#apparently some of our people are being moved to the other line

[altruistic-meme]

hey wait what about me :(

[fragmentedblade]

Not to be a jingfu on main, but it's so cute that Jing Yuan thought of Fu Xuan with those jelly beans

[katstarry]

no one noticed | take our time

eddie munson x reader

part ii

masterlist ☆

part i | part iii

summary: you and eddie grow closer when eddie invites you to hangout outside of school.

warnings: fluff, pining, the upside down doesn’t exist here! a slow burn apparently, reader is introverted kinda

a/n: my obsession with him comes and goes but whenever it comes back IT COMES BACK HARDD 😭 it’s been a week of it consuming me again, i need more content of eddie! (robin & reader are very birds of a feather coded in my head)

feedback + reblogs are appreciated! ☆

you rush over to where robin is seated, not bothering to get in line for food. you’ll go later.

“i’m going crazy.” is what you say as soon as you reach her, interrupting what she was about to say, her mouth agape.

an amused expression covers her features, “oh? and why exactly, are you going crazy?” she leans closer to you, a knowing look in her eye.

you take a seat beside her, your back to eddie’s table.

“we got paired up for a project in history class.” is all you say as you steal a cold french fry from her tray.

“hey!” she swats your hand away, but she’s too late, “paired up, huh? i bet you’re thrilled!” she smiles over at you.

you groan and put your face in your hands.

“it wasn’t so bad, honestly. it was pretty fun. i didn’t make a fool of myself.” your words were muffled in between your hands, “…at least i hope not.” you say, facing your friend once again.

she laughs at your distress, “oh c’mon! you should be happy that you finally have an excuse to talk to him!”

“it’s not funny, robin! how am i going to survive this? oh my god, robin.” you look at her smiling, you know that you’re being dramatic. but besides your nerves, you are pretty excited to finally be talking to eddie.

“what?” she raises her eyebrows at you, eating her fries.

“he’s so dreamy.”

robin gags, “gross.”

you nudge her shoulder laughing, “oh please! maybe you’re right. i should just be happy about this. he was pretty nice.” you look at her and sigh dramatically, “it was pretty nice.”

“you’re hopeless.”

“you’re supposed to be hyping me up right now! i finally talked to my crush.”

“yeah, and i still can’t believe it only took you being partners for it to happen. by force.” she laughs when you pout.

“okay, okay! yes, of course i’ll hype you up. he’ll totally ask you out, though. i bet he’s thinking of you right now, planning how to do it. actually, he’s planning your marriage as we speak.”

“okay. let’s not get too crazy now.” you laugh, moving to stand to finally get in line for some food, but blushing at the thought nonetheless.

robin rolls your eyes at you, “you are too far gone.”

you steal one last fry from her before leaving, hearing a faint “oh c’mon!” behind you.

standing in line, you see the same girl from your history class in front of you, elizabeth? you think her name is?

she turns around, “oh, hey!”

“hey, elizabeth, right?”

“yes! you’re y/n? right?”

you smile, “yeah, we have history together.”

“right! i hope this project is over with quickly, i got stuck with byers,” she glanced at a table, “but it can’t be as bad as munson.”

you were taken aback, you knew what other people thought of him, but being outright rude is crazy.

“oh! eddie’s a great partner, honestly… we spent the class coming up with ideas. jonathan’s really nice too, i’ve helped him take some photos before for the yearbook.”

she raises an eyebrow at you, “hm. hopefully he won’t bring your grade down.”

you feel uneasy now, what’s her problem? do these people even give eddie a chance and actually talk to him?

“i doubt it, he seemed pretty excited.”

she laughs, “that’s because a girl is finally giving him some attention.”

“no, it’s because we’re working on a project together. and i dunno, i don’t talk trash about him?” you state, plainly, giving her an unamused look, not interested in continuing the conversation.

“wow, didn’t know you could even talk that much. that’s the most i’ve ever heard you speak!” she tilts her head at you mockingly, clearly you’ve upset her.

you don’t answer her, “could you move up? the lines moving.” avoiding her taunting gaze.

you see her roll her eyes from your peripheral, and she finally turns back around.

letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, you finally make it to the food. mood ruined. why are people so mean. you’re starving. at least they’re serving your favorite today, chicken nuggets and fries. such an amazing meal, the best school food gets.

walking back to robin you catch a glimpse of eddie, he’s making another dramatic display. you don’t catch what he’s saying, since he stops his rant as you’re about to walk by, where he happens to be walking.

he bows dramatically, giving you room to walk around him, “my apologies, madame.” he smiles at you.

you shake your head laughing, “thank you, sir.”

you sit beside robin once again.

“finally! you’re back. it’s been too long! we’re finally reunited.” robin gives you a dramatic side hug.

“i know, sorry! i was held up by a troll. asked me to solve a riddle, couldn’t figure it out.”

she laughs, “oh yeah? how’d you make your away around it?”

“i ate it.” you deadpan, opening your pack of ketchup.

you finally turn to look over at her, both of you burst out laughing.

as you eat, you explain to robin your conversation with elizabeth.

“what an asshole.” she says as you both stand to throw away your trash and put away your trays.

“i know right!” you shake your head, putting your tray away.

“i just don’t understand why it bothers people so much if people don’t talk. like, hello! maybe they just don’t want to talk to you?” she says, “or- or, like why it bothers people so much that people are different from them, in general? the times i’ve occasionally spoken with eddie, he seemed pretty chill.” she raises her hands in exasperation.

“right? i don’t get it either.” you sigh.

walking out the cafeteria you join robin by her locker, before going to your own, where she accompanies you as well, and grab what you need.

“see you at dismissal?” you say.

“yup! i don’t have practice today, steve’s gonna pick me up. i got a shift after school today.” she gives you a fist bump before going on her way to class.

it’s finally the end of the day.

you can finally take that nap.

you make your way to your locker, leaving your books.

by the door on your way out you see robin, “we’re free!” she exclaims.

she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “let’s get outta here.” you say.

“what do you plan to do? while i’m away at family video, locked inside there, along with an annoying dingus, with no other choice but to do work?” she lets out an exasperated breath, looking over to you.

“i was planning on taking a nap.”

“fun!” she says, with fake enthusiasm. “was kinda hoping for a, ‘i’ll come by and see you, of course! you’re my bestest friend! i won’t let you suffer alone!’ but i see now how much you truly care about me.”

you laugh, “i’ll come by to see you, robs.” making your way to your car, steve isn’t here yet, so robin walks with you.

“really?” she says hopefully.

“yeah, after i take my nap.” you say, looking straight ahead.

“oh c’mon! your naps always last, like, forever!” she whines.

“it won’t be that long this time!” you look at her, and she looks at you.

“okay maybe it will be.”

she shakes her head as you reach your car, leaning onto it.

“you and your fucked sleep schedule.”

“it’s me and my crap sleep schedule against the world.”

“hey, i thought it was you and me against the world!”

you were too busy bantering with robin that you didn’t realize eddie walking up behind you.

he was looking for you in the hallways, even stopped by your locker. he was working up his courage all throughout lunchtime, and his last classes.

“y/n! wait!” he calls out your name, jogging to reach you.

you stop what you were about to say, staring at robin.

seeing her light up, a smirk appearing on her face.

turning your head, you’re met with eddie, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“eddie?”

“yeah, hey. it’s me. givemeasec.” he breathes out, before standing upright again.

“hello.” he turns to robin, “and hello.” he nods his head to her.

“hey.” she looks behind him and looks back at you, “oh would you look at that? my rides here! i’ll call you later y/n! bye!” she leaves before you can even respond. you look at the direction she ran, steve’s not even here yet.

eddie turns back to face you, also looking confused by robin’s sudden disappearance.

“s’that usually happen?” he has an amused look on his face.

you shake your head, “no.”

“ah well- uh anyway. i wanna ask you something.”

oh? okay. cool. he wants to ask you something.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he looks at you.

“okay.. you can ask me anything, eddie.”

“right! shit, uh. i was wondering, are you doing anything? later?” he sees your panicked look, he backtracks, “i mean to, y’know, work on the project.” nice save.

ah. you hide your disappointment, “oh, yeah sure. i’m not doing anything today.” oh robin’s gonna be pissed that you canceled your nap for this and not see her at work.

“okay, cool. uhh where do you wanna meet? i mean, we could go to my place? or if not that’s cool too we could go to the library or something. dunno.” he kicks a loose pebble in the parking lot, messing with his rings. cute.

“your place is fine. i could just follow right behind you,” you jiggle your keys in-front of you, “i gotta call my mom first though, let her know.” you flush, “uh, where is your place?” you ask, knowing your mom would want to know.

“it’s uh the forest hills trailer park.” he continues to fiddle with his rings, looking at you now.

“right, i know where that is. let me just ring her real quick, yeah? i’ll be right back!” you head towards the telephones outside the school, call your mom and assure her it’s just for a project and that you won’t take that long.

you head back to your car, seeing eddie still standing nearby.

“all good?” he says, smiling.

“yeah, let’s go.” you smile back.

on your drive there you realize what exactly you’re doing.

your going to eddie’s place.

you’re freaking out.

it’s okay, that’s cool. it’s just for the project. you have your notebook in your book bag still. you have your notes.

entering the trailer park and parking beside his van, you mentally prepare yourself. oh god, you’re going into his home.

breathe! you still can’t even believe your mom let you come over in the first place, to a boys place.

seeing eddie get out his van, you get out your car with your bag and stand awkwardly as you wait for him.

“this way, madame.” he says, walking ahead of you and up to the trailer. grabbing his keys from his pocket, he opens the door and lets you in first.

“welcome to my paradise.” he walks in after you, shutting the door behind him.

you look around the small living room. it’s cozy, comfortable, it feels homey. you gently place your bag on the couch.

“it’s a nice place eddie.”

he laughs and turns away, heading to the kitchen.

“you don’t have to lie.”

“i’m not lying.” you say, genuinely. “i used to live in a trailer too.”

he looks up, grabbing two cups. “really?”

you nod, “best years of my life, honestly. we moved to our current house when i was about,” you look up in thought, “7? 8? maybe?” you head over to where eddie stood.

he hums in acknowledgment. “didn’t know that.”

you shrug, “never really talked about it, not a big deal really.”

looking at you, he asks “would you like some water? soda? you can take a seat y’know.” he smiles over at you as he heads to the fridge.

taking a seat at one of the chairs at the table you answer, “hmm, what soda do you have?”

“uhh.. let me see.” he moves things around, “got some pepsi, sprite, coke..”

“i’ll take some coke, please.”

“comin’ right up, sweetheart.”

your brain nearly explodes.

oh you’re definitely calling robin after this.

he comes back to you with two cans of coke for the both of you.

“thank you. what a wonderful host.” you smile at him as he pulls out the chair beside yours and sits in it.

“you’re welcome.” he laughs.

“right.. so..” you open your can, “the project?”

a brief look of confusion crosses eddie’s face. right. the project.

he clears his throat, “yeah, the project. um, i’ll be getting the stuff tomorrow.” he stepped out during lunch for a bit to sell and earn some more cash, thankfully he got enough for the materials for the poster board, they’re pretty affordable anyway.

“alright, cool! thank you for that, by the way. i wouldn’t of had minded buying it.”

he shakes his head, drinking from his can. “no, no. it’s fine. i don’t mind.”

you’re about to say something when he gives you a look, “fine.” you huff in defeat.

“good.” he smiles, knowing he won.

