the look in your eyes when you glance up at Zach, and his subtle nod is encouraging as he moves closer to your side. “A lot has happened today,” you tell your parents gently, trying to be kind to them in their grief.

“I know.” Your mother swallows harshly and looks away, fidgeting with a folded piece of paper that is under the bottom of the photo album. “We had the meeting with Mother’s lawyer today.”

"So did we." It's probably against some kind of disclosure policy for Ms. Flores to disclose to your parents that you spoke with her this morning, or what was spoken about, but just in case it's not you lean toward complete transparency. "Why don't we all go downstairs, Mom? We can talk about that after dinner."

She nods, not saying a words, not even sure if she has the words to say. It’s been a long day, filled with harsh truths that she’s been forced to confront.

"We'll take care of dinner," you offer again, and you and Zach lead the way back downstairs. The headlights of Darrel's truck are just shutting off in the driveway, and you're hoping that the distraction of another person here will help break some of the tension.

It’s rare that your mother doesn’t interject some opinion, but this time, she just nods. “Whatever you want to do.” She murmurs.

The best you can do is chalk it up to grief again, because normally she would be either insisting in doing things herself or giving you step by step instructions. “I’ll figure it what we have,” you offer to Zach. “Do you want to let Darrel in and maybe we can all talk in the kitchen while we make whatever dinner is going to be?”

“Come dear, let me make you some tea.” Your father hooks his arm around your mother’s waist and steers her towards the kitchen.

Zach kisses your forehead and goes to say hello to the man he never expected to be friendly with, and you lead your parents into the kitchen. While your mother sits down at the table and your father puts a kettle on, you take inventory in the refrigerator and in the cupboards. It seems like your mother intended to make pork chops and mashed potatoes casserole tonight, and you're relieved to find some frozen green beans. That's plenty enough food for five people to eat dinner. The few apples in the fruit drawer will make a delicious, quick applesauce.

It feels a little weird to be opening the door of his new in-law’s home as if he were the host, but he sees Darrel and grins in relief. A stark contrast from where he would have been just half a day before now. “Welcome.” He jokes.

"Normally it's Miss June at the door acting like the sun's just come out." He admits. They shake hands – not quite at the level of anything more yet – and nods toward the inside. "You tell 'em yet?"

“Not yet….” Zach admits and shakes his head. “Something’s going on, and it’s odd.”

"Odd?" Darrel tips his head.

“Miss June is….docile.” He huffs quietly, keeping his voice down so it doesn’t carry far. Darrel has spent time with your parents so maybe he can clue the two of you in on something you might not be aware of. “She was up in Bunny’s room, looking at a photo album and didn’t cook dinner.” He shrugs. “She’s letting us cook.”

“That’s…” Darrel frowns, shucking his jacket at the door. “Unlike her.”

“I know.” Even if he hasn’t spent much time with your mother, getting her to let him help with the funeral food had nearly been the beginning of world war three.

“Think it’s finally sinking in?” He asks, concerned because the unexpected nature of your grandmother’s death.

“Maybe?” Zach shrugs and reaches out to slap his shoulder. “Into the fray we go.”

When they come into the kitchen your parents are bent over cups of tea at the table and you’re starting to peel potatoes. “Hey Miss June, Tom.” Darrel steps into the kitchen and moves over towards your parents to hopefully ease the obvious tension in the room. Although it’s not a hostile tension, it’s morose.

“Good evening, Darrel honey.” June sniffles and draws herself up to her full sitting height. “It’s good to see you.”

“How are you doing?” Just because your parents had plans for your future and had also kept him hoping that that dream would become reality, he genuinely cares for the older couple. Leaning down, he hugs her and kisses her cheek.

“Oh, it’s been quite a day.” She returns the kind gesture half-heartedly. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m…good.” He realizes, shifting back and smiling at her. “I’m actually really good.”

"That's good." She nods vaguely, obviously still very distracted, and looks around the room again. "How did...I don't..." Your mother stops, pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "How did this invitation come about?"

“We ran into each other at the church.” He doesn’t think that you’ve told them, so he doesn’t mention that you had invited him over to celebrate, and drive home the point that their wishes for you life were never going to happen.

"We brought over a donation to the food bank," you explain. Zach has already picked up a peeler and it helping you with the potatoes, but you turn around to face your parents at the counter. "We...have something to tell you guys." Everything in the kitchen stops for a moment, and Zach comes back to your side – dirty hand reaching for dirty hand in an odd sort of symbol of the promise you've made. No matter what, you're in this together.

"We went up to Windrixville a few hours ago." You brace yourself for the coming storm of disapproval. "To get married. Darrel came as our witness."

A pin drop could be heard if one fell. Zach, you and Darrel seem to collectively hold your breaths to see what their reaction would be. Your father looks like he was sucker punched in the gut and your mother immediately bursts into tears.

To be honest, it's better than you were expecting. There's no screaming, you aren't immediately being thrown out, and there is a distinct absence of guilting you about how you're dishonoring your family for reasons that make absolutely no sense. Still, it is a very big life event to have happen unexpectedly so you have to give them a little bit of grace.

“I did it Tom, she said I was going to do it and I did it.” She wails, jolting your father out of his frozen shock to turn and curl his arm around your mother.

“You didn’t—”

“I did!” She insists, pulling that same folded paper out of her pocket and shaking it as if it would explain everything. “Our daughter got married without us there because I’ve driven her away!”

"Mom, what is that?" Instantly, you're wiping your hands off and moving to your parents' side. The sting of the fact that it's true can be dealt with another time. There had been barely a thought paid to the fact that your parents would be there today. They have been so obviously against you and Zach as a couple – as soulmates – that you had simply figured that no matter where or when you got married, they would never want to be there.

Your mother can’t talk, too busy burying her face in your father’s shoulder as she sobs her heart out, but Tom gives you the answer you need. “Your grandmother left her a letter.” He murmurs quietly.

"She seems to have left them for all of us." The envelope is barely in your mother's grip and one nod from your father is enough permission to take it. Her name is scrawled across the front and there is just one sheet of paper inside, but it's easy to tell that your grandmother must have sat down and written all of these letters at once. Slightly morbid, if you're honest, but she was always very conscious of her own mortality after her friends started to get sick and begin dying.

Your father just hums and Zach shuffles behind you as he watches your mother continue to cry.

Junie, the letter begins, in your grandmother's distinctive handwriting. I hope very much that you never need to read this note. That I am simply able to tear it up and write you something new. But unfortunately you inherited my stubborness, and we both passed it on to Bunny. If things were a bit less dramatic right about now, you would roll your eyes at that, but this isn't the time.

I don't have any delicate ways to try to say this anymore, dear. Perhaps if I had been more direct with you these last few years, the situation would be different. But the fact is, my dear, you are losing your daughter. Your eyes widen, staring at the page, tears springing to your own eyes just the same as they are to your mother's. Had your Gram really been so on the nose with her about all this? It seems so...dramatic?

Punishing her for changing her major should have been where I put my foot down with the whole thing, but this nonsense with Darrel Curtis has to end. She is in love, Junie, and so excited about it. It's no good to play pretend anymore, and I'm sorry if it still hurts, but losing your soulmate doesn't mean that Bunny deserves to lose hers. Or that she will be just as happy with someone else, the way you have been with Tom. Darrel is a sweet boy, but he and Bunny want different things. It's as plain as the nose on my face.

Let her choose her own life, Junie. Let her be happy and just be happy for her. I know you don't get the same once a week phone calls that I do. I know that you don't get to be updated on her life the way I do. She is only going to drift further out of your grasp if you keep this up.

Zach can see the way you tense, covering your mouth with your hand and he moves over to your side. Sensing, rather than seeing the tears and wanting to comfort you, no matter why you might be crying.

