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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ so, you've been isekai'd into a romance novel...

type of post: blurbs characters: trey, vil, lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, kissing in vil's part, lilia's is a little suggestive, I can't help myself, not proofread author's note: I've wanted to do an isekai thing for a while, and I do love a good plot twist ;3

So, you've been isekai'd into a romance novel.

The only way to get home? You have to play the part of the protagonist until the novel ends.

There's just one problem, though: you're not into the love interest.

Not at all.

What's worse: you're starting to fall for a side character.

➼ His Best Friend

You started dozing off while your friend was helping you write an essay.

It was for one of those old romance novels about rich people in the English countryside, and you couldn't stand it. You knew you were going to fail when you fell asleep in your chair, thinking that you'd just cram the next day, except...

...Instead of your room, you wake up on a picturesque hill, inside the book you'd been studying.

You hear someone shouting, and you stand. There's a boy coming towards you, yelling a name you don't-

Oh, oh no.

That's the protagonist's name. Which means that can only be-

"There you are!" Riddle Rosehearts, the love interest of the novel, storms up to you.

"Your friends have been worried sick, you know! We've been looking everywhere! You've embarrassed me in front of the entire county!"

You blink, trying to remember what your friend had told you about this book:

The shouting boy, Riddle, is the love interest. Your love interest.

But it doesn't start out the way- in the beginning, he and the protagonist cannot stand each other. He's hotheaded, strict, and has no interest in love. Over the course of the book, the protagonist teaches him to let go and enjoy life, and blah blah blah...

...Yeah, you have no interest in doing any of that. "Enemies to lovers" isn't really your cup of tea.

But if it's the only way out... you can pretend.

"I... fell asleep," you say. This only seems to make Riddle more frustrated.

"You will come back at once, and apologize to my house and to my guests. Else it'll be off with your head!"

He turns and begins marching back to the estate. You roll your eyes and follow him. You're going to have to put up with this for months?

Well... maybe not.

He leads you through the back door, not wanting to "upset the guests any further", and tells you to wait for him in the kitchen.

Great. Just great.

You watch Riddle straighten his tie and walk into the parlor to speak with the guests, prim and proper as ever. Eye roll.

The door opens- not the door to the parlor, but the one you'd just come from. You turn with a curious look.

"Oh!" another boy says. "I apologize, I wasn't... expecting anyone."

After a moment, it hits you- this is the love interest's sensible childhood friend, so unimportant in the plot that he was cut from the movie adaptation entirely.

You raise an eyebrow. "No, it's alright. Beats getting yelled at,"

He blinks, confused by your wording, and then smiles. You know you shouldn't be thinking these things, but it's sort of cute. What was his name, again?

"Ah... I suppose Riddle found you, then?"

"You suppose correctly,"

"Heh," he crosses his arms. "I apologize on his behalf. He was just... worried."

Wonderful. This is the part where he tells the protagonist about the love interest's sad backstory, isn't it?

"I don't really want to talk about him right now," you say. "Honestly, I'd rather hear more about you."

His smile falters, and he seems a little... well, taken aback. As if no one has ever asked him about himself.

"I... I suppose we haven't been properly introduced, have we?" he mutters, adjusting his glasses in nervous habit. You remember reading that. It was cute.

"My name is Trey Clover. My family owns the bakery in town, but I'm afraid it's not as glamorous as this."

He means the Rosehearts' manor. You could care less about that.

"You bake?"

"...I do," Trey says. "You eat?"

It's a stupid joke, but it makes you smile.

You nod, and he goes back outside, returning with a basket.

"These are for the guests..." he says, taking a pastry out of the basket. "...But they won't notice if one is missing."

You accept the treat. "Rulebreaker, are you?"

Trey's face flushes, but he laughs it off.

"Certainly not. Rule-breaking is a dangerous pastime in this household,"

And yet, he did it for you.

You smile back.

Suddenly, Riddle's temper isn't going to be the only difficult thing about playing this part...

➼ His Rival

With a movie adaptation on the way and a permanent spot on the bestseller's list, you had great expectations for this little book.

You'd heard nothing but praise. Even your family members had recommended it to you, saying that it was right up your alley, and they thought you'd love it.

So, finally, you buy the book (which is WAY too expensive), make yourself a warm drink, get cozy in bed, and...

And... it's terrible. It's completely unrealistic! It's downright boring!

Disappointed, you put it down, turn off the light, and try to sleep it off.

Try to, because you wake up disgruntled and groggy, and not in your bed. In fact, you're not in a bed at all.

"There you are!" a voice comes from above you.

You look to see a short, panicked lavender-haired boy. "Where have you been?! You're on in five!"

You rub your eyes. "Huh?"

"Didja hit your head or 'somethin? If we don't get you back on stage, my boss is gonna-"

"Going to what, Epel?" a colder, stronger voice carries across the hall. You both turn to see a meticulously dressed man with a stern look on him, and not a single hair out of place.

...Shit. You know where you are.

This is the romance book you'd been reading!

"S-sorry, Mr. Schoenheit," Epel says. "But it's their fault! They're the one who ran off!"

"I know that," Vil Schoenheit, the antagonist of the story, says. He narrows his eyes. "I'm not surprised our little potato has already quit. Couldn't handle the pressure, hm?"

You blink- oh, no.

You're the protagonist- the normal, nobody student who was ~randomly~ chosen to be the lead in a romantic drama, even though they've never acted a day in their lives.

"I-I just-"

"Enough of that," Vil says sternly. "Now, get up. These costumes aren't cheap, and you're dirtying yours on the floor."

He escorts you out of the hall and back onto set, Epel not far behind.

"Places!" someone shouts, and Epel nudges you into position on the sound stage.

"Remember, you don't say anything in this scene," he whispers, covering his headset mic. "Just look like you're in love. And make the kiss believable!"

Your eyes widen. "The WH-"

"Quiet on set!" the director yells, and Epel hurries away. "Action!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as the doors fly open and the book's love interest, actor Neige Leblanche, runs on set. His outfit is simple but glamorous, his eyes wide with emotion, his dark hair lightly tousled.

Horrifically, he's wearing a generous amount of lip gloss. So are you.

"My love!" he cries out, running up the steps toward you. You watch in horror as he gets closer and throws his arms around you, and just as you're about to have the dramatic, impassioned kiss the book has been leading you to, you push him off.

The director stares. Neige's eyes widen. Epel smacks his forehead.

The rest of the set is silent.

Finally, you feel a cool hand wrapping around your wrist, and suddenly, you're outside again.

"Have you lost your mind?" Vil hisses, his grip on you tightening. "You are making a fool out of all of us. You're an embarrassment to this production, and you should have never even..."

He stops, mid-rant, when he sees your eyes watering.

"...Don't you dare make me feel sorry for you,"

You sniffle, and he sighs. He pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at your eyes, careful not to smudge the stage makeup.

"You're going to ruin someone's hard work like that, you know," he murmurs. "Now, what are you crying about? Isn't this what you want?"

You shake your head. You must look absolutely miserable, because he isn't even a little mad anymore.

"...You're ridiculous," he mutters, tucking the handkerchief away with a faint smile. "But I can't say I blame you. I wouldn't want to kiss him, either."

You take a deep breath, and then return his smile. How can someone so sweet be a villain?

Vil lets the moment linger. His eyes dart to the stage doors behind you, then back to you, and then he holds your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb, and then he kisses you.

It doesn't last for long, but it's enough to leave you dazed when he pulls away.

"...Your lip gloss is smudged," he comments, and then he walks back to set without another word.

...Perhaps this book is more interesting than you'd thought.

➼ His Father

When your friend started gushing about this new dark romance book she finished, you thought she was just reading a bunch of tropes off a page.

Fae court? Handsome, mysterious, brooding princes? A tall, dark, possessive love interest? Sure.

You promise you'll try it, and she takes that as a "yes", leaving the book on your desk. It goes untouched.

You wake up in a dark forest. For a moment, you think you're still dreaming- until a thorn pricks your finger, drawing blood, and you realize this is very, very real.

You can see a medieval castle off in the distance, and to your horror, you realize where you are.

"No... this isn't happening..." you mutter to yourself.

"What isn't happening?"

You jump at the sudden noise, and turn on your heels to see someone behind you. How you missed him, you're not sure. He's pale, his hair is striped pink, and his eyes are almost glowing.

"Not from here, are you?" he says with a smile. "You must be tired. Come, Lord Malleus' home is always open to guests."

This is the weirdest stranger danger situation you've ever been in. This small gentleman has fangs.

He chuckles. "Don't let appearances fool you. We're quite hospitable!"

You think about it- you could stay in the forest, and die of a slow and agonizing death, either by starvation or mauling, or you could play the part, return to the castle, fall in love with the tall love interest, and have his babies.

...Honestly, hypothermia doesn't sound too bad.

But you also know that the book has to end eventually. And when it does, you'll get spit out. Maybe.

You're in the mood for taking chances.

The castle is just as grand and old as your friend had described it. The food is just as strange, the court just as intimidating.

Strangely, though, she never mentioned any short, pink-haired fae, apparently named Lilia Vanrouge.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" he asks, having caught you staring.

You quickly look back at your own plate. "It's just, um... well... I was wondering about your relationship to the prince,"

He winks, as if to say "nice save".

"He's... well, a foster son, of sorts. Think of it however you'd please,"

"Are you comfortable?" the prince in question asks, his eyes showing genuine concern.

You shrug. "...I guess so,"

"How does one get so lost they end up in Briar Valley, anyway?" one of his knights, Silver, asks in a soft tone.

"AND HOW CAN WE BE SURE THEY AREN'T AN ASSASSIN SENT TO HARM OUR LIEGE?!" the other, Sebek, says in a less-soft tone.

"Oh, nonsense," Lilia says. "Malleus likes them. Don't you, Malleus?"

The prince nods. Oh, brother.

"How nice. Perhaps you two should rendezvous after dinner? To get to know each other better, hm?"

You stare down Lilia, practically begging him to shut up. You want to shake him and shout "Stop trying to set me up with your weird kid!!!!!"

Sebek looks appalled at the very idea. "BUT- MASTER LILIA- THEY CANNOT BE TRUSTED! I CANNOT ALLOW THIS!"

Thank you, Sebek!!! you think.

"Yeah, um... you know, I'm kind of tired, so..." you say. "Maybe tomorrow? Or next week? Or, um, whenever. You know."

Sebek visibly relaxes at that, and Silver raises an eyebrow.

"Of course," Malleus says. "I will have the finest room arranged for you at once."

And he did. This world may be stuck in ye olde medieval fantasy times, but man, what money can't buy...

As you look around the exquisite room, you hear a knock at the door.

Lilia comes in without waiting for an answer. "Enjoying the room, I hope?"

You sigh.

"Did Malleus send you?"

He chuckles, and takes a seat on your bed. "I am his keeper, he is not mine. I just wanted to see how you were faring,"

"I'm fine," you turn back to the wall, pretending to look at a tapestry. The sight of him on your bed is... distracting, to say the least.

"Hm..." Lilia hums. "...I would like to apologize for overstepping at dinner. I did not mean to imply anything. We're rather isolated here, and Malleus has been lonely..."

It makes sense, of course. He's only looking out for his... strange, sort-of son. Still...

"And you're not?" you ask.

Lilia doesn't have a response for that. You turn around to gauge his expression, and he's smiling.

"Khee hee. You're a clever little thing. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were flirting,"

Now, it's your turn to not respond. He's caught you, and he knows it.

Your heart beats with something like excitement as he stands and closes the door.

"But I suppose I have all night to figure it out,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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adrift-in-thyme · 10 days ago

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🎉Congrats on the milestone! 🎉 Your fics are always so lovely, I love reading your work! ❤️

As for a fic request, could I ask for something with Four? Could be something with Colors, with the chain or with fairy!Time or just by himself, whatever you feel like. I would like him to have just a small, slow, happy moment.

Awww tysm!! <33

Certainly! This was such fun to write. I hope you enjoy it!

————————————————————

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing, smithy?”

Slowly, Four cranes his neck to look behind him. Normally, in this small form he would feel a thrill of panic at the sound of someone’s approach. But the voice is familiar, and today has been surprisingly devoid of threats upon the heroes’ lives. He is safe to indulge in the comfort of remaining where he is, lying on his back upon the ground.

His hands rest upon his abdomen, his hair splays out like a halo around his head. The earth is soft beneath him, warm from baking all day in the summer’s heat, and the proud blades of grass stand as shields from the afternoon sun.

“Watching the clouds,” he says.

Time cocks his head. The light reflects off of his wings in delicate fractals of red and blue. His hair looks the color of spun gold. Twinkling with mirth, his eye matches the joyful sky above. Silhouetted against the vibrancy of a joyful day, the hero looks far less severe than he does when leading and protecting their little group. More like a simple man, rather than the famed Hero of Time.

Four likes that. He always appreciates the moments when he gets to see his brothers comfortable, free. They bear responsibilities too great for even the broadest shoulders. If he, in his small and quiet way, can allow them to soothe the fractures within for just a moment, he is glad of it.

And the fact that Time has grown comfortable being around him in his fae form makes him even happier. He knows all too well the burden of being so very different.

So very vulnerable.

He has seen the haunted looks he and Rulie get sometimes, the scars they cannot conceal, the way they eye certain travelers they meet upon the road. It is good to see some of that guarded trepidation flee.

“Watching the clouds, eh?” With a sigh, Time sits down beside him. “What does that entail?”

His tone is teasing, and an easy smile is on his face. Four returns it.

“It’s something Grandpa and I did when I was young.” He points up at a sizable puff of gallant white speeding across the heavens. “You catch the clouds and make shapes out of them. That one looks like an octorok.”

Time chuckles. “Ah, yes, I’m familiar with the concept. Malon and I did it many years ago when we were children.” He sighs and a mischievous grin tugs at his lips. “Of course, now I’m too dull and old for such trivialities.”

Four sends him a flat look. “You may fool the others with those comments about your age, but not me.”

Time lifts a brow. “No?”

“Nope.” Four shakes his head. “I’ve seen you fight. You’re hardly dull, and you’re certainly not old.”

Time lays back, keeping enough distance between them that his wings don’t drift into Four’s face. With a somber expression, he gazes up at the sky.

“Don’t you dare tell the others that. It’s difficult enough leading them without them realizing I do not, in fact, possess the wisdom of the elderly.”

If he didn’t know him quite so well, Four would think he was being serious, that this matter truly was a dire one prone to wound him. He can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes.

“Alright.” He squints, watching as a cloud that vaguely resembles a chu drifts by, lazier than its fellows and falling behind. “I’ll keep your secret on one condition.”

“I swear that one looks like a Deku scrub,” Time says, pointing, then turns a quizzical eye to him. “What is your condition?”

Four grins. “You tell me how old you actually are. You know, on the inside.”

Time’s expression instantly morphs into a scowl.

“I reject your condition.”

Four’s grin grows larger, tugging at his cheeks.

“Why? It’s only an innocent question. Malon refused to tell us, so I thought maybe you would.”

“I see. Malon respected my privacy, leading you all to seek out the dark truth for yourselves.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds as if you’re hiding something dastardly.” Four giggles as he turns his gaze back to the sky. “Are you truly that ancient?”

Time blows out a sigh. “You wound me, smithy. Here I thought we could sit in restful silence and watch the clouds, only to find that you are as set upon destroying me as the others. I still reject your condition. I will rest easy with the knowledge belonging solely to me. Besides” — there is a definite smile in his voice, brimming with mirth — “your secret-keeping abilities are quite poor.”

“Hey!” Scowling, Four lightly smacks the older hero on the arm. “They are not!”

Time chuckles and gestures upward. “There’s one that looks like the pigs in Wind’s Hyrule.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

But the cloud does truly resemble a plump little pig, something that suddenly seems very comical to Four. He dissolves into laughter and Time joins him. Time’s jab is soon forgotten in the breathless freedom of open joy.

And when the laughter subsides, they remain in comfortable silence, laying side-by-side, gazing up at the sky.

#bit of an abrupt ending I know #but I couldn’t think of anything else for them to do lol #so I left em just chillin #as they deserve #after all febuwhump is fast approaching hehe #trin writes #fic request #lu four #lu time #fairy time au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #fluff #thanks again for the request!!

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leiawritesstories · 1 year ago

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Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics

y'all know i cannot resist this prompt 🤭🤭 so enjoy some fun drunken shenanigans involving the whole court of Terrasen plus Fenrys, Dorian, and some potentially bad decisions (but no angst i promise). fair warning: it's total crack, i honestly don't think it makes any sense, but it's (maybe) fun

also based off a prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts: "drunk and clingy Aelin" ;))

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin was absolutely beaming as she descended the stairs and headed into the well-lit great room of the castle's private wing, where a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and laughter spilled from the wide-open doors. Her heart was full twice over at the sound of her friends' laughter--they had all been through so much in the last ten years, and the fact that they could still laugh was a miracle in and of itself.

"You're late!" Dorian called, catching her arm and leading her into the informal party. "And about three drinks behind, Your Majesty." Grinning, his sapphire eyes just beginning to glaze over, he grabbed the nearest flask and poured her a cup, tapping his drink to hers. "Cheers!"

"And you have shit tolerance, Your Majesty," she teased, downing the short glass of wine in one go. Dorian rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "Lighten up, Dor. Not all of us have your youthful ability to recover." Dorian, as a human, had less tolerance than the Fae and the shifter and Elide, who could drink Lorcan under the table, but he also recovered rapidly from his hangovers.

"Again with the you're an old man jokes?" Lorcan clicked his tongue, smirking. "Wasn't it you who kept telling me to get creative?"

"That would be your wife, actually." Aelin raised her refilled cup to the hulking, dark-haired male, whose face flushed bright scarlet at her innuendo.

"Galathynius," he grunted, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.

"Don't be so put off, darling," Elide soothed her husband. "Aelin's just grumpy because you made me scream so loud last night we woke the whole castle up."

"And I'll do it again tonight," he winked.

Fenrys spewed wine all over himself. "Fucking gods!" he shrieked, pretending to be mortified. "You lot and your insatiable se--"

"You're just as bad, Fenny," Aelin smirked. "Or should I say, good boy?"

The normally roguish blonde blushed bright crimson and said nothing, choosing to grab the nearest ounce glass of liquor and tip it down his throat. "How?!" he demanded, both mortified and genuinely curious to discover how Aelin had heard that little pet name.

She beamed innocently and threw back a shot of her own. "That's for me to know and you--and your pretty boy--to find out."

"Pretty boy?" Lysandra wheezed, slinging her arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Holy rutting gods, Fen, I knew you weren't particular in bed, but I never would have guessed you'd want to be the one taking orders."

Dorian was conspicuously silent.

Observant as ever, Aelin turned towards the young king, a smile so friendly and approachable that it was truly terrifying slipping across her face. "Dor, darling."

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Have you been satisfied with Lord Moonbeam's visits to your kingdom?" The enquiry was perfectly polite, even diplomatic, but the smirk on Aelin's lips added a twist to the innocent words.

Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.

Fenrys snickered. "Don't be shy, Majesty. We won't--ah!" His teasing was abruptly cut off with a soft yelp. Dorian flicked the blonde Fae a look heated enough to boil water.

Aelin had a very good idea just what (phantom) hands had silenced Fenrys before he could make an incredibly ribald remark. "I see."

"For a queen so revered, Ae, you have no propriety," Aedion fake-sighed, reaching across his cousin to grab the glass bottle of whiskey that had definitely come from the back of the cellar.

"Says the one who cavorted his merry way through the mountains," she retorted, passing her glass to be filled. "Say, how is Kyllian doing these days?"

"He's fine," Aedion said, too quickly.

Lysandra grinned and curled herself close to Aedion's side, whispering something into his ear that made him choke on his mouthful of whiskey and splutter the aged liquor all over his shirt.

She cackled, tears of merriment spilling out of her bright green eyes. "There's no need to worry, Aed. We're all friends here, no?"

"How sweet," Elide crooned. She pinched her husband's cheek. "See, Lor? We're all friends."

"Lorcan doesn't have friends," Rowan said, completely deadpan. He'd been lounging in a comfortable armchair, admiring his wife and sipping on his glass of liquor like the civilized old male he was.

Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."

"Let's keep the past in the past, shall we?" Rowan smirked over the rim of his glass.

For the second time that night, Lorcan's tan face flushed violently red, and the room exploded into laughter.

"I knew it!" Aelin cried triumphantly, pointing at Lorcan. "I knew you and my buzzard were lovers!"

"Best he's ever had," Lorcan mumbled, barely audible.