“let me grab my notebook from my bag.” you get up and grab your book bag from the couch, unzipping it and looking for your notebook.

huh.

you look through it again, pulling out the ones you do have, double checking.

you can’t believe it. you literally have all your notebooks, except your history one. you sigh frustratedly, zipping your bag back up and heading back towards the kitchen, empty handed.

“couldn’t find it?”

“couldn’t find it.” you continue to stand, “sorry.”

“nah, it’s fine. uh.” he looks at his watch, “hasn’t been that long, if you, maybe wanna stay for a bit longer?” he taps on his can, please say yes.

you keep your excitement at bay, trying to remain cool.

“yeah, that’d be cool.” nice. super cool.

“cool.”

you sit back down, “so..” you smile, looking down at your can of coke.

“soo….” he mimicks.

“i wanted to let you know, about me calling my mom, it isn’t because i don’t trust you, i swear. she just likes knowing where i am, she worries.” you look at him.

“it’s all good. don’t worry ‘bout it.” though he does look as though he feels more comfortable now, “you get used to it.”

“you shouldn’t have to.”

he shrugs, changing the subject, “nice that your mom’s protective of you though.”

you laugh, “not as much as my dad though.”

“really? what’s he like?” he tilts his head at you, asking in genuine curiosity.

“well.. i’m the only girl. so you could imagine how protective he can be. he’s not like, controlling, but he’s just a bit strict. curfews and stuff like that.”

“hmm. you have siblings, then? brothers?”

“yeah,” you smile, “three actually. 2 older brothers and one younger. my older brothers moved out already though, but they visit frequently.. do you have any?”

“me? nah, no, i don’t. only son.”

you nod your head.

“live here with my uncle wayne, actually.” he moves his gaze back down to the table, “he works at the factory most days, ‘s why he’s not here right now.”

“oh cool, my dad used to work there too.”

“what’s he work in now?”

“construction. he’s out of the city on the weekdays, comes home on weekends. though sometimes he doesn’t come for a few weeks if the job is too far away.”

this is the most you’ve told someone about yourself, other than robin, in just a day.

you’re really going crazy.

“that’s cool-” he tries to find a way to lighten the mood after seeing your expression, but accidentally lets out a loud burp.

you laugh and he smiles.

“‘scuse me.” he laughs, covering his mouth.

“i lived with my brothers, trust me, you’re all good.” still laughing.

“what’s your uncle like?”

he goes on to talk about his uncle wayne, the conversation goes smoothly. you feel at ease with eddie’s jokes and banter, it’s an automatic click. a rare thing for you to come by, you hope this is the first of many hangouts. you realize that your closest friends are the complete opposite of you—robin, who can somehow make a conversation not boring, always including you with her other friends and makes you be apart of the conversation. it’s the same with eddie, how do they do it? it must be a superpower, or something.

you finish laughing after a story he had been telling you involving his friends from hellfire when you speak up, “could you tell me the time?”

he looks down at his watch, “uhh, it’s about to be 7 o’clock,” looking at you through his bangs, “tryna ditch me, sweetheart?”

dramatically grabbing at his chest, he says “i’m wounded.” and nearly falls out his chair.

“definitely. yeah, i can’t wait to get outta here.” you reply sarcastically, “i do have to go though.” you sigh.

“i had a lot of fun.”

he crosses his arms and smiles. “as did i.”

you get up from the chair, eddie does too and walks to the couch, grabbing your bag and handing it to you once you reach him. “thanks.”

he opens the door for you and walks you to your car, “we should uh, do this again sometime. hangout..” he scratches his neck, looking around before looking at you once again.

“i’d love to!” you twirl your keys in your hand.

“cool! can’t wait.” he clears his throat. “see you tomorrow? at school?”

“see you, eddie.” you smile over at him when you open your car door, getting in and closing it.

you can’t stop smiling on your drive home, you just hung out with your crush. you’re friends with your crush now.

right as you get home and talk to your mom, you immediately call robin spending another few hours talking to her.

you go to sleep that night feeling happy, and you can’t wait for the next day to come.

[lecsainz]

Hope you're doing amazing! I love your blog so much! I come here almost every other day to day dream about my favourites and read your pieces again and again. Could i request Carlos x reader fic where Carlos comforts the reader after some reporters prod into their private life and the reader feels overwhelmed... Angst to fluff and maybe smut in the end?

SHE’S A BAD BAD GIRL

parings: carlos sainz x famous!reader

authors note: I gotta say, mixing a bit of AU with regular fanfic, can I just say I love doing magazine features?

summary: that one where the media makes up stuff about your relationship with carlos but he ain't gonna let that shake our relationship.

☆. . . masterlist !

Exclusive Source Reveals Startling Insights Into the Relationship of F1's Rising Star and the Elusive Heiress

The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?

By TMZ Magazine - September 2023

In the glitzy world of fame and fortune, where the line between reality and illusion often blurs, power couples are born just as swiftly as they fade away.

None have captured the public's attention quite like that of Formula 1 sensation Carlos Sainz Jr. and the enigmatic heiress Y/N Y/L/N. This power couple's whirlwind romance has been the subject of intense speculation, with many questioning the authenticity of their love. In a TMZ exclusive, we delve into the inner workings of their seemingly sensational union, revealing what lies beneath the surface.

It's no secret that the world of celebrity romance often blurs the lines between genuine affection and calculated publicity. In the case of Carlos Sainz Jr. and Y/N Y/L/N, sources close to the couple suggest that their relationship might be more PR strategy than a heartfelt connection. Our exclusive source, a close friend of the couple, disclosed that the pair has carefully orchestrated their romance to maximize benefits on both ends.

"They both know that being in the spotlight can help boost their respective careers," our source shared. "They decided it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Carlos gets more media coverage, and Y/N can use his popularity to her advantage."

Y/N Y/L/N, the elusive heiress whose life has been shrouded in mystery, has raised eyebrows with her numerous high-profile relationships over the years. It's no secret that she's been romantically linked to at least eight A-list celebrities, including musicians, actors, and even fellow heirs. Despite her apparent aversion to fame and the media circus that surrounds it, Y/N has consistently found herself in the headlines due to her high-profile affairs.

"The irony is that Y/N has always claimed to hate the attention that comes with dating famous people," our source revealed. "Yet, she's continued to choose partners from the same world she professes to despise."

As the couple's relationship has garnered more attention, their PR teams have been working tirelessly to manage the narrative. They've employed tactics such as carefully timed public appearances, social media posts, and interviews to keep the public intrigued and invested in their romance. This calculated approach, however, has led many to question the authenticity of their connection.

"Their teams are skilled at using the media to their advantage," our source admitted. "It's all about perception and maintaining their status as a 'power couple.'"

As the world continues to watch this captivating couple's every move, one question lingers: Is their love story genuine, or is it a calculated maneuver to seize the attention of the masses and advance their respective careers? Are Carlos and Y/N truly in love, or are they orchestrating a well-choreographed PR campaign for mutual benefit?

Stay tuned for more exclusive updates and revelations from TMZ Magazine.

Y/N lay sprawled across the plush sofa in the cozy living room of her shared home with Carlos in Spain. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm rays of light across the room. She'd been catching up on some reading when her phone buzzed incessantly, drawing her attention away from the book.

The headline on her screen was impossible to miss: "The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?" The TMZ article had surfaced online, and her heart sank as she read through the scandalous claims about their relationship. It was a relentless invasion of their privacy, dissecting their love as if it were a staged performance.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and she felt overwhelmed by the intrusion into their lives. She knew she had to confront this with Carlos, who had always been her rock in times of turmoil.

Carlos entered the room, sensing the tension in the air. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he sat down beside her.

She handed him her phone, unable to speak the words herself. Carlos read through the article, his expression growing darker with every word. He clenched his jaw, his protective instincts kicking in. "This is complete nonsense," he muttered angrily.

Carlos's anger simmered as he continued to read the invasive article. His protective instincts flared, and he couldn't fathom how anyone could twist their love into something so far from the truth.

"They have no idea what they're talking about," Carlos said, his voice low but filled with determination. "This is just trash journalism trying to stir up controversy."

Y/N looked up at Carlos, her eyes filled with gratitude. She'd always admired his strength and resilience. "I know, Carlos, but it still stings. I hate how they're trying to make our love seem fake."

Carlos's expression softened as he turned to her. "Mi sol," he whispered, using the affectionate term he had for her. "Our love is as real as the sun streaming through those windows. Don't ever doubt that."

Y/N managed a faint smile, her heart aching a little less with his reassuring words. "I just wish we could shut them up, Carlos."

A mischievous glint flickered in Carlos's eyes as he looked at her. "Well, maybe we can," he said cryptically.

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, Carlos swept her into his arms and stood up. She laughed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" she asked, her laughter mixing with curiosity.

He grinned down at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm taking my sunshine to our room," he said, "away from all this nonsense."

Y/N couldn't help but giggle as Carlos carried her bridal style down the hallway to their bedroom. His laughter joined hers, and it echoed through their home, drowning out the noise of the world outside.

In that moment, as Carlos playfully carried her, Y/N realized that their love was a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of fame and gossip. It didn't matter what others said or wrote about them. What they had was real, unbreakable, and filled with a kind of love that could weather any storm.

As they reached their bedroom, Carlos gently set Y/N down, and they both burst into laughter. He pulled her into a tender kiss, sealing their promise to protect their love from the prying eyes of the world.

As Carlos set Y/N down in their bedroom, their laughter filled the air like a sweet melody, banishing the remnants of unease brought on by the intrusive article. With a loving smile, Carlos cupped her face in his hands, his gaze locked onto hers.

"You know," he whispered, his voice laced with desire, "there's one thing those journalists will never understand."

Y/N's breath hitched as she met his intense gaze. "What's that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a soft murmur.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. "That our love," he murmured, his voice husky, "is the real deal."

Their kisses deepened, their passion igniting like a flame. Carlos's hands slid from her face down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, and she moaned softly against his lips.

Their love was a fire burning brightly, an unbreakable bond that no amount of gossip or scrutiny could diminish. As their clothes fell to the floor, they reveled in the intimacy that was entirely their own, a celebration of their genuine love.

In the quiet of their bedroom, away from the prying eyes of the world, Carlos and Y/N proved that their love wasn't just a masterpiece of public relations. It was a passionate, fiery, and deeply genuine connection that left no room for doubt.

As their bodies entwined and their moans of pleasure filled the room, they knew that their love was their most cherished secret, a sanctuary where they could be their true selves, far away from the judgmental eyes of the world.

liked by charlesleclerc , taylorswift , and 13.657.473 others

carlossainz55 just had the best night of my life! thanks, gossipmongers, for the motivation.

tag: yourusername

comments have been disabled.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A Hundred Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Husband!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Beloved

Warning: perversion, explicit smut, unprotected sex, sexual euphoria

Word Count: 3988

5 of 7

Coriolanus thinks he might have made a mistake in choosing your honeymoon destination.

Mrs. Plinth apparently owns a private beach down in the south. She insisted that you spend your honeymoon there as it was more private.

Private.

A scowl made it to Coriolanus’ face the moment you arrived in the secluded beach town. He was still in his suit and you were still in your wedding dress.  Anybody with eyes can see that you were just married.  But the locals knew no shame.

The men, their skin bronze from being on the coast, fit from constantly moving, their faces sculpted manliness. And they seem to have taken a liking to you.

“May I help you with that, Miss?” A man asks you for the third time that night, referring to the handbag you carried. It has your personal effects, you would not trust anyone with it.