“I just – I was trying to stop her from caring.” The broken explanation probably doesn’t make sense to anyone who hasn’t experienced loss, but your mother tries desperately to explain. “I love you, you know I do and I always will, but- but you know how it still aches to this very day.” Tom shushes her softly, nodding and murmuring quietly. “I know sweetheart. I know.”

“You had a soulmate?” For your entire life, you had always known your parents as the perfect unit. Both of them choosing to be together instead of having the universe choose them for each other. Your father’s mark is shared only with his twin brother — a rare instance of platonic soulmates — but you had lived your entire life thinking that your mother had never, ever born another person’s mark.

Darrel’s eyes widen, aware that this is a conversation that is between family and he is not family. “I’m going to go light the grill.” He offers quietly to Zach, reaching out and squeezing Tom’s shoulder as he moves by.

“Mom?” You feel like you’re shaking, barely registering Darrel leaving the room as you step closer and practically fall down into a chair. How long has she been lying to you? How much has she lied about?

She pulls away from Tom’s shoulder, eyes devastated and red. “I- I never knew how to talk about it, about him without-“ she chokes out a sob and covers her mouth as fresh tears pool. It takes her a moment, the steady and comforting hand of her husband around her shoulder as she swallows harshly and continues on. “Yes.” She whispers quietly. “I had a soulmate.”

“And…” You swallow back accusations and anger for the sake of seeing her so upset, but are grateful when Zach comes to sit down beside you. “He died?”

“Car accident. September 10th, 1979. Four twenty-five in the morning.” She sighs, closing her eyes as she starts to tell you the secrets that have been buried for years. “He was- older.” Even though she isn’t looking at you, she bows her head. “Dropped out of college already to make his dreams of being a rock star come true.”

The exact date and time. Shit. That, you know without hesitation, is exactly how you would be if anything happened to Zach.

But no wonder. No wonder she had freaked out when you changed your major to music after your first semester of college. “You were just a kid…” You realize a second later. September 1979…your mother was nineteen years old.

“Still, I knew that I wanted to be with him forever.” She looks over at Tom, a watery, apologetic smile on her face. “We met at his show. His band was performing at my college. It was…..instant. All consuming.” She swallows harshly and looks back at you. “Traveling musicians think they are invincible. He was coming back to see me.” Her chin wobbles and she presses her lips together to stop herself from crying again. “Late night, overly tired….” She closes her eyes again. “He fell asleep at the wheel.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom.” What else can you say? What could even come close to expressing how awful it is to hear that your teenage mother lost a man she loved dearly? The best you can do is reach for her hand and listen.

“His name was Marcus.” She knows you are upset at her, there is a tightness to your eyes. “He was 23.”

“And I’m guessing…” The breath you draw is sharp. Anguished in a way you can’t quite describe. “That I hit a nerve by deciding to pursue a music career.”

“I didn’t mean-“ she shakes her head. “I was so shocked when you choose music, even though I shouldn’t have been.” She sighs. “I was trying to ignore it.”

“You didn’t have to.” To banish the memory of an entire person sounds endlessly painful and complicated. It sounds like torture. “We could have talked about it. About him. The whole situation.”

“It—” she glances over at Tom. “It might have confused you. I didn’t want that.” The one hand held in yours squeezes. “I love your father.” She promises.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you assure her, giving her that gentle squeeze in return. “But what’s confusing about knowing that my mother has a big enough heart to have loved two people in her life?”

“I don’t know.” She murmurs softly. “We just agreed that you should just believe that your father and I didn’t have traditional soulmates.”

“What I don’t understand, though…” Well, there is a lot that you don’t understand, frankly, but the larger puzzle pieces are starting to come together. “Is why you would object to me finding Zach?”

“Your mother never wanted you to ever experience a tenth of that kind of pain.” Tom murmurs softly. “She was broken, and part of her heart has never healed.” He picks up the hand you aren’t holding and kisses it. “When she was carrying you, we talked about what we wanted and we just felt it was best. She was having nightmares, vivid ones.”

“Will you finally tell me how you met Dad?” The question jolts out of you like a lightning bolt, not meaning to be accusatory but hoping for some kind of clarification. Your parents had always said they were best friends and that was it. Nothing more was ever said and it has felt like a lie of omission for your whole life. Now you know why.

“We grew up next to each other.” Tom admits. “At least since third grade when I moved next door.”

June sighs softly, hoping you don’t hate her now. “Tom was over at the house when the officer came. They knew he was headed to my house because—” She swallows. “I was his wife.”

“Mom.” Your back hits the flat of the chair with a thud when you nearly fall backward while sitting up. “You were married to your soulmate?”

“I was still in college,” she is begging you to understand. “And there didn’t seem to be any need to wait. We were young, in love and destined to be together.”

“I’m not mad at you for being in love.” It seems important to clarify. To be particular about what has your stomach and chest all tied up in knots. “I don’t care how many people you’ve lived or how many you married. I’m upset because you hid an entire life from me and pretended you had never done anything other than the perfect thing. It’s made me feel like a fuck up for my entire adult life.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She wilts at your confession. “I wanted you to think things were perfect so if you chose to be with Darrel, you wouldn’t feel like you were wrong.” She reaches out and caresses your face, letting go of Tom’s hand. “You are probably the one thing in my life I got right.”

“The problem wasn’t that you liked me being with Darrel. It’s that you never let it go.” You’re both crying not, hot tears of anxiety, fear, and anguish staining both of your faces. “To the point where the poor guy sat on his hands waiting for me to come home and never got to go live his own life, and I felt like if I invited you to my wedding you would have hated me for it.” Sniffling through the tears, it’s only Zach’s steady hand on your back that keeps you from accelerating past upset and into angry.

“I am so sorry.” She swallows harshly. “I should have let it go a long time ago. I should have been happy that you were happy. Instead, I ruined it for you.” She shakes her head. “I blame myself for him dying and I got so worried about you feeling that pain that I caused a very different kind of pain for you.”

“Seems like Gram was the only one who knew the whole story.” The long, low exhale you let out just makes you feel tired. Exhausted, really. Another layer of missing your grandmother seems to settle on top of you in the most unpleasant way. “No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” She agrees, wiping away her tears. “So you are married?” She asks, looking between you and Zach. He nods and she gives a watery smile. “Then we need to celebrate.” She decides. “What do you think? We could order in?”

“Darrel went out to light the grill.” You nod almost dumbly to the porch, where your ex is trying very hard not to watch everything going on inside. “We should get him back in if we’re not going to cook.”

“You shouldn’t do anything on your wedding day.”

“We don’t mind,” you insist, but that stubbornness that all the women in your family share is right there in her eyes. “Alright…” you glance back at Zach and he nods. “We’ll order in. And we’ll talk. All of us.”

“Why don’t I call Redrock Canyon Grill?” Tom offers, patting your mother’s knee and standing up. “They have some good food, Zach. There’s talk of getting a Michelin star.”

“Sounds like it would be perfect.” Zach agrees. His hand has been rubbing soothing circles on your back and doesn’t let up, letting you know that he is here and supporting you but letting you have whatever conversation you need to have with your mother.

“Good.” Your father nods, only stepping away to open the sliding door and beckon Darrel back inside. The night’s plan has changed yet again, but he can hope that there might be fewer tears from here on out.

“I know you must have questions.” Your mother offers quietly, hoping that by answering them, she can repair some of the damage she has done. Repair your relationship. “But I also want to know about your wedding.”

“We went to the soulmate chapel in Windrixville.” It’s something to smile about, thankfully, and tries to put some distance between tears and potentially being upset with each other. “Gram…she left Zach a letter, too. Along with a gift.” You hold out your hand tentatively, wondering if she’ll be upset. “She was going to send him a few of the rings I liked best when I was a kid. She wanted him to choose one to propose with.”

