#drug disguised as chocolate

[kazifatagar]

New: Taiwan Durian Chocolate Drug Bust Uncovers Malaysian Heroin Smuggling

Taiwan’s Criminal Investigation Bureau (CIB) dismantled a drug trafficking ring linked to heroin smuggling from Malaysia. The investigation began when Taipei Customs flagged a suspicious food package containing 668 grams of heroin hidden inside durian chocolate boxes. Six suspects, including the primary suspect, Lu, were arrested in April and July at various locations across Taiwan. Lu allegedly…

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 22}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: With a plan set in motion, it immediately begins to fall apart at the seams. Maldovan is proving to be one of the planets you face some of your most devastating hardships on, and you're not sure you can survive it intact this time.

Word Count: 10.8k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, death, "on screen" death, din raises his voice one (1) time, argumentative language, inner musings of reader, mentions of past heartbreak and pain, reader is being held captive against her will, talk of self-harm, references to past self-harm, mentions of IV ports and shots, glossed over references to surgical procedures, deadly poison, talks of injuring / killing people, ritualistic and religious activities, talk of past manipulation and administration of sedative drugs, reader has a lot of quiet moments in this, sexual content, reader has one (1) absolutely feral moment, those are all the big ones!

A/N: this marks the end of my all original content arc!! i'm so proud of myself and i hope this doesn't emotionally destroy you too much, oops (p.s. special shoutout to @sawymredfox for the lovely moodboard that helped to inspire me this chapter)

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Everything was too bright, even through your closed eyes. It was as if you were underneath a spot light, trained on you, making your entire body feel overheated and almost burning. You tried not to cry out, to hold in the sound as the sensation became too much and your body convulsed, and your eyes flew open.

The memory of killing your intended flooded your mind, the one of you biting into a truffle so strong you could feel the smooth give of the melting chocolate on your lips and tongue. The viscous sensation of the sugary warmth thick on your cotton-like tongue. But it was a bed you woke up in, in the same room as the one your mother had made up for you in the infirmary. She was nowhere to be seen, there was no medic or droid around either. You were alone.

The monitor you were hooked up to wasn’t reading anything, you’re breathing so shallow and the heartrate almost nonexistent. The poison had worked, it allowed for the plan to go through, now all you had to do was knock out the guard, grab your bag and meet up with Din in your room. The escape route was to sneak out under the guise of being a servant, alongside him still in his disguise.

To rush without drawing attention across the city and toward the shipyard, where Cara and ad’ika were waiting. It had been at your insistence that the little one be as far away from your mother once you had regained your sense of self, there was no chance you would take of her getting her hands on him. He had fussed, sensing you so close by when the news was told to him. But even his loud wails and cries couldn’t change your mind, his safety was paramount.

You look for the file, reading the summary at the end of it pronouncing your passing. That you had perished to the symptoms of the poison administered to you. The orders to burn your body not uncommon for someone of royalty, the culture of Maldovan is to honor those in death by allowing them to untether from their bodies to ascend to the afterlife. The order given in the signature of the king and queen, scrawled into the file directly.

It’s your ticket out of here, to run as you saw fit. To escape from the environment in which you had been sold into.

As quickly as you can manage, you exchange the cream sleeping robes you had been dressed in for the dark ones of a guard. Muscles protest the twisting and movements of dressing, sore from the currents that had raced through your body, the poison that had no doubt affected you more than you anticipated.

Arms protesting as you wrap your hair up to conceal it underneath a cover, a leather band holding it in place, another pin allowing for the remaining fabric to drape over your face. With only your eyes visible, you don’t waste any time before making your way through hallways and to the room you agreed to meet up with Din.

The only thing you intended was to retrieve the bag you had stored in the back of your closet. A small collection of clothing and things you could had come to care about while constricted in the life your mother had tried to trap you in.

It may be questionable, the meaning behind it, but the ring Prince Cala had gifted you was beautiful and made your heart flutter for some reason. It was the perfect embodiment of all that you loved should you be given the choice to pick such a piece of jewelry. All polished sterling silver, delicate pastel emeralds lined up in a small cluster of three. You couldn’t bear to part with it, even with the brand associated with it. The way it allowed for the things that happened on this planet to live brightly in your mind and memory.

Perhaps it was because the only way the Prince would know what you would like…was because your mother had to have told him. A small understanding of who you really were beneath all that she forced you into and to mold to, a true part of yourself she had seen and remembered even in her manipulation.

You recall the discussion of removing it to hide it away in the bag, Din’s confusion at such a notion.