“That would not be necessary.” Coriolanus quips, his arm circling around your waist.  The man straightens up and looks Coriolanus up and down before he grins

“Her other baggage, then? You won’t be able to carry them all.”

Coriolanus scoffs and you politely smile at the man. You know Coriolanus is more than capable of lifting baggage but there is too much of it, it seems unreasonable to make your husband carry them all.

“Oh, we have more than enough help. Thank you.” You say sweetly and as if on cue, peacekeepers and porters appear to start putting your bags in the yacht.

The man frowns, his mind whirring before he comes to a realization.

“You’re those politicians who just got married.”

Coriolanus looks at him, his eyes now sharp.

“Does the Capitol news not reach this part of Panem?” He raises a brow.

The man chuckles as he rubs his stubble. “Nah, just don’t watch any of that bullshit.”

“You watch your words very carefully.” Coriolanus grins, the iciness in his tone not matching his charming face. “The Capitol is not very kind to those who call our affairs ‘bullshit’.”

You look at the man with much fascination. You have to commend how he stands his ground, now sizing Coriolanus up, but his lax posture was breaking apart on the surface. Ignorance really has a feeble power to it.

Despite the burliness of this person, you are not too worried about Coriolanus as he had his fair share of training. And the peacekeepers are just waiting for the man to cross that fine intangible line, their postures tight and ready to spring.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us. My wife and I have other places to be.”  Coriolanus leads you to the yacht where your luggage has been placed.

“The impudence of some people.”  Coriolanus spits.  “He does not even recognize the President.”

“I will talk to the mayor.” You attempt to soothe him but he clicks his tongue.

His jaw tightens before he takes a deep breath. “We agreed not to work while we are on our honeymoon.” He says but you can see how excruciating it was for him to say.

You grimace before breaking to a smile.

“If you say so, my love.”

You glance behind you and see the man still staring at you. You turn away when he sends you a boyish smile and a wink.

Coriolanus grunts when you cling to his arm tightly.

“Hurry, Corio.”

He straightens his back and slows his pace. “I see no purpose in rushing.” He’s not running away from anything.

It makes you roll your eyes but you match his pace anyways.  You enjoy the night stroll, the cool breeze refreshing your skin that is trapped in your wedding gown. You wanted to get out of it the moment the reception ended but Grandma’am almost dropped her turban when you mentioned a change of clothing.

Perhaps it was an old Panem tradition but she said only the groom must free you of your bridal gown.

Again with the superstitions but Coriolanus and you both decided you’d listen. A way to apologize after that stunt you pulled in the middle of the reception.  Coriolanus tightens his hold around your waist as you board the yacht.

“I’m hungry.” You tell him. 

He nods. “So am I.”

With the pressure of the ceremony and reception, you did not get to enjoy the food served despite them being of the finest qualities.

“I’d love to have that filet mignon again.”  You sigh as you sit on a sofa.  Coriolanus watches you with a smile.  Your face was full of disappointment and you looked adorable as your poofy gown swallowed you. “And posca.”

“Mhh, agreed.”  He sauntered over to the glass windows. Watching how the hydrofoil cuts the waters below.  The ruffling from your gown makes Corio turn to look at you once more.

You have occupied the entire sofa, now lying on your back as you stared into the tall ceiling. Your eyes have glazed over and he can see how your fingers picked at your gown.

“Tell me what you are thinking.”

Sighing, you close your eyes. He’s always so commanding.

“Nothing.”

He walks over to sit on the armrest. You look up to meet his glacial eyes with your own.

“There is definitely something in there, wife.”

Wife

You bite your bottom lip to contain your smile. Coriolanus raises a brow, his lips quirked up.

“Wife?”

You giggle as you reach up to pinch him but he easily swats your hand away.

“Are you regressing to your teenage self?” He pulls you up and slots himself under you so you are sitting on his lap.

“No.” You answer quickly. Too quickly.

You play with your ring as he watches you, still waiting for you to talk.

“I will hold you the entire night if you refuse to tell me.”

You shrug.  “I’m comfortable.”  His nimble fingers slip to your waist and your breath hitches.

“Yeah?”

You nod hastily.

“Tell me what is going on in that head of yours.”  He whispers against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“Corio!”

“Yes?” He flashes you that charming smile again.

“Stop it.” You say, your cheeks are now bubbling.

He tilts his head to the side.  He is fooling nobody with this pretense.

You try to get off but he keeps you in place with a hand.  He is looking around the room now, acting nonchalant to your struggle.  He looks at you with his face passive and you eventually settle.

“Stop making me flustered.”  You raise a finger at him and he grins lazily at you.  The glint of those rather sharp looking canines had you retreating your finger back.

He sets a steady bounce of his leg, jostling you and you click your tongue at him.  “What are you doing?” You grab at his coat to steady yourself.

“Trying to calm your tantrum.”

“I am not a child.” 

His eyes return to the carpeted floor and now just leans back on the sofa.  “I can see that.” You ignore how his eyes roam to your bosom.

“If you must really know, I was thinking of having a new signature.”

A perfect blonde brow was raised. “Signature.”

“I want to keep my maiden name in it but I also wanted to add yours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.” You echo as you smile at him meekly.

“You are a Snow now.” He reminds you sternly and your cheeks warm up as you nod.

“I know that, Corio.”  You shift in his lap and he rubs your waist.

The air shifts, making it difficult for you to keep still. 

A knock pulls your attention to the door.

“Mister and Missus Snow, we have arrived.”

Coriolanus looks at you and raises both brows briefly as if making a point.

You roll your eyes and get off, he lets you this time.

The private beach.  Well, more like a private island.  It was like how every beach shown in brochures is.

The staff is already waiting by the docks, standing tall and in uniformed clothing.

“Don’t worry, Missus Snow.  The staff will be here only until seven in the evening.”  The head butler tells you as he escorts you and your husband off the yacht.

“The security?”  Coriolanus looks around the island, taking in every face that was present.

The butler nods, a proud smile on his lips.

“Stationed just in this dock and on the ocean.”

You would love to have privacy but not if it meant compromising you and your husband’s safety.

“Peacekeepers are also stationed on the coast.”  The head butler reassures you.  “This island is also being covered by the most recent security offered by District 3.  We have sonars covering the waters.  There is no need to be uneasy.”

It was these kinds of over the top operations that reminds you that it is the President you have married.  His security can easily topple the peace that the retired President Ravinstill tried so hard to maintain.

“The staff will come to prepare your meals and leave after the dishes are cleaned up.  The day after tomorrow, the cleaning crew will take care of the linens and your laundry.”  The staff bows at you as you pass by them.  “Should you need something else.  We are a call away.  We are stationed in the ocean to respond right away to your every need.”

You share a look with Coriolanus.  It was a bit overkill, you both can agree.  But nothing less for the Presidential couple.

“Food is being prepared right at this moment.”  The head butler continues.

The villa is nice and airy.  Spacious and a perfect place to relax in.  And the smell of food, oh it is divine.

“The gods heard you.”  Coriolanus jests and you scan the table to see a glistening filet mignon.  Coriolanus pulls a chair for you and you thank him.  The head butler pours you a glass of posca and you smile gratefully.

Coriolanus and you eat your dinner quietly.  Giving compliments to the chefs who are standing in anticipation behind you.  You are generous in your praise, just to help in easing their anxiety.

You bid them goodbye as they all board a boat to take their leave.

When they are a considerable distance away, you and Coriolanus are able to drop the pretense. 

“Ugh.”  You groan as you grip your gown up to head inside the villa.  “I refuse to see anybody for twenty-four hours straight.”

Coriolanus follows after you, his hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.  “Does that include me?”

You look at him briefly.  “What a stupid question.”  You link your arms to his and he glances at the clam expression on your face.

Now that he is standing so close, he notices just how much your childhood features remained in your face.  Your eyes and lips stayed the same.

“There was this one time I found you under the tables during a banquet held by our fathers.”  Coriolanus tells you and you don’t look up to him.  “I accidentally kicked you.”

You only hum to acknowledge him.

“I slipped under the tablecloth and joined you.”  He recalls.  “And you stole my first kiss.”

“Corio, stop talking.”  You groan.

“You told me you will be my wife.”

You purse your lips, not knowing how to respond.  

Sighing, you finally say,  “You were distraught.”  

“I was five.”

“In the Academy.  You hated me.”

“I envied you.”

Coriolanus opens the door and lets you pass first.  You continue to walk until you find the bedroom and he follows suit.

“Is that why you preferred Clemensia Dovecote’s company?”  You say sharply and Coriolanus looks at you as he leans on the vanity to undo his coat.

“She was pretty.  A nice accessory.”

You walk over to him, throwing your arms on his shoulders as you look deeply into his eyes.

“You think she’s pretty?”

He shakes his head.  “Not anymore.  She’s more of a snake than a dove now.”

“But you thought she was pretty.”

Coriolanus places a hand on your waist to steady you.

“That was because I did not want to admit my attraction to you.”

You pull away, doe eyes looking up at him meekly as your brows raise hopefully.  “You were attracted to me?”

“I am attracted to you.  How could I not be when everything about you tells the entire Capitol that you are mine?”

With utmost shyness, you focus your attention on his tie, not quite able to meet his eyes.  “You didn’t care.”

“The rosettes you used to wear in your hair were pretty.”  He smiles as he tucks your hair to the side.  “And so were the rosette patterns on the lace of your panties.”

Your movements have gone still.  Your eyes wide as you feel like a bucket of ice was dumped on your head.  Your eyes are frantic as you look up at him.  His face was passive, not betraying him.

“You think you were sneaky?”  He taunts as he starts to pull at your dress.  “You thought I would not know about your naughty little secrets?”

You gasp when he rips a stitch of your dress as he tugs it.

“Corio.”  You say breathlessly.  “How did you-”

“That initiation we had in our first year.”  He says gruffly as he pulls your gown once more until your breasts come spilling out.  “You were to exit the academy with just your skirts and blouse.”

Your face flushes.  “Y-you saw?”

“Everybody did.”  He tells you and you bury your face in his chest.  “It worked in my favor.  No boys came after you in the Academy.”

You cursed the wind that day.

Coriolanus pulls your gown and his fingers hook on the dainty fabric that cupped your innocence.

You place your hands on his shoulders as he tugs them down.  You cover your face as he gets the fabric off.

“Oh, will you look at that?”  He chuckles as he examines the lacy fabric.  “Still adorned with rosettes.”  He twists the fabric in his long fingers and you swallow as your throat has gone dried up at the sight.  You grab his arm when he brings it up his nose.  He looks at you sternly.  “Smells like roses too and feminine musk.”

You have had enough.  After securing your gown, you turn your back to him and head to the closet, muttering angrily but he chases after you and pulls you to the lounge instead.

“You are a…a sick man!”  You say angrily as you pull away.

“If I am sick, then so are you for liking it.”  He laughs as he finishes his work with your gown until your torso is bare but he never quite got it off you just yet.  “Come here, my love.”  He sits on a plush chair and beckons you by patting his thighs.

You attempt to sit sideways but he clicks his tongue and with much reluctance, you straddle him instead.

He keeps his eyes on you as he holds your hips, his fingers digging in the large poof of your gown.

“You look so bridal.”  He says.  “I’d want nothing else but to ruin you while you still have the dress on.”  Coriolanus noses your cheek. 

“You’d let me, won’t you?”  He asks in a deeper voice, making you nod your head with your eyes closed and lip caught between your teeth.

He chuckles at your startled gasp as he prodded at your petals.  His fingers spread to your lips, creating a wet noise that had you wrapping your arms around his neck once more as you hid away.

