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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Greenwashing set Canada on fire

On September 22, I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

As a teenager growing up in Ontario, I always envied the kids who spent their summers tree planting; they'd come back from the bush in September, insect-chewed and leathery, with new muscle, incredible stories, thousands of dollars, and a glow imparted by the knowledge that they'd made a new forest with their own blistered hands.

I was too unathletic to follow them into the bush, but I spent my summers doing my bit, ringing doorbells for Greenpeace to get my neighbours fired up about the Canadian pulp-and-paper industry, which wasn't merely clear-cutting our old-growth forests – it was also poisoning the Great Lakes system with PCBs, threatening us all.

At the time, I thought of tree-planting as a small victory – sure, our homegrown, rapacious, extractive industry was able to pollute with impunity, but at least the government had reined them in on forests, forcing them to pay my pals to spend their summers replacing the forests they'd fed into their mills.

I was wrong. Last summer's Canadian wildfires blanketed the whole east coast and midwest in choking smoke as millions of trees burned and millions of tons of CO2 were sent into the atmosphere. Those wildfires weren't just an effect of the climate emergency: they were made far worse by all those trees planted by my pals in the eighties and nineties.

Writing in the New York Times, novelist Claire Cameron describes her own teen years working in the bush, planting row after row of black spruces, precisely spaced at six-foot intervals:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/15/opinion/wildfires-treeplanting-timebomb.html

Cameron's summer job was funded by the logging industry, whose self-pegulated, self-assigned "penalty" for clearcutting diverse forests of spruce, pine and aspen was to pay teenagers to create a tree farm, at nine cents per sapling (minus camp costs).

Black spruces are made to burn, filled with flammable sap and equipped with resin-filled cones that rely on fire, only opening and dropping seeds when they're heated. They're so flammable that firefighters call them "gas on a stick."

Cameron and her friends planted under brutal conditions: working long hours in blowlamp heat and dripping wet bulb humidity, amidst clouds of stinging insects, fingers blistered and muscles aching. But when they hit rock bottom and were ready to quit, they'd encourage one another with a rallying cry: "Let's go make a forest!"

Planting neat rows of black spruces was great for the logging industry: the even spacing guaranteed that when the trees matured, they could be easily reaped, with ample space between each near-identical tree for massive shears to operate. But that same monocropped, evenly spaced "forest" was also optimized to burn.

It burned.

The climate emergency's frequent droughts turn black spruces into "something closer to a blowtorch." The "pines in lines" approach to reforesting was an act of sabotage, not remediation. Black spruces are thirsty, and they absorb the water that moss needs to thrive, producing "kindling in the place of fire retardant."

Cameron's column concludes with this heartbreaking line: "Now when I think of that summer, I don’t think that I was planting trees at all. I was planting thousands of blowtorches a day."

The logging industry committed a triple crime. First, they stole our old-growth forests. Next, they (literally) planted a time-bomb across Ontario's north. Finally, they stole the idealism of people who genuinely cared about the environment. They taught a generation that resistance is futile, that anything you do to make a better future is a scam, and you're a sucker for falling for it. They planted nihilism with every tree.

That scam never ended. Today, we're sold carbon offsets, a modern Papal indulgence. We are told that if we pay the finance sector, they can absolve us for our climate sins. Carbon offsets are a scam, a market for lemons. The "offset" you buy might be a generated by a fake charity like the Nature Conservancy, who use well-intentioned donations to buy up wildlife reserves that can't be logged, which are then converted into carbon credits by promising not to log them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/12/fairy-use-tale/#greenwashing

The credit-card company that promises to plant trees every time you use your card? They combine false promises, deceptive advertising, and legal threats against critics to convince you that you're saving the planet by shopping:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/17/do-well-do-good-do-nothing/#greenwashing

The carbon offset world is full of scams. The carbon offset that made the thing you bought into a "net zero" product? It might be a forest that already burned:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/11/a-market-for-flaming-lemons/#money-for-nothing

The only reason we have carbon offsets is that market cultists have spent forty years convincing us that actual regulation is impossible. In the neoliberal learned helplessness mind-palace, there's no way to simply say, "You may not log old-growth forests." Rather, we have to say, "We will 'align your incentives' by making you replace those forests."

The Climate Ad Project's "Murder Offsets" video deftly punctures this bubble. In it, a detective points his finger at the man who committed the locked-room murder in the isolated mansion. The murderer cheerfully admits that he did it, but produces a "murder offset," which allowed him to pay someone else not to commit a murder, using market-based price-discovery mechanisms to put a dollar-figure on the true worth of a murder, which he duly paid, making his kill absolutely fine:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy

What's the alternative to murder offsets/carbon credits? We could ask our expert regulators to decide which carbon intensive activities are necessary and which ones aren't, and ban the unnecessary ones. We could ask those regulators to devise remediation programs that actually work. After all, there are plenty of forests that have already been clearcut, plenty that have burned. It would be nice to know how we can plant new forests there that aren't "thousands of blowtorches."

If that sounds implausible to you, then you've gotten trapped in the neoliberal mind-palace.

The term "regulatory capture" was popularized by far-right Chicago School economists who were promoting "public choice theory." In their telling, regulatory capture is inevitable, because companies will spend whatever it takes to get the government to pass laws making what they do legal, and making competing with them into a crime:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/13/public-choice/#ajit-pai-still-terrible

This is true, as far as it goes. Capitalists hate capitalism, and if an "entrepreneur" can make it illegal to compete with him, he will. But while this is a reasonable starting-point, the place that Public Choice Theory weirdos get to next is bonkers. They say that since corporations will always seek to capture their regulators, we should abolish regulators.

They say that it's impossible for good regulations to exist, and therefore the only regulation that is even possible is to let businesses do whatever they want and wait for the invisible hand to sweep away the bad companies. Rather than creating hand-washing rules for restaurant kitchens, we should let restaurateurs decide whether it's economically rational to make us shit ourselves to death. The ones that choose poorly will get bad online reviews and people will "vote with their dollars" for the good restaurants.

And if the online review site decides to sell "reputation management" to restaurants that get bad reviews? Well, soon the public will learn that the review site can't be trusted and they'll take their business elsewhere. No regulation needed! Unleash the innovators! Set the job-creators free!

This is the Ur-nihilism from which all the other nihilism springs. It contends that the regulations we have – the ones that keep our buildings from falling down on our heads, that keep our groceries from poisoning us, that keep our cars from exploding on impact – are either illusory, or perhaps the forgotten art of a lost civilization. Making good regulations is like embalming Pharaohs, something the ancients practiced in mist-shrouded, unrecoverable antiquity – and that may not have happened at all.

Regulation is corruptible, but it need not be corrupt. Regulation, like science, is a process of neutrally adjudicated, adversarial peer-review. In a robust regulatory process, multiple parties respond to a fact-intensive question – "what alloys and other properties make a reinforced steel joist structurally sound?" – with a mix of robust evidence and self-serving bullshit and then proceed to sort the two by pantsing each other, pointing out one another's lies.

The regulator, an independent expert with no conflicts of interest, sorts through the claims and counterclaims and makes a rule, showing their workings and leaving the door open to revisiting the rule based on new evidence or challenges to the evidence presented.

But when an industry becomes concentrated, it becomes unregulatable. 100 small and medium-sized companies will squabble. They'll struggle to come up with a common lie. There will always be defectors in their midst. Their conduct will be legible to external experts, who will be able to spot the self-serving BS.

But let that industry dwindle to a handful of giant companies, let them shrink to a number that will fit around a boardroom table, and they will sit down at a table and agree on a cozy arrangement that fucks us all over to their benefit. They will become so inbred that the only people who understand how they work will be their own insiders, and so top regulators will be drawn from their own number and be hopelessly conflicted.

When the corporate sector takes over, regulatory capture is inevitable. But corporate takeover isn't inevitable. We can – and have, and will again – fight corporate power, with antitrust law, with unions, and with consumer rights groups. Knowing things is possible. It simply requires that we keep the entities that profit by our confusion poor and thus weak.

The thing is, corporations don't always lie about regulations. Take the fight over working encryption, which – once again – the UK government is trying to ban:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/feb/24/signal-app-warns-it-will-quit-uk-if-law-weakens-end-to-end-encryption

Advocates for criminalising working encryption insist that the claims that this is impossible are the same kind of self-serving nonsense as claims that banning clearcutting of old-growth forests is impossible:

https://twitter.com/JimBethell/status/1699339739042599276

They say that when technologists say, "We can't make an encryption system that keeps bad guys out but lets good guys in," that they are being lazy and unimaginative. "I have faith in you geeks," they said. "Go nerd harder! You'll figure it out."

Google and Apple and Meta say that selectively breakable encryption is impossible. But they also claim that a bunch of eminently possible things are impossible. Apple claims that it's impossible to have a secure device where you get to decide which software you want to use and where publishers aren't deprive of 30 cents on every dollar you spend. Google says it's impossible to search the web without being comprehensively, nonconsensually spied upon from asshole to appetite. Meta insists that it's impossible to have digital social relationship without having your friendships surveilled and commodified.

While they're not lying about encryption, they are lying about these other things, and sorting out the lies from the truth is the job of regulators, but that job is nearly impossible thanks to the fact that everyone who runs a large online service tells the same lies – and the regulators themselves are alumni of the industry's upper eschelons.

Logging companies know a lot about forests. When we ask, "What is the best way to remediate our forests," the companies may well have useful things to say. But those useful things will be mixed with actively harmful lies. The carefully cultivated incompetence of our regulators means that they can't tell the difference.

Conspiratorialism is characterized as a problem of what people believe, but the true roots of conspiracy belief isn't what we believe, it's how we decide what to believe. It's not beliefs, it's epistemology.

Because most of us aren't qualified to sort good reforesting programs from bad ones. And even if we are, we're probably not also well-versed enough in cryptography to sort credible claims about encryption from wishful thinking. And even if we're capable of making that determination, we're not experts in food hygiene or structural engineering.

Daily life in the 21st century means resolving a thousand life-or-death technical questions every day. Our regulators – corrupted by literally out-of-control corporations – are no longer reliable sources of ground truth on these questions. The resulting epistemological chaos is a cancer that gnaws away at our resolve to do anything about it. It is a festering pool where nihilism outbreaks are incubated.

The liberal response to conspiratorialism is mockery. In her new book Doppelganger, Naomi Klein tells of how right-wing surveillance fearmongering about QR-code "vaccine passports" was dismissed with a glib, "Wait until they hear about cellphones!"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

But as Klein points out, it's not good that our cellphones invade our privacy in the way that right-wing conspiracists thought that vaccine passports might. The nihilism of liberalism – which insists that things can't be changed except through market "solutions" – leads us to despair.

By contrast, leftism – a muscular belief in democratic, publicly run planning and action – offers a tonic to nihilism. We don't have to let logging companies decide whether a forest can be cut, or what should be planted when it is. We can have nice things. The art of finding out what's true or prudent didn't die with the Reagan Revolution (or the discount Canadian version, the Mulroney Malaise). The truth is knowable. Doing stuff is possible. Things don't have to be on fire.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/16/murder-offsets/#pulped-and-papered

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phoenixeclipse-lmkau · 28 days ago

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So, I have a thought about Spirit;

Spirit: This is my fabulous sister, Queen of Flower Fruit Mountain.

Reader: (waves)

Spirit: and these are her lame, don't deserve her, pathetic husbands.

Wukong & Macaque: hey now-

Like, Spirit taking advantage of being Reader's sister to be the most annoying in-law she can

Yaasss!! If and when the dust settles and if Reader actually accepts them. Yes this would totally happen, heck I can see so many scenarios where she would be like this.

Spirit does NOT like the two monkey demons who stole her sister away. The sheer number of times she will try to get her sister back is astounding.

Heck, she'd be like this even with MK. Since Reader is PROBABLY going to adopt him. Spirit would be the cool aunt who gives him anything he wants. Especially since she is not good with knowing what they actually need.

Anyways I love this idea sooo-

.....

The room was filled with demons and celestials alike, many coming to Flower Fruit Mountain in hopes of becoming allies or at least making sure they wouldn't be harmed by the Monkey King and his Warrior. Others simply came to meet the new Queen they have taken.

Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque were very well known to keep everyone they can away from their new mate. News had spread like wildfire at the news of the two taking on a mortal human woman as their mate. A few didn’t believe it others believed that this would be a great way to finding a weakness between the monkey king and his warrior. Some even speculated that one of them had cheated on the other, however none of that was true.

Many glanced around trying to locate the only human within the midst and finally they did. A young maiden, dressed in a long dark red hanfu with vibrant gold embroidered throughout the fabric. Roses decorated your hair along with jewels that dangled beautifully around your head and through your hair.

Some attempted to approach you but all were sent away by the small monkey demoness that accompanied you. A dark furred one with floating hair and light grey eyes. The one known as Spirit, the daughter of one of the Monkey Kings generals. The only ones able to get closer were your husbands who were willing to just scoop you up into their arms.

Both monkey kings had increased their size while the festivities were taking place.

“Brother!” Sun Wukong loudly called out when none other than the Demon Bull King walked into the ballroom.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sheer sight of the mighty and huge demon before you. It was absolutely terrifying to see someone so huge. Your attention however was turned away to someone else. A woman with long black hair and deep black eyes, she was watching the Demon Bull King like a hawk. But then turned her attention to you.

“Hello, you must be the woman everyone has been speaking of,” She spoke elegantly as she walked up to you gracefully.

Spirit immediately bared her teeth and growled at her, “What do you want?”

“I merely wished to speak with the new Queen of the Mountian. My name is Princess Iron Fan, and yours?” Her eyes watched you calmly though they narrowed slightly as she waited for a response.

You didn’t know why she approached you, she was a celestial who had nothing to do with you. And if she was anything like they show which you weren’t sure if you should trust her. In fact based on everything you knew, you shouldn’t trust her.

“Reader, her name is Reader MY Fabulous and wonderful SISTER, The Queen of Flower Fruit Mountain,” Spirit answered for you, emphasizing the fact that you were siblings, sworn siblings but details. You also noticed how she spoke about you being Queen rather bitterly which wasn’t really surprising.

You waved awkwardly unsure of what to do when you felt two familiar presences behind you. Turning slightly you noticed your two husbands arrive, Wukong wearing his usual smirk and Macaque narrowing his eyes at the woman before them.

“And these are Readers completely useless, lame, and don’t deserve her pathetic husbands,” Spirit said smugly.