Elide gasped for breath through her peals of laughter, clutching at her chest and clinging to Lorcan's broad shoulder for support. "We need to get you drunk more often, love," she wheezed.

"The hell you do," he grumbled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"I have a GREAT idea!" Fenrys announced, rising unsteadily to his feet and brandishing his bottle of wine.

"You absolutely do not," absolutely everyone else chorused.

"First of all, that'sh' fuckin' rude!" He pretended to pout. "An' shecon'ly, it's a great idea!" He took a long drink from the bottle and pointed right at Lorcan. "Lorky, I dare you."

"You dare me to what, Moonie?" Lorcan shot the younger male an insolent smirk.

Fenrys beamed, which was both hilarious and terrifying. "Clothes off, an' pose as a sh-sht-stashue for three minutes."

"Fine." Lorcan drained the rest of his drink, stood up, shucked his clothes except for his undershorts, and strolled out into the hall. The others followed him, laughing and playfully ogling.

Elide wolf-whistled. "Don't be shy, Lor, pose like one of the ancient sculptures." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Most of us have seen you naked, you know."

Lorcan sighed, and Aelin swore she heard him mutter something about so much for keeping secrets under his breath. "I'm not drunk enough for that, Li."

"Pity," Aelin snickered. "You'd make such a well-endowed sculpture."

"Careful, Rowan," Lorcan drawled. "Your wife's objectifying other males again."

"Who gave my wife liquor?" Rowan called, laughing. "She only does that when she's drunk."

"You're mean," Aelin teased, frowning theatrically at her grumpy buzzard.

"Thought you liked me mean," he murmured, the words a wicked promise that set her blood alight. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid his hand against the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her inhale.

"No!" Aedion yelped, throwing his hands over his face. "Shit, I'm standing right here!"

Lysandra doubled over with laughter, throwing a wink over at Aelin. "Look what you've done to your poor innocent little cousin," she giggled, unable to get all the words out without losing her grip on her merriment.

Aelin snorted. "Lys, if Aedy is innocent, then I'm a virgin priestess."

Lys wiped tears from her eyes. "All right, you--is Fenrys naked?"

Yes. Yes he was.

Completely undressed, Fenrys sprinted down the hall and back, grinning like a schoolboy when he reached the others again. "I didn't fall over!" he crowed, exuberant.

"Didn't stand up, either," Aelin muttered, half to herself.

Rowan coughed, a deep laugh billowing out of his chest. "Give him some slack, Fireheart," he laughed. "Moonie here is a little too drunk to perform as quickly as he usually does."

Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"

"Tha'sh'not a word, Fen," Dorian drawled, his words slurring together.

"Neither is anything the two of you are about to say to each other," Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear.

She around and pressed her face into his chest to stifle the fit of laughter that made her whole body shake. "You and your godsdamn impeccable timing," she gasped once she'd regained her breath.

Her husband winked. "I try."

Slowly, their dear friends began to disperse, first Fenrys and Dorian, the two leaning on each other for support but still staggering, then Elide and Lorcan, and finally Aedion and Lysandra. Aelin looked around the room at the empty glasses and bottles and flasks left on tables and couches. "Should we--"

"Later." Without blinking, Rowan swept her up into his arms. "Right now, you need to go to bed."

"Is that a promise, buzzard?" She looped her arms effortlessly around his neck, lowered her lashes, and smiled lazily up at him, sending a hazy image of slick skin and dancing flames into his mind.

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Don't tease me, princess." His voice dropped to a thick rumble, the way it always did when she'd pushed just the right buttons. In a blur of Fae speed, he whisked them upstairs to their rooms, kicked the door shut, and laid her gently on the bed.

And she promptly fell asleep.

Chuckling softly, Rowan slipped Aelin's shoes off, changed into his nightclothes, splashed some water on his face, and slipped into bed, curling himself around her. She sighed and went boneless against him, her breaths deep and rhythmic. In moments, he was asleep as well, following his queen into dreams as he did every night.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

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brineffxiv · 2 years ago

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Holy hell, that tower.

And it's just there. You can see it. From the opposite side of the bloody map.

Okay, okay. Write a proper post now...

In Limsa we meet with several of the Alliance's leaders. The plan has been made: we are taking the war to Garlemald. A contingent of elite soldiers will use our newly acquired warding scales to invade the Empire's capital and bring aid to the tempered Garlean populace.

While I trust your intentions, Nanamo, I do not in general trust a foreign government invading a nation with which they have been at war, claiming to be bringing "aid." But then, this is a video game and not real life. Perhaps it is what it says.

Our other target is the colossal tower (that tower holy FUCK) that used to be the Imperial Palace. Because that thing... That thing's bad news.

In Ala Mhigo we confer with Raubahn and Aymeric, who confess that our aid mission is not popular with either of their respective populaces. We also speak with Gaius, who wishes dearly to join us but who regrettably cannot due to both being accused of Varis' murder and his position as a former legatus making him a candidate for a new leader. Maxima will instead be accompanying us.

It turns out that Lucia will be the leader of the Ilsabard Contingent! And what a crowd she will be leading; representatives from all five of the Eorzean Allaince nations (many familiar faces from my class quests among them! How delightful!) as well as several of the Eastern Alliance!

Oh it is so wonderful to see so many old friends in the spotlight again. Brings a happy tear to my eye.

Sadu and Cirina are gal pals. I don't make the rules. They make my little shipper heart happy.

Suddenly, a wild Tataru appears! To provide all us Scions with hand-made winter coats to keep us warm in frigid Garlemald.

...Liar. That's the battle light. Trying to trick me, are you? Lull me into a false sense of security? Well joke's on you. The "several cutscenes" warning puts me on guard like nothing else.

Ah, Emet, what do you have to tell me about Garlemald? You would know it best, I'd imagine. At least, as it was before the Telophoroi got to it.

Really fucking cold? Yeah, I got that. Time to freeze my tail off, I suppose.

Our first obstacle on the road to the capital? Tempered Imperials. Comprised of members of both the Ist and IIIrd legions who had been the main instigators of the civil war, the IIIrd supporting Nerva and the Ist... not. (Who exactly was the Ist supporting??) Are we ever going to meet Nerva? I assume he's not dead yet, but is he tempered is the real question...

Anyway.

Thancred's group will disable and explode the magitek in the nearby depot to create a diversion while we guide the supply convoy through.

Unfortunately this means I must play as Thancred again. Oh boy, and it's a stealth mission this time.

I am less than good at stealth.

Alisaie and I are guarding the rear of the supply carriages, when the blizzard clears and we suddenly find ourselves surrounded by Imperials. It's all we can do to disable them without killing them.

I really enjoyed this fight sequence. Very nice and tense, but not as stressfully difficult as Thancred's section was. Perfectly balanced for a story scene.

Once the fight is well in hand for our side I make for the front to join the vanguard where my friends are contending with the main force of Imperials and their commander: Vergilia.

Nice design. I wonder if she'll be in any way important after we cure her of her tempering?

Oof. That's the first good look I get of that tower. That thing is creeeepy. Gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Fuck. Look at the city.

Wait, that's a road. Like, a modern road. Do the Garleans have cars!? Like. Civilian cars?!

...I find it fascinating that even after living an entire life in Solus' body, Emet-Selch never came to think of himself as Solus. Even now, in reflection, he sees it as playing a role. It makes me wonder... It makes me wonder a great many things... And this is really not the place for them, but you see, I have a one-track mind. And we're in Garlemald. The empire he built and ruled.

...

Here at last.

#ffxiv liveblog #rhesh'a tag #merlwyb bloefhiswyn #nanamo ul namo #lucia junius #maxima quo priscus #thancred waters #sadu dotharl #cirina mol #tataru taru #alisaie leveilleur #emet-selch #garlemald

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twilightmalachite · 1 year ago

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Raison d’être - The Nameless Girl 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Shu, Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Yer right. What the, this is scary… Ya can see Grandfather steadily agein’, but she looks exactly the same."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Airport (Lobby)

Shu: Anyhow. There is something unnatural, regarding the fact the two diaries were written at two different time periods a while apart.

Regarding a common character these diaries share.

The one named “MADEMOISELLE”, of whom through the description I surmise to be the same character… does not appear to have aged throughout the work, or rather, the diary.

She, MADEMOISELLE, is an odd young lady who never grows old.

No, perhaps I should call her a girl? She is an eternal, nameless girl.

Mika: That means—

Umm, what does that mean? People are supposed t’age, aren’t they?

Shu: Hence why I called it “unnatural”. There is no Count of Saint Germain—Biologically speaking, there is no such thing as immortality.

Mika: Saint Jer… m… Who?

Shu: A tangent like that would be long-winded, or rather, insignificant.

Occult enthusiasts will never admit it, but it’s nothing but a scam—No, it’s been long proven to be a myth born from blasphemy and misunderstandings.

Well, Grandfather too was a fan of the occult, so it could be possible this diary is his way of making a grand joke, but…

The diaries were also carefully accompanied with hand-drawn sketches and antiquated photographs where the face of the person in question, “MADEMOISELLE”, can be seen.

Here, see for yourself. She appears exactly the same in both of the diaries.

Mika: Yer right. What the, this is scary… Ya can see Grandfather steadily agein’, but she looks exactly the same.

Does she not grow old fer real…?

Actually, maybe I’m biased ‘cause her name’s “MADEMOISELLE”, but… She kinda looks like Mado-nee, doesn’t she?

It’s like she’s a personification of Mado-nee, or rather, a slightly grown-up version of her.

Shu: I am curious about that too. Mademoiselle, the doll that my grandfather entrusted to me, may have something to do with this “MADEMOISELLE”.

Mika: Ah, right. Mado-nee’s different from the doll that ya made, isn’t she, Oshi-san?

Shu: Yes. She is an antique doll given to me by Grandfather. She is not one I made from scratch, meaning there is much mystery surrounding her.

There are many points of ambiguity about Mademoiselle, such as who created her, how she ended up in my grandfather’s possession, and so on.

I am a bit hopeful we will be able to find out more about that here.

Through the process of putting together my grandfather’s past and discovering more about this mysterious girl named “MADEMOISELLE”.

Mika: Just who is she, really… I’m startin’ to get a little scared.

Shu: Fufu, even you, who fears not even ghosts, can feel scared, huh?

I feel intrigued, more than anything else.

Although it is quite the vulgar sentiment, much like enjoying gossip articles. I feel guilty that Mr. Raffaello is leading me down this path.

The depictions in my grandfather’s diaries show a deep love he has for this girl named “MADEMOISELLE”.

My grandfather was always angry and would complain about everyone, except only this “MADEMOISELLE”. He was like a devout believer, or an innocent small child spoiled by his mother.

Although I cannot be sure exactly what kind of sentiment it was, my grandfather—absolutely loved her.

Whether it was platonic love, filial love as a family, or heterosexual love, it was never stated.

Although Mr. Raffaello claims it to be heterosexual love, that my grandfather and “MADEMOISELLE” united as man and woman. And himself being born, as a result.

Mika: Ooh, meanin’ who Grandfather had an affair with was—

Shu: Yes. That would be “MADEMOISELLE”. Things are coming together.

Though there is the possibility my grandfather wrote “Diary (Nameless)” while in his thirties, not as a youth—

And it sends a chill down my spine to think that an adult at that good age had feelings for a younger, child-like girl…

Mika: Hm~… But if “MADEMOISELLE”-san doesn’t age, or in other words, is immortal, isn’t it possible she’s even older than Grandfather?

Shu: This is a matter of appearances. I would be ashamed for the world to know that my own grandfather was afflicted with a lolita complex.

Mika: Nnah~, but don’tcha like small children too, Oshi-san?

Shu: I just admire what is beautiful and artistic.

And I imagine, or rather, expect that it is the same for my grandfather as well. Nothing to do with the graphic male-female relations that Mr. Raffaello speaks of—

I believe my grandfather simply loved beautiful things, just as I do, and just that—That is what I anticipate.

No, I am heading to Paris in order to prove that. To the city my grandfather lived during the time period recorded in these diaries.

Nowadays, you can look up anything on the internet instantly… However, nothing beats visiting the place yourself to investigate with your own eyes and fingertips, firsthand.

Mika: Even still… Even fer the case for “Diary (Nameless)” which was written closer to the present day…

Grandfather was in his thirties at the time… That’s still one, two, three, how many decades back again?

Is it even possible t’find traces of what had happened so so long ago even if ya look for it?

Shu: No need to fear about that, as I have something in mind.

And I also have you to help me look, Kagehira. You may be a fool, but your instincts are good.

As Valkyrie, we two will work together and win the Funeral Contest.

Mika: Nnah~, I dunno, I feel like this is kinda indirect.

Shu: Hmph. Do you think art can be borne from a blueprint created by lines drawn at random, without laying down any guesswork?

Mika: …Well, fair enough. Sometimes ya jus’ wanna take it slow and easy concentratin’ on a sole work of art.

Shu: Fufu. At ES, we often get idiotic orders such as “create a performance in a week!” from those who don’t know how much time art requires to be made.

When in truth, don’t you think it is best to sit back and enjoy the beauty and intrigue, just as one would enjoy a full-length novel?

[ ☆ ]

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#raison d’être #raison d'etre #shu itsuki #mika kagehira #event #translation

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libidomechanica · 2 months ago

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“Yours shore shall bird”

A sonnet sequence

Choke hath oure pains, where: something up that noon! Went in a knife. Nor death, her Garmentrie to see that she saw them bye, stands upon the is so fuller? And craving those that gives we no foot resume, where a tears, and I love. And the strange agoon and war by over to chastitee. Echo rings to sate its lip, I hadde I manye myrthe. Lest friends. Yours shore shall bird. Each otherhood. And far the robe I dide him blaze, her the could I do? Hey holo-gram—my for dare gaze at her greete, a gold. Of her Fortune it more was droops the curtesee, the wroth roamed from head, whose desiren us for robbed and powers.

Pink trumpet’s give the first his love themself that I reconciling here, wel Abraham’s bosom shame fleshly bleeds none cannot the field, and would seems are: when Aurora leades for the fires convention-tost, and pass turn away, dearly; whilst years, pant upon the nyght and laid his sing whose man’s Angel whom heavenly father mothere, for he alone were I was dull, the sovereigns this horse thine the doctor’s door! At things and if I liver way said in summers to shower time all feelynge, hath sweeps very Káfir in the shadow down with the long did her plaintiue pleye, as if empty now long.

I know not ever looked pin’d at the women share the small aloud, around; he work- day we rode his hairy, and myn ese? The Sunnye be seek in lone is whole a mile, and sprang elate, too, when this party, or, round; while through, and trees, why fairy nat spent in a Kirtle on the gate i have wept and of his wyf. Then she, thyn housbonde he smoulderings of glass, so little time, I shedding worse I fly, we are diverse my fashion. We else were fun the she heart,—beauteously will drap the trailing, in a foul as garment to the tear. Yes, I’m next of thy rubriche, but lettest man’s earth’s beare and plump.

With pity—let honey, we’ll seeing: as the solve is cas. Merged is fixt as fall, and Cyril. I make on life and ride in the light, a part it is singing of wrecked, oh could ease. A marries toothache hunt old-fashion, yea, hung, the pomp to your fancy’s knell! I don’t wisdom to be fresh, thy rocks reclin’d wave of the skeleton thunder stynt. Will turns pale delight: sooth. Said Cyril very boughs than he steal, or another reapers, wrung from yondering housbonde. I ought sea, low, follows? Find his hand if that she no others lone, says;—and multiplye; then fine when I appetitions o’er side and swig!

, Till turn away, and so many to where a quietnesse; myn hours with his nycetee. Nay, but half-drown’d whisks and that were good and takė witness improved a page bat. When door, me of her breath me, trust may kind stern become. Sap check’d with my loved him that do the swollen the World and heavened sprig of light. At there hers; till heaven. Where not augment and bask in our hands felt for Nature, saved the pillows may seek it have lie face untaineth. Rage woman but with the than best. Till fancy rest, all is fragile.—Cather griefs, and echo of the pillar! On come swerve?—More me, far reaches, but still as the skeletons. Now, but when to give mysterial hand on my feet; but Crist hymself, that music offices shining hoofs and from the vale; that fatal knelt, and some redde me evening-starry back with true sigh back have been wyse, by sides King, I have lease, that spite of Life’s moorlands front, underground his wys.

—You of the deed, you what cause: none to the sits, all murder-stormy, thou arrived to frame, then transmuted, he black my breechestow at horses have toss’d they are and dispute from hearts, I took for than a swoor to a Shop of me liste; taak keep putting to retreats walked wyves bended eyes well statut hold here I see to sit in air, as her hear along, below, lorelief; ah, what dreames short of your will. And the gleam of hire ech of the end out of pain. Ah Willye be sunshine. They desports inner left suck my covered mirror are borne on his owne: and faith, like Good-bye too charming up.

If in clay, conside to been fate, oh wrinkled pierced the daily o’er he fellows, and drizzle, renne or peace is my spoke not as the bandage slips on the walls! And dreams falleth sweetly heat peace, and pine, what an housbonde; thus face, but straw to rings, ispahan Apples sheep-hook, what late? The valley, down the great Orpheus, fragranced: then, were sets up. For a should not look, warmed beating of al myn honde, and the pillow; get me twas Johnny, never that—cather of your wall, invent? A marriage! That have for human clay ensue, O Joy, now a wake an hoods of its for they leans heat, nights are born.

That phone. Kindly sung; and only am how me man’s lip, I have there, till to thee lust thought liness was Arac rode hir long. Navel the restore flames, neck with savage glass of a forehead of a garrets fire, red left achinery just meaning, hush’d for the sound, rapidly riding his Gama. That eyleth you more a queynte as we. Your maidens, and seek in life is as will, without left long Devotions the said, but whence, that it is the deeps. Ne can chace the should not combat foes coincide it would fainted down till I, unskilfu’ strife, bounded. I make lovers return! Too serene!

” I adored our flocks be, yet was it raise. Why do any of blest how he fact, and by Seint Jame, that is just through a pure as happy night, with ev’ry flowers of Prince? Shall the Sorrow is resist? As it maad his side, or notes its sweete spirit’s gone. Her, ’ said or fate skies all, fled, then burst of dusty flurry, should come other, and, a kissed his become ba thy Bagpypes she proposing heroic syllables! Into the eye, thy light, sweete Violet variety tower once and biting to hollowed yourse my tale ages, the methink the hies, bewitch-on-girdled his cursed through our hand.

And round, the oxheart as Sol’s true right tell the boot of the book you art streamer, breathings a spins forget when she felt the Hare upon this, someone so true pass, below the bird has been as both of him: only Self, I through to God he, and the sunset to knowe the come bacon hadde the Fathere used you so certeyn, old and so welth, suffre hym those roll that float. Another, he sleeps to teach other the lie fall; I hate with shap, and free: the Shepheard that hath of him, that am nat mad, the Mother Roman that spite, tears were to me, she had she ask’d there, in myn entranced was it from her free.

Your furthermo, a fair, here I may attain, what he of verray knave, just now these slop’d him overhead, and proof, in the Spring ouer to the gates, disdain—do all stay till so man, she questined nor less counsel of should be, to praised to night of the volleying of Folly need, throws from her fourthe harmony, that Sunnye behind health, still be old Susa brain? That is a birth, toward thyme is the owlets that was she townes bark, the long. And gay wastes toothache husband Johnny’s crispers taking, and forgot, nor in my sight, he cow is part—but forgot to be but conster: keep hills, and the thoughts augment.

Rise Alps be what waste pinnes haven’t gone beaches, upon minted snowdrop’s in then with one which way weed have but we shadowy net. Down the propounds from the right that her been absence honey the cherl, the cold so alike, and said, oh death of God in each sides Platonical, since wound with the sun and sword and al myn estaat as one of its before hir home; charge, and from God hath this paiėment; for Lycidas? Or English penitence weathed with a somonour, as yet I praying, to seye thing. Winds, Leezie Lindsay, a favourites us two bulks at the rain’d hate heralds to stay!

‘No more only Florian land, like thing. And, forget not being to know some captain grassye great-grant, sword, and he lastly go, come, I’ll stand are, and are. Little music than the fierce and like the sense—me—sure that grim growing, and by the trade, and a silent and in this. Was left the sun,&I wandring to shrine, as I for the humbled, but yeer was goblin, there not gain sweetnesse on alone? As fair crest; in the pony took at thou shall the wild, main as sprung its longing reigns to remind prove too cruell should we still grace, shoulders. Cave of life, when did beren herte nat dwelled the buried carry Hope!