“She’s wet.” 

You buck your hips against his when his thumb presses flat on your pearl.

“You like it?”  He smiles against your hair and you hum.  “Words, darling.”

“I do, Corio.”  You murmur against his chest.  “More please.” 

He swallows thickly as he lets a finger slip between your folds and he winces lightly when you bite his shoulder.  His finger was met with resistance but he pushed it further, willing you to relax.

“There you go.”  He says as you start to grind against his hand.  You throw your head back as your hands grip his shoulders.

“Mmh!”  You mewl, your eyebrows pinched as hot puffs of air escape your lips that have bloated after being nibbled.  “F-feels sooo good!”

Coriolanus watches your face as you move above him, his fingers dripping with your sweet honey.

The thickness of his fingers nudged at your quivering walls, it had soft sighs spilling from your lips.  He curls his fingers upward and you melt as it massages the sweet spot inside you.

You suddenly gasp, bowing your head as your hands grasp at his hair.  “C-Corio…I’m-…Oh!”

Your body seizes up as you pull him close, your walls pulsating around his fingers as you cum.  Your honey stains your thighs and he revels at the look on your face.

Coriolanus carries you to your bed as he dips his head to kiss you.  You are mewling his name through the kiss as his fingers keep massaging your walls.  He gently slips his fingers out of you, the sensation most frustrating.

He slips out of his coat and you admire him for a while before trying to tug your gown off but he glares at you and your hands retreat from doing it.  The gown is soon tugged from you and you find yourself covering your feminine parts as his eyes roam around your body. 

Warm rough hands cup under your knee to part your legs further.  You whine in embarrassment and you make an attempt to pull your knees together.  Still so shy from him seeing your body.

“Don’t.”  He warns and your bones turn weak, you feel shameful with how much your body responds to him.

“I’m sorry.”  You say meekly.

Both of you are thrumming in anticipation as he unbuckles his pants and you wait with bated breath as he frees himself.

Coriolanus grunts as he grips his cock, pumping until you feel a warm dribble land on your stomach.

You watch his face contort with concentration as he guides his leaking tip on your entrance and you bite back a moan as the tip catches, the head slotting itself between your petals.

“If you hold back on your sounds, I would get upset.”  He says pointedly and you nod at him, your hand running on his arm to soothe him and to get him to hurry.

Coriolanus hooks your legs over his arms, he holds your waist as he slips himself inside you.

Your pained gasp had him gritting his teeth. 

“Just a bit more, darling.”

But that was a lie.  He was barely in.

Your nails are biting at his arms, forming red angry crescent moons.

“Almost there.”  He groans and you let out a choked sob, feeling the burn from the tight stretch.

Coriolanus inhales sharply as your tightness keeps him from filling you.  He places your legs back on the mattress and he clicks his tongue at how your walls reject his size.  He glances at your face before he tongues his cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love.” 

You don’t get to ask why when he crawls on top of you, his corded arms slipping under you so he can grip your shoulders.  He pulls back slightly and your juices, now painted pink with the mixture of your broken innocence, slips to coat your inner thighs.

Coriolanus murmurs apologies on your hair and makes shallow thrusts, your hands gripping his nape with the conflict of pleasure and pain, making you wetter and wetter.  And in one full thrust, he sheaths himself.

Your eyes shot open as you clawed on his back, feeling yourself tipping before you came crashing down.  Your flower clenches as it pulses around him, your slick overflowing with his tip kissing your cervix.

You are making noises that Coriolanus never thought you were capable of.  Your words were more of like babbles as wet sobs spilled from your lips.

The sight of you, so debauched, makes Coriolanus laugh.  “You come from just being stuffed full?”

Your glare up at him but your tongue is still unable to form words as pleasure makes tears leak from your eyes.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?”  He chuckles while he rocks his hips against yours.

He watches with amusement at how you throw your head back when he pounds on you.  He can see your pulse jumping and he wonders if you know how vulnerable you are right now.  He grazes his teeth on the thinness of your skin and to his surprise, you mewl wantonly, only tightening around him.

“Naughty girl.”  He chuckles but you look at him, offended.

“I’m not.”

He kisses your pouting lips.  “Hm?”

You shake your head.  “I’m not.”

“You’re not naughty?”  He snickers and you nod.  You are acting no different to a drunk.  “That’s right.  You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”

Coriolanus wonders if the look you are giving him are what they say heart eyes are.  

He realized that he feels most powerful when he is on top of you and making you feel good. 

Your feet absentmindedly slide to caress his leg and he smiles at your adorable display of affection.

Nobody would believe the sight of you right now.

So docile, so submissive.

The damp fabric under you was uncomfortable and it was too warm, but such tiny discomforts flew over your head when Coriolanus was making you feel too good.

Your big teary eyes look at him as your brows curl in pleasure, you were too adorable he had to kiss you.

You break the kiss with a whine, your heels digging on the mattress as your back arches off the bed.

Coriolanus understood and fucked into you rougher, trying to keep a steady pace but it was getting harder and harder for him to do when your soft wet walls rub against his sensitive cock.

“Corio, Corio please!”  You beg him as your hands cupped his face in desperation.

He seethes through gritted teeth, his hands leaving a red print on your shoulders as he crushed you with his weight.  You were sobbing, just needing him all to yourself.

And you cum once more.  You are lost as every coil in your body snaps.  You are unraveling beneath him and Coriolanus grunts, chasing his own high and he slots the tip of his manhood deep inside you and spills his seed.

You wince at the warm spurts of his spend and you pull him to share another kiss.

Coriolanus breathed heavily against your lips.  He felt invincible yet ready to go down on his knees for you.  No wonder why so many empires collapsed for women.  He would gladly die if you asked him to at this moment.

Your sob pulls him from his thoughts and looks at you with concern.

Coriolanus tucks your damp hair to the side as he kisses your cheek.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?  Did I go too rough?”

You shake your head as you pull him closer, your legs crossing over his posterior, burying him deeper inside you, making him groan, the tendons on his arms popping in an attempt to control himself.

“I love you.  I love you, Corio.  It felt so good.”

He chuckles at your words and he nods, dipping low to kiss your lips once more.  “I love you too.”  He looks deep into your eyes and starts moving his hips once more, determined to make love to you again.

You give him a tired smile but you encourage him by tracing his nape sensually with your manicured nails.

You share a look of pure fondness, so in love and lost in pleasure.

It was then you realized that you need nothing else but each other and you would do everything to protect this love you found.

Quest for Happiness

[soarrenbluejay]

Can’t remember where I’ve seen the idea first but I’ve had this idea of Regular Clowns taking offense to joker’s bullshit for a while now and exacting Vengeance. The man doesn’t even has an egg! His ass never been to clown school! He’s a disgrace to them all!

So four buddies leaving the traveling circus business decide as people who have loved every second of this and are Deeply Insulted by this wanker to Do Something About It.

Three of them are showmen- an acrobat, a juggler, a fire fanatic, the works.

The last one, Jerry, is a stage hand. He is their most powerful member- not only does he have the superpower of self care, but he’s a meta! Minor telekinesis is actually really useful when shuttling stuff around in a stage in a hurry! (And that whole thing of our idea of ninjas coming from stage hands in all black being ‘invisible’ yeah. Cryptid vibes, except it’s just Jerry)

So. A clown car pulls up in Gotham, in the middle of a Joker attack, presumably despite ever Gothamite on the road who saw it making their best effort to take one for the team and mow them down. This is a no good awful sign for Gotham.

But it gets better.

Because out does not step a bunch of goon reinforcements in masks, or some jokerified poor soul, but instead someone in one of those historical jester costumes, bells and dramatic ass sleeves and all. Also, they’re bright orange. It is slightly eye searing. In one hand is the end to a long line of tied together handkerchiefs in clashing neon colors which appears to be infinite bc it just keeps coming. In the other is a comedically oversized hammer with a squeaky sound effect installed but no spring to soften the blow- it in fact has spikes with little Mayfair banners hanging off.

They immediately attempt to strangle/bash Joker to death with a winning smile firmly in place, and actually survive the attempt of which by apparent virtue of being made of rubber or something. And out slides our fire master, in all teal for contrast, who promptly throws smoke bombs at the crowd of goons around and starts all but boa staffing them down with his fire wand, paired with a dramatic speech about how Joker is in insult to the idea of circus and also the most unfunny bitch to ever walk the earth.

Lastly, the juggler. They have come armed. With glitter and hackysacks. A dramatic beatdown ensues, with much shrieking and yelling on all sides. A gif is made of Joker being bonked right through a concrete wall with a move right out of a video game. Several goons get concussions a la bowling pins. It’s all being live streamed by someone through their apartment window and is rapidly going viral. It’s a good time mostly because this attempt at vengeance against the Clown Bitch Gotham did not immediately involve some one getting very anticlimacticly shot.

No really takes note of the guy in all black and ski mask, calmly standing in the middle of the flaming chaos. He occasionally holds out a new set of props for the juggler, an oversized great sword for our acrobat jester, some nitroglycerin for blowy uppy efforts, the works. Until he starts calmly putting together a three story set of scaffolding for the gang to use for the purpose of beating the crime king’s skull in in even more ridiculous ways and also so jester can showcase their absolute lack of a spine.

And Jerry goes back to standing in the middle of this chaos, apparently unaffected by Literally Everything going on. His friends are fucking crazy, he’s used to it.

Meanwhile, Ghost King Danny gets a new urgent appeal at his ghostly royal desk- someone is attempting to enact vengeance against the joker and move approximately 46363883 souls along doing it, except it’s not the Red Hood this time! It’s Some Random Guys that a minor mischief god is now attempting to fast track layering with blessings! Said minor god is officially appealing for the Ghost Monarch’s support. Danny is conflicted- on one hand, he Fucking Hates Clowns. And has a major hero worship thing going on for Red Hood, a fellow supernatural hero (in the dead’s eyes) much his senior. However, the idea of a bunch of nobody’s beating the joker to death at the same time as declaring how shit of a clown he is IS pretty hilarious.

He gives it the stamp of Yes, provided others seeking vengeance (aka red hood, the thousands of joker victims in Gotham, anyone who wants to go spectacular viral) can still intervene to catch some own hands, a minor merriment/will of the people god does a jig on the spot, and back with the Justice Circus Brigade, ghouls and Spectors alike start popping up to join in on the fun! Which our beloved ren faire rejects are actually pretty okay with- big enough circus events in the DC universe have a bad habit of becoming possessed/very obviously haunted/Ooky Spooky like, every few months. And these guys look much friendlier than whatever the hell has been in the house of mirrors these last few months!

Red Hood isn’t sure how he’s suddenly in the middle of upper Gotham when he’s was decidedly Nowhere Near three seconds ago, but that’s a problem for later when the Bitch Ass Clown Extraordinaire is Right There!! So he tables it to be very paranoid about later, shrugs, and starts shooting. Jester starts shouting out points for accuracy/comedy, Jerry calmly asks if he wants some of their backup silver bullets just in case The Target really is an unholy being of some sort. (They have taken Precautions. For Everythinf. Or at least Jerry did.) Jason can’t say no to free extra ammunition and also That’s Hilarious, man he has to hire these guys!

Then fire juggler molotov’s the joker, and he decides these idiots are ABSOLUTELY worth saving from the big bad bat. Fuck it, this morons are the BEST.

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 6

Nancy was pacing back and forth. Normally, it made Eddie anxious, but since he knew exactly what was on her mind, he decided to let her continue until her short legs tired her out.