“Excuse me what did you just say?” Wukong growled but before attacking he was held back by his husband as Reader pulled Spirit to her side and sending him a stern look. Even while she shook with some fear.

So in tern yes Spirit will be the most annoying sister-in-law that these two monkey demons will ever have. Especially because she is the only in-law that they currently have. The reason for this is simple too, Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque don’t have any ‘real’ family other than the monkeys on the mountain. All of which were all for them getting together and they all knew both of them before they got together. So they weren’t trying to learn about new people.

Thank you so much for this ask!! I greatly enjoy seeing people liking my content!

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year ago

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Whispers of Desire

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x twin!reader

summary: Finally betrothed, the twins are more than happy.

Word count: 2,9K

Warnings: smut, P in V, Daddy kink, Orgasm denial

The Red Keep in King’s Landing stood as a majestic backdrop to the grand feast held in honor of the engagement between Aemond Targaryen and his twin sister, Aerra. The Great Hall was resplendent with crimson and gold decorations, echoing the colors of their House. Lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms had gathered to celebrate this momentous occasion.

Aerra, the lively and effervescent twin, was at the heart of the festivities, as always. Her fiery charisma and vivacity had the guests enthralled. She moved gracefully through the hall, engaging in lively conversations, twirling on the dance floor, and enchanting all who crossed her path.

Aemond, on the other hand, couldn’t hide the green-eyed monster that had taken root within him. He watched as Aerra shared laughter and danced with lords and knights, and a deep sense of jealousy consumed him. His martial prowess and fierce determination had earned him respect, but tonight, it felt as if all eyes were on his sister.

Rhaenyra, their elder sister, noticed Aemond’s growing frustration. She excused herself from her own admirers and approached him. “Aemond, you seem troubled. Is something amiss?”

He sighed, his violet eyes betraying his inner turmoil. “Rhaenyra, I can’t help but be jealous of Aerra. It feels as if I’m always in her shadow.”

Rhaenyra placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Aemond, jealousy is a dangerous beast. Remember that Aerra’s light does not diminish yours. You are both unique, with strengths that complement each other. While she shines in the spotlight, your strength is the shield that protects our family.”

Aemond’s gaze softened, and he nodded in acknowledgment. “You’re right, Rhaenyra. I should be happy for her. It’s just that… I’ve always felt the weight of our family’s expectations.”

Rhaenyra smiled warmly. “We all do, dear brother. But together, as Targaryens, we are stronger. Our bond is unbreakable, and we support each other through every challenge.”

As they returned to the feast, Aemond’s jealousy gave way to a newfound appreciation for his sister’s charisma and an understanding that their unity was their greatest strength. The celebration continued with renewed joy and harmony, showcasing the resilience and power of House Targaryen within the hallowed halls of the Red Keep.

The Red Keep’s Great Hall buzzed with merriment as Aerra danced with several lords who had come to celebrate her engagement. Her laughter rang out like music, drawing the attention of everyone present. She moved gracefully from one partner to another, her vibrant presence captivating them all.

Aemond, watching from a distance, couldn’t shake the growing unease that gnawed at him. As he saw lords vying for Aerra’s attention on the dance floor, jealousy flared within him. He had always been fiercely protective of his twin sister, and the thought of sharing her with others grated on him.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Aemond left his spot and approached the dance floor. His commanding presence was undeniable, and the lords who had been dancing with Aerra took a step back, yielding the floor to him.

Without a word, Aemond extended his hand to Aerra, his violet eyes locked onto hers. “May I have this dance, sister?”

Aerra’s sapphire eyes widened in surprise, but she accepted his hand with a smile. They moved onto the dance floor, and as the music swayed around them, their movements became a silent conversation of emotions.

As Aemond and Aerra danced together, the tension between them crackled like wildfire. The music’s sultry rhythm seemed to mirror the heat that had built up between the twins. Their bodies moved in sync, but their words were laced with desire and jealousy.

“Aerra,” Aemond purred, his voice low and seductive, “you’re quite the enchantress tonight. You revel in the attention, don’t you?”

Aerra’s sapphire eyes darkened with a mix of emotions, her pulse quickening at her brother’s provocative tone. She leaned in closer, her voice a sensuous whisper, “Why, Aemond, jealous, are we? Perhaps you’re just not used to sharing.”

Aemond’s jealousy had given way to a more primal desire, and he pulled Aerra even closer, their bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. “Sharing is not something I’m accustomed to, especially when it comes to you.”

Aerra’s laughter was a seductive melody in his ear. “Oh, Aemond, there’s no need to be possessive. I’m yours, always.”

Their dance became a provocative battle of wills, a dance of desire and longing. Aemond’s jealousy had transformed into a heated passion, and as the night wore on, they continued to dance, their movements filled with sensual tension and unspoken promises.

Their hearts racing with a mix of excitement and forbidden desire, managed to slip away from the raucous feast unnoticed. The castle’s winding corridors provided cover for their secret escape.

Aerra couldn’t contain her giggles, the thrill of their clandestine rendezvous making her feel like a teenager in love. She tugged at Aemond’s hand, urging him further into the shadows.

Aemond, usually so stern and composed, had a rare hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. The tension that had consumed him earlier had given way to the intoxicating anticipation of what was to come. He pushed Aerra gently against the wall, their bodies pressed close, and his lips descended to meet hers.

The kiss was tender yet filled with an intensity that had simmered beneath the surface all night. Aerra’s fingers tangled in Aemond’s platinum blonde locks as she deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing in a passionate, unspoken declaration of their desires.

Aemond’s hands explored her curves, their desire for each other burning brighter with each passing second. The abandoned hallway became their secret haven, a place where their love and longing could be expressed without restraint.

As the kiss deepened, Aerra pulled away slightly, her breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. She looked into Aemond’s eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Aemond, I’ve always wanted you.”

Aemond’s response was a heated kiss, a promise that their secret rendezvous was only the beginning of a night filled with passion, desire, and the breaking of boundaries they had once thought were unbreakable.

Aemond’s kisses, like soft feathers, trailed down Aerra’s neck, igniting a passionate fire within her. Her body trembled with desire as his strong arms enveloped her waist, guiding her down the dimly lit corridor.

Lost in the intoxication of his touch, Aerra barely registered their surroundings. She allowed herself to be led by Aemond’s tender yet passionate ministrations, every kiss sending shivers down her spine.

As they reached a doorway, Aemond gently guided Aerra into the room. Her senses were overwhelmed by the pleasure of his kisses, and she remained blissfully unaware of their surroundings.

It was only when they were inside, and Aemond closed the door behind them with a soft click, that Aerra finally realized where they were. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked around to find herself standing in the small council meeting room of the Red Keep.

The room was dimly lit, with the long wooden table and high-backed chairs creating an unexpected backdrop for their passionate encounter. Aerra’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire as she met Aemond’s gaze.

Aemond, his own desire evident in his platinum blonde hair tousled from their passionate kisses, gave her a mischievous smile. “Well, it seems we’ve found an unexpected venue for our rendezvous.”

Aerra chuckled softly, her embarrassment giving way to a sense of adventure. “I suppose we have, dear brother. Let’s make the most of it.”

And with that, they allowed their passion to consume them once more, their kisses and desires filling the small council meeting room with a fervor that surpassed the boundaries of decorum.

Their lips met in a slow and passionate kiss, a sweet exchange of longing and devotion. The small council room, once a place of politics and strategy, was transformed into their private sanctuary, where their love and desires could flourish.

As their kiss deepened, they lost themselves in each other’s arms, their hearts entwined in a dance of love and romance. The room, with its grand table and high-backed chairs, bore witness to a different kind of council—one where the language spoken was that of love, trust, and unbreakable bonds.

Aemond eager to be close to his soon to be wife wasted no time to push her against the table, his lips attacking the sensitive skin under her jaw with bites and kisses to sooth the pain. Aerra's breathing was already laboured, her nibble fingers running through his hair that was in it's usual half up do, well not anymore.

"Aemond" She whispered, his name sounded like the sweetest tart rolling off her tongue. Aemond began pulling her dress up desperate to feel her skin. This was not the first they had been intimate and surely never will be the last.

"Daor" No. Aemond breathed in her ear. His fingers finally touching the skin of her thigh. He ran his thumb around the edge of her stocking before pushing it down fully. Aerra gasped as the cold air hit her legs causing goosebumbs.

"Kepa" Father/Daddy. The twins were twisted, that was no shock. The father they had was anything but a father, he was more of a stranger to them, they were shocked he even showed his face at the feast- most likely because Rhaenyra was there.

Aemond groped her thigh so tightly it will surely leave his fingerprints behind on it. He wrapped her exposed thigh around his waist before moving to the other one. His lips trailing up to her ear, biting and sucking the her earlobe. She whimpered shivering in his arms, she was desperate for his touch. Her second stocking and shoe followed the first on the floor, her legs now both wrapped around his waist he finally could touch more of her skin.

"My sweet girl, so desperate for attention" Aemond teased. he pulled back admiring her, her lips swollen and red from his attacks earlier. Her neck was already beginning to bruise from his bites. Her chest heaving as she sat on the table, her legs around his waist. His cock was throbbing in his trousers at the sight of her. Her hair was all over the place.

"Kepa, Kostilus" Please. Her begging was like the lemon cake to his ears. His fingers worked quickly undoing her bodice until her tits were spilling out.

"Shh, sweet whore" Aemond shushed her quickly. His hand grabbed at her breast, the perfect size in his hand, she was just perfect for him. Her entire being fit him so perfectly, her love handles and breasts were just the right size.

"Kepa, please it hurts" Aerra begged. Her cunt was crying in need of friction. She tried rubbing herself against him, gasping when she felt his hard on. Aemond smirked with delight at the sight of her wide eyes and dropped jaw. She knew just how to push his buttons even without trying.

"Shhh" Aemond gave a quick slap to her breast. He reached down to undo the ties of his trousers. Without her having to beg anymore or preparations he shoved his cock inside of her tight cunt.

"Such a perfect cunny" Aemond complimented. Aerra had to slap a hand over her mouth to stop a scream from slipping past her lips. He was just in so deep, he reached places she couldn't even imagine reaching herself.

Aemond stayed still not wanting to hurt her. He was amused with how wet she was and he didn't even need to touch her down there, he did not need to prepare her, she was always ready to take his cock. She was his perfect twin and no one can change that. No one can separate them, not even their disgusted mother.

"Move, Kepa" She whined, rolling her hips for some friction. Aemond lowered his head to take one of her tits into his mouth, suckling at it. She let out a loud moan without warning at the sensation, he always knew how to pleasure her. The pleasure went sparkling down to her lower region making her walls squeeze around Aemond's cock, making him crazy.

"Fuck" The curse came muffled from his lips. His hips began rocking back and forth, the way she sounded, the way she felt were just overwhelming.

"Aemy" Aerra cried throwing her head back. Aemond pulled away from her breast and placed a hand between her breasts, he applied just enough pressure to push her back to lay fully on the table. His eyes sparkled at the sight of her breasts bouncing with each thrust.

"That's not my name" Aemond's hand came down at her bouncing tits, giving each a quick slap. Aerra's back arched, legs beginning to tremble.

"Kepa" She moaned loudly, no longer caring who heard, they were betrothed and to marry soon, no one can separate them.

Aemond picked up the pace of his hips, his cock was just begging for more frictions. "Yes...fuck yes" Aerra was not one to curse, so now that she did Aemond knew he was doing it right.

"Do not cum" Aemond warned, his one eyes blazing with almost anger. She did not earn cumming yet.

"Please kepa" She begged. Her left hand reached down to touch herself but he slapped it away in a second. Aerra cried with frustration. Her eyes teary already from the pleasure began pouring with frustration.

"Kepa!" Aerra cried desperately. He picked up the speed of his thrusts, he was slamming into her at this point. He was going to teach her a lesson.

"Whores do not get to cum" Aemond growled. One of his hands reached up to grab her jaw. His hips not stopping for a second. Her eyes rolled back, back arched but he pulled at her jaw making her eyes snap back to normal and her back to lay still down again.

"Do you understand?" Aemond asked. His nails digging into her flesh.

"Yes kepa, please kepa, I am sorry" She cried. Her hand reached to grab his wrist. He pushed her hand away and moved to focus on the movement of his hips.

His hands grabbed at her hips moving her hips just the right way to match the rhythm of his own. Aerra's hands tried desperately to grab onto anything. Her right found comfort on her own breast, kneading the full flesh, twicking her nipple evoking herself to more pleasure. Aemond had ruined her forever, she was no longer the shy and innocent sister she used to be.

"Kepa, please please please" Aerra's pleas filled the otherwise empty room. She did not care if she was to be heard, it aroused her more actually, she wanted the lords she danced with and lusted over her to see her being absolutely being destroyed by her own brother.

"Fuck, cum" Aemond was not a vocal person in general let alone during intimacy. His voice was low and gruff, it turned Aerra on even more. She rolled her nipple begging every god for the release her brother was chasing for the both of them.

"Yes please" Aerra's breath got caught in her throat. It was like lightning struck her and moved through her entire body. Her legs shook so hard they went numb for a second. They unraveled from around Aemond's waist and shot up in the air shacking. Her body obeyed only his command. No one else's but his and it will forever.

Aemond grabbed her legs behind her knees and pulled them up to his shoulders and continued the assault on her cunt. This new position allowed him to reach deeper, he could feel her cervix if that was possible. He was very close, he was going to seed her. He was desperate to seed her. He wanted her to swell with a pure blooded Targaryen.

"Sweet twin" Aemond tried to comfort her as her eyes rolled back, her orgasm being prolonged with his movement. With a groan of pleasure Aemond came shooting his cum so deep inside of her it probably went straight into her womb.

"Gods" The word came out forced from her lips as she tried to pull her hips away from Aemond, too overstimulated. Aemond let her crawl back a little only enough for his cock to slip out of her. His singular eye watched as his spend ran out of her slit and down onto the table. Her legs fell limp like the rest of her body. He leaned down on top of her to place a kiss on her forehead.

"Mine" He whispered against her eye before placing a small kiss to her closed eyelid. Her chest heaving made her breasts brush against his, her sensitive nipples perked at the touch and made her groan a little.

"Kepa" She whined. Opening her eyes lazily, Aemond smiled at the sight, she just looked so sweet like a little girl, his little girl that he gets to fuck fro the rest of his life.