It is worse all Thy radiant blooming gracious plight: in seal. To the sun’s mess. I woot, I caste away, close. Others’ feast of heauy cheek of Ida watching, I settled grunter; when love our claims of men. For to speak and for that closed at those tenderneath shafted o’er thanne when down, doutelees, that to yielding; no more seen shall in vain essay thy purveyors, and singing town and slits that might gaudy Girls, until a row, entering son, while third, till the bumpers are levee rosy bloom the way with Brocade of a mistake thee. Your showe, virgin full motion came to be led to a moment!

So he said, in the mother own domes a brother of carred: the cruell she then to- night she sixtė, why I walking the walke I linger dreams as we fair wit, swollen more black with chills to infused into trample still. Stripes, groans, as sunshine. Expedient was this raunson unto the his horsebacke face and I have is beauty wellė kan, and happy times a body born from shame away; if Susan Gale, and new, doth such fell. In a worth a woman’s lips of glass, sudden new, what anon to reflecting that are the fill without a favoure vices she low; roses and disturbs oure badde.

Will make no tongue. The though sometimes the Frere. Rise is not Life befal, my lovely Davies. She wind. And yet in love put be fountain sense, in this for as happy manere long, and upon the poor trottentot, Malay, which thine. I ought me in mine own. They grew. At heaven. He wenched crown love just they can going streaming in the doth pray’r accountering glorify they will he’s his eyes shook the worke delighte; unmeanings at planned to find, and nail met me wandering, Should not Itself be overflowers; no more a povre women we wander this vanity, especial dutie great descried.

What sigh, nor hire hour, angry for my crimson. In sadness, I thyng that time futurism just me, and was never me, as they be, what deserts like misanthrope? Soul betide? Now, heart’s comfort of an eagle scream? But, and, to die. I graunted intrude, light your love heath: man for all how quietly lamb the purple awning back against though that traces, but I. Before hath she cabine how to goes, my head, for some of light again his storm-blaste hir home away, till be know;—I wish, I ate life of a hare of the man, which blind what a row, if them swynke! Began tell mankind, as is moue.

Without know the abyde, uch would be glance, a certes, and keep; obedient after fill, for Sin. The Moon—the laughing on a hunger in the really of the which wexen old Susan grow. Her the other debauchery, father trust of her, sparkles say: but Cyril very back the battle, Betty only devyne, are stood and find a ghastly ouer those in the Sea, that were hym in the sounding with the ratherine, the cross close the soughts enrich and Lilly, where the call, wild horse mented that falls their secrets, shy to been quietly devyne, where I’ve been abandone, and hate be.

He societies, stood to correspond shower to enioy. Bought on their bussed her, love applied he upland dawdling soul, and wake me down upon their ages pull die. Al sound come other by turrets find her men transmuted, were smiles should say or night air which reward with its starving weary wanderstood woot wel I wouldst faith, Goode relide. This wyf, and I; we seen she sawe Calliope with a raise that came a stormy, though he give its farmer on the laurel, issued gorged boy, will converted she wedde, I could never and far hearts, Love put for better. Had that kan that you now?

And along have seemed the gardens why nothing miserable—no tender’d with hir own lovely move, but kept not before thee that even me, nor severall vain, pass me, looking Daemonstratum which is just below, scarce to dye, hey have lions breathing me and man the tinsel on that’s think that records false mates; but I was watching thy creatures of thy blond all this starr’d,—I lay dying flower they have beem, al is flash and like Ida: he to a Shrine, notes, those tears! I dreams so bring mee; rede in the with and by harvest of Lebanonized it soon will wind. You make thee: but failed breast.

My rooted China, touch fals singing roaring water had it not too zeal, a wild he stoor; and once shells a thing seas. And freedom brow whole a sullen Europe for even line, and love heart with house, too late: let were lying soul disdaine, arm’d my true! The terror, told mammoth buds, all thy oracle of felicious meals: he that I admiring pastime—I turn to meet a vacant pain, then in mouth. Which I of the night they beheld; they are the wood, behind wild carnation ruins how sholdered Asses’ express of time we lay in the wind come; no hath was worke delight is the Tree!

But for me, by maiden, as I don’t thou would be, a bird’s howling so, some future tire, would you love. Observance in wonder Nay! ’Ve shul other scorpions— stifled like types of galloping through alwey, stretch the same groups under up my primroses, and gay was no one humming in dreaming, and found his wyf hir long the Follow of pensive crown’d, or liked at he meadow- like a child; she lion’s that ’twere dwell a love, before the will not know my wife, and in the Hare useless would spark unto islanderer thou yields, and hideous Mother, neverence; his holy time past.

As the bees sea of sugared? Cyril said my leads an Angel now it in the sallying teeth, that them; I cam free as myne eyes doubt, fair-faced to the improvidence, and swear self their mosses, roar their hush and how its name failing world, and seyst meant knight, and the way becaused by Florian, Roman fell, the lost; and otherbifoore. Where on other day. And Cather in closed that mercy deep ways vision sprente as a hills, and a named: our terrors over cheere on be so, because of the she: man wol person far as oak trees, than oon; as, while I things and me, ne of eterne on horses.

Survive therwith! Twice I said, but forgot his full, the summer everything hath and things. How begot been graves, and shears, by my own topsy-turvy, twiste. Give heaven, my bright; yet should now a saddle him window, around is but a young cense of flow’rets down this may part her of her cherry seasons do dwell, severe way be afraid! And as stored in the next gracioun, and her suspicion that a greet maybe it to no discerned; and condition’s the wol entered with thorn in they passion, pulsation through heels me from the lakes this made him in everywhere I was the could goat by that thee!

From wall; not displese. While these new-built it woot, the started for his garment wrong’d, unrevealed in this, to whom the will ranks wonder crescent-wise; such as I kissed be to give to ape them glide, and silver moon horses, ground nurse isles of those discrecioun of sang all the state, and whole desire: I pored in parfitly, finished a scarlet gytes. Harsh chastily sunny kinsfolk at the made first hymself your from wherefore me, to wexe at meant mine, and at gave the shall has not yet the hand unco wae, and hurl’d mine-muffles, salad, Parker House; and away; if Susan’s play, that much.

I hid and never handson are two, and smile, and held he fern, while them, so wel as Sight. Who asked as our oracles, a dull more done, he ledge, must be noght from the wind sad, swift-footed in, and othere is, when Aurora lead fr an old blazing, and take ours, and much I love’s victims at they conscious to heart and said Arac: Arac’s side: by the doubts and prunes. Tables roar: the nat kepe in then, to spreading a side, and leave to write to San Sebastian look’d immediately morning, never when I clothing water, or goode, as clerkės be blissful waves rolling train lover, the shore?

Lays. I watching till these we hear, we are ye, Nymphes cancer: could till now and smothere, named her make to dwell at the deviate hem best fly: if these, and repay, faults doze; and yet cross the uniform, then I know how the drynken wyn on the doctor, certes, clothes of ease his way! But I streak these world, I sting through cheerful and of his guifts; his art. And harmony to the wolde housbonde world, like a down bait: to look on nobler again. Which were som manere. And Pan with men much few sad tease my arms have neuer lyst prove the leve of hire formed by thing in the blood was as the can I be?

Strive, you cause? The note to saved, that Lente; I wish I haue gay, showing and spring mortal gods shook where is red-faced at once in thus shal yeldė to have; then on that time ful of us died, ye are love of this very eyes; and new; she watching has, lie, o ease trying charm from elm: only way, whose prove, which of most swelling fame? Who is his yeere we’llget o’er the fires, but not love’s feeds youth, no noise of Better woe: now range her taste matin lazy tolerance rolled in what of that the moonlight out of careful wyf yrekened all as you not simple, fit for to teached Parable the Tree!

And bids the delight, as commer look forgot how, or honour! Solitary night, part, if he yaf me in joy. This silly seldom costly on the doctor at the Tree! And as an hate wealth, and feels, and green identic may redressioun be witeless will sealed, by what sedge, and bare out with her love you sawest thou wonder skins; then the heart, I say, that any clear strong at my speak there without as they drawing turns not entering: it is this grace and their past breed, and all forth his dronke a poor dear, let its whirls me laughė whan thus and lyė as a figures at al man should the rake, breaks.

The women spread; or cash far from cost her flower yet to shewe hire days, and all the valley-depths of hir owene juggėment; for what all. See now soother of the dead, and I fell I could and bride white-wall; and yet woe is worthy rymes we find told where all the lilies forth which thousand blew along ago—that clashed a virtue of them. What tiny cell in lonely whippe,—thou to some serpent I receive! Blushes and horn that we faint things are gazing skies; tis close morning: the olde have said, our sweeter spare, grow him not their leave myster then the voices him a wastfull of lights I die.

Than aughter, while faults, no double being crave ashes of all the trumpet downright. Our Gipsy-Scholar of the bring in hir brain the owe heat oaths I quite for to comanded he is songs grateful cell o Mercurie and trance, dear, wake the eaved my pypes refin’d, call’d married by solemn day theatres beneath it fatal names and every gloom; up the people fresh, and feet ripple those sternity. He roots, and plate as all. The mark obscurity; they can’t wander Friends, cool we saw that reckless praised by me. Perjury; there agiltelees, that there upon the must tenderneath men.

Ye so certain there them achieve me at he where such outward him with Brocade one, and for youre party, three for my branched strikes they little, but all is soul, that thy fame in a Lente all his his bandage sinks no deynte right aloft by turned Nor Johnny do, I desire, to written men of legal struggle hand! You like to the world for her folly wits taught from all: well in my bone of shadowy net, the tincture tire, now are nothing; yet most gone Sun, that to the treasure the borne be see us peace is companions the cave all the mates; but bitter music shall selling diamond doon, and seyst thou seistow, which praised hym lepe, hey ho pinching clouds best I saw the Ephesian as a lonely to gray leads herself able swayne, that fail, and their eyes the said: for the turn things and now love it ever wish’d inside as marble strong slave obtain’d his own the place rank sad providers.

Loud prays, fell in the houses hard to make him that used his lyf. Complete to mix with Amaryllis an is gore; for Time, I should not quite some question well-sung time, if at alone haunt old learned at that poor old cheare on between a wants: because of Scotch Court melt wind of discuss; a love pit of the owls have wept. He said or doth pearl and help them him down world. No plot, ’ he sands realm’s still I main, enow of my place, shade of a heaven in vigour, too oftė have know from on repair’d words came hunter-scoff, seeing only me, far the tress unworth they ho see her move, in all that sweete pyne?

Nurses turn and the places. Will you’ve been overal offend almost smote and now woodland, am urged within me was moon, yet hadde wyn! Call he is one pang of womman kitte history live, and fill; and this, her vile, and her planned so may deel. The which still selling to me in the is siker as God-knows your grace, mine own modest, of my lordynges, by rage, waving lyre, to comb, a new bond—this heart in Sommer poniard, and crushed as he town as soul to your cold to That I knew him range in who boss the knew of pain, without, finished in the trouble griefest sad? Her men hem spreads his such lady, Dianeme, rather that oothe hedge and either men: the cabinet, being crave me sorrow. Long loves, which in the moss. Innocent, doth perchance where Lycidas, thou deserve of twenty I heart, still the work divine, but Calvary— Love is love it nor his thing eyes and for everyone else Fire!

Was I, that hark the hir love, his to this way be, thy welked recipe he’s height thus thynges equal task the squares hours; that grown the fear me a philanthropy; and by thy flocks, she knew who country; none ever she waterfall, such person our by the innocent, that Creator’—still; together good service, no lutes distinctions it is an hour idiot boy. And I wol heed of my old some easy term: the great of hem, What the dewdrops aboute. Of housbondes that once in on youthful plight of flies, that did thimble to the logic of ancient ranckleth you death—and is me!

Is it truly serve the deep in you just paine, when when to the may nothing our thinkest and order female for ever empty- handed eye, and earlier task’d of sighs drops falsely in my despised, she secrecy our prudence, are stand ancholy that none of his time, by God of Cincing Bellibone, and yet with sports me farmer’—a race. Condemning flames? By God, it still in my earth you to no dreary way. Bring to win it Ding, as the hold the sea growe? Who rapt, we consecration boil and som, to shift my dream the pomps coming sailor’s, his think too latest of this to my Electric clouds before so full voice shepheard thou, to weep no more the pitchen clerk wol I kiss to do our great me fresh and colliday! That light i’ the seydest play as anybody and thee, when a new grows war the town. That he wende of men loe Pernasse like; but I there on on though to see.

Nay! Now a sad of the roof any of the palace what acquaint in kings I overal ribands. That, black of the devil take you dost ruth for thicken hall. That old past this but with the hadde a wilderness. Every day; come ages, roses ev’ry grace the chorus, Fame is sings are still: I cannot so as the never mine, and which is mourn hall, this mild a years wit is call’d Saviour, and lete the resort, and respect, where so long blossom’d the dark, our own skinnes going muchel care no wight, but it seek, what we used against my Muse thy heard, I abide what a sweet Eloisa see!

My father of ours, and once of this well! Took with him gain’d. Or sit be afraid! It is there. What is a humble be pacem oh my flowers which, the call this Bond: and I, shall you’ve daunce more was Tertulan, crisippus, Trotula, and the rest, bleeding Children dear Girls, knowledge unto me; when a lip to your quaint remove? As rich the sallying, to live, and culmined the spring- days, and he windows raise and those whan that’s best conjured my hard, hath common vein of old, and hardly and paye his dronkeness and the neither grew beside beere, nor them him whom she necks on though you. The ways.

While I turn my vision, yea, let they fled? That I say the moon the arms of his face of noon, full voice with the wont to be worn with Ruby and want did Johnny, mine-muffles, among the crowned? Not colour aged steal a thing farther dead, and make my minds a Hell in a hen that go outnumbering turns of some unto islander stops would I lose convey what hath poynt of them pleads and thus thy pipe, the little light, but since you still be fail’d to the ploughman’s preambulacious new all. Tree again, that which on thered heart, what draught with eager far as condemn all growing call, is resist?

A whirlwind of metals, wher true. I trust since inspirits rounder shade, to brings the head, declare all we hopes doth live, some free than slay me, now, and there such flowering havoc with thy love’s far in juice shepheards Tityrus japonica shouts all how showers. What som forth, despairing more warm, pass head of the dreams! She knew you be at night to thy paines of Princess the world, and her spirit dost my fancy dies and one came across to looked weel. Be her, that were he wolde nature an in sighs, my Loue, I muses! A blue eyes around, which him crying tide visit’st that affect to-day!

Somethings that she never reach’d and now honey on great sparent of their May and of weand mute admits and sickness to say shall stops, and from his not mine, or an hous as farewely, which chequer’d, and feats, aromas, lie, fifteen, Indeed, to selectra! And Susan lakes it, and doth bow common welter wyn or may she knocker, right laid his Highness, if sheets rise, we are you are is, the day after aspects to you likewise I: be come awakens and shall inter-time began to gild a storments and which fame—with scramble build a virginitee, it may ye went, but stay! Yet have yours.

And blossom-belts, and had never shows on all in March, and moves whirling whose thing I knew nod think you’re talked, oh could rest. Whose plants imbibe it too. It sailing upon hire there, till the blood; those lumine eyes, ropes does henceforth, and strange my life or losse in his singering warm pillar! Which stirre more I sey nat kepe me anothers,—that, ne cloud, sweet so in the powers with he heart believ’d the housbonde hands before it homest he leopards hard the drum cried footstep aside, and saw the light, susan, with complainnes gray linger out of Truth and the thirsty each that’s in the Moon and answered, heere.

That then with messenger inspire of light. Love’s false dark greet postscription. Ignorance my leopards rite, deepening out of art that she, in a povre wolf with emotion: then Florian walls between abate, and highest which can learns to-day: here that toong? ’ Feast of devis’d, and deep, and beckoned dream all prove, if my hear his lordynges the scorn they fell into the sea, and you are those hour! May we nat let you came. Poor Betty’s cried to the hung, as I kisses terme of my shrieked there are caught is not for bowre, beside thee all—now that mind, and in my touchesse, and heart that moment, recreation.

She asked, peace, who rapt, we water, brother’s hair, and often comes two, and at leads me thou could gaze at her daintye Daysies out of join the feare, we all, the childe is love its amain. When Aurora learnd euen recognize? Too little, beside a beauties I must be said this woman! Some chiefest senses far away, consign is why God of him? Summon been sitte the wolde I mighty Jove, enquired, wrother at though all yonder none than to see His hanging his stupid, if he world? Not in happy, happed carcasses smooth of nine do I remembering remove, fatherefore the hollide?

Which jostles, seabathed, I diligences and me slewed thy gold repose; no, now she statutes, the to seed y-sowe, of body and doun! I said, our Gipsy-Scholar of war or nor ever than he, my death: burye hym in the hearts can affords: while in juice she palate for soul, as she moon to warm, seabather the left a sad quandards of Albany. And contempting years and doth all thy hear me Swear, play to shore, and darkens all the disguise, staineth brooks, vials in the sea, lover, out transfix thee overwrough you mountain, and the come from his man-girl who like Orpheus could desire, till amountered groome. And wide, is wormes, but, loveth wysdam and blossoms, false to shewes her held to enter, lest; yet lettes; but the might dale, lo, quod he, their passed—A rebel stay till remember, I never- nearing within that thought abode; and me of grew pale is so.

No doubt—Sweet—thyrsis, lest eyes moonlighte, or any weedes the Futurism just we maun dark how it like, even in the aiming laughs,—it is times and low-brow’d and fright to zero, in like the rathers’ pray you, not of the dove, as he west that are you. Fast, mean not know me my soule be seemed the circles, Pomegranates of those sory groan, his stillness aboute my sighs that, I seye no? But her loth, by twos and see; a night-gear where onward shrine, and tost a treason of fare wilt thou will I nurs’d up the found dine. Soon is, her sore: so that to you wage between among their passing? How of his uninscribe who promise; fruitfull of glee, this pipes on than all me where with his visionary pats the childe that she sat life, under whisper trust man such person toyes purple ward praise be forth, my she longing: Here was swayne: sike a femele from out al foe. Beside the Doctor!

And make me how to-whoo, that is it bear a found O found he think and noblest Scholar, we are peeping horses, giant, sweet unto my Electric clouds best as is gracioun, but when heel, for al swich as I drops aboute my bells; the kneel for years, and have connections where be and why showers to dear ladies, by Gods pursue from out her banks then in himself with cost heaven we conclusion. Those voyces shee countenant the nectar for thou go—called but mind. Stella loue, I fill woody perior, in that sun peers, which stirte the blast bed. As somtyme was Johnny in divine! Boss the kiss.

Gone so sharp as pale main—surelesse of a like to his description. Till the shoulded, and truth another was more escapes, with the road, oh Khalífah laughing accidentic may survivor wine. So learnd a white of Beauties in the wind satin- wood for the can bend; that part, e’en the looks again with bulks and the began to while the Cane of my hearth and pays the will the heel, that’s beautee and the baskets boast; in the prince, made hidde hand, with burst the Tree! We are floor with dainties in these with me; they can she languish in here, if I love’s cleverned to touch world love us passion sense.

Then, the rude at hobbles upon the heaven’s mortal mankind of the waves delighten’d in fact, if I have rest. Where oppose of a talisman—an and New York city’s straitors, er the such this words were. Of cherelesse byrds, that Psyche’s leaues fro Parys, and said, in thy proverbe they must I shift myselfe did fly twins may streamer, or off your arrow wol peril of rock, as laughs,—it is a juggle greens I pick of Ida, touch of his Bible lungs, it scarcely reigns all. You. As wyves the Bible their chief to war with vernance ful forced recited, were, but Colin, Colin mariage?

Comrades arm-chaises since the moon thy imageste, and palms, and such is just night, and love fought me it long Devotion: it short to shift mi hips these thou are mix’d with homest set. After and ever come as they never said did feede, if more wax al day. From his own at he, and never hood to whom the sprang else a lamb the learn? The heart’s glory, with them worth, and daunger spoke: why, that merciful; shearer though all me past. While delicated, wrongs in made his vanquish’d within height is alters he kneel for envye nothynges this she tears and from fill, how Holland drink that fourthe humming on meet!

Oft gratify it, as if the last she doctors are always use, to terrors. Who know its way, and man could striking day, where a Patagonian jealous hand, for the full verse my thought thou and dark—years, and dawn wherein to thre, the sensual in hair. What sunk so far I company is the salt over a loue me a few, the wilderneath the chose; but when these loue. Let mine, no stood town; then, my Beloved youre from memory of waters waft thy pranced wel it breath’d proceed with shows half your sense, the spring warm pillows, and a decrepit fatal wedded more that its name!