“She did?” She takes your hand and looks down at the ring set on your hand, running her finger over the ring. “I always liked this set.” She looks back up at you and smiles. “He picked beautifully.”

"It's Zach's birthstone." A fact which still feels quite close to your heart. Like it was the perfect reason to choose it. "The wedding was just simple. A few kind words about partnership and support." It does, however, bring a smile to your lips to think about again. "I have the paperwork in my purse. And the receptionist sent us the video of the ceremony already. If–if you want to see it?"

Her eyes light up, a wonderful hope shining in them. “Please? I would love to—” she cuts herself off and starts over. “I would be honored if you shared it with me.” She admits. “I— I’m sorry that you felt that you had to go to the soulmate chapel.”

"We wanted to be married, not to have a giant wedding," you tell your mother honestly. "That's all. We had talked before now about having the captain on the ship marry us."

“You wanted a small wedding.” She’s repeating it like she’s burning that fact into her brain and trying to offer suggestions to ‘fix’ what is not broken. “Then you got what you wanted, sweetheart.” She agrees.

"Like Gram and Grandpa getting married at the courthouse. Just something simple." The video will keep until the guys come back from getting dinner ordered. At your father's request, Zach had joined them to look over the menu.

“As long as you were happy with it.” She promises. “That’s all that matters.”

"I am." Like a peace settling over a tumultuous evening, that truth blankets anything else that might get in the way. "I really am."

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[dcdreamblog]

Ok top 5 hottest mystery men, and don't deny you have preference! We've seen your posts!!!

This is entrapment. I'm calling my lawyer... ... ...Ground rules. I'm taking mystery men to mean men and women here, because I'm not making two lists. I'm also only putting in the running people as they existed during the Squadron's heyday. I'm not going to come out here and simp for a bunch of heroes who are still active and nominally in my dating bracket because that is WEIRD

Yes that means Sandy is not on this list, which is why you asked. My revenge is petty but final. 5. Sandra Knight AKA The Phantom Lady.

(A popular war bond pinup of Knight)

YES ITS CLICHE BUT WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Sandra Knight is a woman who is known for 2 things. Being stubborn as a mule and for wearing the kind of costume that caused spontaneous nosebleeds in a mile radius around her. She's confidently flirtatious, fiery in her conviction and if she was wearing any less she'd be on a list. You look at her legs in this picture and I dare you. I DARE YOU to judge me. Sometimes the obvious answer is obvious for a reason.

4. Al Pratt AKA The Atom.

(A photograph of Pratt taken during a JSA address in Washington DC)

He is 5'1" and every single millimeter of it is home grown BEEF. He is the Charles Atlas story made manifest. Kind, polite and well meaning but with the heart of lion. He's the kind of guy who would bring you out to the lake and ask you to go steady after knocking your bully flat on his ass with one punch. If you like the Archie type of carrying your books for you and laying his jacket in a mud puddle chivalry AND you want the kind of man who looks like he could bend a motorcycle in half with his thighs. He is the WHOLE package.

3. Susan Barr nee Kent AKA Bulletgirl

(An image of Kent from the cover a war bond comic) This is probably my most "hear me out" answer if only because she's much less well known unless you happen to be from Fawcett City. Is it the legs (pardon me "gams") that go all the way up? Yes.

Is it the classy, wavy chocolate brown hair that seems to shimmer like running water? Yes.

Is it the kind of classic silver screen movie star pretty that leaves your heart thumping visibly out of your chest like Bugs Bunny? Yes.

I've had a crush on Bulletgirl since I was a child, my first deep dive into any Golden Ager was a report I wrote in middle school about her just so I could devour every ounce of information that was publically available at this time. This one is an innocent school boy puppy crush which makes me feel better about putting a woman who was publically married during the war on this list. But only barely.

2. Greg Saunders AKA Vigilante

(A photograph of Saunders taken during a 7 Soldiers parade, 1945)

Hand me a puffy pink fan, paint a beauty mark on my left cheek and hold me up because I am now a fainting southern belle being swept off her feet by the handsome stranger and his mysterious ways.

He's got a motorcycle, he's good with kids, he has his own rope. And lest we not forget he's also an internationally famous, genre redefining country western singer. I know its before the time of most of you but have you HEARD this man? That accent, that harmony, every single thing about his voice feels like melting into a crackling south western bonfire

Oh lordy I am coming down with a case of the vapors.

Jonathan Chambers AKA Johnny Quick

(A rendering of Chambers from the poster of "The Squadron" motion picture, 1970) ...listen. LISTEN. ...I have this thing about bitchy men. Not mean men, not abusive men. No, just bitchy men. A man who will make a snide comment in my ear, or giggle with me in the back of some blowhard's speech, or come up with a little pet name he trots out a little too casually in front of my colleagues and then sweeps me off of my feet and treats me to rose petals and candles. I want a man who will make me steam like a clam bake and then right when I'm about to break a chair over his head he gets down on one knee and breaks out an absurd bouquet of roses. I want a man who I want to strangle and then who I want to marry inside the space of an hour. I have a THING. About bitchy men

[bluwavez]

ok but why wasn't i aware of a third son brother? (please myah tell me this one is not evil) sooo, any info on daniel son??

Born in 1986, Son Daesung, professionally known as Son Daniel, is a music producer, singer, and actor under his own label, OFFBEAT RECORDS. Refusing to suffer from middle child syndrome, Daniel made a name for himself quite early by becoming an actor at age sixteen. He went on to study acting and music production at UC Burkley in the States, later earning his master's in music production. He would sign to POSER RECORDS in 2007 where he would really begin his acting and musical career.

Daniel wouldn't join the Mydol umbrella until 2021, leaving POSER after being with them for nearly his entire career. The decision to leave the label was controversial, earning Daniel his first real scandal in his nearly twenty-year career. The heat would die down quickly when it was revealed Daniel would establish his own label, OFFBEAT RECORDS, under Mydol Entertainment, where he would primarily manage himself and indie artists as well as the acting careers of Mydol artists.

Daniel has been described as the most "digestible" of the Son brothers, having an otherwise perfect reputation, unlike his brothers, who seem to cause controversy wherever they go. Daniel is in it for the art of it all, seemingly uninterested in the industry's business side. "That's for my brothers to handle," Daniel would joke in an interview, "Mainly Jinhwa. I don't think Roan is that good at business...Don't tell him I said that."

Daniel has acted in a wide range of films and shows, even branching out of the Korean film industry a few times and acting in major Hollywood films and shows. With 81 awards out of 115 nominations under his belt, he has 6 Grand Prize (Daesang) Awards, 41 Best Actor/Excellence Awards, 6 Popularity Awards, 6 Grand Bell Awards, 8 Baeksang Arts Awards, 4 Blue Dragon Film Awards, along with many others.

Touching on his musical career, Daniel is a cherished trot and OST singer, though he's said multiple times that he prefers to stay behind the scenes when it comes to music despite his heavenly vocals. "I don't know. Singing isn't my passion. I'm good at it, don't get me wrong, but I don't care for it unless I'm going to retirement homes. That's different. I really like making the music instead of, like, doing it."

Daniel remains an icon in the Korean entertainment industry, still starring in major films and shows. However, his activities have slowed down as he's decided to focus more on OFFBEAT RECORDS and his artist's success.

[couldawouldashoulda50]

The Homecoming - Round 1

Overview - William arrives home after the longest road-trip of the 2023/24 season; you both can hardly wait to reconnect.  

Pairing: William Nylander x f!reader.  (Note- the reader is a globally famous musician/singer/songwriter)

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: 18+ only; pregnancy; smut (oral m & f receiving, intercourse; slight masturbation references); fluff; swearing. Be kind, this is my very first time writing/posting...I may not know what the hell I'm doing...just hope it all makes sense.