"I'm right here" Aemond helped her sit up again. Her arms wrapped around his waist and her head rested on his chest. Legs open again welcoming him inside, his cock sheathed inside like it was going home, to keep them both warm.

"Kepa's got you" Aemond whispered against her hair line, placing a small kiss there as well. Aerra hummed happily and nuzzled even more into his chest, her arms tightening around his waist. He was hers and She was his forever.

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world-in-a-nook · 6 months ago

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"And upon his name was a crown of jewels, and the brightest was Hope"

character : Aventurine pairing : Aventurine (drunk!Aventurine at the end) x avgin!gn!reader (specified blond hair) ; angst/comfort art : @しかく

synopsis : Aventurine, while sitting in a bar, finds you performing at a bar in Penacony. Surprised to see another Avgin, he watches your dance performance and comes to see you after it. inspiration : dance ; warnings : spoiler for 2.1 (all of the Aventurine's backstory) ; Avgin racism (implied prostitution); alcohol ; petname ( little gem ; darling ;) ; survivor guilt ; might be ooc lore taken from : Signoia, Unclaimed Desolation (I went full on worldbuilder and might have expanded a bit) wc : 3.1k author's note : not my native language

The night had long started inside the bar with drinks passing from hand to hand, chatters getting loud. The cocktail, an Imagined Sunrise, in Aventurine’s hand swirled the sweet colour of sunsets. He was seated in an obscure corner, far from anyone’s gaze. Although his client had long left, he decided to stay anyway to pass time. Why stay in the boring room when you can have fun outside? His bodyguards would have preferred the former since it meant being less alert but Aventurine wasn’t the type to cooperate especially after a frustrating deal.

Through the rose-tinted glasses, he looked at his surroundings. The bar was crowded like any night of Penacony, people sipping on the dream syrup or on some Soulglad. The chatter filled the room mixing with the clicking of the ice and the music. The coloured bottles shined in the dimlit bar creating drinks. His own was gleaming like some dawn, one that he dreamt so much of. He took a sip before looking at the clock, curious to see if the casino might still be open. His thought process was interrupted by the bar’s owner standing up on the stage:

“Tonight, folks, I’ll present you with an exotic flower from a faraway land. This desert bloom will offer you a performance like none other!”

It was at this point that you appeared on the stage, waiting for the musicians to start. Though Aventurine was already captivated because he could now grasp what the owner meant with “faraway land”. He recognized the patterned clothes, the colourful jewellery and golden hair gracefully swaying with each movement. And when he finally saw your colourful eyes, he felt as if the ground was breaking before him. Each one of your movements seemed like turning his world upside down. He followed the movements of the colourful fabrics, of the golden jewellery. The fabric moving like the wind in the golden dunes, your hair like the rays of gold that warmed his skin. The jewellery chimed together as making a melody on its own. He crossed your gaze through his glasses and couldn’t resist to lean forward in disbelief. Those movements reminded him of the time faraway from now, a time where each shimmering aurora had the warmth of comfort, of home; a time in which he danced with his family and rejoiced in the Kakava festival; a time which felt so far away, yet he yearned for it.

His contemplation continued: how the fabric’s colours and your movements was a wildfire swaying to your liking, each of the golden jewellery was a spark for every new flame, the chiming of it like the crack of the firewood. The dance sending him into a spin of fascination and disbelief. Each step like an acknowledgment of your presence, each beat of the music making him realize that he wasn’t the only one left. The fire continued to dance and show off its movements with the rhythmic music. The drums beating as hard as his heart, the graceful sway of the fabrics leaving him in a daze. With each new melody, he took a sip of his own drink. His head spined with the dance, the alcohol, and your twirls.

Before a stop, the dance ending, and some applauses. Pearls of sweats had appeared on your body completing your jewellery set. You bowed with the applauses and toss of coins, though Aventurine could hear some of many murmurs:

“An Avgin? They’re just some snake, manipulating their charms for money.”

“They’re just trying to find a fool for the night!”

“You know Sigonians, rotten to the core…”

He didn’t care when those insults were about him. He had heard them so many times now that it felt numb, but he wasn’t the target of it, another Avgin was, and it felt so different. Someone like him was insulted. His eyes darted to see your reaction if you would say anything back. Though you had already escaped from his gaze, the only remain of your performance was your faint perfume.

He wanted to follow you through the narrow corridors, through the dazzling streets of Penacony, through each planet, through the desert dunes until that moment where he could go back to that very moment, that impossible moment in which the festival took place in joy. The faint perfume did bring him back to reality after a moment and like the good businessman he was, he knew how to use his tongue. A slight gesture and the owner approached:

“Good evening, Mr. Aventurine. Thank you for choosing our humble establishment!”

“Oh, but I must thank you, my friend, for the atmosphere, the drinks and even the entertainment!”

“Oh, did you like tonight’s beauty? A rare gem…”

How he objectified you felt repulsing, you were a being, not some sort of possession limited to its beauty. Aventurine bit his tongue, though he had led the conversation where he wanted to, so he asked:

“Oh indeed, a one-of-a-kind. May I ask if it could be possible to see that gem?”

“I’m sorry sir but they don’t accept visitors…”

He gazed upon the owner facing him. It was easy to see his lies: the crossed arms, the slight bite of the lip and this twitch of the eyebrow he had seen in some gambler he provoked. He had encountered so many liars like him, so confident yet wearing their emotions under the spotlight. He didn’t mind it, after all that’s how he won. So, he asked:

“My friend, I have heard that your establishment lacked customers. I might be able to do just that… Some of the Strategic Investment Department needs a place to have fun time. Would you be able to grant that?”

“Yes Mr. Aventurine, of course. Our humble establishment would gladly welcome your colleagues. They would also have a price. The IPC, and yourself, have done so much for us !”

“Then make me another drink for me and your generous patrons! It’s on me!”

The owner rushed to the bar, urging his employees to start serving drinks to all patrons. A big investment for just one fleeting moment. Drinks appearing and going from left to right, up and down, cheers coming from one side to another, praises for the generous esteemed guest. Yet he knew how they were just hypocrites, esteeming him during their drunken state. One moment, he was one of the avgins “rotten to the core” and the other he was an “esteemed guest”, what a joke. He looked back at the owner, now was truly time for the gamble:

“If I may bring a drink to the precious gem…”

“Oh of course, Mr. Aventurine. Let me show you the way…”

A few corridors later and they entered your dressing room, knocking on your door. You were facing a vanity taking off the jewels resting on your forehead and chest. The owner introduced:

“Little gem, one of our esteemed guests wanted to give you a drink. So, I brought him to you. He is a particularly important guest which is giving us new clients which means you could get more money for your performance. Treat him well…”

The owner escaped while Aventurine sighed at the owner’s lack of subtility. He signed his bodyguards to stay outside the door and after a few seconds, you finally spoke for the first time:

“I’m not selling my body…”

“Oh no need to inform me, I’m not here for that…” replied the businessman.

To confirm his saying, he sat down on the furthest couch and laid your drink on the nearest table to you. More seconds of the awkward silence, silence in which he delighted because as a gambler he knew it was a silence of thinking, of calculation. You asked politely while turning:

“Then why are you here sir?”

“Because I think we have something in common.”

“Oh really?”

Aventurine, for the first time, took off his glasses to reveal his colourful eyes while his left hand went inside his pocket. Your gaze met and there was this moment. He could see emotions passing through your mind and body: first, the slight widening of your eyes from the surprise, the lips parting as if trying to find words, the quivering fingers as if grasping for reality and then seating back as in disbelief. At last, the nod of acknowledgment. Both of you stayed staring at each other, like staring into mirror. Two beings that started the same but ended up as opposites. You broke the silence:

“I’ve heard rumours about an IPC debt collector being Signonian but are you…?”

“I’m an Avgin.”

The sentence was short, but it felt like a revelation for both of you. An acknowledgment of each other’s fate, each other’s hardships and despair. The realisation of each other’s suffering by the mere gaze, the lack of shine in each other’s eyes. He broke the silence by sipping some of his drink, it was easier to numb the pain. You took again the lead in the conversation:

“May I ask for your name?”

“They call me Aventurine.”

“Doesn’t sound avgin…”

“As I said, darling, they call me that way.”

Behind the dismissive use of the petname and the play on words, he didn’t expect your wit. Although you were quite right to not trust him at first in this cold world. He couldn’t bear to see you slip between his hands like the golden sand. Another gulp of alcohol, of courage. For a second, his vision blurred and his head spinned. For the first time, through sheer will or maybe was it his thoughts blending into a mess, he broke again the silence:

“And may I call you something else than what that man called you? May I have your name?”

You replied, after a few seconds, with your stage name which he immediately got:

“Oh, come on darling, it’s not that much of a big risk to give a name.”

“Says the one who didn’t give his name either…” you retorted.

“Touché! But I did it because I’m known as Aventurine and besides, I’m part of the IPC. As a member of the Ten Stonehearts, I shall reveal no secrecy and invest in my persona.”

You could hear the sarcasm dripping from his lips and he started to be more talkative, probably from the alcohol ingested throughout the night. Even if you wanted to go, you had to stay and treat him well because of the owner’s order. You would be interrupted in your thought process by the blond:

“Those jewels… Are they from turquoise meteorites?”

“Yes, they are. Mama Fenge has blessed my family with it and so I carry them to each performance”.

“Can I see them up close? No touching you or them if you would like to, it’s just been a long time since… Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen some… Would it be possible?”

He silenced himself by taking another gulp of his drink and he put the fedora away, starting to feel hot from the alcohol. He let out a small sigh of relief when you approached to let him look at the golden chain, which was previously attached to your belt, with turquoises and charms. The melody of the chain lulled him into deeper memories, and he started to talk again:

“You know, I’ve heard that these turquoises were as beautiful as Gaiathra Triclops’ eyes, but I wander if they are as valuable as hers. If turquoises are that valuable, then is that why our land was destroyed? Why were our valuable land and people left for dead?”

You didn’t respond because of the sudden emotion. The alcohol had certainly turned the gambler into a sentimental. You didn’t know how to quite manage to those questions because, you too, didn’t have the answer to that question. The dreading question that didn’t come in each other’s mind since a time long ago, a time that felt like forever. Yet your thoughts were again interrupted by him:

“I have a lucky charm too, not as valuable as turquoises but a gold lucky charm my mother gave me. Lucky charm to a lucky child, quite an irony. Big sis’ told me that it was to symbolize my name. “Blessed by Gaithra Triclops”, Kakavasha, lucky child yet received a lucky charm.”

You didn’t comment on how he just told you his name, his mind obviously elsewhere, probably drowning in the memories and the alcohol’s fog. You parted your lips as if trying to find your words, they didn’t come. The small details in his drunken speech seemed to confirm his identity as an avgin. It wasn’t one of the silver-tongued men but of an avgin, one of the last. You tried to continue the conversation:

“But you were blessed by Gaithra Tricolps. You are here, and you are someone powerful and you are quite fit at gaining money at the roulette.”

“Blessed… Lucky me, I guess! Luck makes powerful but my destiny not lucky, not just…”

“Then, how about we pray to the mother goddess for such luck and a happier destiny?”

His eyes widened at your proposition. You showed him your left hand to initiate the prayer, yet you saw his glassy eyes look at your hand like witnessing some kind of miracle.

He was about to take another gulp of his drink, but his hand was too shaky. He didn’t even know now if it was from the alcohol or the emotions, perhaps both, perhaps one facilitating the other. He approached his gloved hand and, after some clumsy movements, rested upon your hand.

You started the prayer, his voice being quieter. With each sentence, the blond went quieter and staring at the joined hands. You didn’t yet notice, at first closing your eyes in this ceremonial moment but when the prayer ended, you could see how his glassy eyes turned teary. You parted your lips trying to say something, hoping you didn’t do anything wrong, yet your surprising reflex was to embrace him.

You were shocked by your sudden gesture, and you couldn’t see Aventurine’s reaction. Though you could sense how tense his body was, how his shoulders were trembling. At first, you thought he would immediately pull away, and he didn’t. You let out a sigh and wrap your arms around him, not sure how it ended up like this. First you were dancing on stage, swirling to the tambourines and bells, and now you end up with a man – you didn’t quite process that he was an avgin just yet- in your arms.

You thought it would be another moment of silence. Not an awkward one, like when he entered your dressing room, but one of acknowledgment. One of contentment in which each other saw pain and sorrow. Yet this silent was broken by his slurred words:

“I should’ve saved her�� I should’ve…”

You should hear the slurred words mixed with the throat tightening. The shoulders continued to shake in your embrace. Blond locks following his shaking. The taste of alcohol blending with the salt of the tears. Slowly dripping on your performance outfit, yet you didn’t care. It wasn’t about your outfit or treating him how the owner wanted. It was about helping him in his pain, comforting him. And you didn’t even know but it was the first time that anyone had treated him that way, that anyone had seen him in such despair, that any miracle had managed to quell his solitude.

Everything felt numb, his muscles tensing as if he couldn’t breathe. How would he dare to live? How was he allowed to? He was blessed, yet it was like a curse. He couldn’t bear to think that the one who didn’t come one was the closest to him. He had selfishly followed and ran, as far as he could, even though he knew something horrible was coming. And when he came back, it was too late: the cackling Katicans, blood drenching the golden sand, the fire devouring the tents. And of course, he had survived. He hated that he survived. Tears running down his cheeks and drenching the colourful fabric.

Yet, in this tender embrace, he could smell your perfume. Eyes slowly closing into those nights he longed for so much time: the warmth of the bonfire, the feast with spiced meals, the laughter and conversation swaying, music echoing in the valleys. It was the night of Kakava. Jewellery and colourful fabrics blending in the dance, his sister looking as beautiful as a gem, inviting him for a dance. The well-known steps coming back to him and following the music. You had come into the dance, and all laughed. He took his sister’s hand to give her a turquoise necklace, as precious as Gaiathra’s eyes, just for her to wear in this special occasion. He told her about all the travels he did, journeying far beyond Sigonia, of all the riches he gathered, of all his schemes that worked and some that didn’t. The tender embrace exchanged afterwards bringing him the warmth he so much desired. Sparks going back into his eyes as the warm embers of Hope coming back. They smiled and dance until the blinding dawn came. He turned to his sister and saw her smile, as bright as the sun.