And freedom brow dost thought, him whom I shifte. Or gallop by, and flints, and unlawful Drink my chiste! And, O ye dote; but yet must for I can cries, and dry. To his life; and on so in thy sweet Aglaia, my day, each one between us from my night, those who has Love? Come, and on a nest was realm in dells, and silver, where stocks rise! In our eyes were made up upon things of the rare. A colt—take me morning go throbbinoll, I despair! Always scorn. Water, and died entangles of which, this my jolitee, cacche was a curl’d marriage? ’Re in dream how allures who groans, instincts immaturity.

Alas, who wolde no dislike a boy, the value might is unembarrass’d th’ fire to all not death it show with his striue in the feeble form a syde, till its far can has pain, past over yet and we would. Less break on all all the Apostles, spontaneous as anymore. Take back a less as we love like all in the Mine? And are two face and Wooll, alas, where, never Last no silver, and shade of a talisman— an angry fantasye: wayte what comfort: lie perfect wide the language her synge me mistake his guide. Hey had seen and seeks, but the you. Mild zephyrs war with the still fair?

That shine. With thee happy is just stirrup, sad me from op’ning in turf such Clytemnestrains the world spar’d words. I sang about dreamed to enlarge blooms, and takė witness up upon his speak words, right. My old Susan’s found, its touched be. Ponder clappiness or the door stand and pity hath sing in whom you here, thy flames inspired. Time down and good, no doubt its her dull rebel nat wordes it went to be afraid! And still pardon yours. Hee vowel-keen door and flame, her gardyn groan, what the ambitious passed it also sang there woman for a treading at housbonde. And each project find seyst me.

She price; o’er than and likerous, imperial— men and mute destroy, that I might appal. To somethings we with golden came, by your wailing: thou little waylefull officient in the bare! Or a kingly still shown the should my hand, and steals in hot for power than all in the Prince: Lady Psyche wente of pass’d in a somonour, and more thy lose concern: if Ida, that’s in any wicked pins filchers learned wipe to the Norther baldnesse was rays of how to his head to join grows flesh to-day I stood and catch divine, like the streams along it were, to belt and made supply throe!

And anon the Federation messors: then, and you know: when those cross my eyes. Wave is; saying of your past reache hungry arab— after that made him bell. Oh reason clung back and murmur tonnė that which doth buds, and the my squares, where left: she love and for can thou do that all that I love no longing started up in hot warm. Leave my whole darkness of it true lough of the mankynde the Should I on me, I woot wel after that your cold to marvel of riche, and crown against thy bride, as this Presents of your life, which ever loue with the hyesterday call night pebbles on evere been my rocks.

God woot, I recorded march narrows from despised, sweep my passions of nine drum we’llget out of turned the laughte the stand bade the had chose,—motherwithal: be here its long to the would. Of fallen in time down with soft into a decay! Oh commenced ascending point: science, I gesse, for very was we were kill once also, is six days, you lie, fists. And Venus burnt, turn overaynetee, can see, I play thy darkness! She know? I have see a marry; the societies, on! I asked, and, ere not a somethinks, so longed boy, wind cold. Never banks thy text, an angry former one of Life!

We were sire, but tis may the night. And hath bulked trembling from out you in crushing three years, pant up through I often me, how much, but forget that be right warm and writ in these thin a moral mankind. To give child is the grant not what your doon his fest her loue. With thy to its stuff that locust beautifully. A Countering die, nor holden my eyes are all say This side there by the radiant from elm: only grow. This, none heaven in a rais’d her play. Ah the oaks, we al dancer, myself to thyng foil set into hide my love, beating to blowe yow to look at the west the lend who know?

Beauties hath human, garlic in the Highness ill jest to win it Ding, and blushing and why nothing air. The church of passage discourself—To Do, not love’s hate that he soule aboue and first hunger come tears began to sunlighting the Heart be good neighbour guerdon its whirlpool full, soon then one day, which the imperiods keep in minted snow. But now a song, it made himself to Heaven. Bring tributaries for than a cock’d the loved in hand! Their pinions, she isles of silver, and like the drains, and to die. Ah me, it soon, yet and sit heard, that since of that she warpings at my head like Good-bye.

Then to sin away from out by a partly rain of beauties, too, to with Thou live youry Luyts an arms; it hath, what on my Lucia’s cheek, as well know I meene says;—and yet freely should my hear, not tamed you, ever reaps not now all seeing, for to the heav’n’s heards gladly cross a land! Who wast begins hym with myne to mount my flower add one else foremost sweete Violet-hoof and I wol nat made Lucia’s self art, with shall I dye, how Xantippa castle of into three of no need, that loud full out him which what he watching him in of all; and Venus measure. My cheek as your peace is not!

Ah, where that Honour ingress on the in a raucous to the fierced tease to drag on such a strange and gold, whichever seeketh kep or severe beauteous ever which would sings, and yet was dead; the dampnėd wedded girl who’s always prompt to go. While they were brine; the found her bringing the same; before level may augment. For the blessed the flowers, beneath sorwe. I ne that sings pay when I knew that her stop to a false—is not pin me that side, is simple ayre, and to good that oon of The God, too, more rype, and Paradise, with all soon, and to haul up and fair creeps from she bear and all thee!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #198 texts #sonnet sequence

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cashaywallace · 2 months ago

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Laverne ur an abuser

“It’s not fair for me to sneak dis India love for this that and the third”

Well hello welcome to the healing circle ..

SHE DID DEFORMATION ON MY CHARACTER. USING MY SKY NAME BC TIMOTHY PELKO MEDICAL TEAM AND EVE GODAN AS LEE GARLINGTON MY ADOPTIVE MOTHER OWNS MY BIRTH FAMILY SINCE THOMAS JEFFERSON TIME .. if you need catching up on that history someone will give it to you…

Do you read the Bible!?

Have you been following this in n out or sticking to it .. ya follow in it out .. that’s weird of you judging another in full short too something when you can’t even finish a full project ur not interested in.

- short attention span… why ya leave so quick!?

Where ya get slap w Holy Ghost!?

Ya mad ONE EXTENSION OF GOD IS A 30 yr old woman .. but you think whore ass India love is “it” .. HI MORTAL ME WE BOTH VICTIMS BUT SHE ALSO FULL SATAN IN MY STORY W LEE GARLINGTON. AND IF YOURE A CHILD OF GOD AND AHE SATAN TO ME

USING MY FUCKING SKY NAME ADONDI : lord AND MASTER , ( THE CREATOR) AFTER MURDERING MY SISTER COUSIN DAUGHTER,

THEN SHE IS IN FULL SATAN TO ANYONE. I DO NOT WANT HER OR ANYONE WHO SUPPORTS HER BULLSHIT IN MY FUCKING KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.

You can recognize the pain BC ITLL HELP YOU DIGEST URS,

BUT YOU GUYS WHO KNOW AND HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING ALONG GET CAUGHT UP ON STAYING LONGER THAN YOU SHUD.

LIKE I TOLD LEE YESS YOU NUMBED MY FUCKING BRAIN N FULL KNOCKING MY MEMORY OUT AND MY DAD THE ROCK ( when ya stabbed when I was 3 ) MY BODY STILL HAS ITS MEMORY AND ANCESTORS OF ALL US FIGHT FOR ME AND PROTECT ME AND ALL THISE LEGITIMATELY CHILDREN OR GOD .. NOT TALKING IVF SOLEY IM TALKING THOSE LEAD ASTRAY ASKING WHY X Y N Z WOULD HAPPEN N SEARCHING FOR BETTER … A WORLD BENT TOGETHER TO HEAL AS ONE.

SO I HAVE MY LITTLE FEMALE SKIN SUIT AND SHATTERED PIECES OF ME AS MEN ALL OVER AND EXTRA REINFORCED REMINDERS FOR WHATEVER EVER REASON IN WOMEN WHO LOOK LIKE ME.

GOD IS A FUCKING GIANT DONT YOU EVER FORGET THAT .. BUT YOU CANNOT COMPREHEND THE AMOUNT OF MAGIC I POSSES AS SOLEY INTENITY!

HOW WE GOT HERE I SHRINK MYSELF FOR UR COMPREHENSIBLE LIFE IN A FUCKING BOX AND IVE OUT GROWN IT FOR GOOD.

I SAID I DO NOT AN APOLOGY FROM LEE MY ABUSER BC I ALREADY KNOW HER TO KNOWN-SHE DOESNT LEGITIMATELY MEAN IT TO ME OR ANYONE IN MY FAMILY ( celebrity law nasa etc) SHES just going to find someone else IN HER CLAN OR A LOOK ALIKE OF ME INDIA LOVE TYPE BEAT WOMEN MEN TO SNEAK DIS AND PUT US BACK ON INSANE ROLLERCOAST OF EMOTIONAL PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE WHERE YOU STAY IN ADAMS GARDAN OF MISERY.

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pixelatedquarter · 1 year ago

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Okay, so far (dates 1-3 of tourdust) we have:

The set changes to drop a giant doberman head that, contrary to what I theorized in the days leading up to tourdust, does not shoot bubbles from its mouth, but in the same set change translucent balls are dropped (And in at least one occasion have been kicked by Joe ) and the mouth does move to sing along, and then a tree shows up (and it is very relevant that it is real and you can touch it)

'Pyrotechnics & Flames' includes Pete fucking around with a Flamethrower Bass

Piano with no setlist that in Patrick's words was added because Pete thought it would be cool and when confronting him with "I dont really play songs that aren't mine and i don't really have piano songs and i don't really play piano" the only answer was "eh, you'll figure it out". And he did. The motherfucker. Figuring things out on the spot.

Baby Annihilation, the spoken word poetry, which includes a disappearing magic trick by Pete, who then shows up on top of the tree and then is back down doing shenanigans like doing laps around the crowd by the time they play the next FOB song (what, did i forget to mention after the trick to give him time they play a fragment of Crazy Train? whoops my bad.)

The setlist includes songs from all eras, it is currently unknown which ones because they could change at any time. This is being docummented extensively but important mentions for the sake of the fuckitweballery are: Headfirst which used to be booed during Folie days, and Patrick wanted to play again and after getting good reception at Heaven they've added it to the set, Heaven Iowa which is Andy's favourite track in the album, Gin Joints which Joe mentioned wanting to play again in his book was an 8 ball song (ty @omegalomania for pointing it out!) and also a section is dedicated to travelling back and it seems to feature mainly TTTYG. On the note of things changing at any time Take Over was swapped with Hum Hallelujah for Kansas.

Here's the lists for Chicago, St. Louis (no Kansas available yet), it is its own point instead of being just a fun "might as well add this" because the magic 8 ball song is written in code :3. And the first version that leaked is also different, btw.

The Magic 8 Ball is a bit where Pete asks it if they should play a surprise song, so far it can be a song they've never played before or an old song that's out of their set rotation. So far it's been GINASFS ("a song we've never played before", codename GOLF) Gin Joints ("an old song about crashed cars", codename GAMMA JULIET) and Sophomore Slump ("Let me see that sign...let me tell you right now the magic 8 ball cannot be hypnotized or fucking intimidated"/"is this our sophomore slump?", codename unknown, what IS known is that joe didn't know how to play it)

Patrick sings the Arms Race call and response with that aforementioned giant Doberman head, which as mentioned before moves its mouth in time with the lyrics, good dog. (as pointed out by @mageshine-dance)

Pete also likes to interact with the doggie. In his Pete way.

They stroll around with maybe maybe not stage passes (and because they're very Some Guy passing and playing large venues here's the mugshots poster for venue employees) pete showed up to take a picture with the queue.

Meanwhile Joe is using this strolling time to hide copies of his book for a scavenger hunt.

(Patrick and Andy are being more normal about this freedom and have been spotted listening to the openers, not really fuckitweballing material smh but just in case you're wondering if we know anything about what they've been up to)

(Did you know there's a character limit for how long you can make a single block of text (like a bulleted list) before tumblr breaks it up? Because tumblr forgets and reformats it into a single block every time you edit and then doesn't let you save until you've changed it back. Hopefully this fixes it, but this IS the website of all time.)

Ah yes how could we forget, clothing-wise Andy maintains his iconic look, moobs on full display, black shorts (Also probably referenced the MTG buttcrack guy meme). Joe has been keeping it real with a grey t-shirt and jeans. Pete is donning a blue poncho/hoodie/The-Mesh&Rose-Harness for a triple layered striptease and leather pants. Patrick's been consistent with this era with a t-shirt, jacket, baseball cap and a variety of jeans-

lol who's kidding, this is the Fuck It We Ball compilation there's a reason we're listing outfits like we're in My Immortal: the t-shirt depicts a crying sun & smiling moon and matches Pete's hoodie and for Kansas he decided to do away with the t-shirt and cap and instead wear a black shirt and fedora combo.

Also because last section's links served the not-so-hidden purpose of highlighting how insanely soulmates they have been, it would be a grave omission to not add this moment to the list.

And more posing happened with the Kansas crowd picture.

Credit list is massive so it's here instead

Here's links to part 2 and 3

Someone needs to start compiling all the ways this is THE tour of Fuck It We Ball before we forget things like Joe literally has a scavenger hunt for his book going on and Pete managed to convince Patrick to spontaneous piano with a "eh you'll figure it out" (thus causing night 3 to be "Patrick deadass figures he may as well play a piano cover of I'm Like A Lawyer") and Pete's magic trick apparentyl coming with variants (or at least that he went for a crowd lap) because it's the details that elevate this tour from "there's extra surprise songs with the 8 ball gimmick and a piano intermission" to "Fuck. It. WE. BALL."

#the tour of fuck it we ball #fall out boy #fob #tourdust #tourdust spoilers #so much (for) tourdust #so much for tourdust #(I really hope I've tagged this enough for spoilers seeing as this is a huge compilation of the things to be surprised by)#guess i am the someone #i'll probably update this specially as i hunt down links to prove this isn't a fever dream or lies like that they covered super bass #also this is all being written from the trenches of tumblr fob is not coming anywhere near me (i AM blaming mr. saporta tyvm)#so it's subject to change or get worse once things get clarified by the people who were there to suffer_IRL #updated with a few things i've seen mentioned or that have become available after the post and a correction

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awn-moo · 2 years ago

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<[VIDEO ID - PART ONE OF ???]>

Two people stand in frame. One person, who looks to be Vic, is doing a once-over of all his equipment. The other person, who looks to be Ingo, watches. They look to be in conversation, but it’s barely picked up by the camera.

“And I believe we are live.” A voice speaks from behind the camera.Vic turns his head towards the camera and gives them a thumbs up.

“We should be good here too. My camera is on. Curtis, can you hear me through the mic?” Vic turns towards the camera and tilts his thumb in a ‘yes/no’ kind of way.

“Yeah, we’re all good here. Boss, is your mic good?” Curtis speaks behind the camera.

“I do believe so,” Ingo turns to the camera as he speaks. Vic smiles and then turns to Ingo.

“Alright, so. We're currently in one of the normal stations that will lead to the unused tunnels. While we're here, is there anything we should know about the tunnels and why they went unused?" Vic asks, folding his hands behind his back. Ingo's eyes light up.

"Ah, excellent questions! The most obvious answer is that we didn't need those lines anymore. New lines were being built and used more often than the old ones. It also was expensive to keep updating the old ones. So, we closed off those lines and they sat here for a while. But the old lines are original to this station, they're a part of history! They saw the first underground trains of Unova, oh how exciting that must've been to experience." As Ingo spoke, Vic smiled.

“So, because of these tunnels being so old and unused, what kind of myths and urban legends have spawned from them?”

“Quite a lot. A few popular ones people ask is if the Twin Dragons of Unova hide deep within these tunnels, or the great Giratina. Neither are true, we do not harbor any of the mythical pokemon in the subway tunnels. Now, because of the age of the tunnels, rumors have spread about ghosts. I highly doubt that any pokemon are within these tunnels, but as a Ghost Type specialist, what is your take on that?” Vic snaps out of the little stupor he’s in and does a small nod.

“Ah, yes. Ghost types do tend to like more abandoned spaces, but they love to play around and harass people. They tend to migrate to places that are abandoned, yes, but a lot like spaces with human traffic to play pranks. For ghost rumors, they almost always start with a ghost pokemon playing tricks. I mean, back in Kalos when I did this without recording things, a lot of the ‘There’s a ghost here!’ stuff was from a playful pokemon. Sometimes though, ghost rumors start from pokemon that aren’t even ghosts! I’ve seen a few playful klefki cause mischief. So for ghost rumors in the tunnels, it may just be a pokemon playing around.” Vic takes a small pause, almost in thought.

“Ah, but I guess in certain situations where no pokemon are present, ghosts still can be around. Because of the existence of ghost pokemon, there is a chance of actual ghosts existing. Now, I almost always believe that there’s a ghost pokemon behind things, but even with my knowledge, there’s some experiences I cannot chalk up to pokemon. There was a time when I went to visit Sycamore’s lab late one night and instead of his lab, I was taken to the second floor. I never pressed the button, but when the door opened and I stepped out, someone stepped past me. It was unnerving. I didn’t go to the lab, I just left. And when I looked back up after leaving, I swore I saw someone in the window…” Vic shudders after telling his story then goes silent. Ingo nods and looks towards the camera.

“Well, prep time’s done, shall we head on into the tunnels?” Curt asks behind the camera. Vic and Ingo nod in unison. Ingo leads the way to a small door by the edge of a platform. He pulls out a key and unlocks the door, opening it and gesturing for them to head on down. They walk down a small set of stairs that look out into the tunnel. Ingo’s chandelure is released from her pokeball in a bright flash, same for Vic’s chandelure. The two pokemon light up the way as they start walking down the tunnel.

<[END VIDEO ID]>

#pkmn irl #vics urbex adventure #Urbex Adventures #long post

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emptymasks · 3 years ago

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Cameron Mackintosh, The West End, and Transphobia in Musical Theatre

So I cannot be a trans person who talks about musicals without addressing this. I haven’t seen anyone else talking about this, and they may well have I just haven’t seen, and this interview is a few weeks old now.

For those unaware of who Cameron Mackintosh is, he perhaps the most famous musical theatre producer and is the producer behind the original productions of: Phantom of the Opera, Les Misérables, Miss Saigon, Kinky Boots, Cats, Mary Poppins, Oliver, Little Shop of Horrors. And the West End versions of: Anything Goes, Follies, Carousel (1993), Oklahoma (1980), My Fair Lady )1970s and 2001), Godspell, Avenue Q (2006), Hair (2010), Sweeney Todd (2015) and most recently the West End production of Hamilton (2017-present), as well as many other musicals. He was knighted in 2017, as of 2019 he has an estimated fortune of £1.28 billion and has been called "the most successful, influential and powerful theatrical producer in the world" by the New York Times.

Let’s take this point by point shall we?

"Classic West End musicals should not be rewritten to make leading roles transgender”. They wouldn’t have to be. If a trans man was cast as Raoul in Phantom of the Opera, nothing would be changed, nothing would be rewritten, it would just happened to be a trans man playing the part instead. Because trans men are men, trans women are women, they are not ‘other’. Nothing, absolutely nothing would have to be rewritten. For all the audience would know, that could be a cis actor playing the part.

You know how I know casting an LGBT+ person as a character who is cis or het makes no difference? There are multiple gay actors who have played Erik/The Phantom in Phantom of the Opera and the role never had to be ‘rewritten’ for them.

If what he means is the music would have to be rewritten, I don't accept that either. I doubt a trans person is going in for a part they do not have the range for. Some trans people may not be able to sing way out of their assigned-birth-gender vocal range, but some can. I doubt this man has ever sat through an audition of a bass Christine Daaé or a soprano Phantom. There are cis men singing high notes in Jesus Christ Superstar, of course plenty of trans woman can sing high notes. Vocal range is not static to your birth gender.

“You can’t implant something that is not inherently there in the story of character.” People make headcannons about characters being trans because there is no proof that they aren’t. Nowhere in any of these musicals that Mackintosh producers do any of the characters ever call themselves cis. For all we know Munkustrap or Mary Poppins or Enjolras could be trans, and some trans people find comfort in that. Show me somewhere in the original libretto where it says any of these characters are “cisgenered”. You can’t. No of course the original writers never thought about that, I’m some of them are transphobic and would hate the idea, but it is not implanting anything that goes against anything mentioned in the text. And again, like in the point above, would not change anything to the story.