A/N - this is part of a William Nylander x reader series that I am working on currently.  The following story is based on the present, whereas the WIP series spans the timeframe from when William and the reader meet up to the present day.  I’m sorry; I know this might be like reading the ending first, but it’s literally my very first fic post…there was something with this storyline that just flowed so easily.  I’ve been anxious to just get it out in the universe so I can get it out of my head...I need to be able concentrate on my actual day job again.

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

You lay in bed, sound asleep; two dogs flank your body, both resting peacefully.

Pablo’s head raises suddenly, followed by Banksy.  Each of the dogs leap off of the plush king bed and bolt out of the bedroom as fast as their legs will take them.  

You awaken with the sound of William’s voice as he comes through the door at the front entrance of your home, greeting both dogs with loads of love and affection.

“How are my boys?  How are you?  Were you good for Mama while I was away?  Eh?  Ooooooh…I missed you guys.  I missed your Mama too” William said, half whispering.

Normally you would get up with the dogs and watch the two wriggle and jump up to greet him at the door, smothering him in dog kisses.  You would patiently wait your turn and essentially do the same as Pablo and Banksy; you kiss him gently, wrap yourself around him, whispering to him how much you missed him, and how happy you are that he's home.  He in turn, would murmur a few things against the sensitive skin behind your ear, mostly naughty things that he’s been wanting to do to you.

But now, being 6 months pregnant, and between the aches in your back and hips and your ever growing tummy, William knew how much harder it’s been for you to get comfortable, especially in bed.  He lovingly told you the night before when you spoke that you were to stay put when he arrives home - and no staying awake waiting for him either, he said.

William walks into the overly spacious bedroom with Pablo and Banksy trotting behind him and drops his bags on the couch by the fireplace.  As he unbuttons his white dress shirt, he looks over at you and smiles.  It always catches you…William has smiled at you a million times over and still, each and every time, your heart expands with absolute adoration for him.  “Hi, my love” you say, longingly.

He walks towards the bed, tilting his head to the side to look at your face in the dim light.

“How are you feeling?  I forgot to ask you - did this thing help you sleep at all?” William nods his head toward the large body pillow that he brought home for you before he left on his trip. 

You break out into a grin.  Lately, your hormones have kicked into high gear, with vivid sex images with William being the only thing on your mind.  So while the pillow gave you the comfort and support you needed, the firm plush piece that was nestled between your thighs only exasperated your unruly libido.  “Hmmm, well…it helped once I actually fell asleep” you said, gliding your hand over the fabric, “but….it’s this thick piece between my legs…all it made me think of is the thick thing between your legs.  I feel like a dog in heat…so that part’s been fucking torture.”  

William laughs as he continues to undress. He throws his shirt and the rest of his clothing on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, leaving his shorts on.  You immediately stare at his package and bite your lip, unintentionally releasing a tiny moan.

“I mean it…I’m not  kidding.  It’s all I can think about…and William, I’m telling you….the thoughts I have about you are just fucking filthy”.  

You pressed your thighs together against said pillow to try to get some relief from the pressure that’s heightening around your core.  You really weren’t exaggerating; your hormones are raging and you swear you could fuck him into next week and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“Seriously, you have to help me…it’s required as part of your husband/pre-DILF duties”.

“Didn’t you…you know…take care of ‘business’ yourself at all while I was gone?” a wry smirk appeared on his lips.  “You could have mentioned what was going on with you when we Facetimed…I could have…y’know - walked you through what I would have done if I was here…” William said coyly.

“Mmmmm…I thought about it - I thought maybe showing you how badly I needed you while you watched me...taking care of business.. that I would get some relief that way” you said, your voice soft with a hint of seduction.

“But I knew the minute I got going, no matter what I used - fingers, toys…whatever - the only thing that would completely satisfy me is a nice hard dick.  And not like my Willy’s cock clone that I have to break out when you’re away - I literally only want your dick inside me.  God damn, it’s so fucking good…” you smile up at him, gripping the pillow a little harder now.  Even just talking about his cock is turning you on.

“So, yeah…”, your eyes trail back down to his shorts, as you nod to his unwrapped gift “there’s that.”  You pause; there’s not many things you feel uncomfortable telling William but you’re not quite certain how he’ll react with your next confession. “There’s something else too.  Your joy juice - that’s the other thing I’m craving…fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it.  On my face, in my mouth….fed to me….”, you blush and giggle a little with your admissions, but you have no filter now as your desire for him was reaching a fever pitch. “This pregnancy has turned me from a respected musician to William Nylander’s personal cum slut”, you said dryly,

William’s mouth drops open a little but a wry smile begins to form on his lips.  “Oh really, eh?  You’re my personal cum slut?” he laughs.  “Well then…what wifey wants, wifey shall get”.

You watch each movement of his muscular body as he crawls up onto the bed, slides under the sheets and duvet, and shifts his body towards you.  He lay on his side, his gorgeous face close enough to yours that you can feel his breath.  

“Seriously….I missed you so much, William.  It felt like you were gone forever.  You looked amazing during the games though…as usual”, you said, bringing your hand up to trace his jawline.  You think to yourself, ‘God - you are so gone for this man’.    

“I missed you too - it was a long fucking trip....all I wanted was you like this, all... day... long,” William smiles and leans in, kissing you gently; his arms circle around you, supporting your body as he pushes the giant pillow out of the way and engulfs you in his embrace.  He slides his hand down onto your baby bump, hoping to feel a kick from your unborn son.  You scan his face as he does the same to yours; you gently graze his lips, wanting to breathe him in more. It’s not long before there’s a flurry of activity from your tummy, as though the baby wants to show off some tricks for his Dad.  

With you in his arms and feeling his baby kick, William’s turquoise eyes are fixed on yours; he smiles widely at the fluttery feeling from the baby’s movements…he finds himself completely mesmerized by you.  

He leans in for a deeper kiss.  Your hand snakes along his jawline into his thick mane of blonde hair, pulling his mouth to yours.  That initial taste of his tongue against yours evokes a long, breathy moan from your mouth.  Your hunger for him now borders on animalistic.  You’re afraid that your need for him is wound so tightly that once he touches your engorged pussy, he might actually send you into orbit.

Every touch on each other’s body elicits extended drawn out moans that are untamed, as your mouths feast on each other’s taste.  

William’s hand slowly slides along the underside of your round stomach, and in no time, his hand dips under the band of your cotton panties.  You’ve told him of your desperation already, but when his middle finger reaches the top of your slit, he moans as slides his thick digit into your wet folds.  He watches you as you close your eyes and grip his shoulders at the mere grazing of your clit.  Your breathing has already become erratic and he has barely even begun working you over.  

“Fuck - please…William…..I need you inside of me…please…” you whisper close to his ear.

“I know - soon, min Ӓlskling…here, come up here, I want to see all of you…I’ve missed touching your body”.  William gently removes his fingers from underneath your panties.  

William kicks back the sheets and props himself up on his one forearm.  You sit up on your knees and William helps you slide your panties off.  His eyes darken as he glimpses at your exposed pussy; the sheen of wetness that he spread with his finger apparent.  

The road trip was long and despite his focus on the ice - which led to a number of stellar performances from him - when he could allow his thoughts to wander, he only thought about you.  Although he knows you desperately need a release, he wants to savour every moment of this homecoming too.  He planned to take his time with you, he just didn’t expect you to be wound so tightly with your pent up yearning for him.

His hands reached out to caress your pregnant belly again; William is completely infatuated with the way you look.  Prior to getting pregnant, your breasts were already one of his favourite features on you but in the past month, they have become even more full and voluptuous.  His hands move up from your stomach and they cup each breast.  You look down at his shorts which are fully tented now and you can hardly wait to wrap your hand, your mouth, your core,  in whatever order, around his thick member.  