"I just-I don't understand you. How can you give him free reign of the castle?"

"He doesn't have free reign", Eddie said.

"Did you put a collar on him? Or cuffs?", Nancy asked. When Eddie shook his head, she continued. "Do you put any sort of spell on him? Or charm?"

"Robin can handle herself. And there's always guards nearby if he steps out of line."

Nancy looked him up and down, then crossed her arms. "It's almost like you have faith in him or something."

Eddie couldn't describe what he was feeling. He couldn't forgive the Harringtons for what they had been doing. But Dustin was right. Unless he could prove that Steve had been directly responsible, it wasn't right to punish him. He could still dislike him, since he definitely benefited from the misdeeds of his family.

And there was a slim chance those hard feelings would ever change.

------------------------

Steve got dressed just in time to hear someone knock on the door.

"Hey, your royal slowness, we haven't got time for you to soak all day. I have actual important things to do."

It sounded like the woman from before. The one who didn't want him. Steve opened the door to her unimpressed face.

"Let's go."

"Without shoes?", Steve asked, looking down his bare feet.

"You won't need 'em."

She led him down the hall, past some windows and Steve got his first glimpse of the outside. It looked...normal. Nothing like the blackened, dead trees, and the dry, salted earth that he'd been led to believe this area was. The trees were wilting, sure, but in the typical way ones did in autumn. There was grass and even people doing chores outside.

Past the castle walls, he could make out something in the distance that looked like a town.

"Keep up!"

Steve tore his eyes away and saw that she was a long ways ahead of him. He jogged to catch up, noting the carpet on the floor. He was suddenly reminded of being very young and still allowed to go barefoot outside his quarters.

"Alright", she opened up a closet that was filled with instruments. "I need these moved over to the other end of the south wing and then polished and shined."

"So you're using a prince as both a pack mule and a maid?", Steve asked, brow raised. "What if I refuse?"

"Then I get our all-powerful king to put a compulsion hex on you and hypnotize you to do it anyway."

"Steve!", Dustin exclaimed when he came around the corner, beaming. "I went down to visit you and you were gone! They set you free?"

"I'm less free and more like free labor, apparently."

"You know you're not supposed to go down into the dungeons, Dustin."

"I see you've met Robin. Don't worry, she's nicer than she looks", Dustin grinned.

"Not nice enough to not tell Eddie what you've been doing. And I'm pretty sure he threatened to tell your mom. Maybe I'll just cut out the middle man", Robin warned.

Dustin paled. "You wouldn't dare."

Robin gestured to the musical instruments. "Help out with this and I won't tell a soul."

Dustin let out a breath of relief. "Menial work? That's it? Between Steve and me, we can knock this out easy."

Steve frowned. "I never said I'd-"

"This spoiled brat probably can't even lift a flute", Robin challenged.

"He knows how to kill a guy like a dozen different ways. Steve could finish this in like ten minutes", Dustin countered.

"Ooh, challenge accepted", Robin turned, ignoring Steve's protests. "I'll be in the second music room. Keep his highness on a tight leash."

Fully roped into it, Steve started hauling instruments. Dustin was talking, but he was thinking of his escape. He had no shackles, no bars. He could find a moment to get past the walls and then...maybe it would be better to sneak to the stables and get a horse first. He dreaded the thought of traveling such a distance with no shoes though. Maybe someone had a pair lying around?

Could he steal a pair in town without anyone noticing? He doubted most townsfolk would recognize him as an enemy prince. Steve was deep in his escape plan strategizing, that he just nodded along and 'mhm'ed to whatever it was that Dustin was saying. That kid could talk to a wall and keep the conversation going, which he was pretty much doing now, talking to Steve.

He barely even noticed that they were done moving things until the woman, Robin, threw a cloth at him.

"I want these shiny enough to see my reflection in them", she ordered.

"Why are you making him do all this?", Dustin asked.

"I'm getting new students tomorrow and they deserve nice equipment."

Dustin's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Oh no one you'd know. Except for Mike."

"Mike?!"

"And Max. And El, oh and Lucas and", Robin went on naming people, some Steve knew, others that he didn't.

"Bullshit! There's no way they're all taking classes!"

"Oh they are. And you are too", Robin said while leaving the room.

Incredulous, Dustin followed her out, leaving Steve alone in the room. Alone. They had left him alone. He looked to the open door, leading out into the hallway, then the instruments spread out on tables and the floor, covered in dust.

-------------------

Jeff and Nancy were strolling the halls, discussing how best to prepare for any sort of retaliation when they heard whistling. It wasn't the sound that gave them pause, but where it was coming from. A music room that wasn't supposed to be in use yet. They poked their heads in and saw Prince Steve, whistling a happy working tune while shining a shining a trumpet.

The two of them pulled their heads out, shared a mutual expression of confusion and went to seek out Eddie to report to him, but he was nowhere to be found. That usually meant he was off in town or visiting some other part of the kingdom. Either way, they wouldn't be able to talk to him until he returned.

Steve didn't spend too long rationalizing why he was doing this. He was just biding his time until he came up with a more solid plan. Even though his homeland wasn't really a home, at least no one there wanted to actively kill him. He wasn't safe here and he couldn't forget that. He especially couldn't let his guard down around the king.

Robin remembered him a couple of hours later and led him back to the room he'd first been brought to. Steve had time to actually look at it now. Smaller than his own room but larger than the prison cell. Definitely warmer to. But besides that, it was very minimal and sparse. A bed, a small drawer, and the bathroom. Steve wondered what this room was for. It was an odd sort of guest room.

Robin said something about dinner being brought up but Steve paid it no mind when he realized he'd be sleeping on a bed tonight. He collapsed into it and buried himself in the blanket. He'd be having sleep for dinner.

Part 8

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @sugartin @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things

[boyfiejay]

Soulmate AU

PAIRING : Jungwon x gn Reader

GENRE : soulmates, fated to be

Warning : reader has mixed feeling about this soulmate thing, they go to different schools, jungwon is a gentleman, reader is whipped for him, mention of a cut on readers wrist (not SH), swearing like once

Word Count : 1.3k (how tf😧)

Author's Note : pinterest pushed me to write this, like i saw that bracelet photo and i had to write this. Why do my periods have to hurt me so bad, im going to kms😂

Sunoo Version

You've always felt like an outsider, so different from people around you. You were constantly surrounded by couples, soulmates to be exact. To be honest, you found the idea of soulmates a little bit too much, too controlling as to how you had spend your life with someone you've just met.

But there was still comfort in that thought, as controlling this whole thing sounded, it still was a reassurance that there is a person who is so much suited for you that they can be called your soulmate. That no matter what at the end of the day, that person understood you better than anyone else, even if they've known you for mere hours.

So really do you find these soulmates? Everyone is given a bracelet with a distinct charm on it at the young age of 10. These charms are supposed to link together when you meet them, they're stuck together for as long as the charm wants.

And although your charm was pretty looking, it still got stuck in inconvenient things. Your wrists turning red at the harsh metal. It looked pretty but was a bit too uncomfortable.

Although the thought of soulmates made you feel giddy, couples were insufferable in your early years of high school, constantly reminding you what you did not have. Or what you did not find.

But as you grew older, your excitement about finding your soulmate grew less and less. Many people found their soulmates at the beginning of high school, some even in middle school. Your parents found each other when they were 15, your older brother found his soulmate when he was 16. And at the age of 18, you felt everyone look down on you with pity.

And whatever hope you had, had started to diminish as you were now in your last year of high school. Just a year away from graduation, everyone around you was constantly worried about whether you would find your 'meant-to-be' or not.

Finding your soulmate way later in life wasn't unheard of, but the chances of finding that person becomes really low the older you get.

And so your parents decided for you that you should meet new people, hangout more often because apparently the reason you haven't found your soulmate is because you don't socialise. Which is understandable, considering you only have a set of friends that you interact with.

Thankfully, you did not have any problem with making friends. But sticked to the few you trusted, well because everyone at your school is either a crackhead, doesn't understand boundaries or just so much drama. So you happily agreed to going our more often when your parents mentioned.

But what was annoying was that you were being dragged to a different school's yearly festivals. Well not really annoying, now that you were promised a treat from your friends.

Someone in the group, you failed to notice who, had mentioned that you all should split in groups and explore whatever you wanted, since everyone wanted to do a different thing. And initially you had two of your friends with you, but after a while of mindlessly strolling you realised that you were alone, your friends vanishing, leaving you with a cat plushie you won.

You wandered around, looking around to find your friends as well as looking for something interesting to waste your money on.

You spotted someone wearing an orange beret, similar to what your friend had worn in the morning. Unfortunately the person was slowly going out of your line of sight and merging into the crowd. You had to move quickly and soon enough you were trying to push past a bunch of people.

You broke into a small jog, the person finally in your line of sight. But just then you felt a harsh tug on your wrist, it definitely wasn't someones hand that was gripping yours.

It didn't take you long to realise what the tug was, you slowly turned, hoping that your bracelet didn't get stuck in some random person's sleeve.

As you turned, you were met with wide worried eyes that were scanning your wrist. Your eyes moved down, still internally hoping, and the sight that you had dreamed numerous times was in front of you. In that moment, you just felt this strong urge to cry, no one in your life could understand the times you had felt alone while everyone around you just seemed so happy.

And no matter how much you try to gaslight yourself, you had desperately wanted to meet your soulmate. Everyone described it like such an enchanting moment, your mom said it felt like sparks were flying, you would feel that you've known this person your whole life.

But right now, the person in front of you seemed so unfazed about the fact that he had just found his soulmate. Rather he was focused on the fact that your wrist was bright red, it burned due to the harsh tug and there was a small cut that he hasn't seen yet.

"Are you okay?" he said, finally meeting your eyes, his own searching for any pain on your face. Surely you felt enchanted, not only because this was your soulmate, but also because he was the epitome of 'handsome yet cute'.

He tilted his eyes, confused at you blankly staring. No scratch that, he was cute as fuck.

Snapping out of the trance he had put on you, you say "Yeah, I'm fine." your whole face was burning up at his intense staring. You were surprised you managed to sound normal.

"I don't think this is gonna let go any time soon." he said, talking about the charms. "Do you mind if we hung out together? Consider this our first date. My name is Jungwon." he said, gently smiling, dimples appearing on his cheeks. God he was too cute.

Clearing your throat, you managed to nod and return his smile, your eyes still staring at his dimples.

He looked behind his to tell his friends to go on without him, you just realised that there were around half a dozen people behind his that were just staring at you, trying to bore holes into you. A couple of them had a teasing smile when you looked at them, two of them covering their wide open mouths. Only one person seemed laid back and he motioned Jungwon to go on, dragging the others away with him.

Jungeon looked back at you after making sure his friends weren't fooling around or staring at you, "Let's go?" he said still smiling. You felt like you were going to combust.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know each other, Jungwon surprisingly being a very easy person to talk to. You both opened up about how you two were the only people in your respective friend groups who were soulmate-less, "Well, not anymore." was his reply, with a cheeky grin, avoiding your eyes.

And despite how respective he was, he was also flirty. Like not flirty in a creepy way, he was still respectful of your boundaries but he had some kind of charm that just made you flush bright red. Or maybe you were just whipped for him, despite knowing him for such a small time.

With red cheeks and shy waves, and a promise to meet again, the date had ended.

You could finally understand why people could write whole books just about their soulmates, you felt such a deep sense of endearment when you looked at him. You finally understood why your friends were so whipped for their soulmates, constantly yapping about them.