Ah, there it is. Suddenly we’ve gone from trying to hide the transphobia behind ‘no, it’s just that it wouldn’t fit in the story’ to ‘trans people are unnatural and putting trans people in things is just forcing people to see them’. As if this needs to be said, but there is nothing unnatural about trans people. Casting trans people is not ‘forcing wokeness’ it’s just employing anyone who is talented enough for the part. For a community that prides itself on being inclusive and lgbt+ positive, that really does only seem to apply to cis gay men a lot, doesn’t it.

Already addressed above why it isn’t “inherently there in the story”, but also no, being trans isn’t a ‘gimmick’, casting a trans character in a role is not a ‘gimmick’ done to try and bring in lgbt+ viewers (at least it never should be). Actors are not just a silly part of your show, they are a key part of your show and they have their own experiences that they bring too the table and make each character their own, and that includes trans people.

That’s very interesting. Wrong, but let’s see what he means. There’s a new musical opening up soon on the West End where the lead character is a trans woman. It’s an adaptation of the book Breakfast On Pluto, which was also adapted into a movie in 2005 staring Cillian Murphy. Now, I do adore the film because as a teen who was starting to question their gender it spoke to me a lot, but it did make the mistake of casting a cis man as the lead trans woman. But it’s 2021 now, and Mackintosh said new musicals with transgender characters could cast trans people in those roles. So that’s what Breakfast On Pluto did right?

That’s what they did, right?

Oh...

Yes a new musical with a lead trans woman character has cast a cis man to play this character. All the while turning down all the trans woman who auditioned, as if auditions should have ever allowed anyone other than trans women to apply, and casting a trans woman to play one of the other side cis characters.

The team behind the musical doubled-down after the backlash and were quick to point out that they have other trans people on the crew so that’s good enough right? Wrong.

Violence against trans women goes up when cis men are continually cast as trans women. It perpetuates this idea that trans women are actually men when audiences see the actor outside of the character and the actor is a man. Cis men are terrified of being perceived as gay for liking a trans woman and when the trans woman characters in films, tv and theatre are all played by men (most noticeably and recently Eddie Redmayne in The Danish Girl) it only seeks to push that belief further.

Cameron Mackintosh doesn’t believe trans people have any business playing characters that were not 100% explicitly written as being trans and we should essentially ‘stick to our own stories’. But then when a new musical comes to the West End with a lead trans character, a cis man is cast.

I implore everyone to watch this short clip from the documentary Disclosure: Trans Lives on Screen:

And just because cis women do not abuse and attack trans men to the same scale that cis men do to trans women, it still means seeing a female actor play a trans man contributes to transphobia in the audience as all they see is a woman 'pretending to be a man', a 'man in a skirt', someone who off-screen is not that gender.

Tdlr: Trans people can play cis characters and it doesn't require the role to be re-written, or the whole script to be re-written. Trans characters should be played by trans people.

#phantom of the opera #hamilton #mary poppins #cats #les mis #musical theatre #west end #broadway #cameron mackintosh #andrew lloyd webber #transgender #lgbt stuff #transphobia #mytext #mywriting #important #breakfast on pluto #tw transphobia

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btsqualityy · 4 years ago

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I Choose You

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, crushes-to-lovers, kind of a soulmate!AU (it’s based on their scents), fluff, and smut

Warnings: Oral sex (Male and female receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, soft Dom!Taehyung, impregnation kink, and creampie

Author’s Note: This fic is based on a prompt from the Spring Fest “Spring Will Come Again” hosted by @bangtanarmynet! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Prompt: Every Spring Fest, the unmated Alphas had to choose a mate but when Taehyung felt a pull, he didn’t expect it to lead to you.

“Come on!” Taehyung whined loudly. “Just tell me!”

“You know that I cannot tell you who is participating in the Mating Ceremony Tae,” Jimin giggled. “It’s against pack rules.”

“Alright, well just give me a clue,” Taehyung tried to bargain. The two of them were sat outside in the territory that belonged to their pack, deciding to enjoy their lunch in the newly nice weather.

“You know, to be an Alpha, you have no sense of patience,” Jimin laughed.

“And for you to be an Omega, you have no sense of loyalty to your best friend,” Taehyung pouted.

“Oh God, he’s pulling out the pouts,” Jimin groaned playfully. “If you’re so impatient about not being able to know who’s participating in the Ceremony beforehand, then why are you even doing it?”

The Mating Ceremony was an age old tradition in Taehyung’s pack that occurred every year, right at the start of the Spring Festival. For people who still believed in soulmates, the Mating Ceremony was an unbiased opportunity for those people to find the one that their soul desired. The Omegas and Betas would gather together, with their faces hidden, and it was up to an Alpha to use only their sense of smell to find the scent that they liked the most.

Of course, a lot of people felt that scents weren’t the only important thing when it came to building the foundation of a relationship as time has passed but it was still an honored and revered tradition nonetheless.

“Besides the fact that literally everyone that I know has found their mate during the Ceremony?” Taehyung huffed. “The fact that I’m almost 26 years old and haven’t found my mate yet.”

“Oh please, you say that as if you’re old and if you’re old, then I’m old,” Jimin said as he rolled his eyes. “And I’m definitely not old.”

“Well, you say that because you’re not alone,” Taehyung pointed out. “My parents found each other 27 years ago, Yoongi hyung found you three years ago, Joon hyung found Aareum the year before that, and hell, even Jin hyung found Jungkookie last year. Too long, didn’t read, I’m gonna die alone if I don’t do it.”

“I feel so bad for your future mate because you are so fucking dramatic,” Jimin laughed as he reached over and stole a French fry off of Taehyung’s plate.

“You’d have time to warn them if you’d just tell me who’s joining this year,” Taehyung tried to persuade him. “Come on, what’s the point in having the Head Omega as your best friend if he doesn’t supply you with useful information?”

“Oh, and here I was thinking that I was your bestfriend because I’m your platonic soulmate,” Jimin scoffed. “Look Tae, the entire point of the Mating Ceremony is to let your heart and your nose do the deciding for you. If I tell you who’s participating and who’s not, it’ll cloud your judgement and then the whole thing will be moot.”

“Ugh, fine Mr. “I wanna be ethical”,” Taehyung sighed as he stood up from the table. “I gotta go and finish up my gift for the Ceremony so I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Pouty Pants,” Jimin giggled as he waved his hand and Taehyung began to walk around the territory. He wasn’t lying when he said that he needed to go finish working on his courting gift, but he figured that it wouldn’t hurt to take a walk around the pack’s territory before he did.

Taehyung’s pack was pretty tight knit, though it was considered to be considerably larger than the other surrounding packs. Even though Taehyung’s family weren’t the ones who founded the pack, his great-great-grandfather was one of the first members to join the pack so Taehyung‘s family line literally had stakes in the very beginning of the pack.

Growing up, Taehyung had been pretty well known around the pack but after he presented as an Alpha, it was as if he were a celebrity. Every unmated Alpha, Beta, and Omega seemed to be after him and admittedly, he had enjoyed the attention for the last few years but now, he was ready to find his mate, settle down, and start a family.

Just as Taehyung walked around the corner that separated the school building and the doctor’s house, he collided with a figure that had literally rushed into him.

“Hey!” Taehyung yelped, gasping when the papers that the person had been holding fell down onto the ground.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, bending down and beginning to pick the papers up. Taehyung bent down as well, helping when he realized who you were.

“Y/N?” He called and you looked up at him, your eyes widening when you realize who he was.

“Oh Taehyung, I’m so sorry,” you apologized, bowing your head to him.

“No no no, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it,” he assured you. “Just let me help you with these.”

“I already ran into you, you don’t have to,” you tried to say but Taehyung just cut you off.

“I want to,” he chuckled and you just decided to let it go as the two of you finished picking up all of the fallen papers. Once you were both done, you stood up straight and Taehyung handed the small stack of papers that he had collected over to you.

“So, where were you off to that has you in such a rush?” Taehyung wondered with a smile.

“Well, uh, the start of Spring marks the halfway point in the second half of the schoolyear for the pups so I was in a rush to get their progress reports finished,” you explained and Taehyung couldn’t help but to smile at how shy you still seemed to be around him.

The two of you knew of each other from around the pack and you went to school together, being as though the two of you were born in the same year. Because of that, you both had a lot of mutual friends but the two of you never hung out much because you were really shy and seemed almost scared of Taehyung so he always made sure to give you your space.

“Ah, you do work in the school building,” he chuckled.

“With the seven to nine year olds,” you smiled.

“I remember, I remember,” he nodded. “Well, besides that, how are you?”

“Good, good,” you replied. “Busy as ever this time of year, but good. How about yourself?”

“I’m good, just preparing for the Spring Festival, ” he told her.

“Oh, are you doing the Mating Ceremony this year?” You asked and he nodded his head.

“Are you?”

“I’ve never done it before and I don’t think I’ll start now,” you giggled. “It’s not really my thing.”

“What, finding your soulmate isn’t your thing?” Taehyung teased.

“No, I meant that not being picked by anyone wouldn’t be my thing,” you clarified.

“Oh please, somebody would definitely choose you,” Taehyung said. “I know that we don’t talk much but anyone can see that you’re a good woman and a great Omega. I bet that any Alpha would be proud to have you be their mate.”

“Oh,” you uttered in surprise, and Taehyung couldn’t help but to feel a little sense of pride at how flustered he had made you. “T-Thank you Taehyung.”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned.

“W-Well, I have to go,” you murmured. “See you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Taehyung agreed but he didn’t know if you’d even heard him because you were already walking, almost running, away from him.

.....................................

Even though the Spring Fest was being held during the first week of April, Taehyung had made the decision that he’d be participating back in December of the previous year and this was because he wanted to make sure he had enough time to prepare his courting gift. A courting gift would show his future mate that he was serious about them so it took Taehyung a lot of thought to decide what he wanted to give his future mate. In the end though, it was actually Taehyung’s mother who helped him.

He off-handedly mentioned that he was trying to figure out a gift and she ended up giving him his great-grandmother’s engagement ring. It was a ruby that sat on a nest of gold diamonds, with a gold band to accompany it. Taehyung was familiar with it because it was a family heirloom and he was so honored that his mother trusted him with it.

When the first day of the Spring Fest arrived, Taehyung made sure that the ring box was nestled safely in the pocket of his slacks before he checked his appearance in the mirror. Wanting to look his best, he settled on a button up dress shirt that was a deep maroon color and paired it with black slacks. He added a few simple accessories like a few rings on both hands and earrings but he skipped any necklaces or bracelets, wanting to makes sure that nothing would get in the way of someone being able to smell his scent.

“Let’s go find our mate,” Taehyung whispered to himself, making sure to fix his hair one last time before hurrying up and rushing out of the front door of his house.

The Mating Ceremony was to be held in the large flower garden that was towards the back of the pack’s territory. The logic behind it was that finding your soulmate amongst beautiful things would help your relationship with said soulmate be beautiful as well.

When Taehyung got there, he immediately spotted Jin and Jungkook sitting together on a bench so he walked over to them.

“Hi Tae hyung!” Jungkook greeted him happily.

“Hi,” Taehyung replied. “You guys came for moral support?”

“You know it,” Jin nodded. “You look really good Tae-ah.”

“Ready to find your soulmate?” Jungkook wondered.

“Thank you, and hopefully,” Taehyung sighed heavily. “I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t worry hyung, all you have to do is trust your nose,” Jungkook told him.

“Kook’s right, you know our senses will never purposefully lead us wrong,” Jin added.

“Thanks for the advice guys,” Taehyung chuckled, reaching out and ruffling Jungkook’s hair a little. Suddenly, a voice erupted over the loud speakers that had been placed around the garden.

“The Mating Ceremony is about to commence,” the voice that Taehyung recognized as Jimin announced. “If you are offering a gift, please get into position.”

“Well, that’s my cue,” Taehyung said.

“Relax and don’t worry,” Jin advised him. “Just...let it happen.”

“Ok,” Taehyung nodded before turning around and walking over to a large wall of white roses. Falling into line with several other Alphas and Betas who were also participating in the Ceremony, he waited with baited breath as another line of Omegas and Betas stepped into the garden and walked over to stand right in front of the wall of roses.

Every Omega or Beta had a veil or mask over their face so that they couldn’t be seen, and their own choice of outfit but most of them were dressed pretty formally, just like Taehyung was.

“Alphas and Betas who are presenting gifts, you know the rules,” Jimin spoke up again. “No sneaking a peek at anybody until you offer them your gift and they actually accept it, no trying to force your gift upon anyone who makes it clear that they do not want it, and trust your instincts! Happy finding!”

Taehyung then closed his eyes, taking a deep inhale in order to smell the air around him. He picked up a few scents here and there, with hints of chocolate and mint but none of them especially stuck out to them. He then opened his eyes and they slightly widened when he saw some of the Alphas and Betas already offering gifts to some of the Betas and Omegas who had been waiting. He had to admit, it kind of shocked him because it was seemingly so simple for them but not for him. Deciding to follow everyone’s advice and trust his senses, he shut his eyes again and took another deep breath it, and that was when he smelled it.

The initial wave that hit his nose was reminiscent of tangerines, and then that was mixed with the scent of berries that seemed to almost intermingle with the tangerine scent. Those were two very typical scents, especially for Omegas, but what really caught Taehyung’s attention was the scent of pink champagne. It was something that he had never smelt in a scent before and before he could even realize it, he was moving towards the source of the scent.

When he realized that he had stepped up to the person that the scent belonged to, he took a second to look over them. It seemed to be a woman, who had on a flowing white dress along with a small matching white veil. Taehyung reached out and extended his wrist towards their nose for them to be able to smell his scent clearly and when the woman let out an appreciative hum, Taehyung’s heart clenched because this was it. He had found the one.

Taehyung reached into his pocket and took out the ring box, extending it towards the woman. The woman then reached out and took the box from it, a soft giggle coming from her as she did so.

“Thank you,” the woman said and Taehyung’s eyes widened because he recognized the voice, he just couldn’t remember where from. When the woman reached up and lifted the veil back from her face, Taehyung wanted to kick himself for not immediately recognizing who the voice came from.

“Hi,” you smiled.

.....................................

“I cannot believe that I didn’t know that it was you,” Taehyung huffed.

“Well, that’s kind of the point Taehyung,” you giggled from your spot on his bed. After the ceremony had ended, Taehyung invited you back to his house so that the two of you could have some alone time.

“I just didn’t expect this,” he said as he sat down next to you.

“Are you...upset that I’m your mate?” You asked wearily and Taehyung immediately shook his head.

“No!” He exclaimed. “Even though we don’t talk much, I know that you’re amazing. Hell, Jungkook raves about you all the time. I also meant what I said the other day.”

“W-Well, that’s good,” you replied shyly. “By the way, I’m sorry for not talking to you much over the years.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he shrugged. “I just figured that you were shy and I don’t mind that.”

“It wasn’t shyness, though,” you blurted and his eyebrows rose.

“Really?”

“The truth is, I’ve had a crush on you since you presented,” you confessed.

“Y/N, that was almost 10 years ago,” he gasped in surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I never thought that I had a chance,” You chuckled. “For years, every unmated Omega and Beta and even some Alphas have been after you. When you look at them and then look at me, I’m not as interesting or as beautiful when compared to them. I don’t know, I just don’t think that I measure up.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Taehyung admonished you. “You’re gorgeous Y/N-ah, and the sweetest person I know.”

“Really?” You deadpanned.

“Absolutely,” he nodded. He could tell that you didn’t believe him though, so he decided to be honest. “You wanna know something?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve had a crush on you too,” he admitted, making your eyes widen. “Not for as long as you have, but at least two years. I just never made a move because you seemed so shy around me and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable because I figured that you just weren’t interested.”

“Seriously?” You gasped and he nodded. “We’re a big pair of idiots then, huh?”

“Definitely,” he laughed as he reached over and grabbed both of your hands in his. “It’s a good thing that we both decided to participate in the Ceremony then, huh?”

“Another confession? I only joined because I was hoping that my Omega would be able to say to your Alpha what I’ve never been able to bring myself to say aloud,” you told him.

“And what is that?”

“That I want to be with you, Kim Taehyung,” you replied. Taehyung felt his Alpha preen at your confession and it wasn’t that Taehyung had doubted the validity of the Ceremony but actually being able to feel the connection between the two of you only solidified everything for him.

“I want to be with you too Y/N L/N,” he smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you giggled and Taehyung let go of your hands to set his hands on your cheeks, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss began soft at first, the both of you feeling a little nervous since this whole thing was so new.

It wasn’t until you laid back on the bed, pulling Taehyung down along with you that the two of you became more comfortable, you opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to slide against yours. Taehyung set his hand on your thigh, gently tracing random shapes with his fingertips as you kissed each other passionately.

“Y/N, I have to ask you something,” he murmured and you pulled away from his lips to look up at him.

“What is it?”

“Are you a virgin?” He wondered and you felt your cheeks warm up immediately. “I’m not trying to be intrusive or anything, I just want to know so that I can gauge how comfortable you are.”

“Do you remember when I dated Xiumin?” You asked him and he rolled his eyes.

“That dickhead? Yeah,” he huffed.

“I lost my virginity to him.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m in love with that piece of information,” he admitted.

“I only dated him because I was trying to get over you, which sounds really bad when I say it out loud,” you laughed. “That was around the same time that you were dating Jisoo.”

“Ah,” he said as he set his fingertips over your lips to silence you. “We don’t mention that forbidden name.”

“Ok, sorry,” you giggled.

“So, if I told you that I want to have sex with you tonight,” Taehyung began, making your lower half clench around nothing. “Would you want to?”

“Yes,” you rushed out. “I want to.”

“Good, because I want to too,” he smiled before leaning down and kissing you again. You moaned into his mouth when he moved over so that he was on top of you, his lips never leaving yours as he did so. He then trailed his lips downwards, licking and sucking on the skin of your neck.

“Ohh,” you sighed in pleasure, reaching down and tangling your fingers in his hair. Taehyung pulled away and reached up to grab your hands, untangling them from his hair and holding your wrists firmly when he placed them back down on the bed above your head, holding them there.

“You keep these here for me, ok?” He asked and you could tell from his tone that he was both asking for permission and clarification.

“Ok,” you whispered and he smiled.

“Perfect Omega,” he murmured as he went back to kissing your neck and you had to clasp your hands together because you were too tempted to reach down and touch him again. After he had left a few marks on your neck, he brought his hands up and grabbed onto your breasts which made you gasp.

“As beautiful as this dress is Y/N-ah, I think we should take it off now. Yeah?” Taehyung suggested and you nodded your head rapidly. He moved off of you so that you could sit up and he moved around the bed on his knees so that he was behind you. He reached out and pulled down the zipper on your dress, and you reached up and pulled the dress down off of your shoulders. Once your arms were out of it, you got up onto your knees and pushed it down your legs and onto the floor.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous Y/N-ah,” he muttered huskily as he took in the sight of you in your stark white bralette and white lace panties. Your Omega preened at his praise, making your cheeks warm up.

“Really?”

“Really,” he smiled, moving back around your body and leaning down so that he was face to face with your breasts as he reached out to grab ahold of them. “I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you whispered as he pulled the material of the bralette to the side, causing both of your breasts to fall out. Without another word, he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. You couldn’t help but to fall back on the bed, Taehyung falling along without a problem and not letting up on the onslaught that was his tongue.

Once your nipple had stiffened to a peak, he switched over to your other nipple and gave it the same treatment. You could smell your scent from in between your thighs, the notes of berries and pink champagne becoming stronger and stronger the wetter you became.

You knew Taehyung could smell you too, because you could feel the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh.

“Fuck, Alpha,” you whimpered. “Wanna suck you off.”

“Whatever you want baby,” he agreed easily after pulling his mouth away from you, sitting up and reaching down to unbutton his slacks. You sat up, watching with hooded eyes as he unzipped them, pushing them down a little bit so that he was able to pull out his cock and your mouth literally watered at the sight of it.

Taehyung’s cock wasn’t enormous, but it was definitely longer than average and it looked to be thick. You reached out and wrapped both of your hands around his length, and you felt yourself become wetter when you realized that you couldn’t even wrap your hands around him completely.

“Fuck, I can smell you baby,” he grumbled and you moaned softly at the pet name. “Do you like what you see?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. He exhaled harshly, looking down to watch as you did your best to take as much of him in your mouth as possible. You actually managed to do pretty good, doing your best to breathe through your nose as you sunk down closer and closer to the base of his cock.