William raises himself up and begins to kiss your neck, slowly and sensually.  His mouth feels so agonizingly good; you whisper how in love you are with him as you run your fingers through his hair.  William begins kissing your soft, round breast and with his tongue pointed, he slowly begins to lick your tightened nipple in a circular motion.  The intense sensation of his wet tongue and hot breath connecting with your nipple immediately rocks you; your body is so highly sensitive to his touch, everything he does sends a shockwave down to your core.  You can’t help but to grab the back of his head with your one hand, fisting his hair in order to keep his mouth latched to your nipple.  Seeing your reaction as he continues to lick and suck on one of your tits, he begins to manipulate your other nipple with the fingers of his left hand.  

His other hand begins to travel down from your stomach to your pussy, now drenched in your juices.  His middle finger toys with your clitoris, and he feels your grip tightening in his hair.  He inserts his middle finger deep into your core, and as he gyrates his hand, you cry out to him, grabbing his wrist as your hips begin to writhe around on his hand.  He begins to alternate between finger-fucking you and spreading your wetness around your highly sensitive bud.

William withdraws both his mouth from your nipple and his finger from your folds.  You whimper at their departure but the sound is muffled by his mouth as he kisses you slowly.  You lessen your grip on his hair as your mouths and tongues lightly graze each other.  Exhaling deeply and biting your lip yet again, you lean your forehead against his, trying to stabilize your breathing.  

With your fingers splayed wide, you run both your hands down his chest.  You don’t know how you’ve gotten to be so fortunate to be able to touch this man so intimately.  

“Climb on top of me, Y/N…on top of my face” William said in a voice low and gravelly, as he lay on his back.  “I wanna make you cum so hard for me”   

William knows in once sense that he might be tormenting you a little with not just fucking you into the mattress like he knows you want.  It might seem selfish, but he’s been needing you as much as you’ve needed him lately, and he’s looking to draw this out for a little longer to savour every bit of you. 

William helps you straddle him.  Having your legs opened up, allowing your pussy to connect with William’s muscular torso gives way to the urge to rub and grind your dripping cunt against him.  William’s eyes are transfixed on your movements; he’s completely engrossed watching you rock back and forth, while you cradle the underside of your belly for support.   You look ethereal, angelic even as your long hair sweeps across his forearms.  Your eyes are fluttering shut; waves of desire pulsate through your core.  You lean your head back and your long curls fall between his legs and start grazing his member.  

William’s hands move around your body, his desire for you on full display. 

“Come here…come up here - I need to taste you now, Y/N”.

You lace your fingers with William’s as he helps you move on your knees until your swollen entrance is hovering above his mouth.  The initial contact when his pointed tongue licks the entire length of your wetness has you clutching the headboard.  ‘You’re in trouble now’ you think to yourself.

William expertly swirls his tongue around your aching nub as he steadies your hip movements with his strong grip to the rhythm he has dictated.   He continues to alternate between sucking on your sweet spot and tongue-fucking you, driving you to the edge of insanity with the stimulation.  The vibration of each moan from William adds to the intense pleasure that courses through your body.  You match his moans with shrieks of delight, quivering whimpers, and his name falling from your lips on a continuous loop.  

Suddenly, your head snaps back as your cunt is flushed with heat, and instinctively you clench your inner walls.  You can feel your orgasm building like a tidal wave and you slam both hands against the headboard and grip the fabric for dear life.  

“Will! Will - Willi-um - I’m…fuck!!  Oh my GOD…please!  William!” letting out a sharp cry as your voice strains.

William keeps working his magic between your thighs, his hands still in control of your hip movements. 

You might end up tearing your upholstered headboard at this rate, your knuckles have turned white from your vice-grip like hold.  Your mouth is open but there is no sound, only heavy pants as your hips try to buck wildly against William’s restraint.  

Then your orgasm hits, crashing into you like a tidal wave making you cry out for William.  You grab a hold of the pillow that William’s head is resting on; your breath is shaking as your body slows its writhing, twitching with your final release.

You lift yourself up so you could scooch down a little further back onto his torso; up until now, your pregnant belly obstructed your view of William’s face while he worked you into delirium.   

“Oh my God….William….” you said as you looked down at him.  You smooth his tousled hair from his face and using the side of your thumb, you start to gently swipe your lady juice from around his mouth and his dense five o’clock shadow.

His eyes are locked on yours and as he sits up, he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss.  “See how fucking good you taste?” he said, smirking.

“You are fucking incredible…absolutely amazing, my husband…” you said breathlessly, lips still connected with his. 

You remain straddling William and you reach behind to gently touch his fully erect cock.  You feign surprise as though you had opened up the best present of your life, letting out a gasp followed by a moan.  Your gaze returns to William’s face and in a voice thick with desire, you simply say “Mmmm…my turn…”

You are desperate to quench the insatiable urge to taste his cum.  You slide off William’s lap and he lets himself fall back onto the mattress.  You start by kissing and running your tongue down his flesh towards his cock.  When you reach his treasure trail, you take your time stroking his path with your tongue.  You work your way down until his flawless member is directly in front of you; his above average length and supreme girth makes your mouth salivate and pussy throb simultaneously.   The head of his dick is coated with pearlized liquid and you waste no time by running your tongue along his tip, dipping your tongue into the hollow spot at the top repeatedly which encourages more precum to leak from the smooth head.  

Grunts and groans, followed by your name fall from William’s mouth as you accept the full length of his firm cock toward the back of your throat.  Your senses are going wild; the feel of his dick in your mouth, the faint smell of his body wash and cologne, the salty-sweet taste of his seeping arousal.  You try to shift your body to find a more comfortable angle as you continue to suck and deep-throat his member.  You love giving him head, but the discomfort from leaning over with a baby growing inside of you is creating a lot of pressure around your abdomen and back.

“William - I’m so sorry…I don’t think I can lean over like this…the baby…”

William sits up, a slight look of concern on his face.  “Are you ok?? Do you want to stop?”

“NO!!  God - no…I just need to find a better position” you said, rubbing your belly.  

William leans over the side of the bed reaching for the large pregnancy pillow he bought you.  You watch this dream of a man shift the other pillows that have been strewn around on the bed to make room.  He’s kneeling as he guides you towards the pillow, his leg muscles showing every contour and his magnificent cock juts out, still rigid from what you were doing to him with your mouth moments ago.

“Let me hear how much you missed my cock fucking you,” William growled as he kissed your mouth.

You crawl over to the pillow, your round ass up in the air, on display for William.  You look back at him, flip your hair to the side and smile sweetly as he stares at you, his mouth slightly agape.

You manipulate the pillow so it supports your entire midriff comfortably.  Conveniently, it also allows you to arch your back a little more; it’s a clear invitation to William that you want whatever he’s offering from behind.  His dick starts to twitch - William knows exactly what you want from him in this position.

Your pussy is already wet, but William’s cock is substantial and needs extra lubrication before he enters you.  His fingers deftly caress your clitoris and as you moan his name, and it’s not long before he knows you’re primed and ready for him.  He gives you a kiss on one of your ass cheeks and then gives you a little spank.  He lines the tip of his dick up to your swollen folds, running it through the wetness that has pooled at your centre.  He begins to push his dick into your entrance slowly; his strong grip on your hips helping him slide in.  

You moan loudly as his cock stretches your walls; the initial pain quickly gives way to pleasure as your eyes roll into the back of your head.  William buries his cock deep into your core and when he’s fully inside of you, he holds you in position for a moment.  You clench around his cock and you give into the urge to rotate your hips just to feel his dick move inside of you.  

You glance at William over your shoulder as your pent up desire gives way to full desperation for him to fuck you hard.  William’s gaze meets yours; a crooked smile starts to form on his face.

William begins with slow movements - he is torturing you in the best possible way right now.  He knows the build-up will be more satisfying for you in the long run rather than just pounding your pussy mercilessly straight out of the gate.  