Yet it was the same sunlight that awoke him. He rubbed his eyes and slowly looked around: he was laid down in his bed, with the same outfit as last night – well what he could remember of it – and his headache reminded him of his alcohol consumption. He could almost hear Ratio’s sermon about how alcohol kills his liver. He took out his phone and checked his messages and bank account, thankfully he didn’t spend anything drunk nor text any weird messages. There was only him in his bed, so he didn’t bring anyone home or they might’ve escaped before he woke up.

He slowly sat up, leaning on the headboard, and heard something fall onto the sheets. After rummaging a little, and taking a sip of water, he found a turquoise charm. He couldn’t quite remember when he bought it or if he won it yet there was some sense of familiarity. He approached it, made it shine in the golden rays before the realisation hit him: it was one that once was on your golden chain. As precious as Gaithra’s eyes yet you accepted to give one to him, a fellow Avgin. He swallowed his tears and stood up, one day he hoped to thank you. He didn’t look at his reflection this morning but if he had, he would see that glimmer of Hope back in his beautiful eyes.

#hsr aventurine #hsr #kakavasha #honkai star rail #honkai star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 7 months ago

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No Excuses

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wife!Sri Lankan!Reader

WARNINGS: HEAVY FLUFF, Simons a fucking simp for the missus, good food :)

SOME INFO: 'Avurudda' means 'New Year', and Kottu and Appa are some famous Sri Lankan traditional food

WORD COUNT: 1,484

ENJOY!

"Yes, Amma. Yes, I cleaned the house like you told me to," you confess softly to your Sri Lankan mother, a tender smile gracing your lips as you recall the gentle encouragement she always provided.

Avurudda season has arrived, a time when the essence of your Sri Lankan heritage fills the air with warmth and nostalgia. In homage to your roots, you meticulously prepared your home, ensuring every corner gleamed with the promise of new beginnings.

And with a sense of reverence, you sought out a traditional Sri Lankan lamp online, a beacon of light to guide you through the festivities of the new year

When you married Simon, Your parents hesitated, their reservations echoing the unspoken fears of marrying outside your culture lingered in your heart

Yet, can they really blame you?

You fell in love with the Lieutenant while you were a techie for one of the TF-141 missions. The mission was primarily automotive, so the team, especially Simon, heavily relied on you. You didn’t think that you had it in you to thaw the ice around the Lt’s heart, but to him, you were his solace, his light.

In the steady rhythm of time, Simon's heart quietly yielded to the gravity of your presence, each day etching deeper into the stone of his resolve, sculpting a silent monument to the unyielding strength of his love for you.

After a few tense debriefs, he finally had the courage.

From the tension of your first encounters to secret touches, which morphed into silent kisses behind closed doors. Your both grew needing the other, the love you have for him and him, you, just became heavier in the depths of your hearts.

Soon, you moved into his flat. And a year later, you’re sleeping next to the love of your life with a gold band on your finger and his last name after your first.

Your parents soon backed off when they realized how much Simon cared for you and you for him.

Your mother's voice breaks you out of your reverie.

"Have you seen the recipes I’ve sent you, the Kottu and the Appa ones?" Your Amma questions, and you tilt your head back and close your eyes. "Yes, Amma, I did. Haven’t I told you that already?"

-----

You hear the door open as you sauté some vegetables the way your mother said to, in her recipe.

"Love? Are you here?" you hear the gruff voice of your husband through the entrance hall of your home.

You holler that you’re in the kitchen.

With a gentle embrace, Simon enfolds you in his arms, his touch igniting a spark of warmth that spreads through your body like wildfire. You lean into his embrace, relishing the comfort of his touch as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin. "Hi, handsome," you whisper softly, your voice a tender caress that lingers in the air between you.

Simon grunts out a laugh and hugs you tighter, "missed you, love."

You both stand in silence, letting Simon take you in.

"Have you brought the things I asked you to?" you whisper gently, switching off the heat of the stove. Simon nods, "it was tricky to find them, but I managed to."

Simon finally releases you and goes to grab the paper bags from the table near the door and places them on the kitchen counter.

You smile at him and give a little squeeze to his bicep and dig through the bag. "Great, everything is here, thanks babe," you lay out everything and start to cook your Kottu. You start chopping up the fresh thin, soft rotti until it's the right size.

You feel Simon peek over your shoulder and then go back to the pot and get a whiff of the food you made already. "Jesus, love. It smells incredible," he leans against the kitchen counter watching you chop the last of the rotti and throw the shredded fine bread into your pot.

You inhale deeply, "well, it's Avurudda. Sri Lankan new year." You say sheepishly, as you throw a glance at your husband over your shoulder.

Simon’s eyes go wide and he nods slowly, "I see." He rubs a hand over his chin and takes in the information you just gave him. He pieces everything together and scolds himself for not remembering, "love, I'm sorry I didn’t know."

You chuckle and shake your head, "honey, it’s fine, really." Simon shakes his head, "I should remember my wife’s cultural holidays. No excuses, love." You pout at Simon beating himself up, "hey, I know what can make you feel better."

He looks up at you confused and raises a brow. "I bought a Sinhala lamp, could you help me set it up?" you smile at him as he nods eagerly before you finish your sentence. You give him the instructions and show him the package that came in this afternoon. "Alright, I’ll get on with it," he whispers, rubbing a hand on your lower back and kissing your temple.

You smile and finish your work in the kitchen.

-----

Simon sets the table and you plate the food.

Then you sit down to enjoy the meal you've prepared together, the flickering light of the candles casts a warm glow over the table, bathing you both in its gentle embrace.

Now he sits in front of you and looks at the crispy Appas and delicious looking Kottu sitting between the both of you.

"Alright, so. This is Kottu, it's basically pieces of thick paratha or rotti, cooked with veggies and shredded chicken. It’s my ultimate favorite dish," you point at the plate of food, and talk animatedly.

You don’t see the subtle smile on your husband's face as he sees you talk passionately, and he opens a file in his mind and files in the information that Kottu is your favorite meal. You then point at the crispy upside-down domes.

“These are Appas, or Hoppers, they are amazing with chicken curry," you point at the curry you made a little while ago, "alright that’s it, dig in! And, Suba aluth avurudak weva, mage rattaran.” Simon has learned a little Sinhala for you since you first got married, and he translates your words in his mind.

Happy new year, my darling.

-----

As you and Simon delve into conversation about your respective days, you both begin to enjoy your meals. With each bite, you savor the taste of home, the flavors of your heritage filling your senses with a sense of belonging.

You take occasional sips from a glass of wine, Simon leisurely drinks from a bottle of beer.

“It’s absolutely delicious, love,” he says, reaching for your hand across the table. He rubs his thumb on the delicate skin of your hand. You smile and say your thanks.

You meet his gaze, your eyes locking in a silent exchange that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that moment, as you sit together in the soft glow of the candlelight, you know that you are exactly where you're meant to be, with the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your leg brushes against his ankle, the fabric of your sock gliding over his skin. Simon grins and gently clasps your limb, placing it tenderly on his lap. Your smile broadens as he begins to caress it, sending waves of comfort through you.

The atmosphere is filled to the brim with your love for each other, the only source of light is from the candles lit on the table and the traditional lamp next to your dining table.

Simon reflects on his fortune, marveling at the serendipity of finding a woman as remarkable as you. He finds solace in the thought of a love so deeply reciprocated, where every beat of his heart echoes with the resonance of your affection, intertwining your souls in a bittersweet symphony of devotion.

-----

You stir from slumber to the not-so-gentle melody of your phone's alarm.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you reach out to silence it, yearning for the familiar presence of your Simon beside you.

Yet, as you turn, you find only the empty space where he once lay, his absence palpable in the morning light.

With a soft exhale, you sit up, the soft rays of dawn casting a warm glow around you. It's then that your gaze drifts to his bedside table, where a bouquet of delicate pink and white tulips awaits, their petals kissed by the soft light of dawn.

Nestled among the blooms, a note written in his hand catches your eye.

It’s in his handwriting, the ink scratchy and blotchy. His sinhala words marking their spot on the hard paper.

A rush of emotion floods your senses as you read his words, each stroke of the pen a testament to his adoration.

Happy New Year, my love.

🎀🎀🎀

OMG!

My first Simon Riley fic!!

And

My first Sri-Lankan!Reader fic!!!

One of the main reasons I wanted to start writing is because there is very minimal representation of brown girlies in the fanfic world. Especially, there is lack of rep for South Asian women. And even though I do associate myself with being a WOC, there is still a difference in between cultures.

I srsly keep in touch with my Sri Lankan heritage, and value that part of me.

It's why I try to make my Fics as inclusive as possible, but sometimes ya girl's got to represent her girlies back home.

(dw desi babes, I got a Diwali fic planned for y'all)

Sorry for the ramble and I'm sorry if this is not what most of you lovelies wanted😅😅.

But I've planned this for a while.

Suba Aluth Avurudak Weva, my loves!

(Also, please lemme know what you lovelies think about the fic!!)

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley angst #Sri Lankan!Reader #Simon ghost Riley x Sri Lankan!Reader

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dykealloy · 11 months ago

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Trafalgar Law and Faith

Pre-emptive warning this is going to be another LONG metapost/analysis. There’s a lot I could talk about here but for the sake of structure I’m going to split this into three sections, i.e. the main ‘faith transitions’ that Law has gone through in the narrative thus far: 1. Flevance (catalyst for loss of religious faith), 2. Corasan (martyr that figuratively and literally saves law by giving him something to live for, introducing the will of D.), and 3. Luffy (cementing faith in this new belief system and regaining trust in the goodness of humanity through the living embodiment of everything Corasan believed in).

Before we get into all that though, let’s establish that Christianity is a thing in one piece. Speedrunning through some visual examples that come to mind; the Flevance church and nun (holding a celtic cross - censored in the anime version), a nun literally praying to God right before Marineford, Vinsmoke Sora’s grave marked with a cross (is op Christianity a northern thing?), Usopp and Chopper having crucifixes and holy water whenever ghostly stuff is brought up, Kuma and his trusty bible, the religious symbols on Kikoku’s hilt (could instead be more a reference to the Red Cross/symbol of humanitarian and medical aid as a doctor) and especially in whatever Mihawk’s got going on (though this could just be a Japanese cultural thing with Christianity being a minority religion or Oda just finding that some of the iconography, y’know. looks cool). There are also many other references to other religions e.g. hinduism, shintoism, buddhism, etc. Whether op forms of religion are the same as the real-world ones is debatable, and yes, Law being canonically raised as a devout catholic schoolboy with all the religious trauma associated with that is comical, but let’s take it all unironically for a hot minute. For fun.

1. Flevance

Law’s birthplace (Flevance) is described as being, at one point, “a very wealthy country with an unearthly beauty about it, with pure white soil and plants, like some kind of snow kingdom in a fairy tale.” The country’s wealth came from the very bedrock it sits on — white lead, which could be used to make various high quality products like tableware, cosmetics, weapons etc. When the wider world heard about this everyone wanted a piece of Flevance (the World Government also getting involved with distribution), and very quickly white lead became a “bottomless well of money”. So, hooray. Law gets to grow up in a rich city in a big house with educated doctor parents and probably gets to go to private school on weekdays and festivals with his family on weekends. One problem. In their greed, the Government and royalty have been knowingly hiding the truth about this supposed goldmine from the beginning. White lead is a toxic poison. Mining it from the ground over the last century and putting it in so many everyday products has resulted in it accumulating in the citizens’ bodies and leading to amber lead sickness, shortening their life-span with each successive generation – with the children of Law’s generation fated to die out before they reach adulthood.

In the bible (especially in the old testament), God often inflicted these insanely disastrous events upon humanity, usually as some kind of punishment for their wrongdoings or as a test of their faith. Some events of which include (but are not limited to): famine, outbreaks of disease and natural disasters (e.g. hail, wildfire, earthquakes, floods). Historically, these stories played a key role in how humanity interpreted meaning from horrible disasters (e.g. assuming bubonic plague was sent as a punishment by god). Fire imagery is very common among these disasters as a representation for hell, which is clearly reflected in the destruction of Flevance.

Sometimes these disasters had sole survivors act as messengers for God. With that context, let’s put ourselves back in the shoes of a ten-year old Law. Raised religious, freshly traumatised from losing his home, his devout family, all the comforts of his life, and having the outside world completely abandon him, this kind of event is likely going to be processed as some form of divine punishment. Law stumbles through hell, finds all his dead classmates, and the last words of sister nun echo through to him here. Merciful and salvation are huge catholic buzzwords – promises of holy compassion, deliverance and hope – and all of it fire and smoke and riddled with bullet holes before him. A genocide funded, perpetuated and covered up by the same body Law was promised was there to save them. And the only reason Law hadn’t died with them was because he wanted to stay with his little sister Lami, who was on her deathbed, and his parents, who were themselves trying to help the afflicted citizens, Law’s own father (before he was shot and killed alongside his mother) begging for more doctors, fresh blood, anything the world can offer, and asking “Why doesn’t the government announce to everyone that white lead is not infectious?”

Oftentimes (and in the case of Law), when there’s a promise of heavenly intervention or some miracle that doesn’t follow through, it results in an ultimate feeling of betrayal and anger. Unfortunately a lot of Catholic teachings also use a lot of guilt, essentially teaching people that the bad things that happen to you are your fault and there needs to be some sort of penance (queue Law’s survivor’s guilt that carries on down the road). But also, if this was supposed to be some divine punishment, for what exactly? For the town being blinded by the incredible wealth they were sitting on? Being lied to? Continuing to extract their livelihood, ignorant of its dangers? Punishment for who? His parents? His innocent little sister? For ten year-old Law? These people who believed in God, who were good people? That’s fucking stupid. None of these people suffered and died for any reason at all — certainly not for a sacred one. God hadn’t saved a single one of them. Law had to crawl out of hell himself by sneaking over the border under a mound of corpses.

Given everything that happened here, Law has every reason to fall into nihilism, and you can see how his upbringing would’ve bred a lot of the feelings of guilt, anger and resentment that you still see in Law (which would suggest that though this is where he likely cuts ties with the religious/Catholic component of his faith, growing up with these teachings in his formative years would definitely influence underlying beliefs about how the world works, and how Law behaves and subconsciously processes information), but at the same time, there’s usually some form of redemption and changes to how these patterns of behaviour can be approached later down the line.