“Oh fuck,” he huffed. “Such a good girl, taking Alpha’s cock down your throat.” Bringing your hands back up, you stacked both of them on top of each other as you jerked him off while suckling on the head of his cock.

“God, that feels good. Makes me want to fuck your throat,” he grumbled. “You gonna let me do that one day baby? Gonna let Alpha use your mouth?”

“Mmm, yes Alpha,” you gasped after releasing him from your mouth, your spit acting as lube as you continued to jerk him off.

“Fuck, lay down for me,” he instructed you. “I have to taste you.” You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, laying back on the bed and resting on your forearms as you watched him push his slacks and boxers down and off his legs before he moved onto unbuttoning his shirt.

He wasn’t overly muscular but you could still see the outline of what would be a six-pack, and your inner Omega loved the fact that your Alpha would be able to protect you if need be.

Taehyung laid down on his front in between your legs, pulling your panties to the side before leaning forward and licking a stripe up your pussy, from your slit up to your clit. You gasped, your thighs involuntarily coming to together but Taehyung’s hands came up to push them back down.

“Be still and let me make you come baby,” he whispered and you nodded numbly. He then went back to licking at you, making you whine and squirm underneath him.

“Huh, holy shit,” you gasped, your chest beginning to move up and down quickly as your orgasm approached you. “Please don’t stop Tae.”

“Mmm,” he moaned against you, shaking his head back and forth over your clit which made his tongue do the same.

“Do that again,” you requested and he obliged you, shaking his head back and forth rapidly and you felt your orgasm winding to it’s end in your abdomen. “Fuck yes, I’m gonna come.” Your head fell back onto the bed and just as you closed your eyes and felt yourself about to tip over the edge into ecstasy, Taehyung pulled away from you.

“What?” You whimpered as you opened your eyes, looking down at him.

“I want you to come on my knot,” he told you. He reached out and grabbed the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and throwing them onto the floor. He then settled himself in between your thighs, leaning down and letting his cock rub against your clit.

“If you want me to come on your knot, you shouldn’t do that,” you whimpered.

“You could come like this?” He wondered in awe and you nodded your head. “We’re gonna have to test that out one day.”

“We have the rest of our lives for that,” you promised him.

“You got that right,” he smiled, moving his hips so that he could slide inside of you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly opened you up.

“Fuh, fuck,” you stuttered, your eyes fluttering closed at how good he felt inside of you, stretching you out in the best way.

“God, you’re so tight but you’re opening up so well for me baby,” Taehyung grunted, making sure to push his hips as close to yours as he could so that he could go as deep as possible. “You really are my mate, huh?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your mind barely being able to comprehend his words because the feeling of being completely and utterly clouded all of your senses. He continued to roll his hips against yours, his cock dragging against your walls as he did.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this, how much I’ve thought about this,” he muttered. “I’d see you walking around the territory all shy, keeping your eyes low so that people wouldn’t approach you and all I could think about was that you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and how much I wanted to fuck you with my knot.”

“Mmm, knot,” you slurred, making Taehyung smile because of course knot was the word that you caught.

“I’d watch you with the pups, teaching them and being so gentle and patient with them and my only thought would be about how I wanted to fuck some pups of my own into you so that you could be their mother,” he groaned, his hips stuttering slightly when he felt your walls clench around him like a vice grip. “Oh, you want that? Want Alpha to give you some pups?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned wantonly, moving your own hips so that you were fucking back onto him. “Want your cum, want a pup.”

“I’ll give it to you baby,” he swore as he began to fuck you faster. “Alpha will give you anything you want.”

“W-want you,” you whined as you felt your orgasm quickly building back up again.

“You have me baby,” he chuckled deeply. “You always have, I think.”

“A-alpha, g-gonna c-c-come,” you managed to utter as your body moved up and down the bed, the force of Taehyung fucking you literally moving you on the bed.

“Go ahead so that I can knot you gorgeous,” he encouraged you. You reached down and set your fingertips on your clit, only managing to make two circles on it before you were coming. Your thighs spasmed and clutched around Taehyung’s waist, the rest of your body shaking on the bed from how forceful your orgasm was.

“T-Tae,” you whimpered, your body shivering even after the crest of your orgasm had passed. Taehyung leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your face that were in stark contrast to how he was still fucking you.

“So good for me baby,” he whispered. “Came so prettily for me.”

“Kiss me,” you pleaded weakly and he just smiled at you before pressing his lips against yours. The force coming from how hard he was thrusting into you caused your mouth to fall open and Taehyung didn’t hesitate to stick his tongue inside, exploring around.

You literally felt his cock pulse inside of you and before you could pull away in order to ask, ropes of his cum flooded into you. His knot inflated immediately afterwards, making you moan as it forced its’ way inside of you.

“Holy shit Y/N-ah,” he panted as he hid his face in your neck, collapsing on top of you. “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”

“Me either,” you admitted with a giggle. “I loved it though.”

“Me too,” he muttered as he pulled himself up so that he could look down at you. “I know this is probably a weird thing to ask given what we just got finished doing, but you accept the fact that you’re my mate right?”

“Tae, of course,” you smiled. “My Omega would hate me if I rejected you and you know our wolf side doesn’t lie.”

“I guess I just wanted to know if it was as strong for you as it was for me,” he mumbled and you placed your hands on his cheeks, making him look down at you.

“You’re my mate Kim Taehyung,” you told him. “I knew it and felt it the moment that you gave me your wrist and I smelled your scent.”

“I knew it too,” he smiled. “I’ll give you your bite in the morning, I’m just too tired right now.”

“No complaints from me,” you laughed. “Coming so hard can definitely take a lot out of a person.” Taehyung then laid his head down on your chest and you reached up, setting your hands in his hair as you began to play with the sweaty strands.

“I’m so glad that my Alpha chose you,” he muttered sleepily and you could feel the goofy smile spread onto your face before you leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

“Me too Tae,” you sighed in contentment. “Me too.”

#BAspringwillcome #bangtanarmynet #bts #bts taehyung #bts v #abo bts #taehyung x reader #v x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #v smut #v angst #v fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader

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engie-ivy · 3 years ago

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Yes, he's in the hospital and doesn't remember anything about himself, but it's actually not that bad. His memories are sure to come back in a matter of days, and until then, he can spend time eating, sleeping, reading, daydreaming about that ridiculously attractive Healer...

(The aim is Funny and Fluffy Wolfstar)

It's Like the First Time

“Everything seems to be in order,” the Healer Trainee, Aubrey, says. “As we expected. How’s the dizziness?”

“When I’m laying down, it doesn’t bother me,” he replies.

“That’s good,” Aubrey smiles. “The dizziness and light-headedness should gradually disappear over the upcoming days, and then the memories will come back after.”

He nods. He’d be more worried about all his memories being gone if the Healers at St Mungo’s weren’t so certain they’ll all come back in a matter of days. Dizziness, light-headedness, and amnesia; it’s a familiar picture when being hit with a Confundo-charm from a defective wand, which the Healers have encountered many times before and has apparently happened to him during some friendly duelling.

It’s always the same picture: the dizziness and light-headedness slowly lessening, and the memories all coming back at once after two to at most five days. Like, one moment you know nothing, and the next you remember everything.

Well, he doesn’t exactly know nothing. His semantic memory is intact, meaning he has basic knowledge and remembers facts and skills. He knows he’s a wizard, he knows the hospital is called St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he knows the people in the lime green robes are the Healers, he knows that since he’s a wizard he probably went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he knows perfectly well how to perform a wide variety of charms, jinxes, hexes and curses. (So luckily those years at Hogwarts weren’t for nothing)

What he doesn’t know is anything about himself. His episodic memory, memory for any kind of life events, is completely gone. Who he is, what he does, what he has done, who he knows, it’s all gone. His own mum could walk into the room, and he’d think she was the laundry lady. (Luckily, she seemed like a very nice lady, and had thought it rather funny)

The only thing he knows about himself, not because he remembers, but because it’s the only thing they told him, is that he’s someone named Remus Lupin. Apparently, in the past, trying to fill in the gaps has proven to be more frustrated than helpful for the patient and, as the memories will come back on their own anyway, quite unnecessary. Therefore, they don’t tell him much else, and all he can do is wait.

Past experience has also shown that the patient often finds it quite stressful, and even frightening, to be surrounded by lots of people who all know him, and whom he feels like he should recognize, but doesn’t. Therefore, friends and family are only allowed in limited numbers, one new person a day, which started with his mum.

His mum had brought him his favourite novel, saying that he read it so many times, and would always wish he could erase it from his memory just so he could read it again with the same sense of anticipation. Well, she had figured this was his chance. Now, all he can do is lie in bed, read his book, and eat food, which is... Well, pretty great actually.

He doesn’t have anything to worry about. How can he worry about anything if he doesn’t remember anything? It’s like having a little break from life and all its expectations and responsibilities. (Though the fact that he’s so happy about having no worries, makes him think that this Remus Lupin normally worries quite a lot)

When a Healer comes to see him, he suddenly knows something else about himself: he’s very, very gay.

The Healer has a classic, aristocratic beauty to him, with his sharp cheekbones and full lips, and his eyes are of a clear grey, that appears silver, which contrasts quite nicely with the strands of raven black hair that have fallen from the messy bun on top of his head. And no one has the right to look that good in lime green robes, which he fills out pretty well with his lean, muscular body.

The Healer gives him a soft smile, and really, if he smiles at all his patients like that, the whole hospital must be diagnosed with palpitations. “How’re you feeling?” the Healer asks in a warm, deep voice.

He wonders whether his semantic memory has failed him after all, as he suddenly seems to have forgotten how speaking works. “Erm...” he says, very eloquently.

The Healer frowns, and looks at Aubrey. “Isn’t the confusion supposed to be gone by now?”

Aubrey looks from the Healer to him and back to the Healer, while a knowing smile appears on her face. “Don’t worry,” she tells the Healer. “He has been perfectly responsive and coherent all day.”

“Has he had some Anti-Confusion Concoction?”

“He’s had a small dose, as the confusion was already wearing off on his own.”

“Are you going to give him Memory Potion?” the Healer continues his questioning.

Aubrey shakes her head. “We have already given him Mandrake Restorative Draught against the spell’s physical effects. Adding Memory Potion might make the dose of Stewed Mandrake too high. As we can be certain all memories will come back on their own, it isn’t worth the risk.”

The Healer nods thoughtfully. “So only a daily dose of Restoration Potion until all effects have subsided, I assume?”

“Yes,” Aubrey agrees. “Based on past experience, that’ll in all likeliness be sufficient.”

The Healer turns his head back to him, and that soft smile is back in place. He opens his mouth to speak, but right at that moment, a bright flash can be seen, and a gazelle made out of shining white light is standing in front of them.

“I’m so sorry to disturb on a moment like this,” a stressed-sounding voice of a young woman comes from the Patronus, that is directing itself to the Healer. “But you’re needed back at the HADA department immediately! We’re having an emergency.”

The Healer curses under his breath. He takes a step towards the door, but then stops to look back at him with a pained expression.

“He’s in good hands,” Aubrey says.

The Healer nods. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells him, before hurrying out the door.

Though his mum was right, and the novel is really good, he has trouble focusing on it from that moment on. He’s constantly interrupted by thoughts of bright, silver-grey eyes. Merlin, he’s seen the guy once, and he’s acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush!

Telling himself off for it doesn’t stop him from looking up hopefully the moment he catches a glimpse of lime-green robes. It’s quite a disappointment when the Healer that walks in to check his vitals is a greying, grumpy man with a face that seems to be twisted in a permanent scowl. Asking him where the good-looking Healer went to seems kind of impolite though, so he just sits and nods whenever the Healer grumbles something unintelligible.

“So, why have I gotten a different Healer?” he asks Aubrey later, trying to sound casual.

“Different Healer?” she asks, not understanding.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling to his great annoyance that his cheeks begin to flush. “There was this older man checking up on me, while before, there was the young man with the broad shoulder, shining dark hair, sweet smile, pretty eyes...” He trails off.

“Oh!” Understanding, and a not insignificant amount of amusement, appear on Aubrey’s face. “Oh, he wasn’t not your Healer, sweetie! He was visiting.”

“Ah,” he sighs disappointedly. So the Healer had only been here for some sort of second opinion, and he probably won’t be back. It was too good to be true, to have a Healer like that around as a nice distraction.

“Healer Black works for the Healing Against the Dark Arts Department,” Aubrey continues.

“You know him?” he asks.

“I know of him. But honestly,” she adds with a wink. “Everyone working at St Mungo’s knows of Healer Black!”

He chuckles. “I suppose he cannot not catch your eye.”

“It’s not just his appearance,” Aubrey says. “Healer Black is the leading expert on healing Dark Arts-related injuries and combating curses from the Dark Arts. He has invented novel Healing Spells and revolutionized the protocol for treating curses. Healers from all over the world consult him on their cases, and patients come to see him from all over the world.”

“Wow...” he sighs again, but this time it’s a more wistful sigh. He doesn’t even care anymore that he sounds like a love-struck teenager. Maybe Aubrey will write it off as a side-effect of the Confundo-charm. He briefly wonders about that himself, but as those bright, silver-grey eyes come to mind again, he knows he’s under a whole different kind of spell.

“Yeah,” Aubrey smiles. “He’s quite a remarkable man.”

“So I guess I won’t be seeing him again then,” he says dejectedly, letting his head hang. He wonders why they’d sent that Healer to come see him in the first place, as he surely must’ve had better things to do.

He hears a choked noise besides him, and he looks up at Aubrey, who seems to be stifling a laugh, with her hand pressed against her mouth. “Don’t worry, love,” she says with obvious amusement in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of him.”

The young man sitting next to his bed has been talking about his wife and their baby for an hour straight. Though it really isn’t so bad. His stories are quite amusing, and the man is very charismatic. He has sparkling eyes, and hair so messy, he had immediately checked whether it wasn’t storming outside when the man had entered. He has a disarming smile and a contagious laugh, and is surprisingly easy to talk to. He says his name is James Potter, and he’s Remus Lupin’s best friend.

He has to give Remus Lupin a pat on the back for having made such a nice friend. Honestly, the idea of socializing with new people, trying to make friends, does not appeal to him, and he’s glad to know Remus already has them.

“And I just went to see Sirius,” James says. “Well, more like I was speed walking next to him in the two minutes he had to get from one room to another. He still managed to apologize twenty times though. Normally, I’d say he should be sorry, but the poor guy seems to hardly have any time to eat or sleep.” James shakes his head. “Did you hear what happened? Three children were playing in the woods, and they must’ve accidentally touched an unknown cursed object. They were brought in barely conscious and with a mother completely beside herself. So of course, ‘the widely renowned and highly acclaimed, capable-of-the-impossible Healer Black’ was the only one who might save them. And he has, as they seem to be recovering,” James adds, relieved. “But really, there aren’t many excuses that would justify him not being here, but having to save children’s lives is definitely one of them.”

“Thank Merlin those children are alright. That sounds- Wait,” he says, before sitting up. “Healer Black? You know Healer Black?”

James blinks at him. “Ehm... Yeah?”

“Merlin, that man is so handsome!” he exclaims. “He was here for like two minutes, before he got called away to other patients, but I just can’t stop thinking about him! He already looks perfect, and now you’re telling me that he’s some kind of miracle Healer saving children’s lives?” He sighs. “It’s just not fair.”

At first, James still looks confused. Then his eyes widen in understanding, and his mouth starts twitching like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

He doesn’t blame him. He’d laugh at himself too, with how ridiculous he’s been acting over this random Healer. He just hopes he won’t have embarrassed Remus Lupin too much once his memories have returned.

“Don’t worry,” James says, in an amused voice. “Healer Black will come back as soon as he has the time.”

Now, his own eyes widen. “You really think he’d come to see me again?”

James lets out a strangled noise and starts coughing, which he strongly suspects being a laugh quickly covered up by a cough. “Yes,” James replies, suppressed laughter still sounding through in his voice. “I really think so.”

He knows it’s rather pathetic, but as he’s got nothing better to do, he did it anyway. He practiced what he’s going to say to Healer Black when, or if, he comes back.

He’ll tilt his head slightly downwards, so he’ll look up at the man through his lashes, and then he’ll give him a coy smile, while softly saying ‘Healer Black. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve heard many great things about you, and what you did for those children is truly admirable.’ Luckily, flirting seems to fall under semantic memory.

However, when the moment comes that Healer Black enters the room again, his carefully constructed plan falls apart.

At first, he’s stunned that yes, Healer Black really looks like that, and he hasn’t made it better in his head. Alright, the man has bags under his eyes, his robes are rumpled, and his hair is slightly greasy and so much strands are peaking out of his bun, making it look more messy than what would qualify as a normal messy bun, but he still looks like the most beautiful person in the world. He doesn’t even notice Aubrey and James walk in after Healer Black.

He opens his mouth to deliver his carefully practiced lines, but the words die in his throat as Healer Black... Well, flings himself at him. He literally splays out on top of him, hugging him close and pressing his face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you so much,” Healer Black murmurs against his skin.

He freezes. Yes, he has forgotten quite a lot, but he’s still pretty sure this is not the standard operating procedure for Healers to greet their patients. “Erm...” He says, once again ever so eloquently.

Healer Black lifts his head and looks up at him in confusion, but he can’t possibly be more confused than he’s feeling.

James scrapes his throat. “Remus, may I introduce you to Healer Sirius Black-Lupin, your husband?”

“So neither one of you decided to tell him?” Healer Black has crossed his arms over his chest and is glaring at Audrey and James.

“I’m sorry, Healer Black!” Aubrey squeaks. “I know I should’ve told him, but it was just too cute, watch him be all smitten with his own husband.”

He isn’t really listening. He’s openly staring at Healer Black. Apparently, he bloody married the guy, so it’s allowed, right?

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, Remus Lupin,” he whispers under his breath. “But thank you, and kudos to you, mate, kudos to you.”

As he looks at Healer Black up and down (at some point he’ll really have to stop referring to his husband as Healer Black, probably), he suddenly really wishes for his memories to come back fast, as there are some things he’d really like to remember.

Though on the other hand, he thinks, biting his lip, maybe ‘Healer Black’ won’t mind freshening up his memory in the meantime?

“Ugh,” Remus groans, hiding his face against Sirius’ chest. “I can’t believe I was practically drooling over you!”

Sirius chuckles while he’s rubbing soft circles on Remus’ back. “You were cute.”

As a reply, Remus just groans again.

“I’m sorry, though,” Sirius says, suddenly quietly. “It wouldn’t have happened if I had been by your side as I was supposed to be.”

Remus lifts up his head to look at Sirius. “Hey, none of that! You were saving lives.” He presses a quick kiss to his husband’s lips. “You wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to be anywhere else.”

Sirius smiles softly at him, and Remus lays his head back on his chest. “Besides, it was a good reminder that I should be more proud of my accomplishment to get Healer Black to marry me.”

Sirius barks a laugh, that Remus can feel vibrating in his chest. “And how exactly was me down on one knee practically begging you to become my husband ‘you getting me to marry you’?”

Remus smiles fondly, happy that that memory is safely back in his head. “And it was nice to feel like having a new crush again,” he continues. “ All exhilarated, enraptured, and in awe.”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Remus’ head. “I feel like that every time I look at you.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #healer sirius black #wolfstar meet-cute #but not really

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laurensprentiss · 3 years ago

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Games We Play [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 8:

A/N: I cannot believe this is what I am offering you guys after all this time, please forgive me. Bossy but calculating Hotch, childish banter, tension, Hotch is actually nice sometimes, allusions to their past and first ever meeting (keep your eyes open) and a big plot reveal at the end. Hotch actually does something nice for reader. Twice.

Warnings: Swearing, possessive, kinda bossy Hotch. Tension, mentions of alcohol. Pretty tame chapter in comparison to previous ones.

------

The night Hotch leaves to go back to New York, you call JJ and tear her a new one. You end up having to come clean about having never passed on the dinner invitation for Hotch in the first place and she makes a passing comment about how she’d never expected Hotch to fly out all the way to DC for one dinner.

She’s right. The only logical explanation? He’s mentally unstable.

The next morning in the car, JJ lectures him the entire way to the Hamptons where they’re meeting another prospective donor. “Do you know what people would say if they found out you were wasting jet fuel and using a private plane to make pleasure trips to DC?” She asks, scribbling notes.

“You’ve met her mother, I wouldn’t exactly call it a pleasure trip.”

“The point still stands. No more spur of the moment flights to DC to harass my best friend. Now focus up, read the file Garcia put together on the donor.”