“William…oh my god” you whisper breathlessly.  “Please….you feel so fucking good…please, I need you to fuck me…” you beg.

You try to satiate your need for him to rail you by rotating and bucking your hips as he presses his cock deeper each time he enters you.

You hear a faint chuckle from William followed by a low moan as he increases his speed.  

Your face falls and is now buried in the pillow and your words are muffled as he begins his firm and rhythmic thrusts.  

“Oh my God William….oh my god…fucking….please….fuck me…” you wail.  As he moves in and out of your cunt, he can feel the hard grip of your walls around his shaft    

“Fuuuuck me…you are so fucking tight Y/N…” William grits his teeth as he continues to bury his cock inside of you, thrusts becoming more rapid; the erotic sounds of grunts and moans from both of you collide with the sound of skin slapping against skin.  

You clutch the sheets as he continues to ride you hard.  He grabs the meatier flesh at the top of your ass and continues to pound you, your moans sound more like a siren now…continuous cries reverberate off the walls.  

He gathers your hair into his one hand as his other hand moves up and grips your shoulder, allowing him to penetrate you deeper.  You feel like you’re descending into insanity, your mind is overwhelmed by pure ecstasy and all you can do is succumb to your body’s state of bliss.  

William looks down at you as his fast and powerful thrusts are making your legs start to quiver.  He watches as your toned muscles in your arms and back constrict, covered in a light sheen of sweat as he fulfils all of your desires.  William growls as he reaches the height of his arousal; his hips move erratically and his fingertips indent your flesh ever further.  He looks down and sees your own arousal decorating his cock with opaque streaks as it pools around his base.  He grunts at the sight of your slickness and is so close to relief but he wants to make sure you cum first.

“I’m so close, baby - fuck….fuck….you feel so fucking good” William groans.  

Your cheeks are blazing hot as your orgasm takes hold of your body.  It’s a feeling so intense that your body feels like it’s short-circuiting.  “I’m right there - right there….oh my God William!” you shriek, grappling with the mattress from the sheer force of your release.  Your thighs try to close together and you buck wildly as your pussy clenches William’s cock so hard that you push him right out of you.  William quickly grabs his dick and with a few firm pumps, he unleashes his load onto your ass.

“Holy shit Y/N….” William said after a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

You lie there, body still trembling as the aftershock of such a forceful orgasm travels through your body.  You remain in the same position with William still behind you.  You shift your head so your forehead is resting on the pillow as your breathing begins to slow.   

“Y/N?” William’s voice is soft and low.

“Mmmm-hmm” is all you can muster.  He senses you smiling into the pillow.

“You still have that craving?  You know…my - what’d you call it….joy juice?

Drawing out the same sound, you respond “Mmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmm” while giving your ass a little wiggle. 

You hear William chuckle slightly as he runs two fingers through the streams of his cum on your skin.  You manage to find the strength to push yourself back up onto your hands, flipping your matted curls to the side as seductively as possible.  He stares at your mouth as you accept his coated middle and ring fingers, your tongue swirling around his digits, making sure you’ve licked every single drop of his cum from his fingers.  You hold onto his hand, placing open-mouthed kisses on his palm and then place it on your still hot cheek.  He responds by placing gentle kisses along your shoulder-blade and murmurs how much he loves you.

Gingerly, you both begin to move; he comes along to your side and helps guide your body back in between the arms of the pregnancy pillow.  He peppers you with kisses and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling.  He manages to squeeze in right next to you and as he pulls you into his chest, you exhale deeply.  This is your favourite spot in the whole world; wrapped in William’s arms, your face against his broad and beautiful chest.

“You feel better now - you got what you wanted?” William quietly asks, chuckling into your hair.

“I think I’m still cumming, if that’s even possible…so fucking good”, you mumble into his chest.

After a few minutes, William kisses the top of your head and starts to get up out of bed.  

“I’ll be back in a second…do you need anything?”

You moan and exaggerate a pout followed by a smile….never wanting to leave the warmth and comfort of his embrace.  You smile and shake your head ‘no’ while sliding towards the edge of the bed, holding your belly and trying to look somewhat graceful.  William offers both of his hands to help stand you up.  You grab William’s white dress shirt from the end of the bed and put it on; his natural smell mixed with his cologne almost makes you weak in the knees.

William pulls you back into him, his hands roaming under his dress shirt as he presses his lips against yours.  “You have to let me take a picture of you in this…you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now”.

You smile against his lips.  “You can do whatever you want with me when you come back to bed”.  Your hands slowly descend to his ass; you gently rub yourself against his member, now cloaked under his shorts.

William groans against your lips and apprehensively breaks from your embrace.  He summons for the dogs to come.

“I’m taking the dogs out so we can sleep in a bit tomorrow.  Get ready for Round 2” he purrs.

You watch him walk away with the dogs in tow; the view of his muscular stature and his tight round ass as he exits your bedroom has you clenching your thighs, needing him all over again.

[hamliet]

hello hamliet, love your meta analysis and they always show me a different perspective. Would love to know your opinion on seperating the art from the artist, if it is possible and if so how to go about it?

A few principles:

Not everyone will reach the same conclusion about whether they are able to separate the artist and art, and that's okay. I can't listen to Michael Jackson. I know people who can. I do not judge them.

That said I guarantee you everyone does this separation for something, so don't throw stones.

Being able to separate it doesn't mean someone endorses an issue. I don't think people who listen to MJ are CSA apologists. Learn to separate what art resonates with people from their own personal morals.

Don't deny what the creator has done. I can't deny that JK Rowling is a toxic transphobe who seems dead set on destroying trans' peoples lives and I want her stopped. Or that Charles Dickens tried to have his wife locked up in an insane asylum to cover up his affair.

Don't fight against justice for the creator. Sorry, JK, but I hope Imane Khelif who is not even trans ends up taking you to the cleaners in court. I want her harmful rhetoric to be stopped. It'd be nice if she changed her mind and repented . Take your own advice JK about how remorse is the only way to put a torn soul back together, but it hurts terribly. But I'm not holding my breath and in the meantime transphobia needs to be stopped.

Competing needs are a thing. Sorry, I have never read a series that addresses losing a parent in the same way Harry Potter does. I have read other series' about this. I've never read one that resonates the same way. I love the series but I do acknowledge the author is actively harming people and make efforts to combat transphobia in my own life.

Be sensitive to the fact that people may feel differently. I'm not going to recommend Harry Potter to someone who is transgender or tell someone they absolutely should read it and must separate author from art. They don't have to. There are some things I can't separate.

Don't deny privilege playing a role in what you can separate and what you can't. It does, because we all have different lives and different triggers, and it's good to check privilege. But life is also really short. Live in the tension. Don't try to ignore it or deny it away.

Have those discussions that are uncomfortable.

No ethical consumption exists under capitalism. I've been mostly boycotting Nestle for... thirteen years now? But I don't think everyone who consumes Nestle is intending to say "oh well" to child slaves in Africa. These children matter just as much as trans children, don't they?

Learn everything about something and something about everything, to quote a professor I once had. Care about everything. Focus all your efforts on one or two causes. You can't save the world but you can help save something.

Acknowledge the reality that humans are contradictory. I think HP as a story has the opposite thematic message to a lot of her current rhetoric. Which isn’t to say it’s perfect.

Don’t fall prey to the stupidity of suddenly denying that art is good bc the author or singer is evil. Every time I see ppl trot out the Ursula Leguin quote on HP I lose brain cells because it is empathically clear that people taking that as some kind of prescient insight have never understood Leguin’s books nor HP nor the complexity and contradictoriness of humanity.

Which also isn’t to say it’s wrong to notice problematic elements in said works that may relate to the issue or may be unrelated. Do critique.

[lgcbk]

⸻ IDLE HANDS ( NEWKIDSNEWDREAMS004 / Free Time; )

A short list of things BK did to pass the time during his 6 weeks of freedom.