‘His lips are soft against your own despite the slight roughness to them from being chapped, from his earnest attempts at being everything you needed the past few months. His own needs falling by the wayside, his own routines holding little to no meaning if it didn’t have to do with ensuring your comfortability or protection.

Cara indulged in all the servants’ quarters had to offer, something she admitted to you on one of your walks, not only to keep up pretenses now that your memory had returned, but a small bubble of time to allow Din to rest. Ad’ika in your arms and cooing along to the sound of your voice every so often, big, beautiful brown eyes looking up at you with admiration as he holds a hand over the middle of your chest.

“Mesh’la,” His voice is a low groan, igniting a smoldering fire beneath your skin. Despite everything, despite all the damage caused by your mother, your body still reacted to him as it had begun to before your kidnapping. Despite the last encounter you two shared…

“My armor, your armor, your weapon. It’s all aboard the ship, down at the docking yard.”

“No, you’re still wanted. I don’t…I can’t bear the thought of you getting captured, they would execute you, this world doles out punishments quickly.” You tighten the grip you’ve got on his wrists, nudging the bronze braces further down his arms, revealing more of his skin for your eyes should they open. But you keep them closed, not wanting to see him for the first time in such circumstances, in a desperate attempt at connection before all chances of it could be lost to you both.

You don’t jolt when he presses to you as much as the bars allow him, the front of his body hot against yours, just as his lips close in around your bottom one. His fingers dig into your hairline, nails scraping gently as he tilts your head just a fraction, deepening the kiss. You can’t help the small sound that escapes your lungs on an exhale, fed into his parted mouth from your own. He swallows it down, giving you one in return when your tongue touches to his.

You startle slightly, overcome by the forward action. By the heat you could feel coming off of him as he responds to your touches in much the same way you are to his. His fingers pull lightly at your hair, holding you in place to prevent you from moving out of reach, it’s intoxicating the way he’s moving against you. Small traces of his tongue along your bottom lip, a chaste kiss to it, to your upper lip, to the tip of your nose and each cheek. His forehead rests against yours as he simply shares air with you now.

Maker, you wish you could see the needy, open expression he’s surely sporting. The furrow of a strong brow, full lips swollen from exchanging kisses, cheeks flushed from emotion and need. You wanted to see it, with everything in your being, but not this way. Not this setting, not while you were anywhere but aboard his ship. His sanctuary. Your sanctuary.

“Din,” You pant, hands moving to grip at his elbows, practically begging him to hold onto you. Just for another moment, another breath, another lifetime.

“San, I promise you….this will be the last time you’re at the mercy of someone else. I swear to you, you will be free, at any cost. I will spend the rest of my life ensuring your freedom, let me, ner k’arta. Even if I  don’t understand the reasoning behind certain things, you are the most important.”

He lingers, until the sun sets and hour signals the shift he had traded with another coming to an end. He doesn’t leave space until a handmaiden descends the stairs. With her is a tray of dinner covered by a domed lid. The smell of caf wafting from the covered mug beside it.’

You turn at the sound of your door opening, your given term of endearment shaped on your lips but your entire expression steels when you see the form of your mother in the doorway. Or at least, that’s who you see when the figure is too small to be Din, a servant that distorted in your vision. The effects of the poison making themselves known in the blurring of colors and sunlight being too bright.

Shaking your head, you realize its your secondary handmaiden. No doubt instructed to begin cleaning the remnants of you from the room. She gasps, startled by your presence though you’re sure she doesn’t recognize you beneath the cover.

“Apologies, I was unaware another was sent to clear the Princess’s room.”

“Was told to gather the valuables, to return to the Queen for safe keeping. I will be gone in a second.”

She’s quiet as she watches you mentally go through the things you need and what’s in the bag, tossing one of the straps over your shoulders before you bowing to her and departing from the room. You make it down the hall a few paces, mind jumbled as you realize Din is late. There’s no sign of him in the hallway nor those that lead to the one your bedroom is located in. Your answer as to why is found in the form of you someone suddenly grabbing at your robes to pull you into a room as you pass the doorway. There’s a slight prick of a needle in you neck and with a shiver from the cold liquid inside, you know exactly who it is.

“Your Mandalorian didn’t expect me to wake up, that much was obvious.” Your mother laughed bitterly as she fastened the cuffs around you, the chains connected them clinking as she did so. The poison and the sting of the sedative make you move slowly, muscles tired and barely functioning. “Managed to sedate him, though he took a lot more than you typically do. I suppose it makes sense, he’s such a big man.” She scoffs at the thought of him, of downing him as she claims. Your heart seizes, worry clouding your mind as she and the sedative work together to immobilize you.