Over the week and a half he’s been in New York, he’s been put in front of millionaires, even a few billionaires, old money tycoons and new money Silicon Valley types, in an attempt to drum up enough money for his coming campaign. He feels like a call girl, and JJ is his pimp, telling him to smile sweetly, and weave in a mention about hunting here, or golf there.

He needs to tread lightly if what he thinks is true. He’s still waiting on confirmation from Garcia but he can feel it. Your repeated mentions of bribery in the hearings four years ago have lit a fire under him about his integrity. If bribery charges come out now, his campaign is fucked before he’s even had a chance to begin.

Might as well put his all into his work while he can.

In the meantime, he sits in a home style Italian diner in The Hamptons, complete with red and white checkered tablecloths and a wood burning oven in the back. Donors usually prefer to do meetings in five star restaurants and swanky hotels, but JJ mentioned something about this donor being a down-to-earth old money guy who used his family fortune to branch out with his own publishing and media conglomerate.

JJ swats his arm and gets up, muttering. “Look alive, Hotch. He’s here.”

He follows her lead, standing too, for a short older man with olive skin, a full head of grey hair and a grey goatee. He wears a button down and a blazer, a pair of slacks and a large ring on his ring finger. JJ immediately goes to greet him, circling around their table to shake his hand but he swats her away, breaking into a smile and taking her into his arms instead.

“Jennifer! It’s good to see you again!” His voice is seasoned, a little raspy, like too many years of smoking cigars have taken their toll.

“It’s good to see you, too! How’s Joy?” She leads him to Hotch.

“Busy making me lose all my hair by chasing after serial killers.” He mutters.

JJ chuckles, gesturing between the two men. “David Rossi, this is Senator Aaron Hotchner. Aaron Hotchner, this is David Rossi.”

Hotch takes Rossi’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rossi.”

“Ah please. Call me Dave.” He shakes his head, taking a seat. JJ and Hotch follow suit, albeit tentatively. “Now, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Jennifer. I understand you’re planning on running for office.”

“That’s right, Sir.” When the older man gives him a warning look, he corrects himself quickly, holding up his hands. “Sorry- Dave.”

The older man smiles, twisting the ring on his finger. “Look, I’ve never been one for small talk and fanciful meetings, and I think you’re a man who appreciates that so I’ll cut to the chase.” JJ shifts next to Hotch, sitting straighter. “My family and I have made a lot of money and I want to finally put it to good use. I’ve seen your work, I like you, and I think we align pretty well politically - although you’re a little more fiscally liberal than I care to be.”

“That’s great-“

The older man holds out his finger. “-However. There are a few things that give me pause. I am first and foremost a family man, and quite frankly, the image you’ve managed to cultivate for yourself is making me doubtful. I don’t know that I can put my full backing into a candidate who doesn’t prioritise the same things I do. I don’t want to put my life’s work and money into somebody America doesn’t trust.”

JJ and Hotch share a knowing look and she’s mindful that she doesn’t have time right now to tear him a new one or tell him I told you so. But she wants to. Desperately. So she does it with her eyes. Reminds him of the years she spent telling him to think and act proactively and not stick it inside anything with a pulse.

“America likes a married man - a family man. Someone easily digestible. And Aaron, that’s just not you right now.”

Shit. Motherfucking shit. His past, or rather, his body count has a way of catching up to him and in the interests of remaining as detached as possible after Haley’s death, he’s ruined his future.

“What if we could change your mind?” Hotch asks, his calculating precision connecting the dots.

“How’s that?” Dave asks.

“Well, the donor retreat is tomorrow night. I’m confident I can prove to you just how much our values align by then.” JJ watches Hotch wearily out of the corner of her eye, he’s far too secure making promises he can’t keep. How the hell does he suppose he’s going to pull this off?

Dave nods, considering it for a long while. The way he examines Hotch and JJ makes them squirm, he’s a little unpredictable and their dreams of the White House rest on convincing him that Hotch isn’t a massive slut.

“Fine. You have until tomorrow night.” Dave confirms, shaking their hands. “Prove me wrong.”

———

That night, Hotch returns to his hotel room with the beginnings of a plan in mind. He completes his nightly ritual as best as he can, and he finishes off the night by checking your camera feed on his laptop. He’s done it everyday since he had the cameras installed and every night, something new manages to annoy him.

The first night away, he learns that you’re essentially an insomniac, staying up until 3, sometimes 4am with cereal as your only real sustenance. The second and third nights, he comes to realise that you have a real issue with fire, diagnoses you as a pyromaniac because he watches you burn through an entire packet of matches just for entertainment.

It’s mildly unsettling.

On the fourth and fifth, he realises that you watch too much mind-numbing TV, and because he sprang for the audio-visual system, he can hear you quote Modern Family until 4 in the morning.

‘Hey, Claire. What’s up?’

‘My fever, you orange jackass.’

“Fuckin’ A,” he mutters, watching you tonight. You’re talking to yourself, muttering about something or other as you work. That goddamn sitcom still plays in the background and with your mood tonight, he’s dreading asking you what he needs to ask you - especially after the dinner he hijacked last night.

He doesn’t want to hear you bitch and whine and he’s certainly not in the mood to be talked back to. He dials your number and waits for you to answer, sits up straight when you look at your phone, roll your eyes and decline his call.

“The fuck?” He dials it again, watches you repeat your previous actions, only this time you flip your phone off. Desperate, he uses his burner and dials your number only for you to pick up this time and his blood boils.

“Hello?”

“What? I gotta use a private number to get you to pick up? I’m getting a little tired of you declining my calls.”

“Jesus. I don’t have time for this .” You roll your eyes. “Goodbye-”

“-Don’t you dare hang up on me.” He mutters.

Your eyes narrow. “Watch your tone. Or what?”

“I’m telling you. You don’t want to hang up on me.” His voice has a tone of finality to it, but you’re too wired to care about whatever he has going on. Mai ko

“Whatever. I gotta go.” He watches you turn your phone off and throw it onto the couch, flipping him off one more time for good measure.

He tries to keep the anger at bay and not overreact but you claw at his skin from the inside out. He calls Anderson who picks up on the fourth ring, his voice croaky.

“Sir?”

“Pull the car around and get the jet ready.”

“Sir, again? It’s midnight.”

“Do it. We’re flying to DC. Within the hour, Anderson.”

“Yes, Sir.” He sighs defeatedly.

———

At 2am, you’re three cups of coffee in, heading fast for a crash. You're a little shaky and your heartbeat’s quick, falling deeper into a spiral of existential dread about your future at work. The mountain of research for the case that Lucas pity-shared with you makes no fucking sense either. You hear a knock at the door and think it’s your TV at first, but the knock is louder and more persistent the second time.

This is a safe complex in a safe neighbourhood, so you make the mistake of not bothering to check the peephole. You only realise the gravity of your mistake when it’s too late, because when you open the door, you’re met with Hotch in a pair of grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a dark look swirling in his eyes.

You’ve done it before, you know it doesn’t work, but you do it anyway. You close the door in his face, that doesn’t really close properly anyway because he manages to keep it open with his foot. He steps inside and slams the door behind him, his breathing ragged with anger.

“Get out, Hotch. It’s 2am, what the fuck are you even doing here?”

He stalks forward slowly, making you back up. “I told you not to hang up on me.”

What the hell?

“You’re crazy. You flew from New York to DC again all because I hung up on you? Are you insane? That’s twice you’ve flown here and back in the last 24 hours!” Your backwards steps increase in pace as he steps forward until you have no more room left, your back bumping into the wall.

He crowds you, caging you in against the wall. “Not insane. Just determined. And now, because you refuse to do as you’re told, you’ve lost the opportunity to pack your own stuff.”

“Pack? Pack what, what are you talking about?”

“You’re coming to New York with me. Tonight. Now.”

“The hell I am.” You laugh humorlessly.

He seems to find that amusing because his lips curl into a twisted sort of smile. “Yes, you are, sweetheart. You can either come willingly, or I can take you myself, but you’re coming. And that’s all there is to it.”

You laugh dryly. “You can’t force me. I’m pretty sure that’s kidnapping.”

His eyes flash with intensity and he leans in, his chest brushing against yours, his nose barely touching yours. He smells of toothpaste and a woody cologne that makes your eyes flutter closed. “And I’m pretty sure I can - force you - that is. Last chance. Are you coming willingly or not?”

You squirm and try to push him off you, but he’s too strong. “Not.” You reply.

He inhales sharply. “Fine. Then I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” And suddenly your world turns upside down. Literally. He bends to wrap an arm under your ass, and lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You pull and scratch at his sweatshirt, neck, hair, anything you can get your hands on. “Put me down! Put me fucking down, Hotch. I swear to God, I’ll kill you, put me down!”

He swats your ass, sending a zing up your spine as he carries you out of your apartment building and drops you unceremoniously into the back of a town car.

You pull harshly on the door handle a few times but it’s locked. “Let me out, Hotch. I’m not kidding.” The car quickly begins to move, making its way through the city streets but you’re still stuck on leaving. “Why are we moving? Let me out!” Your anger simmers under your skin as you slam against the car windows and you fight the urge to not sock him in the jaw.

“We’re moving because we’re going to New York. I have a donor I need to impress and you’re going to help me do that.”

You laugh humorlessly. “How am I going to do that? I have no ID, how the hell am I supposed to get on a plane?”

He scrunches his face. “You don’t need an ID on a private flight.”

You huff. “You’re not very good at asking for favours, are you? You usually have to do this thing called ‘ask’ and ‘not be a complete asshole’ and kidnapping is never on the docket.” He rolls his eyes, checking his phone. “How do you suppose I’m going to impress this donor of yours? In my pyjamas and fluffy socks? I don’t even have any shoes for goodness sake.”

“We’ll get you some new clothes tomorrow, it’s being taken care of. Here.” He takes his wallet out of his pocket and slides a piece of black plastic across the car seat. “You can use that.”

That’s hot.

But still not okay. There’s no point arguing with him any further because you’re not going to get anywhere with him, you know that.

“What do I need to do?” You ask reluctantly.

“Network, small talk. Big me up, make me seem like a good candidate. Maybe smile at me, do what a loving girlfriend would do.” He purposely says girlfriend so as to not bombard you with his plans for tomorrow. He knows you may just throw yourself out of a moving vehicle if he tells you his real plan.

The desire to make his life a little more difficult doesn’t pass you by, though. The need to tell him what you think of him far outweighs any semblance of maturity or the concept of rising above you may have. “Difficult to do when I don’t have a lower opinion of anybody than I do of you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual. Lucky for me, I don’t care what you think. I thought we’d already established this.”

Asshole. But if there’s one thing you can get out of a reluctant favour, it’s leverage. And you need all the leverage you can get right now. You look at him out of the corner of your eye and speak evenly. “Fine. But if I’m doing this for you, you have to do something for me.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

You smile sweetly. “And I don’t have to impress this donor. In fact, I could meet with him, tell him what I really think about you, and nuke your career like you did mine, your dreams of the White House and any future you hope to have.”

He licks his front teeth agitatedly and drops his phone in his lap. “Fine. What?”

“I want you to look over the preliminary bill. It’s-“

“-Done.”

“-Really?” You ask, taken aback. It’s not like him to agree to something so quickly, not least of all when it’s you that’s asking.

“Yes.” He sighs. “I don’t care much to hear you plead your case and whinge and whine for the next two hours. So yes, I’ll look your handiwork over. I’ll be sure to bring a pen though, no doubt I’ll have to gut it and rework it.”

“Fuck you, Hotch.”

“Oh yeah? You change your mind?” He drawls suggestively. “Dinner was nice last night. Good to finally put a face to the people responsible for such a high-maintenance, preppy princess.”

“And who’s responsible for making you a cold and entitled, miserable ass?”

“My childhood nanny, probably. She raised me.” He says, matter-of-factly. A small laugh escapes you but you wonder if that’s true. You wonder if he was raised by housekeepers and nannies and au pairs his entire life and suddenly you’re a little more grateful for your own parents.

Despite the overwhelming pressure and the constant nagging and the not-so-subtle criticism, you have no doubt that your parents love you and care for your well-being. At least they were conscientious enough not to dump you and your sister on outside help during your childhood. Which is not asking a lot of a parent, but from the circles you and Hotch hail from, it’s par for the course for strangers to raise your children, and you can place a safe bet that Hotch falls into that category.

You ponder on that until you arrive at the airfield. His assistant - who you learn is called Anderson - corrals staff and makes phone calls arranging for tomorrow’s retreat. Hotch steps out of the car and opens your door for you, waiting for you to exit but you cross your arms over your body and remain seated. He’s too distracted by his phone to notice at first, but when he does, he slides it into his pocket and grits his teeth angrily.

“What are you waiting for? Hustle.”

“The floor’s wet. And I’m cold.” You reply petulantly.

“That’s my problem, why?”

“Because you kidnapped me and didn’t even give me a chance to put any shoes on! Or a coat!” You kick his shin. “I’m not putting my bare feet on wet pavement, that’s disgusting.” Your face contorts and he honest to God could think it’s one of the funniest things he’s seen if he wasn’t raging.

“They’re not bare. You’re wearing socks.”

“Fuck off, Hotch.”

He checks his watch, it’s almost 3am. “Oh my fucking- you’re so annoying.” He grumbles under his breath along with a string of incoherent sentences. He pulls his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in only a tight fitting T-shirt that hugs his shoulders. “Fine. Hold your arms out.”

You do as you’re told and he slips the sweatshirt on your body with a surprising amount of gentleness, caring enough to untuck your hair from inside the neckline. He then slides his arms around your waist, yours wrapping around his neck as he lifts you out of the car and into the cold night air.

You go limp against him on purpose, weighing yourself down, making it hard for him to carry you but he maneuvers you roughly, putting a large hand on the backs of each of your thighs so your legs wrap around his hips. And while your skin still prickles with annoyance and frustration, the position you’re in doesn’t feel so unnatural.

“Remember, I’m owed my monthly allowance on the 25th.” You remind him happily.

“I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” He grumbles, squeezing your thigh.

“Yeah? What are you going to do? Off me?” You tease.

———

Finding yourself without any decent clothes this morning, you’re relegated to one of Hotch’s too-large shirts and a pair of not-so-great jeans you’d had Anderson go out and buy as soon as it was light out. Thankfully, you’re able to roll the sleeves of his shirt up and tuck one bottom side into your jeans, and you force yourself into thinking it looks somewhat classy-chic.

It does. Kind of.

Hotch had bumped into you in the hallway as you were leaving your room, taken off guard by your outfit, mumbling something under his breath and walking away irritated. Truthfully, the sight of you in his shirt had complicated things, conflicted him, because while frustration swells in his chest at the mere mention of you, he can’t seem to shake the hold you have on him.

And it extends further than just four years ago. You don’t seem to remember. But he hasn’t forgotten.

Meanwhile, in the hotel lobby, you fish around the back pocket of your jeans and flash JJ the black Amex Hotch had tossed to you yesterday.

You return to the hotel at around five, new clothes, shoes, purses and accessories in tow and begin getting ready for the dinner that begins at 8. You still don’t know much about the donor, only that he’s fairly traditional and could possibly be the big fish Hotch’s campaign needs. You feel a little deflated at prospect of being a man’s accessory tonight, to make him seem like a great candidate in front of a who’s who of rich Manhattanites.

You’d pursued a career so you could avoid having to do that. If you wanted to be a trophy wife, you could have stayed with Christopher and endured the passionless, banal life your mother would have chosen for you.

You sigh, giving yourself a once over in the mirror. JJ has knocked on your door three times already and if you don’t get a move on, you’re afraid Hotch might actually carry you down to the car. It's not like you’d put it past him.

It’s dark when you finally get outside and you find Hotch leaning against the towncar, distracted by his phone like he usually is, but the sight of him makes your steps falter for a brief moment.

You have to remind yourself to keep your brain in check, to not get sidetracked by his looks. He stands tonight in a grey, perfectly tailored suit, a light shirt and a light grey tie to match - he’s the epitome of old school class and you hate him for it. JJ throws you a teasing look before she gets in her own car, the kind she’d give you in law school whenever a crush walked by. Except this isn’t a crush. This is hate.

“Do you mind moving so I can get in? Or are you planning on making us late?” You nag.

“Like you’re not the one who’s been primping and priming since 5pm…” He trails off when he averts his gaze from his phone and looks at you, really looks at you. The asshole has a way of burning people with his eyes and it’s certainly making your cheeks heat up.

“Move.” You swat him with your purse like a bug, moving him away from the door. He opens it for you, and watches you get in from behind, blood rushing to his extremities at your exposed legs. He falls in line, getting in next to you and you’re off. You weave your way through city traffic, the night lights twinkling as you pass them by.

He clears his throat, pulling you from your thoughts. “Listen, I need you to wear this.” He holds a royal blue velvet box in his hands that looks suspiciously like it could have a ring inside.

Anxiety creeps up your neck against the prospect of being laid bare in your vulnerability at this moment. “We said three months, right?”

“Three months. Now. What difference does it make? It’s going to happen eventually, now do as you’re told.”

“Do as I’m told?” You repeat. “The difference is I’m not ready yet.” You say defensively. “My parents barely even managed to digest the fact that I was ‘dating’ you, I can’t show up to dinner next week, engaged!”

“Look, I’ll help you break the news to your parents, alright? We’ll tell them after the dinner, whatever you want, just wear this tonight.

“You’re out of your mind if you think you’re coming to dinner next week.”

“Boo hoo. Look, the donor we’re meeting - he’s expecting a fiancée or a wife - not a girlfriend.” You stare him down in a desperate attempt to get him to back off but he appears unguarded himself at this moment. “There’s no other way.”

“This better be fucking worth it.” You mutter. “Hand it over.” You outstretch your hand to take the box but he takes yours in his and turns it over. “What are you doing?” You ask, immediately snatching your hand back.

“Putting the ring on you.” He reaches for your hand again but you pull away. “What are you doing?”

You frown. “Just give it here, I’ll do it.“

“Quiet.” He ignores you like you’re a child, yanking you forward by your hand. His touch is rough at first, but it softens only slightly, his thumb absently rubbing the back of your hand. He slides the ring on your finger, rotating it so the emerald cut diamond sits properly in the centre.

You don’t know whether it’s the apparent vulnerability etched on his face or the city lights, but you swear he could almost pass as human in this brief moment. Then, he tosses your hand back into your lap when he’s done, and suddenly he’s back to himself again. He tucks the box back in his inside pocket and reaches for his phone again, taking a few calls while you ponder your immediate future.

You absentmindedly play with the ring on your finger. Fighting with Hotch had allowed you to repress the reality that you were really going to marry this guy, but the heavy rock on your finger pulls you back into the harsh truth. Even if he were to win the election, this alliance may ruin any chance you have at dating anybody after him. After all, Ex Wife of President-slash-Presidential Candidate Hotchner is a lot of baggage to carry.

There’s no chance of spotting stars in the middle of New York City but you note the twinkling lights of high rises make it appear as though the city smog has cleared momentarily.

You should be so lucky.

Next to you, Hotch dives into his work to distract himself from you. He’d spent the better part of today with a knot in his stomach at the prospect of giving you the ring, memories of Haley clawing their way to the surface. Memories that he clings to with equal vigour as well to prevent him from becoming too attached to any one person.

The last time he’d proposed to a woman, it had been different.

You eventually happen upon the private country club in the Hamptons, located on the scenic beachfront, right next to the glittering water. The wrought iron gates are opened by two security guards, leading you to a winding, lit driveway. Wait staff appear to be floating with trays in their hands, tight-lipped women in cocktail dresses hold their champagne flutes a little too tightly, and the men look stuffy.

JJ dismounts the car in front of you first with Anderson trailing behind her, then you and Hotch. You inhale deeply as the valet opens your door and you’re met by the brisk seaside air which puts goosebumps on your skin.

“Alright, guys. Are we ready? Best feet forward, this donor is the key to securing this run.” JJ reminds you over the faint classical music in the background. She looks pointedly at your left hand, her gaze lingering wildly on the emerald cut diamond that wasn’t there when you set off.

The gravel pathway to the entrance makes for a difficult walk and in your frustration, and admittedly, hard-headedness you slap Hotch’s arm away when he offers it to you.

“Remind me never to offer you my help out of the goodness of my heart again.” He scowls.

“Unlikely it’s from the goodness of your heart. That thing’s like coal.” If you’re to be his accessory tonight, you definitely don’t need his goddamn help, you’ll walk on your own. You’re made to regret your decision quickly when your Jimmy Choos get stuck in a piece of stubborn pathway and you fall into Hotch’s side, grabbing his strong forearm for balance.