Woke up whenever the hell he wanted. Sometimes at 7. Sometimes at noon. Sometimes at 9. Sometimes at 4:44AM on the dot for four days in a row and that freaked him out pretty bad so he went back to his usual training schedule.

Broke in the new dorm kitchen. Tried every single sauce recipe he'd been sitting on since 2021. There's a solid 6 jars of strange concoctions fermenting under the dorm sink. There's a sign on the cabinet door that begs no one to open it.

Picked up guitar. Then put it back down. Returned to his roots with the piano. Discovered he's still pretty damn good at sight reading. Played a few songs by ear when that got boring.

Mastered 37 tongue twisters. His enunciation is top tier.

Spent a lot of time in the gym. Usually between the hours of 10PM-3AM when he found himself thinking too much. Fell asleep in the sauna and concerned the staff.

When he was too tired for that, he usually just hung out on the patio. Not as good as the old rooftop where he used to sit and chat with Wenjun, but still pretty darn nice. ( Almost scorched his eyebrows over the fire pit though - ).

Got really into essential oils - Thanks Haneul! ( He does not realize that they shouldn't be used as cologne ). ( ...Is still unintentionally sniffing them up his nose ).

Followed Yichen around saying 'I'm not touching you' while being prepared to duck at a moment's notice.

Kept walking into Minki's dorm room to ask random nonsensical questions. Remembered to put on pants ( the third or fourth time ).

Ate at Noeul's dad's restaurant and made very poor attempts at haggling.

Ate snacks in Jasper's bed when he wasn't home. The real crumbly kind. Didn't use napkins or plates. Dusted his hands off a few times in the process.

Took a few classes at a local dance studio. Cleaned up his footwork. Finally stopped cringing whenever he watched his playbacks from practice sessions.

Got zero new numbers. He's still a bit sad about it.

Tried to negotiate for the single bedroom with manager Kyuhyun but the guy's a hard sell.

Filled Saem's bunk with his favorite snacks. ( For reasons. )

Wrote some songs.

Wrote a lot of songs.

Scrapped quite a few songs, rewrote them, then scrapped them again.

Contemplated his life and decisions. Had an existential crisis or two. Broke for lunch. Had another.

Came to the conclusion that this is probably exactly where he needs to be ( and that there's no way he'd go back to his old side gig playing accompaniment for washed up trot singers ).

[zalrb]

Hey! so what did you think about Claire on the bear? I've seen some people call her a mary sue, a mpdg, a pick me which feels a bit much to me lol. I generally agree w people who say that she wasn't fleshed out and felt out of place bc of how carmy viewed her. My only thing is she never felt like an ER Doctor. Her career was supposed to be equally demanding so it should've affected their relationship in some small way at least but she kinda just seemed available for him at any given moment.

One of them I can see an argument for, the other two no. So before I get into the one I can see an argument for, I really need people to understand that these terms actually mean something. They're not blanket descriptors for female characters who annoy you and while we're at it, just for initiumseries, I'm going to add for the record that there aren't male versions of pick mes and manic pixie dream girls because these stock characters (or in the case of a pick me, viewpoints,) are rooted in misogyny

A Pick Me is specific

A Mary Sue is specific

Mary Sue stories—the adventures of the youngest and smartest ever person to graduate from the academy and ever get a commission at such a tender age. Usually characterized by unprecedented skill in everything from art to zoology, including karate and arm-wrestling [...] She saves the day by her wit and ability, and, if we are lucky, has the good grace to die at the end [...]

Like even Nathan Rabin who coined the term MPDG apologized for doing so because it keeps being misused:

I feel deeply weird, if not downright ashamed, at having created a cliché that has been trotted out again and again in an infinite Internet feedback loop. I understand how someone could read the A.V. Club list of Manic Pixie Dream Girls and be offended by the assertion that a character they deeply love and have an enduring affection for, whether it’s Diane Keaton’s Annie Hall or Katharine Hepburn in “Bringing Up Baby,” is nothing more than a representation of a sexist trope or some sad dude’s regressive fantasy.

It doesn't make sense that a character as nuanced and unforgettable as Annie Hall could exist solely to cheer up Alvy Singer. As Kazan has noted, Allen based a lot of Annie Hall on Diane Keaton, who, as far as I know, is a real person and not a ridiculous male fantasy.

From what I can recall, nothing about Claire is "Pick-Meish" or "Mary Sueish", she explains that when they were kids and a girl broke her arm, everyone was freaked out except for her because she wanted to understand the injury, that is not Pick Me-ish.

This is Claire

not this

The fact that she has six months left on her residency doesn't make her a Mary Sue.

Now with regards to being an MPDG, these are the characteristics of one:

That day in 2007, I remember watching "Elizabethtown" and being distracted by the preposterousness of its heroine, Claire. Dunst's psychotically bubbly stewardess seemed to belong in some magical, otherworldly realm -- hence the "pixie" -- offering up her phone number to strangers and drawing whimsical maps to help her man find his way. And as Dunst cavorted across the screen, I thought also of Natalie Portman in "Garden State," a similarly carefree nymphet who is the accessory to Zach Braff's character development. It's an archetype, I realized, that taps into a particular male fantasy: of being saved from depression and ennui by a fantasy woman who sweeps in like a glittery breeze to save you from yourself, then disappears once her work is done.

She isn't quite the "pixie" part of the trope, I don't think she's whimsical enough for that, instead I would say she's the "insufferable female lead in an indie" trope (love this!)

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because she does kind of just appear or sweep in to Carmy's life and has this history with him

and instead of giving Carmy her number, she asks for his, therefore the narrative places the onus of initial pursuit on her

she's been carrying this torch for him since they were kids

and her role is to be someone in his life that makes him feel good, that takes his feelings into consideration,

that gives him peace

that urges him out of his shell

that shows him another way he can be and feel outside of the restaurant

while we basically know nothing about her outside of that role.

What makes this iteration more complex than others is not Claire, it's not that she's a fully fleshed out character and we see more than a glimpse of her life and it's not that we get to know about her personally because we don't really, what we get is this

which just goes back round to Carmy and his complicated relationship with food and cooking anyway

the subversion lies with Carmy and how he needs to heal and still has a lot of unprocessed trauma that doesn't go away because Claire entered his life, the show shits all over the typical outcome of the MPDG coming into the male protagonist's life and making it all better.

I'm not saying that they did that purposefully as in they're trying to say something about MPDG, like I don't think the show purposefully framed her as one or views her as one, I think they just wanted to show how deep-rooted generational trauma is and how it presents itself and how it affects your current relationships and it ended up being subverting an MPDG-esque trope for the male protagonist.

I don't know if any of this makes sense, I haven't slept and it's like 5 AM lmao.

[minminyoonjii]

Hey bby I wanted to ask if you could do something with skz ot8 x reader ddlg where reader loves sanrio? Love you 💕

💙 The Story

I've included Sanrio in your carnival request :] So I'm using this to do a Which Sanrio character is Straykids, your outfit for the carnival and the visuals of each Sanrio character involved in the fic. Don't worry I'll put the links of both posts on each other so that you can just proceed with the story💛 💛

Bang Chan

Chan as Marumofubiyori. I went through all the characters and I mean all of them and couldn't really decide one for Chan. It was between U*sa*ha*na and Marumofubiyori but I think the character fits him well.

Lee Minho

Minho as Chococat. I mean look at them. I know Kuromi is used to represent Minho but this is how I interpret them.

Seo Changbin

Changbin as Badz-Maru. The character gives off I know I'm cute but I can't take compliments. Again, I know My Melody is used to represent Changbin, giving him the pinky baby girl vibe but this is how I match them up.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin as Pau Pipo. Visual wise it matches, I'm not certain about other aspects as the details on certain characters are limited online. Pau Pipo does look like a cute little giraffe that represents Hyunjin well.