“Bet you let him defile you, in anyway he chose to, didn’t you, my darling? Probably thought it was love, that it was consensual. But he’s using you, just like the others. The Jedi who took you away, who let you fall victim to an attack that eradicated them. To the Mandalorian you claimed protected you in the aftermath, the one who wouldn’t return you home to me. To the Empire who held you captive, demanded things from you until it corrupted you. Changed you into someone you never would’ve become. He’s using you, just the same. Wants to own you, control you, keep you all to himself. Your body and your power the only thing he sees in you.”

Anger and resentment make the energy around you swirl, feeling it more so than a light twinge but a full force all around you ripe for manipulation. Reaching out your mind, you focus it on the chains being pulled taut as your arms are fastened behind your back. She’s moving to fasten the ones about your ankles together when the first one clicks open, the mechanism inside broken. You shove at her next, tossing her off of you and into the other wall.

The chains wrapped around your body were short, the links of them only a few dozen as you free yourself from the hold of your mother. Her own body weak from the poison and the collision of her back to the wall, allowing you to distance yourself from her. To gain a few feet of space as you begin to careen down the hallway. But she follows, far too quickly for comfort once she manages to find her balance.

Footsteps heavy, you feel the sedative try and take ahold of you, but you fight it off. Focusing inward to try and thwart it, negate in in a small bout of healing. Your mind worries for Din, for his own safety. What if your mother had told the guards of his true identity? Would they already have him held in the dungeons, his sentence being doled out? The entire plan of killing and escaping fallen on his shoulders and the blame placed on him?

No thoughts were running through your head other than to get to her quarters, but as you approach the hall, there’s a fear that he’s not there. The bag in your hand grows heavy as your hunch it proved correct, he’s no where to be seen inside her large room. As she’s rounding the hallway herself, slower than you but no less determined, she sees the end of your robe disappear around the other side of the long hall.

Back to the medical wing, you think as you move as quickly as you can down the stairs, far too many of them for you to move at a faster pace. You didn’t want to risk tripping on your tensing muscles. As soon as your boots make contact with even ground once again, you’re careening down a wide hallway, the servants back rooms and paths the goal to travel across the grounds without drawing any more attention.

A distraction never hurt anyone, you reasoned as you dug a hand into the bag for a small round disk. It feels alive in your palm as you nearly slid into the dining hall, the destruction of it paramount to call for servants and guards alike to the scene, to keep everyone in the main part of the palace. To ensure you time to find Din and make the call to Cara for an emergency escape right from the grounds. You trusted her skills, her ability to get the ship low enough for you to load an unconscious Din and then yourself with minimal firepower. All the focus would surely be on the dining hall, the ruined wedding, the craze of your mother claiming her whatever story she concocts.

The three high-pitched chirps of the grav charge you recognized from Din’s weaponry echoed in your ear as you planted it along the ornate door the second your mother was rushing through it after you. The dining hall had been transformed into an extravagant set up for the ceremony. Rows of chairs lined up, beautiful collections of flowers adorning each column, lanterns set up high and in vast numbers, the candles in them unlit. But it all lays in disarray now, covered in debris.

“San!” You heard Din’s voice through the dust and floating debris, but the ringing in your ears drowned it out much the same way the drugs still in your system convinced you it wasn’t even real. It couldn’t be, your mother, she already ensured his death with nothing but a single word. Hoping to crush the very last bit of your heart and will to fight. The only thing on your mind was survival. He was too far, he was fast and he was skilled beyond many but he was down the hall based on the way his voice echoed to reach you.

You called back, hoping that it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, the term of endearment echoing back to let him know your precise whereabout should he really be searching for you. But you were sure it would be too late; your mother was already surging up from the blast. Her body covered in ash, dust billowing off of her as she moved as quickly as she could.

You spied the remote on the ground but instead of rushing toward it, you went for your mother who was still sprawled on the ground from the force of the detonation. She roused slightly but burst into movement when she saw you heading straight for her with anger in your eyes. As soon as she scrambled to her feet, you whipped your hand out to send a piece of broken pipe across the room and into her legs.