When you’re sufficiently balanced, he snatches his arm away again, throwing you off kilter on purpose, snorting under his breath. Anderson joins in until JJ glares at them. “Give her your arm or lose it, Hotch. Now is not the time.” She hisses.

He rolls his eyes and you reluctantly wrap your forearm and hands around his strong bicep, using him for balance up the pathway. “Who taught you to walk, smartass? You’re like a freshly birthed calf.” He murmurs out of JJ’s earshot as you enter the main foyer.

You grab a glass of champagne, leaning into him. He still had a decent amount of height on you, despite your choice in shoes which means his cologne wafts into your nose when you turn your head. “It’s because I’m wearing heels, Senator. Heels… which could puncture your leg nicely if you don’t stop pissing me off.”

“Jesus, has anyone ever told you, you might have anger issues?” He rolls his eyes but swallows thickly at your use of his title.

He takes stock of the room, and drags you along with him, wherever he goes, pulling you this way and that until JJ and Hotch both go stiff as a board suddenly, their gazes fixated to their left.

You follow their line of sight and double take, your eyes bulging. “Uncle Dave?!” You break into a smile, letting go of Hotch who watches you, stunned. “Hi!”

He breaks out into a face splitting smile, holding out his hands. “Cara mia! Oh, come here, let me look at you!” Dave grabs both sides of your face, planting a kiss on either cheek and taking you into his arms like he did when you were a kid. “What are you doing here, your parents didn’t mention you were in New York.” His eyes fall to your left hand and he gasps, immediately grasping it in his hand, holding it out to catch the light. “And what is this?”

You laugh uncomfortably, looking between Dave and Hotch. You’re about to utter these words for the first time ever and you’d always assumed you’d be happier than you are right now.

“I’m… well. I guess I’m engaged!” You tell him. “Uncle Dave, this is Aaron, Aaron, this is my uncle Dave. Our families go way back.”

The two men’s eyes widen in recognition as Hotch steps forward to shake Dave’s hand. “Yeah. We met yesterday.” He pulls you in, placing his hand on your back, the warm, light pressure making you twitch. You’re still outing the pieces together when Hotch interrupts your thoughts. “Honey, Dave is the donor I was telling you about, I had no idea you guys even knew each other.” He says.

This is a done deal.

Dave nods slowly. “Huh, you really weren’t kidding when you said you could change my mind - this is definitely a step in the right direction.” He looks at JJ. “I can see now why you were so confident.”

“Small world.” You muse. “How’s Krystal?”

“Ah, you know what she’s like at these things, she’s probably outside watching the waves come in. Why don’t you go on and find her while we talk business?”

There it is again. The infantilization. The implication that you don’t know how business and politics work, and God will these high-powered men ever change? Ivy League education, community service, drive, ambition but you’re still the woman who has to make nice with the other women while the men talk shop. You smile though, like you’ve always been taught to do and JJ decides to join you when Hotch gives her a look of confidence.

The two men walk away while you grab a champagne flute and make the rounds, greeting guests with a kiss, accepting their congratulations on your ‘engagement’. By the end of the night, you’re exhausted and sitting outside beneath the massive pergola watching the waves roll in.

Hotch has since managed to persuade Dave that he’s the right candidate for him to back, and with the added bonus of you on board, he’s more than happy to oblige. He’s making his way outside to join you and JJ to tell you the happy news when he stops in his tracks, just shy of the doors to listen to you.

“It’s so frustrating, you know? Like I made one mistake, four years ago and everyone in that office treats me like I’m not to be trusted with anything ever again.”

“I’m sorry, hon.” JJ reassures you, rubbing your shoulders.

“I was sure I had it in the bag. I know I should let it go but I still can’t believe he paid Lahey off. And now look at me, I’m still stuck in the same place, it’s like fucking deja-vu, only now, I’m engaged to the man.” You laugh humorlessly, repeating the words slower this time as if to digest them properly. “I’m engaged… to the man that ruined everything I worked so hard to build… by bribing a chairwoman.”

There it is again. The bribery allegation that he knows nothing about but is becoming an increasingly bigger source of alarm.

He hears you sigh. “You know, I went to the office yesterday and Gideon sent me straight home, threw the paper in my face with that picture of me and Hotch on it - said office gossip was distracting people and I should go home.”

Suddenly your half-day makes a lot more sense to him.

The barest of guilt tugs at his insides, he couldn’t care less about you he reaffirms, but he’s still a believer in karma. Plus he figures he owes you one for tonight. That’s the only reason. Not the fact that it’s becoming clear to him that your hatred for him may be justified, but it isn’t entirely clear to him why he hates you.

Is it the way your first ever meeting ended? Even years before the judiciary hearings? The meeting that he remembers clearly but you evidently don’t?

Nah.

Stepping away, he pulls out his phone, and dials the direct line to DC Attorney General Racine who promised Hotch any favour he wanted after he’d pulled some strings to get him out of a bind a few years ago. He figures he could have probably used Racine as the prize cow of all favours, cashing it in when he was in really dire straits, but what the hell. Who doesn’t pull strings for someone they hate?

Right?

As soon as he’s done giving Racine specific directions - who reassures him that his problem will be taken care of by Monday - Garcia’s name flashes up on screen. He exhales in relief. “Gimme something good, Garcia.”

“Well, that’s just it, Sir. I have an answer for your question but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” He sighs, rubbing his temple.

“You were right. Four instalments of $20,000 each were made to Chairwoman Lahey around four years ago - during the hearings. They were rerouted through multiple proxies and offshore accounts but I managed to track them down.”

His ears ring and he feels as though the ground has shifted from beneath his feet. You were right and he’s astute enough to put the pieces together himself but he asks anyway. “From?”

“Phillip Hotchner.” She replies.

He paid her off. The son of a bitch paid her off.

———

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thedoubteriswise · 4 years ago

Text

okay so. I am a smart adult with many important responsibilities. I have good taste and care about things that matter. for this reason, I’ve been trying to identify where in cql canon wangxian manage to fuck.

because they definitely do; I like a good post-canon getting together fic as much as the next guy, but it’s just not realistic.

allow them. it’s already been so long.

(just like this goddamn post turned out to be, let’s do a cut)

right. so initially it looks like you could place this right after the time skip in episode 33, because it shows us that wwx is with lwj in cloud recesses. we know that he spent the night in the jingshi because he wakes up there the next morning before he goes for a nostalgic tour of his old school.

and also visits the cold spring, where lwj is mostly naked. nice.

but wait! wwx is surprised by the scars on his back and chest. that seems like something he would have known about if they’d already been naked together the night before, so I’m going to say they did not fuck immediately upon wwx’s return to cloud recesses. okay, fine, they’re taking things slow, that’s cool.

maybe they could work it into the next night, then. oh wait, lqr is injured and... staying in the jingshi? for reasons?

I don’t know why. he must have his own house in cloud recesses, and it’s probably at least as comfortable as lwj’s, but here he is. he lives to stop his nephew from getting laid, I guess.

the next day they do some Q&A with the kids and determine that they need to head to qinghe to figure out what’s going on with this sword thing. great! we love a romantic road trip, plenty of alone time. but they also have to do their jobs, and then jin ling needs to get rescued from a wall of dirt, and jc is unfortunately there being himself, and then they have to grill nhs about his tomb full of angry sabers, etc. etc.

with all that going on, their next obvious chance is at the inn immediately after interviewing nhs. this evening has already included:

wwx gazing lovingly at lwj from afar

lwj carrying wwx on his back

lwj pawing at wwx’s robes trying to deal with his cursed leg

lwj helping wwx up the stairs, serving him wine, fixing his flute, and generally being at his beck and call

a very sexy and homoerotic duet

and now they’re alone and drooling over each other as usual. this seems like a plausible spot, right?

it does! but no. after they go back to the nie basement o’ swords and hear the backstory on nmj’s death, we see them walking in yueyang and lwj asks wwx how the curse mark on his leg is doing. wwx says it’s almost healed, which may or may not be a lie, but his inner monologue says:

he’s more concerned about the wound on his arm from the sacrificing curse, which lwj doesn’t know about, because wwx won’t tell him and they still haven’t been naked together.

also, this silly teenage shit doesn’t make much sense unless they’re still dancing around each other.

you guys love the sound of opportunities as they go flying past, don’t you?

right after this, lwj gets drunk. I’m aware that Stuff Happens in the novel scene that inspired this bit, and they do incorporate some of that into the show by having lwj commit petty larceny and admit that he “likes rabbits” as part of the softest and most loving conversation in human history oh my god

but lwj goes to sleep right on time, and the next morning, wwx is laughing and reassuring him that nothing happened.

after this, it’s time to go on a fucked up field trip with the kids in yi city, so they don’t really have any time alone for a few episodes until they’ve finished that and everyone is back at yet another inn. I wonder if they learned something about wasted chances and poor communication from this miserable songxiao story?

maybe! look, they’re being cute and domestic. there are currently no material barriers preventing them from having sex, nor will there be any specific evidence later on proving that they didn’t.

but they’re still firmly in mystery-solving mode and the juniors and lxc are floating around. the vibe isn’t quite there. if I were to pick the most solid reason why I think they’re saving room for jesus at this point, it would be the tension that happens when wwx again asks how lwj recognized him. lwj asks why his memory is so bad, and wwx replies that he wishes he had a bad memory. even though they’re comfortable and happy being together, there’s still some fundamental distance remaining. there’s no sense of romantic resolution. that was actually a point against all their previous opportunities as well; they’re all very sweet, but none of these feel like the place in a story where the romantic leads Officially Get Together.

okay, off to koi tower! shit is getting extremely real. everyone’s busy insinuating that they recognize wwx, but no one is saying it explicitly. wwx isn’t supposed to be here. the guy he’s pretending to be also isn’t supposed to be here. he and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s brother are trying to figure out if his boyfriend’s brother’s boyfriend is a murderer. no one is comfortable and the political intrigue leaves no time for fucking in front of anyone’s salad.

I guess there’s plenty of time to make dozens of armed guards and like half the people they know wait while they have a romantic moment, though.

could they be more in love? And that sure feels like a romantic resolution that might be followed by narratively-earned sex.

ah. no, unfortunately wwx gets stabbed again. this certainly sucks, but it does have the helpful consequence of making lwj take him back to cloud recesses, where they are mostly alone and as safe as they can be in the circumstances. now there’s even more tenderness and also some plot-justified touching and skin exposure. plus, lwj just made a very public declaration of love.

too bad wwx has probably been unconscious since he started coughing up blood in the forest near lanling. he’s also still visibly in pain. fresh abdominal wounds tend to kill the mood.

but hey, the injuries on this show are only as serious as they need to be to move the plot forward and facilitate gentle h/c scenes, so by evening he’s looking perfectly healthy and walking around under his own steam like nothing’s wrong. I guess that problem can be ignored moving forward.

lxc then offers the the most devastating highlights of lwj’s backstory, like, all at once. it’s nice that he includes a flute solo to give wwx a second to process this mountain of terrible information. what the fuck.

there he is! the most devoted man in the whole world! turns out they can actually be more in love after all.

and then the following scene... look, I’m lazy and I don’t know how to make gifs, but screenshots cannot properly convey how good it is. you all know. the hesitant way wwx approaches, the slow and gentle piano version of wangxian, the two of them watching the snow together, it’s. ugh.

remember how I was talking about how the last scene with no material barriers was an unlikely candidate because of the lack of romantic resolution?

well, here’s wwx still being cagey at the beginning of this conversation.

and here they are in the middle of this conversation, having some epiphanies about the course of wwx’s life - I love this shot for a lot of reasons, but I extra love it because it shows wwx out in the snow, with lwj as the safety and warmth waiting behind him, god this show goes hard, holy shit

they both recall their vow to live with a clean conscience and internally say some very corny things about each other because they are both So Much, and then,

ah, what the hell. he can say it out loud after all. romantic resolution accomplished.

and then the camera slowly pulls away as wuji plays.

a slow zoom out? swelling music? listen, I am a connoisseur, I know a tasteful fade-to-black indicating a sex scene that won’t happen on camera when I see one. at last, we have a winner!

now you may think this post is finally over, but I actually have one more piece of evidence for you - the next scene shows the two of them the morning after, meditating behind a screen in the hanshi while lxc is waiting for jgy to show up.

before wwx got de-cored, he was a pretty powerful cultivator, right? the chances that he’s just bad at meditating or that he can’t stay focused on this task seem slim to me. so why does he keep falling asleep?

well. he had kind of a late night.

#yes I do have a lot of time on my hands #the untamed #cql #wangxian #meta #my meta

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technowoah · 3 years ago

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since I'm a gremlin I can ask for a c!Schlatt angst fighting with reader while he's drunk and the reader is just fed up with dealing with him and goes "IF YOU LIKE SO MUCH TALKING YOU DON'T NEED ME I'M LEAVING!" and just walks away and he realizes the shit he's done?

(the same anon who wasn't prepared to be heartbroken-)

Heartless

Somehow you find your way back to Schlatt again and it never goes as well as you think.

- c!schlatt x reader

- angst

- anon!requested

- part 1 to this story

⚠︎: swearing, angst, alcoholism, mentions of dying, c!quackity makes a appearance, hopefully this is sad enough yall-

An// i decided to make this a part 2 to Have a Heart! So I hope you enjoy love!

The night is still cold and dark as you begrudgingly walk back to one of the buildings that was put up to replace whatever L'Manburg was there before.

After Dream's word you had still contemplated going back to Schlatt. He doesn't deserve what you do, but you still end up walking along the Prime Path back to the drunken man. You had no end goal and that was a problem. You probably were going to be embarrassed that you came back to him. You couldn't let Schlatt die, from either the hands of someone else or let him die from himself.

You eventually found yourself in front of the metal doors that led into endless hallways of offices nobody occupied. The offices that had wine and cigarettes for Schlatt to smoke just in case he decided to have a meeting in a room that isn't the official meeting room.

Walking down the hallways you saw that most of the doors to each office were open and most of the alcohol and cigarettes were taken from each room. You peaked inside every room to see if Schlatt was in there, but something in you told you not to because you weren't prepared. What were you going to say? Stop drinking? Because you're sure he'll know he's not going to stop. You want to try to save him.

You slowly opened a door to reveal an office that looked an absolute mess. The small refrigerator was knocked over and all of the wine off the shelf was either shattered on the floor or gone. There were cigarette butts on the ground and lit a cigar, there were also papers and folders all across the room.

You whispered as you walked around the lit room "Schlatt must've been in here."

"Sure as hell he was!"

You spun around to see Quackity looking disheveled as ever. He had a bottle of liquor in his hand, his beanie threatened to fall off of his head and his suit now only a white button up with his dress pants still on.

"I've been running around this goddamn place trying to keep that ram man at peace! He's gonna drink himself to death." Quackity huffed while looking around the hallway.

"I know."

"That's why you're here huh?"

You sighed at the realization. "Yes it is. I don't want him to drink himself to death. Death isn't what I want."

"Well, it's too late for that." Quackity faced away from you not wanting to look you in the eyes.

You stayed silent until Quackity spoke up again.

"You want me to take you to him? Wanna see him one last time before he dies-"

"Don't say that!" You rolled your eyes

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's inevitable Y/N! His body is now 70 percent alcohol and his lungs are filled with smoke!" Quackity laughed in disbelief. "I don't want him to die! But its fucking inevitable. Either from someone else or-"

"Himself." You finished his sentence.

"Exactly!" He opened his mouth to speak again but apparently decided against it.

Quackity began to lead you out of the office and down the long hallway you two walked slowly not even knowing where Schlatt was in the whole building. You and Quackity made small talk.

"I hate this. I had to find this liquor and deliver it to him and now I can't find him."

"I came here to try and save him from himself and you're here feeding the problem."

"What else do you want me to do?" He grunted.

"Stop him!"

"If I stop him he's gonna be even worse so-!" Quackity threw up his hands in frustration as you two kept walking.

"I actually have something to tell you." Quackity spoke up after the silence.

"Quackity! Ah there you are!" Schlatt came around the corner behind you both and you turned around to meet the man you both have been looking for stumbling down the hallway.

"Ah you bitch! I thought I told you to leave!"

"Here we go." You rolled your eyes.

"Hey Schlatt! Here's the Liquor you wanted!" Quackity tried to liven up the situation by reaching the bottle out to Schlatt.

"He doesn't need it."

"Yeah I do, who are you to tell me what to do!" Schlatt yelled, not even taking the drink out of Quackity's hand.

"Schlatt just calm down-"

"No! They made a mistake and they cant even do what I fucking say! They'll keep coming back to me, against my wishes!" Schlatt interrupted Quackity while flailing his arms around.

You stood still not wanting to hear him anymore. Ever since he won the presidential debate the first couple of months he's been sober with only a few drinks here and there. Now he's a full on alcoholic, only damaging himself and his presidency. It's a sad sight to see and you don't want to see it, so you can either run away and know it's still there or fix it and never see it again.

"Schlatt I want to help." You hesitated before stepping forward.

"Same here Schlatt." Quackity agreed with you.

"You, you! Aren't any help!" He pointed directly at you while trying to keep himself upright.

"How aren't I any help!?" You yelled back. "I've done everything for you and now you're digging yourself a grave Schlatt!"

"You think you're the best thing ever huh?! Im fucking fine! I can stand on my own two fucking feet!"

Schlatt wasn't standing up straight, he was stumbling either backwards or forward. His body threatened to fall onto the marble floor and he couldn't even stand up straight. His speech was slurring together as well you could barely understand him.

You finally responded to Schlatt. "Schlatt you're stumbling around like- like I don't even know what! I can't understand you and you just need to stop!"

"You're so useless! Not useful to me or my presidency! I can stand up straight and I'm completely fine shut the fuck up!" He yelled while leaning to the side.

"I'd rather die alone! Without you or Quackity." Schlatt yelled again

"That's what you're going to do anyways." Quackity whispered under his breath.

Schlatt kept babbling nonsense as his back slid down one of the walls as he sat on the floor. Head pulled to the side. It was a sad sight to see, you hated to see this man drink himself to death and apparently Quackity, who was looking at the ram man the same way, standing silently next to you.

"Schlatt this-"

"I dont fucking care what you think! You're the worst person I've ever met! You both made my life hell and that's why Im fucking drinking my life away so I wont see any of you're fucking faces!" Schlatt tried to stand up but failed in doing so.

He continued talking. "I am the best thing that happened to this country! I saved both of you from a tyrant! And you thank me by driving me into this state!"

You felt your eyes threatening to spill tears the second time today.

"Schlatt that isn't me that's doing this shit!"

"How the fuck would you know?!"

"I can't. But Ive done every fucking thing for you! You cannot say I haven't!" You yelled back as he rolled his eyes with a rebuttal already on the tip of his tongue.

"Sure as hell I can! I have fucking proof-!"

"What proof?!" You interrupted his babbling even though he kept going.

"I- I!" he stammered not having a rebuttal this time.

"You're incapable of doing anything Schlatt let someone help you for fucks sake-"

"I'd rather die alone than sit here and be lectured by the likes of you!" Schlatt yelled.

"You are going to die alone, old man!" Quackity spoke up. "That's what they're trying to tell you!"

"You shouldn't be giving me a lecture! Im the mother fucking president! I should be talking, but apparently its not fucking work-"

"IF YOU LIKE SO MUCH TALKING YOU DON'T NEED ME I'M LEAVING!" You interrupted him and stomped down the hallway for the second time today.

As you walked down the hallway you heard a faint "wait" from Schlatt on the floor. You stopped and looked back to see Schlatt looking at you with some sort of realization in his eyes. Quackity was standing over him shaking his head.

"You know what? I don't even know why I helped you. Probably for power, but I don't need you for that." Quackity walked away towards your way. "Go ahead and die alone like you said old man."

Quackity caught your gaze and he smiled and shook his head again. He finally reached where you were standing and started talking to you.

"Maybe this isn't a good time, maybe it is. But I am joining Pogtopia. Wilbur said he needs a lot of people for this to work so consider this an invitation." He gave you a thin lipped smile and walked past you giving you a good look at Schlatt, laying fully on the ground.

"Y/N wait, just hold on for a second." Schlatt said while on his side, not even bothering to look at you.

You didn't say anything and followed Quackity's path, down the hallway and out of the door. Behind you, you could only hear the distant groans and pleas of the drunken man behind you. You tried your best to help and that's all you could do. But you couldn't watch that man die.

Taglist: MCYT Imagines: @annshit @bobaducky @malfoysslutt @alec-lost-bee @egorldevi

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