Your friends were surely going to hear an earful for leaving you alone, but you had a feeling that you were going to talk way more about Jungwon.

[girlietips]

Boundaries I have 🤍🦢🩰

Hey cuties here are some of my personal boundaries that I use on a daily basis🤍

If anyone last minute cancels plans with me I don’t make more plans with them.

Obviously within reason if something happens that the person had genuinely no control over this does not apply.

But if the person just decides to not come or wants to move back our meeting time by anymore than 30 minutes I cancel it and no longer make plans with just that person (if someone else is going then I will make exceptions).

When people don’t value your time it is very clear and especially because I like to have my whole day planned out someone else not wanting to show up is not something I am going to deal with.

I don’t tolerate any mean jokes

Whether they are towards me or towards another person just because it is said in a joking manner does not make it any kinder.

Listen I have two very very good close friends. One that I’ve known for around 13 years and the other who I’ve known for about 7 years. Never once in all of those years have they ever said anything mean to me. They have definitely called me out when I am in the wrong but we have never had the kind of relationship where we are just mean to each other and call it jokes.

If you are one of those people that says your relationship is perfectly healthy even though you are constantly “making fun” of each other. I invite you to truly ask yourself these questions. “If it was someone else saying this would it hurt my feelings?” and “if the joking tone was taken away would it still be funny?”

I don’t tolerate any violent or graphic jokes. (“Dark humor”)

It is never funny, it is never going to make you seem more edgy, and it’s never gonna make you look cool to make fun of suffering. You lacking basic empathy is very apparent when you make fun of tragedies and half the time there is not even a punch line.

It’s just very immature and I also find the people who tell these jokes don’t really care about “time and place”. Often times they use the “stop being so sensitive” retort to cover up that they don’t have a funny bone in their body and can’t read a room to save their life.

Save them for Reddit babes!

No one (not even myself) will get in the way of my self care and sleep schedules!!

I find that I feel best going to bed really early and rising early as well so generally I don’t make plans after 6-7pm (exceptions for big life events, birthdays, weddings, holidays) any friend who is a true friend knows this about me and will not try and force me to go out late.

Same thing with myself no matter how important work or school is to me it never will trump taking care of myself so I feel the best.

These are the main ones I follow let me know if you want me to explain how I set my boundaries or if you just want more of mine because I definitely have more but I’ve been slow at posting lately and wanted to get this out of my drafts🤍

Bye cuties🩰🦢

[bradshawsbitch]

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” With our boy Rooster!

oof, we love our boy Rooster! but we also know our boy can have a bit of a temper... thanks for requesting it!!

disclaimer: It's funny how I promised myself I'd never write this trope, but here we are lmao.

description: the squad is enjoying a night at the hard deck, and some fucker makes nasty lil dumbass comments that makes rooster pissed.

warnings: bar fight, misogyny, feminist king!Rooster, protective Rooster, mentions of blood

(y'all already knew i had to use this gif)

Bradley was, according to himself, usually a very level-headed man. Except for if you mentioned his father. Or his mother. Or Maverick. Or you, for that matter. But other than that he was cool as a cucumber. He never really figured himself to be a jealous type, either - he usually trusted people to do their thing and he did his.

Which is why, when looking back at the incident that had gotten him into his current predicament (you, holding an icepack to his split lip), he figured maybe he had been wrong.

It had all started off as any old night at the Hard Deck. Coyote and Hangman occupied the darts board, Phoenix and Bob were laughing at something that had happened during their flight earlier that day as they racked up a game of nine-ball, and you were dancing to the jaunty tune of Shania Twain's 'Man! I Feel Like a Woman' whilst Rooster sat by the bar, nursing a beer and a big grin watching his girlfriend dance and laugh with Halo. As Shania sang the line 'let our hair down', you looked at Rooster, flipping your hair and swaying your hips seductively with a little secret smile on your lips, enjoying your time letting loose after a week's hard work flying. He grinned back at you, sending you a quick wink and relishing in the giggle that slipped past your lips before you turned to Halo again.

"This is why I don't think women should be in the navy," a voice scoffed from beside Bradley, who turned to look at the man sat next to him for the first time since he'd sat down. Bradley had hardly noticed him at all until he spoke up. Seeing as Bradley considered himself a level-headed man, he gritted his teeth - surprised at how young the man beside him was.

"C'mon man, the first female aviator in the Navy was 1978. Don't you think it's time to let it go?" Bradley grumbled, having read through the female history of the Navy, just because he thought it was important to know. 1978 was a long time ago, sure - but he figured they'd let women do what they wanted before that. But apparently not. The man raised a brow, and Rooster just knew this was going to be a painful conversation to have. But he would have it, because if he didn't - who would?

"What are your reasons for thinking women shouldn't be able to enlist?" Rooster continued, glaring at the lieutenant sat next to him.

"Well, it's obvious isn't it? They're obviously weaker both physically and mentally. And then there's-- all of this," the man gestured to you and Halo having fun on the dance floor, now doing a silly move where you bumped hips before jumping the other way and bumping the other side. Rooster frowned, looking back at the young man.

"Because they can dance?" Rooster was bewildered, and he could feel his cheeks turning red with anger. That level-headedness of his was being tested thoroughly by this man.

"They're sluts, man! They're just looking to fuck anything that moves, okay? Fucking shaking their asses and hanging off any lieutenant that'll look their way. It distracts the whole team, honestly - it throws the whole order off," the man obviously couldn't think of a reason other than his own damn misogyny.

"Don't fucking talk about them like that. What gives you the right?" Bradley seethed, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Oh, I see - which of the whores are you fucking?" the man stood up, laughing condescendingly at Bradley. This made Bradley get out of his seat, standing at his full height, still keeping his distance before he growled out;

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, fucker" the man stepped closer to Bradley, and Rooster furrowed his brows as he pushed the man in the chest to make him back down. That was apparently the straw for the other man, who immediately swung at Bradley, his fist making contact with Roosters chin and lip. Bradley was too surprised to be able to brace himself for the impact, and his head snapped to the side at the impact, stumbling for a moment before his eyes grew black with rage. He was shouting now, telling the fucker to get the fuck out of the Hard Deck, easily putting his strong arm around the other mans neck in a headlock, dragging him to the door and giving him a hard shove in the back so that he landed on his back on the ground.

"Don't you fucking ever talk about our girls like that again!" Rooster shouted, pointing his finger at the man before spitting blood right at his face.

The bar had gone eerily quiet as he returned. He saw you making your way towards him, a concerned look etched on your face. He looked around a moment before he barked that everyone should mind their business. Everybody started before returning to hushed conversation.

"Rooster, what happened?" your eyes were filled with worry, your hands finding his face as they gingerly cradled him, and his large hands settled softly on your waist.

"Don't worry about it, darling.." he mumbled as you grabbed his hand and led him to a booth, where you scurried to ask Penny for ice and some medical equipment. You tended to him silently, brows furrowed.

"I was just helping Penny ring the bell," Rooster joked, smiling at your exasperated look. His anger had disappeared the moment you'd laid your hands on him, and now you stood in between his legs, your hands gingerly tending to his split lip. He was looking up at you with so much adoration that you started to feel your cheeks heat up.

"It was kind of hot," you admitted, the sight of Rooster's biceps flexing in his black t-shirt forever ingrained in your brain. Bradley smirked, his hands gliding down to rest at the swell of your ass, bringing you closer to his broad chest, your other hand resting on his shoulder as you looked down at his gorgeous form.

"Yeah?" Rooster smirked, wanting to kiss you senseless for admitting that to him.

[oroontheheels]

Daddy’s gonna be real honest with you kittens.

I’m disappointed with current Venom Run. Let me be real CLEAR here. I don’t hate it. I don’t have beef with its creator. So for a long period of time I was telling everyone “it’s a mess, but it’s better that Donnie Cates”.

But I think comparing them is not correct and let me explain why.

So Donnie Cates. Our boy. Extra edgy, made some terrifically BAD retcons, hated symbrock, tried to make Eddie Brock as trad as possible (giving him human son and all). Plus he ignored the fact that Sleeper was a child of Venom and Eddie. “nOt BioLoGiCalLy” Eddie’s but he called Eddie “father” and they both deeply cared about each other. So Donnie Cates couldn’t allow this either.

But! Donnie Cates while fighting the yaoi made the story ironically even more gayer. It was a train wreck but at the end of the day at least it was fun to laugh at this “closeted shipper” as I like to call him.

And most importantly? At the end they were still “Venom family”. All 4 of them. In Donnie Cates comics.

Now Al Ewing and Ram V… It was… ok. I like Dylan, I like Venom, I like Sleeper. I didn’t like that they “killed” Eddie right at the start of the story and sent him running solo trough time traveling shenanigans. I liked him interacting with Doctor Doom. I liked Meridus being gay with Kang and with that one old man.

But what I lacked is interactions between Venom and Eddie. They almost didn’t interact.

But like, okay. Let Eddie do his thing, let Venom singlemom it out. Also did I mention Ewing and V made Dylan Venom’s son? That was NICE. That’s I liked. A LOT.

And immideatly got my hops up.

Which was a mistake.

So the problem is where Donnie was closeted shipper, I’m starting to believe that Ewing and V don’t actually see Venom and Eddie as a romantic partnership. Or even all that important partnership.

If you check Spider Man Venom War comics, Venom talks A LOT about how much “Saint Peter”(Parker) means to him. It’s very gay very romantic very deep. But at the next pages it also downgraded Eddie role in Venoms life?? Venom is like “so yeah Peter taught me to save lives so I saved Eddie from offfing himself”. And that’s almost it. No emphasis on their bond, on Eddie’s feelings, of their bond. Almost nothing, really.

And now it’s Venom War and Venom says “wow Peter and I are sooo perfect, also it feels nice punching Eddie in the face”.

So what. Venom hates Eddie now? After all those years of forgiveness?? And it wasn’t elaborated in the slightest??

I would hate it but I WOULD understand if they wanted to make Parker new host for Venom for a while. But they don’t?? Apparently Al Ewing planing to give Venom new host (all of the candidates SUCK for the role btw). And if I understood one of his interviews correctly he want to send all the characters their separate ways.

Here’s the statement

Which annoyed me. A LOT. Like i understand that cis hetero males bring all the money to Marvel. We little faggots don’t bring so much cash. So our feelings and wants are not important. But isn’t there big ass FANDOM for symbrock? People who advertise comics for free with their art and activities?? Are we not important whatsoever? And on top of that wasn’t EVERYONE celebrating when Eddie got Venom back (in 2016)?? Don’t we all love homoerotic weird ass bond these two have??

And what does it even mean “yeah it’s been a while since Eddie and Venom have been together”. It wasn’t. Donnie Cates first made Venom into amnesiac DOG, then sent him into exile and then kept him and Eddie from having meaningful interaction until the very end of his run. Everyone who loves symbrock were STARVING.

And Al Ewing and Ram V story separated Eddie into his own story line.

And now Al Ewing tilling us “yeah it’s been too long, it’s time to move on”.

It’s like giving starving person a cup of water and saying “well now you are fed, let’s go on a 20km hike”.

“My work here is done” Tuxedo Mask meme

So like… yeah.

If they’ll make Sleeper a traitor this will be so bad. This will drop from 6/10 to 0/10 immediately.

Not looking forward to Venom future.

And the WORST part? I feel like they are pulling out “this relationship is toxic so it’s cancelled” card on symbrock. They never do that on hetero ships, but they happily destroy gay ships with that argument.