Han Jisung

Jisung as Corocorokuririn. It was a tie between this character and Risuru who is a squirrel. Basically, a 'VS' between a hamster and a squirrel. I went with Corocorokuririn just cause, both of them suit Jisung either way.

Lee Felix

Felix as Kabukinyantaro. Meowracha representation :] If you look up this character, all of them are so soft and fluffy. I couldn't help myself.

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin as Pochacco. He gives me more Pochacco vibes than PomPomPurin. More chaotic puppy than a caramel pudding puppy. There's actually an icon I found of Pochacco holding a gun and it's accurate to say the least.

Yang Jeongin

Jeongin as Pankunchi. It's a bread bear. This bear has bread with it constantly. Aggretsuko would fit more visually in terms of Foxl.Ny but I can't imagine Metal Singer Jeongin when the Trot Jeongin exists. He could pull it off, who knows but for now, I see him as this character.

Your Outfit for The Carnival

Have in mind that, I tried to piece together a fit where the majority of the main Hello Kitty and friends will be. This story will be Gender Neutral so, pants or skirt that's up to you.

Character Cameos In The Story

U*sa*ha*na

Noranekoland

Tuxedosam

The Strawberry King

[pikahlua]

Ehhh i get anons' dissatisfaction and disagree with you this time, I'm afraid. I remember you were very critical of Bokurano because of the hand-holding Uraraka/Deku imagery. Bakugo was shafted there, too, despite the fact that the singer said the song is about him (at least supposedly lol). Then Bones had the gall to sell cd copies with Bakugo's face on it. I think fans are right to call out Bones for only trotting out Bakugo when they need cash.

I literally never said I liked this OP, but ok

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Saw everything happening on Twitter with regards to tma voting.

It's ridiculous how "armys" are moving.

1. Fandom was never going to support all members equally. Even if the accounts call themselves "armys/ ot7s", they are still biased, which is fine, don't care. At least people need to now stop pretending to be ot7s. It's boring.

2. Everyone seems to have some major issues with pjms specifically, even though all members have solos and shippers (some more nasty even). It's become a armys vs pjms competition for everything, they apparently want to see pjms "lose", "cry" or whatever and in the end only hurting a member who they claim to stan, who worked very hard for his solo debut and who deserves support the same way other members do. I keep seeing tweets like, "drop LC from playlists, let pjms cry", "don't vote for Jm, can't let pjms win", "unstanning jm cause of his solos" etc.

And jm isn't the only one who has solos. But Jm is the only one who gets punished cause of his solos. Pjms are loud and stvpid but are they worse than tkkrs? Worse than jjks who made the most viliest of tweets over 2 remixes? No. But armys are tkkrs and JJKs and kths, so they don't fight they own. It's only getting worse by the day.

I never liked "Army". From the very beginning. I think it's very easy to spot crazy behavior and they exude it. I'm talking about the ones on social media platforms daily, not some 11-year old child or someone who just enjoys the music and still has an actual life apart from it.

But nothing and I mean nothing was worse than witnessing army asking taekookers for help in creating other rumors that would take away the attention from Tedros and Jennie which ended up with that horrible hashtag involving Jimin. The lowest of the low. The nail in the coffin for me. There was no "good" army calling those people out. None of them did a systematic and calculated effort in dealing with it. They let it happen. So now, laughing and voting for that trot singer guy or whoever it is, or having an issue only with pjms is run of the mill army. It's who they are.

If Jimin is to get an award or get on some chart or have his music streamed, listened to, talked about, every achievement for his career, it will be thanks to Jimin fans. Be it pjms, akgaes, Jimin-biased fans, shippers who genuinely care for him. Not some utopic idea of an army collective that doesn't exist and that has shown time and time again that it doesn't care.

[roo-bastmoon]

Here's an idea for something positive to discuss if you'd like a thought experiment.

I think we all agree that Suchwita is EXACTLY the perfect type of show for Yoongi to host. It plays into his strengths both as a host and as someone who LOVES to give advice and perspective in his industry.

We also know that there's another member with excellent hosting skills among the Tannies...who just so happens to be the first one planned for release from military service. If Jin were to host some kind of show after his release before group activities resume, what kind of show do you see him hosting? Types of activities? Ideas of guests?

All hypothetical, of course! 💜💜💜

This is a fantastic and creative ask!

Let me think...

I know Jin loves to cook and to act, so if he wants to do something like that, I'd absolutely tune in. But he was also completely ADORKABLE on that drinking show... the one where the woman (I think Lee Youngji is her name if I'm spelling it right) interviews a guest while they get schnockered? He's so shy and funny, I'd love to see him do something with a bunch of crazy funny extroverted women, like a Say Yes to the Dress or The View or something.

He puts people at ease by being silly if they are straight-laced and the straight man if they have big personalities. An instinctive entertainer. So if he carries the Suchwita torch, he'd be good at it. But he's also great with kids and gaming.

I wonder if it would be really cute to see him do something like a camp counselor show for disadvantaged youth? It could have indoor and outdoor games, singing and dancing performances, fishing, an obstacle course like a mini-boot camp... whatever Jin would like to put the kids through.

Then again, older guys seem totally smitten with him (who can blame them?). What if he did like a cooking competition in a retirement home with celebrity guests from the residents' era? Sort of like a comeback for old actors or trot singers. It could be a show that could bridge a generational divide?

Hmm I dunno. He'd be good at so many things! What do other people think?

[anemoiawithatouchofobsession]

I'm getting so many old videos and channels that subtitle and upload 80s, 90s and 2000s pop culture content and most of the time it's ahjusshis and them just uploading all of their vcr recordings, if you're interested here goes! :

This channel uploads some subtitled clips of Jang Heebin 1995, 1981 and 1961 as well as some other stuff.

This person used to upload Kim Wan Sun videos!

Distant Memories/Memory Distant uploads content like variety shows and stages from actors and singers, that they recorded on their VCR from the mid 90s to 2000s. They also have a blog here and a post where they sent Lee Jiyeon a postcard/fanletter and she responded here !

victory lee is a channel that has exclusively 80s and early 90s content. They have very extensve knowledge and a database.

This channel has more of a trot and ballad music vibe and they post a lot of compilations.

Sungdy is a Yang Soo Kyung fanchannel that uploads her videos. Another channel for Yang Sookyung is Soo.

Lastella is a Ha Soo Bin fan channel and has a lot of Soo Bin's performances and music videos, tv appearances etc.

Time Machine 90s also uploads videos from the 90s and 2000s from their own collection.

As you can see from the name, towhitecastle is a H.O.T. fan but uploade bad quality videos of 1st gen idol groups and artists. Going into their comment sections is like riding a time machine to 2005 and it is interesting to see how the conversations were about the "new gen", just how we talk about the current new gen today.

jk Kim ahjusshi is more of a classic Korean Pop Music uploader. He uploads 50s,60s and 70s pop and trot standards as well as modern folk music and even contemporary gugak.

I'll keep on reblogging this post whenever I find some more channels!

[nso-csi]

231111 ‘Guilty’ fansign FA

Taemin entered the fansign saying “hello I’m 1st place singer Taemin~~~” cr.

after greeting fans “I’m 1 singer Taemin” at fansign Taemin said “what if i get struck by lightning while just walking at old age because I used up all my luck when young” cr.

Taemin asked for a show of hands of people who voted and it seemed there were a couple who didn’t so he went “it’s okay~~” then turned around pretending to cry cr.

Taemin asked will you still like me even when I do trot style? Now about 70 years remaining if I do 1 album per year I can do only 70 albums 6v6 shall I do a song like troublemaker so fans can be jealous? (a fan said 'give it a try') then Taemin begged for forgiveness saying I'm sorry cr.