2. Corasan

Fresh off witnessing his whole world burning down around him, Law meets Corazon at the very bottom of this pit of self-destructive rage and unprocessed grief. Rosinante himself mentions to Sengoku that the hatred in Law at this time reminded him of his brother, but beyond the anger, harsh pessimism, vengefulness, I think you have to reach to find similarities between them. You can see some fragments of Doffy in Law down the line at times, with Law seeming to enjoy violence (especially against the navy, but given what they did to Flevance, it’s some well-deserved retribution for Law imo), but I’m not so sure it’s the cruelty so much as it is the high he gets off his own flavour of justice. Doctor’s Hippocratic oath maybe, but never once does Law like seeing others die (even at this point, he’s in tears next to a dead body, even though he’s the one holding the knife), and later on in Wano he makes it explicitly clear to Zoro that he’d rather see the mission fail than have any of them end up dead.

Little Law wanted to destroy the world and everything in it, but thinking rationally, what other choice did this kid have? He had no remaining family, was doomed to die before he hit puberty due to a terminal illness, was perceived as an infectious subhuman that most doctors would’ve sooner tried to exterminate than help. To Law, the world had turned its back on him – considering him a monster for simply surviving. He has all this hatred and pain boiling away with him with no tangible target to direct it towards. And this is the first clear cut rejection of faith that we see in Law. Any concept of a merciful God had just died. What God would allow this? Why is Law alive (a question that he repeats to himself throughout his life), why are these scumbags alive, why is the world going on spinning as if nothing has happened when his whole world had gone up in flames, why does anyone at all get to be here when everything I loved is gone? And it’s far easier to fall into a despondent nihilistic stupor than it is to work through any of that, and what’s the point in trying to process and move on from it, when there’s no hope for a future for Law anyway? When the only thing waiting ahead is more pain? What was this, if not a punishment? He’s supposed to be some messenger for God? How about fuck God, or whatever entity that exists that made him suffer this. Law’s not going to be a messenger for shit, thanks, he’d rather be their monster, he’d rather watch the world burn.

Corazon survives Law’s stabbing and doesn’t rat the little shit out (to Law’s confusion). It’s business as usual for another two years, then, one day Rosinante overhears his true name - Trafalgar “D” Water Law, and everything changes. On the back of his own beliefs, Rosinante dedicates himself to making sure Law a) lives and b) doesn’t become his brother. Law’s relatively short six month stint with Corasan forms the basis of Law’s new creed going forward, and all it took was a bit of kindness, love and humanity when the rest of the world had abandoned him. In the end Rosinante doesn’t save Law for the will of D. and the storm he’s predicted to bring in the future (as Law suspects), but he certainly believes in it, and the strength of Corasan’s conviction transfers right over to Law when he forces the ope ope fruit down the kid’s throat to heal him, tells Law he loves him, then sacrifices himself to set Law free.

Law clings to that love he was given, he takes all these fundamental teachings and ways of thinking in regards to faith that were drilled into him during his youth, rejects the religion element and applies just about everything else to Corasan. He holds onto the last shreds of what Corasan leaves him with. Corasan becomes his “benefactor” (he gave my my heart), his saviour, his martyr.

And the crazy thing is, Rosinante was never really this saint Law makes him out to be. Law hated the clutz when they first met (mostly on account of Corazon throwing him through a glass window down at least two stories and into a pile of scrap). Corazon initially showed nothing but contempt for his presence (to ward him and the other children away from the Donquixote family, but these are still extreme measures). And it wasn’t until after learning Law’s name that Rosinante dragged him kicking, crying and screaming from hospital to burning hospital (not very saintlike in of itself), even after Law begged him to stop. Rosinante became Law’s saviour partly because of his belief in the will of D., and probably due to some guilt being a Donquixote, but mostly because he has always had a bleeding heart and he pitied (and had very quickly come to love) this angry, sick, deeply lost little kid. All this to say that Law’s faith in Corasan – this saintlike figure Law upholds him as in the future and the lengths he’s willing to go to avenge him/fulfil Rosinante’s purpose reflects the strength of the absolute beliefs Law would’ve been raised with in regards to God.

Whether it be out of survivor’s guilt (just one more body to heap on top of the Flevance pile), his love for Corasan, or for the sake of taking vengeance on the man that took away the one good thing he’d been able to regain in his miserable life, Law adopts Corasan’s will, the will of D. (which in of itself seems divine in nature), incorporates it into his new belief system, actively takes on the role of the divine punisher/justiciar and dedicates his life to bringing down Doflamingo.

3. Luffy

Catholicism dictates that the entirety of someone’s beliefs should be dedicated to one true cause (that cause being God) and expects people to ride on that, letting it carry them through life, give them hope, purpose, etc. But a lot of former Catholics choose instead to find that through something else. Corasan ignited the spark in Law’s faith around the will of D., but it’s not until he meets Luffy that this really becomes something that feels tangible and real for Law.

When Law saved Luffy in Marineford (putting the heart crew in danger for a stranger he met once), he said he did so “on a whim”, but that seems incredibly ooc for Law — this man that pretty much planned out how the rest of his life would go after the dust of Corasan’s death settled and he came to terms with the fact he wasn’t going to die at age thirteen like he’d originally thought. Circling back to the concept of Law being a sole survivor/messenger for God, it is interesting that Law is the one to seek out Luffy (given that Luffy is usually always the one either being abandoned by people or recruiting his crewmates), and Law is ultimately the catalyst for pulling him towards Dressrosa and Wano. There must be a REASON that led to Law deciding Luffy to be the most viable option out of the Worst Generation for an alliance (beyond blind trust in an unhinged captain that just so happens to also bear the initial D, and Luffy being one of the few captains crazy enough to go along with what Law was cooking up).

Law undoubtedly would’ve kept a peripheral eye on Luffy for some time before officially meeting him due to him being a rising competitor pirate and another “D” (I imagine the news of his utterly insane exploits would’ve made good reading material, too). The first time Law lays eyes on Luffy in Sabaody though, he still blows all expectations out of the water — crashing headfirst into the crowd of a slave auction and immediately committing a felony against a member of the most powerful upper one percent.

The world nobles are at an “untouchable God” tier in terms of class standing and believe it’s only natural for them to be entitled to whatever and whoever they want in this world that’s beneath them – the same kind of self-aggrandizing false divinity that Law has a a lot of repressed rage towards and that the will of D. is fated to oppose, so this, understandably, is a highly compelling first encounter, but it’s really only an initiating factor for what ultimately draws Law to Luffy. From their very first meeting (and probably before then, in the news stories and rumours Law likely picked up on), it’s made abundantly clear that Luffy does what he wants without a second’s hesitation, no matter the consequences, simply because he feels it is the right thing to do. Some call this an iron will, Law would be more inclined to call it willful stupidity and trouble, but time after time Luffy somehow manages to pull off what Law would best describe as “miracles”. And Law believes the straw hats just might be the ones to drum up another one for him.

Luffy’s also got a lot of passing resemblances to Corasan going for him, e.g. inherently kind, compassionate liberators with big dumb hearts and wide goofy smiles in spite of everything they’ve been through, treating Law as nakama and saving his life despite his protests etc. All of which I’m sure Law hasn’t been completely unaffected by despite the high walls he puts up. And the more Law learned about Luffy the more it probably became clear that he is the antithesis to Doflamingo, i.e. what makes Luffy so goddamn dangerous and terrifying beyond his physical power is his ability to make friends with a simple kind of unconditional love that gets reciprocated enough so that these friends are willing to die for him.

Luffy agrees to the alliance, they successfully blow up Caesar’s base, and head off to Dressrosa. Now’s the time I should bring up that it’s taught in Catholicism that self sacrifice is the ultimate heavenly deed, and here Law is undoubtedly prepared to be a martyr for his cause. Law sends away his crew to Zou before Punk Hazard with the expectations that he’d never see them. He cultivates a fierce emotional detachment against Luffy’s willingness to bring him into the fold of the straw hats, and is resolute in that when the time comes, he will handle this himself, he will carry out Corasan’s will, and if he has to die for it, he will die with Corazon’s name plastered on his back. (Note here that Christianity is contradictory in that Law being this ready to die here is a sin, because revenge and suicide are highly discouraged, so you could say that by avenging and dying for his saviour, Law would be committing both the ultimate sacrifice and the ultimate sin).

Things get very dicey for Law in Dressrosa, to put it lightly. Doflamingo reveals that he was a celestial dragon (linking back into the will of D. “enemy of the Gods” notion), puts Law on the backfoot and gives him a thorough beating before shooting Law with a couple dozen white lead bullets in front of Luffy (because even when he’s winning Doffy loves to be a cunt about it). By the time Doflamingo is cuffing Law to the heart seat, it’s all looking pretty grim, and it’s very apparent when Luffy shows up to save him, that he is ready to die.

Law here has given up. He spent years planning his revenge for Corasan, but he lost, and he has very little left in the tank (physically, emotionally, spiritually). But Luffy doesn’t listen. Luffy who doesn’t think, doesn’t care, who trampled all over Law’s carefully laid out plan from the get-go and who is willing to take on Doflamingo single handedly for the simple slight that he dared to harm Luffy’s friend Law. Law will never find peace in his own demise because Luffy doesn’t do peaceful. He does loud and unashamed and open with no rhyme or reason other than the excruciatingly simply fact that he loves people and he thinks the people he loves deserve to have good lives. Luffy chucks Law over his shoulder and drags an injured Law across the city despite his protests (sound familiar?) and in the process inspires the fighting spirit in Law again.

When Law confronts Doflamingo again with Luffy in tow, Law’s faith in Luffy confounds him. The last Doflamingo remembers of Law is this beautifully moldable dark pit of grief and rage who’d given up on believing, period – who wanted the world destroyed. Not so long ago, Law had been a candidate for Doflamingo’s next protégé. Now?

THIS is the action (grinning, staring down the barrel of a gun, flipping Doffy off as he tells him in not so many words that he may kill Law but he will never beat Luffy), Law’s unshakeable faith in the face of his own death is what has Doflamingo realising he will never regain control of Law again – is what incites Doflamingo to go from breaking Law down so he can build him back up again, to conceding defeat and outright killing him.

The trust that Luffy inspires in Law and the way he talks about Luffy (Luffy being this powerful, miracle-inducing liberator that Law can’t comprehend but follows anyway, Law laying down his hopes on him, weaponizing the will of D. to try and provoke fear from Doffy), is very reminiscent of the awe and faith talked about in scripture. Law discovers the feelings of comfort and hope that Catholicism was supposed to give him in Luffy, but Law’s belief in Luffy is a direct rejection of those teachings. Rejection by believing in a real life person as opposed to the divinity he was taught about. He’s also cementing his belief in the will of D., thus rejecting Doflamingo and all the people that embody the sort of “all powerful” divinity that he abhors (i.e. celestial dragons, Kaido, the Gorōsei/five elders) for the embodiment of hope and humanity.

When Law survives (again), he expresses he’d rather see Luffy beat Doflamingo with his own eyes or die with Luffy if he loses than leave. Then he watches, after all this talk of miracles, looking up in reverence as Luffy delivers, bright as the sun, haloed by the bars of a cage that’s haunted him for over a decade, Corasan’s words echoing at the back of his mind. God had never saved or freed Law, but Corasan was there for him, the heart crew was there, Luffy was there. And this is Law’s biggest, clearest rejection of religion – this newfound faith in humanity.

This faith in Luffy is put to the test again in Wano when Luffy is struck down by Kaido, but Law never truly stops believing that he’ll make a comeback. Even when the straw hats doubt whether he’s alive or not, something tells him Luffy’s not dead, and he holds onto that hope.

We also have the whole nika/joyboy backstory which really only reinforces all of this imagery/god-fearing looks of awe from Law and this idea of Luffy who is this perfect juxtaposition of empathetic and kind to incredibly fearsome fire and brimstone fighter. And regardless of whether you’re into the ship or not this is the impetus of Law’s relationship with Luffy for me, because here’s Luffy who has every right to have a chip on his shoulder and be downtrodden about all the injustices against him, here’s this little guy who against all odds, in the darkest of places, embodies light and hope and kindness and proves to Law that there will be hard times but there IS a happy ending at the end of the tunnel, despite it all. And everytime Luffy rises to the insurmountable challenge and wins, it just further cements that the will of D. is alive, that Corasan was right, that there's something redeemable in Law, a reason why he was worth saving, even if Law doesn’t understand it quite yet.

#merry christmas law religious trauma be upon ye #what’s an endearing idiot to a non-believer #long post #favourite character thesis statement. or something #ive been wanting to talk about this for a while but just been gathering my thoughts #will preface all this by saying I was not born or raised religious but the concept’s all very compelling from an outsider’s perspective #but I have had conversations about this to people like lesbianluffy who *were* raised catholic and relate to this experience #who I have to thank a lot for helping me wrap my head around this #this is a compilation of thoughts and conversations over the last two or so months #one piece #op #CJ's op watch-through #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #monkey d luffy #lawlu #trafalgar d water law #gear 5 luffy #sun god nika #wano spoilers #lulaw #op meta #op analysis #one piece analysis

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threepandas · 3 months ago

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Bad End: Kuro Ryuko

The world shook.

Screams. Panic. Futile commands filling the air, as what Royal Warriors still lived, tried desperately to fight back. What was the point? Didn't they realize? They had brought this on themselves. We all had. I... I had TRIED. Powerless as I was. Trapped as I often felt. I had TRIED.

In the face of The Black Dragon... I knew it to be no excuse.

My soul burned beneath it's cry. That terrible roar, which echoed condemnation. Damning. Our crimes could not be hidden. Our sins unforgivable, rotting behind the pretty lies we had told ourselves. It SAW us for what we were. Beheld our very SOULS.

The Dragon was DISGUSTED.

All I could do was run. Weep. Cling to the hands of the other serving girls, as we tried desperately to survive. Forgotten in the panic, by so called greater men, we had only ourselves to count on. The servants pathways were already choke points. Death traps. Several had been hit, if the pillars of smoke were coming from where we thought the were.

The world shook. Hanako choked on her scream, two girls down. The subtle face paint she was always so proud of, a mess, streaming like tears of ash down her lovely face. Aiko had fainted. Tried so, SO hard not to. Clung to consciousness with vicious painted nails. But the panic had been to much, her health too poor. Her sister carried her now.

The world shook. We were going to die, weren't we? A crowd of forgotten things. Not even good enough to be people in the eyes of our masters. Just maids. Serving girls. Born peasants and dead property. Caught beneath the wrath of a Dragon whose eyes saw us, but who mercy could not comprehend the complexity of mortal cages. The chains we could not see.