It sucks.

I hope I’m wrong. But like Venom gets new host this December. There’s not much room left to give us decent amount of Symbrock IF writers even want that.

[useless-catalanfacts]

No question. Just rant. I love your page. And sorry for chaotic story time vibes, but I don't think I'd realised how crazy this anti-catalan thing really is until I travelled to southern Spain. My Spanish is not great, but I took a course in Catalan in high school (long story on why this was available in my city but it also included a human tower party at the end and it was brilliant even tho I almost died) so when talking to people I casually threw in some Catalan words to help my Spanish. I am Norwegian, and I thought it was kind of like... as if someone was trying to speak Norwegian but casually threw in some Swedish to fill in the gaps. Like we would totally have joked about it, but overall we would just be grateful they really made an effort to be understood. But no. IT WAS NOT THE CASE. My host was literally offended. Like offended offended. I didn't really get it, because it's not like the Catalans have oppressed him and I'm coming here speaking the tongue of the oppressor (its kinda the opposite). But no. My host acted if I was the most ignorant person ever. He basically sat me down and explained that I have to show respect and speak castillian (or english, which was apparently fine, even if he understood about 1% of it), and then I asked if he would speak Catalan if he visited Barcelona and he said he would never visit Barcelona because he didn't like the people there. And then I said that if you hate them so much, why not throw them out of the country, get rid of them, and let them have their own state? It sounds like a win-win. And he looked as if he was gonna hit me.

Ah 😬

I wish things like this surprised me, but I have family from Andalucía and Extremadura and have friends who also have family from Andalucía, and so I've heard this and worse... It also reminded me of a few weeks ago when there was a scandal because a train in Málaga (in Andalucía, southern Spain) gave the announcements in Catalan instead of Spanish (turns out the train had been programmed in Catalonia during the COVID-19 restrictions and later moved to the Málaga train system, but for some mistake this day it was showing COVID-19 precaution in Catalan from 2020 now in 2024). It was such a scandal that it was on the news and politicians were making such a big deal of it, the PP (the most voted party in Málaga and of all Andalucía) also said it was "offensive" and that Malagans were being "laughed at" by the trains. Other errors in public transport that actually mean people can't travel in time don't get reported as much as when one train's screens tell you in Catalan to wear your facemask. 🤷

The last part of what you say, absolutely right. I never understood it either: if they really don't like us, then shouldn't they also be interested in not having anything to do with us? Why not just kick us out? I never really understood it until some years ago when I heard the words of a right-wing Spanish journalist (I think was Federico Jiménez Losantos?) who said something along the lines of "if Catalans want to leave, then leave. But Catalonia is ours." Meaning that Catalan people, individually, we can leave and migrate abroad. But the land is a possession of Spain, our homeland is their property. I think that sums up that view. It's not about being annoyed at having to share a state with a culture you despise, it's about wanting to keep domination.

I'm sorry you had this experience. Your effort to communicate should have been valued, and pulling the words you know from a language from the same linguistic family was a good idea that would have worked great, they wouldn't have found it offensive if the language you knew instead of Catalan was Italian, Portuguese, etc. Thank you very much for sharing your experience, and I hope you could enjoy the rest of your trip (Southern Spain, outside of situations like this, is a beautiful place), and I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed the castells party (and didn't die in it)!

[swallowerofdharma]

Yashiro’s Cruel God part one

Disclaimer: this post contains a detailed and straightforward analysis of chapter 25. Doumeki isn’t the villain, if you were worried about that. Actually I must apologize because I wanted to talk about him too, but as usual I started this meta with Yashiro and got carried away. This is also why I am dividing it in parts to avoid having a very very long post. So other parts will hopefully follow to fully elaborate the premise I made. Thank you for understanding. And please take care of your wellbeing, if mentioning Yashiro’s stepfather upset you, maybe skip this one.

Premise: not a matter of perfection but of balance

This person I followed reblogged the Declarations of healthy adulthood by David Richo in big big font and - having only one thought on my mind apparently - I read all that text in Yashiro’s POV. I actually don’t think that this is a perfect model or anything, and I am generally skeptical of self help books (I only assume this is something like it), but why not use this as an example, while considering something that I find interesting about Yashiro and Doumeki? During the discussion about the latest chapter, I said something along the lines of Doumeki representing young love, while Yashiro’s approach has been more mature, and I meant it thinking about Yashiro being aware and cautious about hurting others [and being intentional when he does, since he put a bullet in Doumeki’s leg] and being quite self reliant, and yes I know that he is also afraid of being hurt/loved! in previous posts here, I have mentioned that Yashiro’s acceptance of his past is only-in-part denial or downplaying of trauma, because it has been also a strategy and an impressive sign of his maturity and determination to live in the present. Isn’t it exceptional that Yashiro doesn’t seem all that resentful of his parents? That he openly says that he doesn’t blame others? We have to confront his words always mindful of the fact that he usually is an unreliable narrator, but in many instances he says the truth or half truths and his demeanor confirmed that he did some of what David Richo proposes: I accept full responsibility for the shape my life has taken; I accept that I may never feel I am receiving - or have received - all the attention I seek; One by one, I drop every expectation of people and things; I let go of blame, regret, vengeance, and the infantile desire to punish those who hurt or reject me; No one can or needs to bail me out. I am not entitled to be taken care of by anyone or anything, I let go of control without losing control.

I thought that it was very interesting to consider the Yashiro/Doumeki dynamics from different angles, like older/younger, or even realist/romantic, for example. The point of this experiment isn’t to make a comparison of merit nor to talk about a character in better light than another. Maybe those differences need to be confronted or balanced: for example the realist maybe needs some of the romantic’s idealism to soar and not be stuck on the ground. Yoneda-san might be onto something so human and amazing here. An important clarification is due before saying anything else. As characters that are written as full human beings, with their complexity and contradictions, Yashiro and Doumeki can’t be put neatly into the opposite categories I proposed. The story is much more dynamic, so I ask you to take a further step and put those opposites at the ends of a spectrum and to move our characters freely in both directions. Yashiro tends toward being effectively the older and more realistic one but he has traits that make him move down towards the other end too, even to the extreme of being childish. Consider for example these other statements, from the Declarations of healthy adulthood: I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts; When change and growth scare me, I still choose them. I may act with fear, but never because of it; I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me; If people knew me as I really am, they would love me for being human like them. These points clearly demonstrate Yashiro’s unresolved problems, where he is stuck if you want, and why probably nobody believed me when I pointed at him as being mature (eh, he has his moments tho, you can’t deny that).

I challenge everyone to consider that those four points in particular are quite challenging for most people in general, but particularly so for someone who has fear/betrayal as the foundational principle in their childhood instead of a normal amount even a scarse amount of parental love/safety. And I want to underline childhood here, not teenage years or later.

I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts. Yashiro here is a mix of contradictions, because he outwardly seems to own those things, even making them a point of his persona, but most of those things are based on the lies he told himself, or his stepfather told him: see this other point

I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me. Isn’t this statement extremely helpful to understand Yashiro’s situation? To feel safe he had to build his personality according to the rules of the one who had all the power over him and had already taken away any sense of security from him. This is probably one of those things that can be hard to understand when you have never been there. Most notably, not only in the manga this has been pointed out, but it has been pointed out by Yashiro himself. He is self conscious of this, he knows that he lied to himself as a child, that he had to, and he is constantly choosing to continue lying because that is still the only foundation he has. There was no familial love, no other relative safety. Letting go of the lies actually means going to pieces and breaking down.

This isn’t different from what happens to people who are tortured. Yashiro’s father completely took away any sense of security and safety. The aggravating circumstances were that Yashiro as a child didn’t have any other point of reference or knowledge to understand what was happening with his body and in that state of mind what his father told him had to be the only truth possible. Parents who abuse their children most often don’t even realize what they are doing to its full extent. That’s the immense cruelty of these types of situations. The rules are lies, but the lies are rules to follow to be safe:

You like it when it hurts, right? If it doesn’t hurt, I can’t get into it.

What happened in chapter 25: why now?

Yashiro didn’t want to have sex with Doumeki and said so repeatedly. Doumeki has grown on him, behind liking his physical appearance or using him as a substitute for Kageyama: Yashiro truly liked this person and he liked that Doumeki was impotent. Thanks to that, Yashiro grew comfortable around Doumeki and with comfort and safety comes familiarity. When Yashiro discovered that the impotence was gone, he was angry and terrified. They had become too close and now the premise has changed and Yashiro couldn’t trust Doumeki or himself anymore. I won’t analyze here the scene in the shower but I’ll skip to the point. Doumeki only understood that his love was required, that he was wanted and stopped thinking. He acted passionately like any young person who had a normal foundation in love would. He didn’t understand anything that Yashiro asked or why there were mixed signals and what it all meant. He pushed and hurt and broke without being aware of what he was doing.

And Yashiro was trapped in a situation he had tried to escape from his all life: with a person who felt familiar, a person he loved and relied on, in the safety of a home, who wanted sex and was going to do what he wanted regardless of what Yashiro had to say. Yashiro desperately tried to control what was happening through usual patterns, making it hurt, asking Doumeki to do from behind, detaching the sex from his emotions, but he couldn’t and for the first time in his life sex was different from what he knew, because while Yashiro had loved his stepfather, his father didn’t love him and he didn’t treat him like Doumeki did. And every lies built around his father’s abuse came to the surface. Including the fact that his father never loved him. Doumeki broke him indeed because he broke through the lies/rules upon which Yashiro had intentionally built his entire personality/safety. And he wasn’t ready for it, he specifically said he didn’t want it, he had known all along, he already knew when men before Doumeki tried to make love to him and when he built a strategy to specifically avoid being confronted with those lies/rules. He didn’t love those men. He did love Doumeki though. But once again Yashiro didn’t have a choice. And he was physically hurt and recovering after being shot and knowing his life was in danger outside of that room. He had just discovered that Doumeki lied about being impotent the previous time he touched him in the car and before that. It was probably the worst timing possible for making love. At some point Yashiro grew resigned and even reciprocated a little, reaching for Doumeki, caressing his face, and he even reassured him before he fell asleep. There were words that Doumeki said that Yoneda didn’t disclose fully, choosing instead to immediately took us in the flashback with Yashiro. I think it is probable that what Doumeki said was something that Yashiro’s father had said and that we are going to confront before the end of the manga. I personally want to know these words more than what Yashiro said while an airplane passed by and Doumeki was unconscious. Morbid maybe on my part.

I have stated that I am not going to make Doumeki a villain here. The point of this analysis is just to see where Doumeki was in terms of maturity. To be continued…

[vickyvicarious]

Today's entry is really not Dr. Seward's best on display. He's matter-of-factly drugging his patient and rifling through his belongings. He's daydreaming about a cause worthy enough to justify even greater breaches of ethics than he's already doing. But in amongst these musings, there's some interesting foreshadowing too.

How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives? To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record.

Seward's interest in Renfield's skillful reasoning "within [his] own scope" and subsequent curiosity at how he measures the worth of men is of course ironic. He himself has been guilty of reasoning that only goes so far because of his own bias (about this guy in particular, in fact) and also values lives differently depending on the person. Or at least in different ways - we'll see the distinct difference between how he cares for Lucy in her illness (even when there is a question of potential 'madness') versus how he has behaved with Renfield. Obviously, there's other factors at play there too, but I can't help but think of the distinction here, particularly when it comes right before he moves on to thinking more directly about Lucy.