Crashing. Fire. Roars.

The World Shook.

It was excuses, in the end. We had a choice. Simple as it was. Obedience or Death as it may have been. To the Dragon morality? We were to have chosen Death. There is no compassion for cowards. Mercy for the cruel and self-serving. Not even, if it is all you can do, to survive. Perish instead, die proudly, Be Dragon, says the Black Dragon.

Of all the Dragons, THEY are not the kind one. Not the merciful nor sweet nor wise. THEY are Justice. Vengeance. Debts paid as they are due. They were feared but no one could get rid of them. For who could rightfully argue against Justice? Debts paid? What, people would ask, did you have to hide?

Everything. They always did. And they DISPISED the Dragon for it. For being impossible to fool. Impossible to bribe. Their Champion's an avatar of their Will. Endlessly carving paths of destruction through sin and debauchery, usually paid for at the cost of those who served. To see the Black Dragon? Was to know Justice was coming.

Like the fist of a wrathful God. The mauling of a beast. Burning through like a wildfire, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.

It was an isolating life. Terrible. I... I remembered, Before this life, Another. Bits and pieces. Disjointed at first. Yet over the years I have come together. Social isolation is a torture. I KNOW this. People go insane. And... and a dragon is not human. Could not possibly be enough, even if they WERE excellent companionship. People need support structures.

So I tried.

Volunteered to be the one to bring Kuro Ryuko her meals, much to the relief of others. Tried to sneak treats and festival snacks in. Little toys and books borrowed from the central library that maybe they would like. I tried. Again and again. Everything I could think of. Quietly and subtly, so as not to get punished. So I would not be stopped. And...?

It amounted to nothing.

Silence.

Did I become too comfortable? In my habits, too arrogant? That I forgot exactly how DANGEROUS the forces I meddled with, truely ARE? At worst... at WORST, I expected her to ignore me. She had such even temperament. A calm, smooth voice. Still and ponderous, like deep waters. How? HOW?! I could not-! Did NOT-!

Not far behind our group, a great expanse of wall exploded to the side, as a god-like section of the Black Dragon's body crashed through it. One small part of a single twinning loop. Insignificant compared to the full beast, which seemed to consume the sky itself.

It was MASSIVE.

We would have died instantly.

Choking on our screams, desperate not to attract notice, we threw ourselves forward. Nearly tripping on our skirts. Two of us DID, but were instantly hauled back to their feet by friends or nearby survivors before they could fall. No one. NO ONE, was getting left behind. It wasn't long now. W-we could do this. We HAD to do this. Survive. Escape. Whatever comes next, so be it.

There were supposed to be other Dragons. To Balance each other. Had they turned on us too? Were they dead? Did it even matter anymore? None of us had ever been so glad for Madame Shimei's secret gaurd lover before, the one we all knew about but all pretended we didn't. They were cute together. Everyone hoped they would marry.

I...I hoped he wasn't dead. It would break her.

There! The outer wall! I could sob with relief. The secret side entrance was open. Madame's Gaurd still there, alone. Frantically searching until he laid eyes on her. Desperation melting into unspeakable relief. He starts forward. We... we are so close...!

CLAWS.

The Dragon's hand, smashs down between us. Crushing everything. Cutting us off from any escape.

Now. NOW we scream. There is no point not doing so. We have been found. Barely visible, past the crushing force, Madame's gaurd appears alive. Unhurt. Refusing to run and leave her. They are not young, it was no grand tale of beauties, but in the face of certain death? He has shown what sort of man he is. She begs him to go. Live. It sounds so very far away, as I follow the line of that limb. Up and up and UP.

Titanic and seething, the Black Dragon's eyes glow. My soul laid bare. Every failing, every mistake, each injustice. How... how worthless I am. I... I deserve this. How dare I run. How dare not pay for my sins? I deserve to burn. We all deserve to pay for our-...

"Not that one. That one's mine."

I am on my knees. Tears streaming down my face. The others weeping, cowering, praying around me. Only a few made the mistake of actually looking the Dragon in the eyes. The others beg them to wake up. They won't. Trapped in a terrible trance, they weep. It take me a long moment to even register my freedom. The source.

Kuro Ryuko. I know that voice. Who else could it be?

She stands, the picture of Judgement and Cold, Calculated, Wrath. Long black hair, blowing in the wind generated by the Dragon's mere presence. Their mere WEIGHT upon the world. Her eyes glowing like suns from within. Golden beacons of light, inhuman marks of absolute power. She... She is looking at me. Why is she looking at ME?

"I have decided No More." Her voice echos in the silence like a command, the declaration of an empress. "They will not listen. Think they can hide. Pester and pander, seek to cage me even as they poison me. Enough. I have tolerated this insolence long enough! It burns, all of it. They may start again from the ashes."

"Now come here, Mouse. We are leaving."

There are certain commands you can twist and some you can not. Some you can argue and some you can not. It depends on how reasonable the person speaking. What they will DO, should you defy them. The cost you would pay. If... if I DON'T heel like a pet? My eyes flick to the other maids. Madame makes eye contact, her horror clear. Experience has taught her EXACTLY how this must end.

Through tears, I offer her a smile. It... it will be okay. Somehow, some way, it will be... be okay. Live. Survive this. K-keep going, alright? Promise me? We have not spoken. Just gaze alone. But the grief and determination painting her face? Tells me she understands.

I'm so, SO sorry.

I get up. Face Kuro Ryuko. A perfect servant's pose. Head up, but not so far as to be haughty. Shoulders back, but not so far as to thrust out the chest. A smile that is pleasing but promises nothing, does not entice. Hands folded, ready to serve, artful not idle. Measured steps as I move forward. I remember my lessons.

Terrified. I am... I am so... so unspeakably afraid. I move regardless. Smile politely. What is one death? If the others survive. I may shake, my soul may howl and tremble, b-but my friends get to LIVE. A-And... and have I not lived before? I am being selfish. This fear is selfish. They get to live. Repeat it. Gods, we must repeat it.

They'll get to LIVE. T-They'll get to LIVE. D-Don't b-be... be...

I can not let myself cry. Refuse to show weakness NOW. Here, at the end. Before this terrible, terrible thing. Tears have no use before a beast with no mercy. I have so little dignity left. The least I can give, can HAVE, is my final memories be one of strength, in the minds of those who loved me. Lie as it may be.

There is blood on her cheek. I can see no wound. And from the angle it stains her? It can only be splatter. Shines, just faintly, with the golden sheen of an Avatar's gift. Their blessings. I guess I know, now, why Shiro Ryuko has not risen to stand against them.

They can not.

I wonder if they are wounded or simply gone.

The Black Dragon has moved its focus to me. Adjusting it's stance to do so. It clears the path and, with despair, the others flee. I... I hope they live long lives. Good ones. Would give anything to join them. But here and now, I do not turn my head. Stare straight ahead and think of nothing. Pretend my hands do not... do not shake.

I am fine.

This is fine.

Kuro Ryuko moves, jumping through the air in a way that denies reality it's laws, it's limits. What are physics to a god? Mere gravity to a DRAGON? She moves as she pleases and the world bows to her will. Touching down with the grace of a frightful hunting bird, weapon swept elegantly to her side, as she rises to regard me. We have never stood so close. Some vaguely hysterical part of me notes... huh, I'm taller then her...

"Hello, Mouse, I am your mate. We are going to be together, forever. Come." There was no uncertainty in her voice. No asking. Just absolutes, command. Her hand expectant as it hung, outstretched towards me. "This place is filthy and does not deserve you. I will find us a better one. Flowers, perhaps? A luxurious bed? You will tell me on the way. Give me your hand."

What else could I do? But obey here? So close, the Black Dragon's every breath rolls across me like waves of heated death. A subtle reminder of at who's mercy, I stand. Her skin is almost too hot to touch. Hand calloused from a warriors training. I am dragged close. Against black silks with golden trims and embroidering. A possessive arm, like steel, sliding around my waist.

She takes a moment. As though to savor holding me close for the first time. Her other hand flicking her weapon up into the air, leaving it to float, weightlessly. Just so she can bury it in my hair, which had half fallen from it's styling, during the run. Pressing her face against the side of my head. Nearly hard enough to hurt. Dragging in air, all but hissing it, through her nose and gritted teeth.

Like it's not enough. Like it will NEVER be enough.

Like she wants to craw inside my skin and wear me. Needs me. Wants to CONSUME me.

Her hands have claws. I can feel them prickling, five painful little points, on each one. Where she holds me still. Bruisingly strong. A pleased hum that rolls like a growl. Pressed close against my skin like a secret.

"Mine. Just mine now. No more patience. No more 'behave'. Just MINE. You and me. My Mouse. Pretty fidgety MY Mouse. Shy and nervous and MINE. Gonna take such good care of you. Give you everything you need. Love you, Mouse. And you'll love me."

"No matter what. I'll make sure of it."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #yanderecore #lesbian yandere #lesbian reader #servant reader #powerful yandere #dragon like yandere #bad end Kuro Ryuko #bad end Kuro Ryuko au

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vermillioncourt-if · 10 months ago

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In south of the Siji Empire, there is a kingdom the sun favors, staying warm and bright through the year. Clothed in luxuriant ruby red silks, the gold of the sunrays, and adorned in feathers, its people are said to house the spirit of fire within themselves. They live their lives loving, desiring, and hating with incandescent fervor. Fueled by the flames of their namesake and the blessing of the sun, the air is ripe to burst into a unstoppable wildfire. Welcome to the Vermillion Court.

The Vermillion Court is a current WIP and new interactive CYOA novel. The focus is heavily on romance, drama, and the characters. It is inspired by fantasy period-piece C-Dramas (Chinese Dramas) and historical romance manhua/manhwa. It will combine pieces from multiple fantasy period-pieces, both Western and Eastern. It's being written in ChoiceScript.

Note: Because this is still a WIP, some names of characters or places may change. All names are presented as "Last Name" "First Name" and I will provide pronunciation guides in the game as well as on the info pages on the blog!

Genre: Romance, Drama, Court Drama

Rating: 18+ (Will include sexual content, potential violence, and typical warnings attached to fantasy period-pieces)

Tracked Tag: #the vermillion court

Status: In Development (Writing)

Demo || Romance Options || Side Characters || FAQ || Ask Guidelines || World Lore || Tag Navigation || Dev's Main Blog ||

In The Vermillion Court, you are taken to the fantasy period-piece inspired world and continent of Nian. You play as the Fourth Prince or Princess of the Xiatian Kingdom, the child of the King of the Xiatian Kingdom and one of his consorts. As Fourth Prince/Princess, you have a pretty open schedule and a nice cushy life. Being among the first five princes and princesses makes you a prominent enough figure and with six siblings ahead of you in line, no one's really paying attention to what you want to do with your life.

The year is 730 and spring has just given way to the summer season. Various festivals and events are held across the Siji Empire to celebrate the season. At 21-years-old, you're all but happy to attend the social events of the season. Before you leave for the main city, your grandmother informs you that you should look for a partner while there. Apparently your father has been convinced by his favorite wife, Consort Xing, to start marrying you and your siblings off to the other kingdoms. You suspect it has to do with trying to make her son the Crown Prince and are dreading seeing your whole family together again.

Your personal guard and maid accompany you to the capital of Xiatian, where you start a season of festivities, social events, and romance, while also maneuvering the politics of your court and the drama that comes with it.

Play as a man or woman. Choose to be gay, straight, or bisexual

Customize the way you look. Decide what to wear to events to make an impression on the guests

Attend various festivals, parties, and social events to boost your reputation and make allies to help defend you against courtly drama

Choose to romance 1 of 6 characters: your Personal Guard, your Maid, a Lord from the Chuntian Kingdom, a Lady from the Dongtian Kingdom, a Merchant from the Qiutian Kingdom, or a Courtesan

Each route follows the same set of 6 events, but each varies greatly from the others

Find a fiancé(e) before summer ends!

The Fourth Prince/Princess of the Xiatian Kingdom - You (he/him) or (she/her)

You play as the 21-year-old Fourth Prince/Princess of the Xiatian Kingdom. Your father is King Nan Shaimian of the Xiatian Kingdom and your mother is his consort, Consort Huo Qinwen. You are 1 of their 4 children, having 1 older brother and a younger brother and sister, but that fails in comparison to your 18 half-siblings.

You are one of Dowager Queen Nan Niexing's favorite grandchildren, which she proudly states much to the chagrin of your father's 4 other wives.

Appearance: player determined.

Your Personal Guard - Si Huaiqiao (he/him)

Huaiqiao is your personal bodyguard. He is 25-years-old and has been guarding you since you were children. He is very serious and a tad grumpy, always wearing a frown. He doesn't take his job lightly, coming across overprotective, even for a personal guard. He tends to be clueless when it comes to romance, often missing the many women and men flirting with him. You appreciate his work, but maybe you've come to see him more than just your guard?

Appearance: Huaiqiao is a very tall man, standing at around 6'4. He is muscular and fit and is considered to be very attractive. He has straight black hair pulled out of his face that falls to about mid-back when loose. He has clear fair skin and deep black eyes.

Your Maid - Xu Chanyu (she/her)

Chanyu is your personal maid. She is 20-years-old and has been helping you since you were 15. She is a clumsy maid, fumbling over her words and feet quite often but she tries her best and you've come to find her incompetence rather endearing. Besides, it's not like you keep her in your company because she's a good maid, but rather because she's the only assassin who's came close to killing you. Maybe you've come to see her in a different light?

Appearance: Chanyu is a small and lithe woman. She's about 5'0 and is deceptively strong, regularly holding her own against Huaiqiao. Her hair is a dark reddish-brown and her eyes are a dark brown. Her skin is tanned with some freckles.

The Lord from the Chuntian Kingdom - You Kounao (he/him)

Kounao is a noble from the Chuntian Kingdom who's arrived at the Xiatian Kingdom as a diplomatic envoy. He is 21-years-old and is suave and charming. It's easy to see why the Chuntian Kingdom sent him as one of their envoys. Despite holding a position of importance, he tends to be a bit immature and childish, enjoying playing pranks on the other envoys who accompanied him. You find his company refreshing. Maybe you could pursue him as a potential husband?

Appearance: Kounao is man of average height and build, standing at about 5'9. He is fit, but not muscular. He is of partial foreign descent with clear brown skin and short straight black hair. His eyes are dark brown, nearly black.

The Lady from the Dongtian Kingdom - Shen Sandong (she/her)

Sandong is a noble from the Dongtian Kingdom who's arrived at the Xiatian Kingdom as a diplomatic envoy. She is 22-years-old and is very quiet. Her facial expression doesn't change much and she prefers to keep to herself. She doesn't have much to say, but enjoys letting you talk. She's a welcome change of pace to the typically hectic palace. Her icy demeanor intimidates some people, but maybe you find it charming?

Appearnace: Sandong is a woman of average height at about 5'5. She is beautiful with long straight black hair and icy blue eyes. Her skin is pale and clear. She is thicker with a fuller figure than her counterparts from other kingdoms.

The Merchant from the Qiutian Kingdom - Wei Duqiong (he/him)

Duqiong is a merchant from the Qiutian Kingdom who's come to the Xiatian Kingdom to boost his sales during the festival. He is 23-years-old and comes off as a bit shady. He's an effective business man able to charm even the hardest of buyers, but he's very private about his life, not enjoying small talk. You find him to be mysterious and intriguing, not really having met someone like him before. Maybe you'd like to take the time to get to know him better?

Appearance: Duqiong is a tall man standing at around 6'0. He is thin and lean. He appears to be from partial foreign descent. He has medium-length straight blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail and warm brown eyes. He has smooth light brown skin.

The Courtesan - Wu Nahou (she/her)

Nahou is a courtesan from one of the more popular courtesan houses in the city. Unlike her some of sisters, Nahou doesn't provide any physical services and just entertains at parties by playing music, dancing, and reciting poetry. She is 24-years-old and is pleasant and demure while working. Off the clock, she is more rowdy with strong opinions and a confident, self-assured attitude. Maybe you'd like to spend more time with her?

Appearance: Nahou is a shorter woman at about 5'3. She is of partial foreign descent with wavy red hair and hazel eyes. Her skin is pale with freckles and she's considered to be very beautiful. Her frame is more slight and willowy than simply thin.

#the vermillion court #interactive novel #interactive story #if wip #if game #interactive fiction #text based game #hosted games #choicescript #cyoa #cyoa game #choice of games #choose your own adventure

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sleepynoons · 2 months ago

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kaeya x gn!reader, sfw

cw: n/a

notes: cross-posted from my ao3 (with some minor fixes). i don't usually write in past tense, so don't get used to it lol. the day genshin returns to mondstadt is the day i return to the game LMAO

KAEYA ALWAYS ran cold. it was natural, being a cryo swordsman and all. but his “cold-bloodedness” – as you like to call it – proves to be a problem in the height of monstadt’s winter.

mondstadt is a small nation. everyone knows each other, and secrets and rumors spread like wildfire. the whole population is like a large family, with the shopkeepers as nosy aunts and the older hunters the boisterous uncles. while this proved to be quite problematic at times (the only reason you and kaeya got together was because your mother’s friend’s daughter had revealed your crush to the blue-haired knight, but that’s a story for later), it did help you save kaeya.

kaeya is a renowned cavalry captain under the knights of favonius. though he has a flirtatious attitude and is quick to delegate all of his responsibilities away, when he is sent on a mission, he is determined and sets his life on the line for his comrades.

right before the beginning of mondstadt’s annual winter festivities, kaeya and a few select knights were sent to handle some fatui agents on the southern shore of dragonspine. the trip would take a week in total, and you spent your days cleaning, helping out at your mother’s bakery, and picking out presents for close friends and relatives.

this year, you decided to gift kaeya a cream muffler and a set of glass earrings made from frostshield potion. kaeya required extra layers during the cold, and as much as you admired the fur and leather he routinely donned, it was not enough to keep him warm. the earrings would be the first pieces of jewelry from you to him, so what better reason to get them?

it wasn’t until two nights before kaeya’s designated return did you rush out of your house to visit dragonspine.

as you were wrapping kaeya’s presents late at night, there were a series of knocks at your window pane. turning around, you realized those knocks were actually pecks. a messenger hawk was perched outside, gripping a small, crumpled note in its beak. the crimson ribbon tied around the note indicated not only the sender but also the urgency of the message.

after sending the hawk away with a small snack, you unfurled the paper and skimmed it.

how you made it through dragonspine was no surprise. as a teenager, you were an up and coming knight, and you trained in the same cohort as jean. recognized for your speed and agility, you were supposed to become a leader for younger outriders, such as amber. but after a gliding accident that hospitalized you for several months, it was impossible to regain your former strength and become a full-fledged knight. regardless, you knew what you were doing.

given kaeya’s descriptions in prior conversations and the details listed in the letter, you navigated across the snowy plain and steeled past hillichurl camps. along the way, you noticed remnants of kaeya and his team’s trek across dragonspine, such as the occasional tent branded with the knights' crest and unlit campfires. as long as you followed these traces, your path was bound to intersect with theirs.

you reached the camp a little past sunrise. a large campfire was set up in front of a damp tent, and the knight on watch was sifting through a notebook. you approached the knight, and after explaining the situation, he led you into the tent.

on the ground, sleeping, was kaeya. you sighed as you knelt down and opened up your backpack.

as you brought out some medicine and additional blankets, you ordered the knight on watch to hurry back to the city to fetch a few horses.

“i told you to wear more.”

kaeya’s eye fluttered open. “ah, but darling, you know i can’t sacrifice style.”

“you need to rest. you have a fever.” placing a warm towel over his forehead, you brushed his bangs behind his ear and tucked him in. you whispered, “just a few more hours, and we’ll be right back at home.”

you slipped your hand under the covers, gripping his palm when you found it. kaeya let out a breathy chuckle and said, “we could've gotten home faster if you brought some horses with you.”

you smiled in response. “i was too worried about you to think things through.”

–

by the time you and kaeya arrived home, his fever had worsened. you stuck close to his side, despite the possibility of falling ill yourself, and focused solely on him. after all, kaeya was often away, and it wasn’t common to see him with his guard down.

“please, continue to admire me. i know my face is enchanting,” he remarked through a fit of coughs.

“with your inflating ego, i’m sure your cold will be gone soon.” you checked his temperature only to see it had risen. “i’ll go make some more soup.” but before you could stand up, kaeya wrapped an arm tightly around your torso, dragging you back to your seat. even though kaeya’s eye was closed, the slight tremble in his body gave way to his embarrassment.

“just ask next time,” and you removed his arm before repositioning your body to face him.

you don't know when kaeya fell asleep. nothing, from his facial expressions to his posture, changed. even though the two of you have been together for years, many aspects of him are still a mystery to you. but you’ve never gotten annoyed or frustrated. rather, you appreciate the gradual build-up and find it fun to learn more about your partner every day.

so the next morning, before you entered kaeya’s bedroom with breakfast, you witnessed for the first time a child-like glee on his face as he examined the muffler and earrings you put on him in his sleep.

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selya711-twiste · 2 years ago

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i'll take that, it's mine now

Rollo Flamme x reader You take his handkerchief from him.

ignoring my friend's request so that rollo would be my first post god bless. heads up that all my following works default to gender neutral y/n unless the request says otherwise. yuu is a shithead here btw. maybe some tsundere rollo is ok. is this called pining btw

It's the second day of your trip to the city of flowers. The events that transpired the previous day all feel like a fever dream. You try to recall a scene from the festival, but all of a sudden your memories blur in together with the flickering reds and yellows of those flowers that spread like wildfire. Like an actual fever, you feel like you're overheating from dwelling on these thoughts for too long.

"Are you still listening?" Rollo speaks up a little louder, getting you out of your haze. You nod your head in response, but he's already caught on to your attention being elsewhere. "As I was saying…" He pauses for a moment as your eyes return to him. You sincerely tried to avoid conversations with the other Night Raven students as much as possible until noon. All that effort would go to waste now if Rollo Flamme of all people were to notice.

He was the one behind everything, wasn't he?

You don't have any magic (which is why you assume he's interested in you at all) so there must be some other way to get back at him. A small act done out of spite, something you can do... something to get on his nerves...

Rollo has yet to notice the shift in your expression when he brings out his handkerchief. Your eyes sparkle at the familiar purple cloth adorned with golden celestial shapes. Right before he could carry on with whatever he was talking about to you, your hand darts out and snatches it from him. It didn't even have the chance to touch his lips yet but now you have his handkerchief in your clutches. "I… What?" Rollo stares at you completely dumbfounded, at the sheer audacity-

You send him off with the most mischievous smile you could muster and turn around to flee. The image of his deer-in-the-headlights expression completely burns itself into your mind. You must admit you did this completely on impulse because now you have to deal with the prospect of returning it. Who knows what he could do to you over a handkerchief considering he set the city on fire.

You debate with yourself whether you should turn around or not to check if he's after you. As soon as you do, he's still standing there shocked at what you just did. His hand hasn't even moved from its original position. Your laugh echoes down the hallway as you continue to get away and your heart races with excitement. It's not long before you finally reunite with your schoolmates who ask you where you've been. The handkerchief is tucked neatly into your pocket. You reply innocently that Rollo talked with you for a moment while you were sweating bullets.

You spend the afternoon with your schoolmates and explore what the City of Flowers has to offer past the festival. The whole time, however, you feel holes being bored into your back.

"Hey, you good?" Your good friend Deuce places a hand on your shoulder. Fortunately, his voice was a bit hushed, so you don't have to worry about everyone else worrying over you. You reply as soon as you could but you don't let him know why you were distracted in the first place. Rollo is standing there at the other end of the street with other Noble Bell College students, his sharp gaze locked on yours. A million thoughts race through your head about how this encounter would go. Maybe Rollo will walk over towards you with your friends to ask for his handkerchief back, but that means facing everyone who confronted him the previous night.

Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself when Rollo takes a step forward after excusing himself from his companions. Fortunately, Grim tugs on your pants with his little paw to get you going. Your friends are already leaving to go to another area. Once again, he watches you go with his beloved fabric in your pocket.

Would the others notice that he hasn't brought out his handkerchief since lunch yet?

Just to rub some salt in the wound, you face him one last time to stick your tongue out.

He glares at you like his vein could burst at any moment.

...

You spent much of your afternoon revisiting shopkeepers you met yesterday and finding new stalls that you missed during the festival. Professor Trein passed by at some point to check on your group and was glad to see everyone immersed in the city's culture. You have completely forgotten about the "souvenir" in your pocket. Hours pass until the familiar chime of the Bell of Salvation rings throughout the city.

The sun has already set. The orange-red hue of the sky is gone and drifting into a softer lavender. It won't be long before it's completely dark. It's about to be dinner soon and you have already returned to Noble Bell's campus. The others tell you not to get lost when you slink out of the group to find a restroom.

That soft light seeps through the windows of the hallway. It's exactly at this moment that you remember the item in your pocket as this was where you and Rollo left off earlier. All the other students are clamoring in the main hall and you can hear it from where you're standing.

If it was possible, maybe he could forget about what you did to him today. It's soft in your hand as you take it out and lean against the stone wall.

You've grown accustomed to being seen as beneath all of your peers because of your inability to cast magic. You were mocked and cast aside here and there, and it was only a few months into the academic year when Grim would start defending you.

Rollo was the first one to express concern over your predicament. You remember vividly how you two first met, down to the way the palm of his hand felt when he shook yours... but the chaos that followed not long after ruins the memory a little.

A mage that scorned other mages over the use of magic was definitely new, and you're going to have to add this to your long list of experiences in this world you weren't born in. Compared to the others you have spent most of the academic year with up until this point, you only just met Rollo when everything went downhill in a day. You're curious about the warmth and coldness in your heart happening simultaneously as you thought deeply about him.

Maybe at another time, the crimson flowers never bloomed and the party would have gone on like normal. You two could have gotten to know each other better otherwise and shared a much more comfortable dance. The novelty of having someone new in your life whether he was a friend or foe will wear off soon enough, and maybe none of this would ever be spoken about again...

...Yet when you think about the possibility that you two almost never met, something in you stills. You absent-mindedly press the handkerchief to your lips the same way he would as a way to comfort yourself. Sure, he hurt your friends, but it's not like your friends haven't been constantly at each other's throats either. This isn't exactly new to you and there's even something funny about the absurdity of it all. Maybe you really have gone mad.

You tap into your inner middle schooler with a crush and hope you could keep this forever after that indirect kiss warmed you up a bit, but you're careless.

"You really thought you could escape me?" A mocking voice gets you out of your head as a strong presence stands right in front of you.

A choked noise comes out of your throat and you immediately pull your hands away from your mouth, desperately hoping he didn't see what you were doing just now. Your eyes have nowhere to go but toward his gaze, and it feels like you just dug your grave deeper. When did he get here? You ask yourself that as if you weren't yearning to see him again just now.

Even if you wanted to say anything, let alone his name, it doesn't seem like coherence is an option.

"Now hand it over. You shouldn't be stealing what doesn't belong to you." Did he really need to be this close? You clutch the handkerchief a bit more strongly and he catches onto your knuckles turning white from the force you're gripping it with.

It feels like the fever you woke up with was returning, along with all the sirens blaring in your head to actually move already. You still have a chance to run and keep this game going for longer, but you can't help but succumb to him. Being in front of Rollo like this combined with the silhouette his uniform gives him makes you feel so small.

"Give."

That was definitely a command, and his voice was firm. But when you look at him, he doesn't seem too mad at you, his grimace from this afternoon aside. Your heart skips a beat from how focused he is on you, but a part of you reasons that he merely wants his personal belonging back. You don't break eye contact with him even as he places a hand out in front of you, waiting for his handkerchief to be placed on it.

Instead of doing what he wants, you scoff and unfold it right in front of him. You haven't lost yet. There's still something you can do, and you have to do it fast before someone walks in on you two. You steel your nerves and finally speak.

"Why should I? I want to keep it as a memento of my time here."

Before he could retort, you wrap it around his neck and pull him closer to you. Rollo looks at you with his mouth agape. Once again, you have him absolutely mesmerized (or appalled) with your boldness. You're starting to become obsessed with getting on his nerves. It's fortunate that he didn't see what you were doing with his handkerchief because now you're intent on giving him the real thing.

You don't know how much he's thought of you today since yesterday, and this is the closest he's gotten to you the way he's always wanted, more than when you two waltzed together.

It's as though you're leaning in for a kiss, but Rollo is too staggered to respond to that like it was one. He hasn't moved at all.

I want to keep you in my pocket next, you don't say out loud, but he could feel the possessiveness in your actions all the same.