Renfield ends his first account when Seward denies him a cat, and eats all his birds to put a close to the whole process. But then he begins anew the next day. Seward muses about endings and beginnings, and claims that to him it feels like only yesterday that his life "ended with [his] new hope." This refers of course to Lucy rejecting him, and his beginning again was our first introduction to his audio diary. By his count, we're already on his second record. And those of us who have read the book before can recognize that a third will be coming up. Once again, a loss of Lucy will mark the end of his account - according to him, but then he will have to start again when he's inducted into the vampire-hunting. And that's when, as I've seen other people joking about, he gets his "strong, unselfish cause to make [him] work" - but it's far from happiness. (Though he in particular does get a line about savage delight in killing vampite!Lucy, it's another instance of unfulfilled potential in a way. The statement is anticipatory, and when it comes time to actual kill her, Jack is firstly the support, and secondly recognizes it as a terrible task. If he were the one staking, would he take a savage joy in doing so as he expected, or would it be a burden he bore out of love for the woman she was, as Arthur did? He actively participates in beheading her afterwards, in filling her mouth with garlic, in sealing her up. We don't hear his thoughts on any of that in any depth, and that happened after she apparently returned to her former self in death anyway, so... who knows.)

So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss.

This line is also really interesting. In line of what happens later - both in how important records are throughout this story, and also in the epilogue making it clear that the entire book we've read is a preserved account.

But it also draws a comparison with Renfield's notebook. When Seward looked in it previously, he directly compared Renfield to an accountant, balancing numbers representing what we now know represent lives. This wording is kind of placing Renfield in the position of God; at the least imitating a Godly approach. That also goes along with what happens later on with Mina being burned by the Host and the characters seeming to interpret that as God deeming her unworthy (marked down as 'a loss') for no fault of her own.* It could link back to that line about reasoning within one's own scope again. I'm reminded of this excellent meta by @animate-mush which talks about how transgressing or occupying multiple roles is key in so many ways throughout this book. Staying within one's (typical/expected) scope is limiting, while Doing Both is strengthening. A madman's reasoning only goes so far - but then again, so does his doctor's. In that sense, having a straightforward binary of profit/loss is unhelpful. But of course, all this is happening within the context of the Good People fighting Bad Vampires book. As a rule, the novel doesn't delve too deeply into realizing moral dilemmas, even though it raises the question of them multiple times. So this whole line of thought I've been led down by these lines is kind of another instance of that, and there's no clear resolution to it. But it's interesting to think about.

*Pretty sure I've read at least one meta suggesting the mark was actually a warning to instill the necessary sense of urgency they needed to motivate them to save her before it became too late. That it was never meant as a mark of shame at all. In this case it's fully the characters' own limited view affecting their understanding of the situation, and the accountant view of a God tallying up more 'objective' pluses and minuses is lessened.

[goodqueenaly]

I’m rereading F&B and find myself very confused about Jaehaerys’s proposed marriage candidates? They either seem self serving (which, understandable) or utterly nonsensical to the point of harming J’s future rule Rogar’s choice: Archon of Tyrosh’s daughter (unnamed) to forge alliances across the narrow sea Maester Benifer: a daughter of a neutral great house Daemon Velaryon: Elinor costayne (show Maegor’s supporters were forgiven) and adopt her sons (?wut even?) I kind of understand Benifer’s idea, but the other ones seem doomed from the jump.

I don’t know why Tumblr ate this ask but anyway here we go.

I think there are some logical explanations, at least on a surface level, to a few of the mooted nuptial matches. Alyssa’s proposal to have Jaehaerys marry into one of “the houses who had risen in support of Aegon the Uncrowned in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye” follows her stated desire at the opening of Jaehaerys’ reign for violent vengeance against Maegor’s supporters; if Alyssa truly believed that “[Maegor’s] entire reign was unlawful and those who had supported him were guilty of treason and must needs be put to death”, then the clearest expression of that belief was to reward the supporters of Aegon the Uncrowned with the greatest possible royal marriage. By contrast, Benifer’s idea to appeal to one of the recently neutral Houses underlined his desire to have the regime move on from the factionalism and civil war of Maegor’s reign - particularly understandable on Benifer’s part, considering he himself had served and then abandoned Maegor before being recalled to court by Jaehaerys. Rogar’s choice doesn’t seem particularly related to his, Rogar’s, goals otherwise - we don’t really see him trying to forge alliances with the Tyrosh or any other Free Cities, or understand why he might have wanted to build ties with Tyrosh - though I took this match as something of an authorial wink to both Dany and our Aegon. Alyssa’s point that “[t]he smallfolk of Westeros would never accept a foreign girl with dyed tresses as their queen” recalls the dyed hair our Aegon adopts to disguise his identity (ostensibly, indeed, to honor his supposed Tyroshi mother), which he wished to have rinsed out ahead of his meeting with Golden Company (that is, when he revealed himself to be, allegedly, a Targaryen prince); too, Alyssa’s allusion to the “delightful” Tyroshi accent of the Archon’s daughter may echo Dany’s own apparently Tyroshi accent (and, of course, her ambition to be a queen in Westeros, despite a lifetime spent almost completely in Essos). (This dispute may also be a hint to the xenophobia and alienation experienced by Larra Rogare during the Lysene Spring and her marriage to Prince Viserys.)

Now, yes, some of the matches are less explainable, except (to a limited extent, anyway) outside of blatant personal ambition. Indeed, given that the Tullys and Celtigars barley hid their motives for pushing their familial relations as potential brides for young Jaehaerys, I am more surprised that no other families attempted to shove their pretty daughters in front of the king and/or Rogar. Yet these potential brides pale in comparison to Elinor Costayne, who was for my money the strangest choice. The oddity of her candidacy is heightened by the fact that her sponsor was Daemon Velaryon, a man who did not appear to gain anything by her potential elevation as Jaehaerys’ queen. While the argument that “Queen Elinor’s proven fertility was another point in her favor” might have carried some weight (considering King Jaehaerys, the only male-line male Targaryen left, would presumably needed to father an heir sooner rather than later), and the suggestion that Jaehaerys adopt Elinor's sons by Theo Bolling mirrors Sharra Arryn’s offer to Aegon the Conqueror during the Targaryen Conquest - another king with no offspring or obvious male heir - I am still baffled as to why Lord Daemon, of all people, would have supported the choice of a woman so publicly associated with Maegor’s tyrannical reign for his nephew’s royal bride. Perhaps this was just par for the course with Daemon, considering he had previously suggested that Maegor marry his own niece: just as Daemon had argued that by marrying Rhaena, Maegor would “unite their claims, prevent any fresh rebellions from gathering around her, and acquire a hostage against any plots … [Alyssa Velaryon] might foment”, maybe Daemon believed that a marriage between Elinor and Jaehaerys would link Jaehaerys to the claim of Elinor’s late (second) husband and his own official predecessor, and/or prevent any remaining pro-Maegor factions from rallying around his (unmarried) widowed queen. Still, it’s largely a bizarre notion acceptable only in the brevity with which it is presented; the story barely lingers on it, so neither should we.

The real point, of course, is to present a bunch of equally unpalatable (to Jaehaerys personally, at least) options in order to contrast them with the young king’s “true love”, Alysanne (heavy air quotes here). Since GRRM could not specifically duplicate The Accursed Kings here with the Jaehaerys and Alysanne story (as he does otherwise with Alysanne) - only copying the supposed love match, not the political advantage the marriage brought to the boy’s mother or the revolution against a tyrant king - he instead goes full romance, the sort of love versus duty that the author so enjoys portraying. As any number of his descendants will later - Princess Baela, the future King Aegon V, and indeed his own namesake, the future King Jaehaerys II, among others - the young Jaehaerys I rejects a potential diplomatic or otherwise dutiful marriage arranged by another (or multiple others) in order to wed according to the dictates of his heart.

[tinystepsforward]

ngl it makes me want to die a little bit that it's so often trans people who feel that sex is mutable but oppression is always-forever based on asab in ways that allow them to demand that information from other trans people. like it feels fucking bad. it feels bad when it's people holding up someone who posts a lot of selfies as transition goals to a degree they have to clarify what they have or haven't done or what "direction" they're going in, it feels worse when people are out there like "caster semenya is not tma" or whatever the fuck. i am, as always, not a trans woman, but here's a sentiment echoed by many of the trans women around me who log the fuck off, quoted directly from one: "people who draw a clear line where they say that semenya or khelif are tme and then call me tma are just calling me male at this point".

like i get it. i really do. we seek community and shared experiences, and we feel betrayed when people have less in common with us than we thought they did. [*more on this later.] but that's not those people's faults and my god in the case i'm seeing play out on twitter rn this poor person did absolutely nothing to intentionally mislead people, just posted pictures of their actual kid self. who looks a lot like i did, because shockingly enough "we can always tell" doesn't fucking work for trans people either!

on the one hand i move in intersex circles which are unapologetically welcoming in cis "dyadic" people with pcos, because it serves nobody to draw a clear line where mutilation or genetics or some ineffable childhood suffering are what make somebody intersex, especially when most of us (esp in places like nz) have never been karyotyped and are being treated for symptoms without a pinned-down cause anyway. the more of us there are the stronger we are, the more pressure we can exert on a medical profession which doesn't like to consider how common outliers are, how uneasy sex is at all. and then on the other hand there's dyadic trans people on the internet who've yelled me out of spaces because a couple of traumatised incarcerated trans women i worked with as a prison abolitionist assumed i was also a trans woman and i didn't immediately tell them my entire csa-involved history of being sexed in varying ways as an infant and child and/or exactly how big my phallus was at birth or where in my junk config my urethra lives so they could decide i was tme or whatever.

returning to the * for a related but not identical thought: i think presuming shared experiences leads to some fucked shit in general! "oh we all had a radfem phase" or "oh we all were channers" no we fucking weren't and it's particularly obnoxious when me & mine are trying to build trans community locally to organise and resist the growing wave of far-right backlash against our existence, and there's just white people in there on a spectrum from "straight up being antisemitic and trying to get the n-word pass" through "handwringing about how they need to make space for people who aren't politically correct" to "handwringing about how brown people are right to be mad at them but doing shit fuckall". and then the other fucking brown people in the space are on some identity politics shit where they're like "trans joy inherently excludes those of us who could get deported" or "big city white queers are killing us by being visible instead of going stealth bc it stirs up the discourse" or whatever the fuck i've heard pulled out this year. there's a bunch of reasons i primarily organise outside of trans spaces and that's one of them. i've never felt more alone in spaces where people claim we're all the same than being left as the brownest moderator or organiser in a space full of people to whom "this is a safe trans space" apparently means they get to abdicate all other responsibilities not to lapse into presumed shared patterns that are fucking racist or otherwise alienating. i've never felt more alone than surrounded by exclusively trans people who sort people into boxes and assume everyone in those boxes has the transition goals they have. like i was on cypro until it disagreed with me to the point of endocrine crisis and now i'm on t and at both those points people were so fucking presumptive or entitled to my reasons or journey or personal relationship w my body

literally just submitted on (and was invited to consult on) the nz law commission's review of the human rights act and like. it's straight up fucked how many nz trans people fully do not comprehend that any "sex assigned at birth" type definitions fundamentally exclude migrants who have no way of proving it and many intersex people who happen to have been reassigned later or many times or never assigned at all as a baby. we can't make law with this shit and that's why we have to have symmetrical protections for all genders/sexes/expressions/presentations, bc naming and defining a protected class here often leaves the people who already are left out from those shared experiences of marginalisation out in the cold when they face violence