Your lips barely brush against his when you immediately pull away instead of what you initially planned to do. The last thing he sees is your light-hearted grin when you pull his hat down and shove it to his face. A perfect distraction for you to slink away. Rollo finally stands back and gasps at what just happened while you're already escaping once again. He hurriedly fixes himself and pulls the loose handkerchief away from his neck. You can see in the low light that the tip of his ears has become a shade of pink along with his cheeks, even if he was peeved.

"See you during dinner, Rollo!" You wave and turn to walk away from the man who was still standing there absolutely flabbergasted.

He'll certainly have a lot to say the next time you two find each other alone. Maybe when that happens, you'll actually kiss him.

Rollo is looking forward to that as well, though hopefully, you're not going to forget that your action today warrants punishment...

#rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rollo flamme #rollo flamm #microsoft word #title is from baldis basics bye #i havent finished reading the event past malleus getting angry so if i made a mistake... i didnt write this #y/n realizes they ran in the opposite direction so now they have to find a restroom somewhere else

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xhoneygirlxx · 1 year ago

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Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: The cheerleading and boy's basketball coaches are the talk of Hawkins High. When they can't seem to put two and two together, the students have to take matter into their own hands to get the pair together.

warnings: fluff. Steve and reader are both in their 20s. gender/body size/ethnicity are not discussed (the name of the fic was simply picked based off of one line). a little cameo from our favorite metal head. a bit sappy but who cares. idiots in love. we stan the students in this fic, they were doin god's work frfr. also modern au! spelling errors/shitty writing, i'm sick so forgive me for any mistakes lmao.

*if i miss anything please let me know*

a/n: As we all know, today would have been the last day of Honey's birthday bash. That was the plan my friends but bc of party festivities, hangovers, and now a bad cold, we are now behind on schedule. Thank you all for hanging in there with me :) I hope you all enjoy this, love you bunches!

The whole school is rolling fake dice.

Whispers traveled through the echo chamber hallways, bets being placed with the shaking of hands, and gossip being passed back and forth in the lunchroom like a breadbasket at dinner. All anyone could talk about was the two coaches that were blind to their own attraction to one another.

Unbeknownst to you and Steve, you guys were in the middle of a storm of circulating rumors since the beginning of the season. From the moment you two met all hell broke loose, a wildfire spreading through the classrooms of the school.

Everyone could see how much you liked each other, it was so clear like the scoreboard that shined brightly in the gym, except for you. The perfect love story, the cheerleader and jock, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

It started as a game between the cheerleaders and the basketball players, betting on who would break first and finally make it official. Soon it became a game amongst the rest of the student body, all of them biting at their nails and crossing their fingers in the hope that one of you would crack.

To everyone's disappointment, neither of you ever did. It was exhausting watching the two of you dance around your clear feelings for one another. The two of you tried to play it cool, act like any of the accusations were just that, accusations. But it was there, bright as day, on display for the whole world to see.

It was in the way your eyes would find each other's in a crowded room, feather light touches that would linger for way too long, shy smiles and rosy cheeks. The way you talked to one another was anything but two people who worked together. It was teasing, flirty, and breathless any time you talked.

There was a big wager for this whole thing, which team would win the biggest check and which one would have to fork over all the money. The cheerleaders and half of the school had their money on Steve, his reputation as a ladies man helping them with their decision. The basketball team and the other half of the school bet on you, knowing you were more outspoken then he is.

Now it's been months since the bets were placed but neither of you finally crossed over the line from friends to lovers. So the cheerleaders did what they do best, they rallied everyone on their side, made a plan that would guarantee their win.

Winter formal was only a week away, both of you were sure to chaperone without a date. So the cheerleaders got to work, making sure their plan would be executed flawlessly.

Phase #1: Plant the seeds

Two loud knocks against the heavy wood door of Steve's office bring him out of his computer screen. Shouting a come in, he's met with the sight of the student council president, Lauren McPhee who holds a white paper.

"Sorry to bother you but I need this form filled out for the dance next week!" She's too chipper for a Monday morning, smiling brightly like the sun that hangs in the cold December sky.

"Oh yeah, let me just get a pen." Wheeling back on his desk chair, Steve begins to pat his shirt while looking around at his cluttered desk for the writing instrument.

Once he snatches the ballpoint pen from under the stack of papers, Steve grabs the flimsy sheet from Lauren's hand and scribbles down his signature on every empty line.

"Alrighty, there you go." With a tight lipped smile, he hands it back to the nice girl.

Steve watches as her eyes flit over the paper, flipping it front to back to make sure everything is filled out properly. When her features twist in confusion he can't help but wonder why.

"Everything look good?" He questions and she shakes her head while still reading over the curled letters of his name.

"Y-yeah, it's just," pulling her lip between her teeth, Lauren begins to chew on it anxiously, "the section for your date has been left blank. Excuse me if I'm crossing a line here, coach, but you're not bringing a date?"

Her voice is sympathetic, lips pulled into a deep from and her eyes sparkling with pity as she looks at the older man. Steve isn't sure why she seems so upset about him going alone or why it would be a problem, but when she looks at him like a dog that's been kicked he feels the need to answer.

"Oh, well I don't really have anyone to take. Plus it's more important for me to be paying attention to the punch bowl to make sure no asshole- I mean jerk, spikes it." With a forced laugh, he waits to see if his answer is enough to suffice the girl's curiosity.

"O-oh that makes sense I guess, I just though maybe you and the cheerleading coach would go together. You know cause they're also going alone and from what they told me, they never been to their winter formal before." Shrugging, the girl moves her sights from him back to the paper.

"They told you that?" Steve's answer is met with a hesitant nod from the girl. "I-I didn't know that." He breathes.

"At least they'll finally be able to go, right?" Again she shrugs, pulling a folder from her bag to put the paper away.

"Wait!" It comes out louder than he expected, cringing slightly at his volume. "Can I hold onto that and then had it in later?"

"Sure! I'll be back on Wednesday." A sunny smile shines at him, the white paper being passed back to him. "See you then, coach."

Waving him goodbye, Lauren shuts the door behind her where the cheerleaders wait for her. With a singular thumbs up, they begin to jump with joy only for a moment before moving on to phase two.

Phase #2: Destroy the band room

Now destruction of school property was not something any student was willing to get written up for, but with the help of an adult maybe they wouldn't have to.

Mr. Munson was the band instructor and drama teacher, as well as Steve Harrington's right hand man. Before he was an educator, Eddie Munson menaced these halls for many years. Before getting his act together and after he quit selling weed to the students in the woods, he worked as an apprentice for a while, following a plumber around for months while he went to college for education.

"Mr. Munson come on, don't you want to see your bestie finally get a happy ending?" Karissa Thomas batted her eyelashes at him as she begged for his help.

"I don't know guys, I could get into a lot of trouble." Rubbing his forehead, Eddie sighs as he weighs out his options in his head.

"Think of it this way, you can finally give principle Higgins the finger. At least metaphorically." Anthony Whitmer adds.

"Plus, we'll give you some of the profits." Mark, another band kid pleads from the group.

Eddie leans against his desk wide eyed, smirking slightly at his band students. Who knew they would be so devious.

"Fuck it, I'm in." The group before him shout in victory while Eddie laughs devilishly. Somethings never changes, he thinks.

So this morning when he arrived at school, Eddie made sure that no one was around when he began fucking with the pipes. After about twenty minutes and sore upper arms, he finally succeeds by springing a leak.

When he reported the leak to principle Higgins, he was met with a side eye before getting the approval of the gym slot after school, which meant you and your team would be forced to share with Harrington and his team until it got fixed.

Phase #3: Offer planning services to coach Harrington

Now to bring this whole plan together, cheer captains Dan Morrison and Amber Hall needed to be in the same place at the same time as Steve Harrington. The only problem was his office and where he usually occupied the most was the east wing of the school. The east wing was the closest to his office and it was the least traveled hallways out of the whole school.

That meant they needed to make it look like they were that way for a reason. Luckily for them, the art room was also in the east wing, so they would make it look like they were grabbing poster boards for last minute winter formal posters.

Lunch time was the best time to put this into motion, so the minute the 11:50 bell rang, Dan and Amber sprinted to the east wing in the hopes they would catch him.

After rummaging around for glitter, markers, and poster boards, the two waited at the door, peaking over the frame in the hopes to catch the older man. When the door of his office opened, the two seniors began to walk out of the room talking about random things to not make it look so obvious.

In the hopes of sparking a conversation with him, Amber dropped the container of markers causing colorful pens to fall all over the hard floor.

"Amber, I told you not to drop them!" Dan laughs, putting the white posters to the floor in order to pick up the rolling markers.

"You made me laugh!" The girl argues back, laughing loudly as she crouches to help.

"I didn't even do anything." He replies, making the girl laugh even harder at his comment.

The echo of Steve's heavy footsteps could be heard by both teenagers, but they ignore it so he wouldn't catch on.

"You guys cool?" Steve asks, crouching down to help pick up what fell.

"H-hi coach," Amber greets, catching her breath from her heavy laughter, "We're okay, Dan just made me drop these."

The boy in question huffs and rolls his eyes playfully, continuing his actions of gathering the rest of what's on the floor.

"So what are you guys doing with all this, anyway?" Steve asks, pushing off on his knees to stand.

"Oh, just last minute posters for the dance." Dan says nonchalantly as he gathers his pile of supplies.

"You're going, right?" The young girl asks and Steve responds with a small sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah I'll be there." Nodding his head, the man places his hands on his hips looking at the two kids in front of him.

"That's fun! Are you bringing a date?" Amber wiggles her eyebrows.

Shoving her playfully, Dan looks at her with a gasp. "Oh my gosh, Amber you can't just ask that. Sorry, coach." Doing his best to look sympathetic, Dan offers his best smile to the older man.

"It's okay, Dan," Steve places a hand out, looking at the brown haired boy, "Actually, I was wondering if you guys could help me with that."

"Sure!" The cheerleaders agree in unison.

"Let's talk about this in my office." Pointing a thumb to the end of the hall, spinning of the ball of his foot to lead the way.

Steve defiantly doesn't see how bright both of the teen's smiles are from where they walk behind him and he surely doesn't see them giving each other a high five.

Phase #4: Get you to go to the parking lot before practice

This phase was probably the hardest of them all. You were very keen on punctuality, always the first to be at the building to make sure everything was set up. Now that you'd be sharing the gym with the basketball team, you were more than likely to be there a whole lot earlier than usual.

Now this is where the most important players come in, Lauren Hernandez and Simon Carter. The two freshmen were bright stars at Hawkins High, the leading members of the mathletes and very trust worthy students.

When this whole plan started it was known that they'd need someone who was convincing to divert your attention, so the two meek students volunteered without a second thought. The amount of money they'd win if coach Harrington made the first move was way more important than credibility at this point.

When they spotted you coming through the outside gym door, the two kids began to put on their show. Rushing through the two gymnasium doors, Lauren and Simon pant acting as if they ran a mile.

"C-coah, we need-" Simon bends over, bracing his hands on his knees while breathing heavily, "We need your help!"

You immediately drop your bags, sprinting over to the two youths. Worry is written all over your face, eyes immediately checking for any visible injuries on them.

"I-is everything okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Placing a hand on your chest, you wait for them to catch their breath.

"There's a fight outside. Max Newman and Devon Lewis are fighting in the parking lot." Lauren rushes out, eyes wide and glassy under the gym lights.

You're more than shocked at the news, the two boys have been great friends the whole time you've coached them. In a flash, you urge both kids to get coach Harrington from his office while you break up the fight.

What you don't know is neither Simon or Lauren have to get him, waiting until the slam of the heavy gym door both run after you to make sure they don't miss a single moment.

Rushing through the entrance doors, the cold winter chill instantly hits you but you don't pay too much attention to it when there isn't a fight happening.

When you walk outside, you see your team of cheerleaders lined up on both sides of the steps, a red rose in each hand. As you walk, they hand them to you, bright smiles on each of their faces when they do.

You can't speak with the amount of confusion that runs through your brain. Even though you want to ask them what all of this is about, you just let your feet carry you out into the parking lot.

You jump slightly when you hear Wildest Dreams being play, the only difference is the band kids stand off to the side with their instruments. Giggling slightly, you imagine Eddie Munson teaching his kids a Taylor Swift song but Bridgerton style.

With a bundle of roses in hand, you continue out into the snow covered parking lot. Under the street lights you see him standing with his hands in his pockets. Behind him stands some of the drama kids, holding big white posters. Taking a moment to read the blue and silver lettering, you gasp when it finally hits you.

F O R M A L ?

Tears prick your eyes and not just because of the cold winter wind. The thought and dedication that went into this must've taken so much (more than both of you even realize), you're heart beaming with the thought of Steve putting this together.

"So what do you say, coach? Will you do me the honors of being my date to the dance?" Steve's cheeks are red and his teeth glimmer under the florescent lights.

You can't help but let more tears fall, all of the pining and wishing finally coming true under the darken sky, right where the two of you first met. It feels too good too be true, a real life fairytale happening in real time.

"Of course I will." It comes out loud enough for only him to hear, the two of you looking at each other in adoration.

In a split moment, Steve's strong hands pull you in and wrap you in the tightest hug, something you dreamt of all this time. Even in the cold temperatures, his body heat, his touch holds the heat of a thousand suns.

The roaring cheer of all of those around you, besides the band who continue to play, fills the open air. You and Steve are so wrapped up in each other you don't even notice the flash of the camera, Andrew Johnson of the yearbook committee getting multiple shots of the whole thing.

Pulling back enough to look at one another, you smile brightly up at him. Steve looks so pretty like this, cherry nose, snow flurries collecting in his eyelashes and hair, and a smile so sweet it could rot your teeth.

"I can't believe you did all of this." You say with a laugh, shaking your head in amazement.

Chuckling slightly, he looks down bashfully at you. "Yeah well, I had some help." The two of your look all around the parking lot where multiple students stand, all from different clubs, groups, and social brackets beam and cheer for the two of you.

The two of you turn back to one another, gooey looks on both of your faces and love filling your eyes. "Who would've thought." You say breathlessly and he agrees.

"Can I kiss you?" It's breathless and hopeful when Steve says it, and you're answer is just as breathless.

Connecting his lips to yours felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, it's feels like home, and it feels right. Like a snow globe, you and Steve are frozen for just a moment under the December snow.

I hope you all enjoy! Love you all <3

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