“San, please, you’re not angry with me! It’s him! He’s the one whose done all this!” She shouted as she regained her footing and tried to flee out into the hallway, she dove for the remote when she spotted it abandoned on the floor. You were already swinging your chains, gathering momentum and just as she broke the threshold you threw it out. The chains wrapped around her middle and you pulled as hard as you could.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Din’s form burst into the entryway, his entire body moving lethargically. He was fighting the sedative; he was fighting it to search for you. His voice called out again, as his head swayed slightly. The

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself as her body collided with yours just as she pressed the trigger on the remote, she had managed to get in her grip, just standing back up from reaching for it as you closed in. The shock was debilitating, originating at the crown of your head, pulsing in your temples and flying across your body to ignite your very nerves on fire. The chains around your wrists, making it even worse, the electricity feeding off of itself for a long moment. You gripped your mother’s body tight to you, the shock transferring to her as well.

Din shouts out your name, louder than you’d ever heard him speak before. But it barely registered over the scratch of your own voice torn from your throat as you cried out.

You both fell to the ground, your teeth gritting so hard you feared your jaw would break.

As soon as you were able to, you rolled over to pin your mother’s rousing form, the chains clinking around you, the metal heavy where your muscles braced against it. She was blinking up at you, her own body no doubt feeling the dangerous effects of the electrocution. Faintly aware of quick steps thundering in the hall, you didn’t dare look away from the woman beneath you as your hands came up to bunch at the front of her robes.

“You will control me no longer!” Using your shaking limbs, you lift her up by the front of them and slam her back down to the ground. Voice wrecked and trilling.

“S-San, ple-please.” She coughed, voice broken as she tried to reason with you, her breathing labored and her mind still with her.

“No!” You couldn’t help but lift her slightly off the ground only to slam her back down to collide with the lavish and polished floor again and again. “You- have- done- nothing- but- take advantage of me my entire life! You had no right to be that way toward me, to do the things you did to me. Your own flesh and blood! Your only family, your only child! I’ve known more kindness from strangers, from those who don’t even know me!”

“I only did it to protect you!” She cries her own words, sweet voice no longer pitched high in an act but raspy as you recalled it being as a child, the voice that haunted your waking hours just as much as your sleeping ones. Pleading with you, the dynamic completely turned now. But there was no reasoning with you, even if Din were to approach you now, even if your old protector Akiz rose from the dead to ask you to show mercy- you could not.

“You never protected me, you’ve only hurt me. Over and over and over again. Every time you chose to load up the needles, every time you closed the shackles on my wrists and ankles, every time you locked me away in the dark with no way to even know I was alive! You made me want to end my live, mother!”

“I didn’t mean- I only wanted-“

“You made me so unaware of everything, I didn’t even know I was a person!” You were shouting at the top of your lungs now, for all to hear. The small crowd of servants and the people dressed in decorated robes surrounding Din in the doorway. Everyone unsure of what to do, of how to break the scene up. But when Din’s figure tried to, he suddenly halted as if there was an invisible barrier preventing him from entering the room. “You treated me as harshly as those that corrupted me!”

“I sold you to give you a better life, to give us a better life! One I couldn’t give to you on an armor’s earnings. It was for your own good. The things I did were for all for your own good, San, you have to believe me!”

Your knuckles popped as you curled your hands around her throat, the flesh and tendons forming to your tight grip. Her own hands scrabbled at any part of you she could reach but you ignored the dig of her nails into your arms, into the base of your neck, eyes locked with hers as they widened in fear and desperation.

“I won’t let you, I won’t let you, not anymore!” You snarled, teeth bared and emotions raw as you watched her gurgle your name, voice tapering off and turning raspy the longer you held to her. Your own shaking and distorted, hoarse from the power behind your shouted words. The same power you felt flooding your veins was all your own, no influence of the Force. You could feel her, the energy of her very being waver, fade, the light going from her eyes as her hands fell limp to her sides.

Tears sprouted from your eyes, falling onto her slack face as her lips tried to form your name one last time. When her last breath left her chest, your hands loosened thought you didn’t remove them. The fear of her suddenly springing up and turning the tables on you all to real even as you took in the way her slightly parted lips were slack, the spittle and splotchy red patches decorating the skin of her face and neck. Her golden skin tainted and marred, just like that about your wrists, about your ankles, about your heart.

Bowing, you nudged the crown of your head underneath her chin, hands moving down to her shoulders, tears flowing freely, sobs wracking your body as you nuzzle into the body of the woman who was supposed to love you, support you, help you navigate the world. The woman who had failed you in every conceivable way, who had taken what little parts of you had survived the events of your life. All of the power and fight leaves your body, energy drained and muscles slack.

All you can do is weep.

You didn’t jump when a hand settles on your back, when the warmth of it seeps into the layers of fabric and into your skin. A comforting weight, a familiar weight. Din.

“Vaabir nayc ku'rukar, bic cuyir shi ni.  Ner kar'ta, gedet'ye, vi linibar at ba'slanar.  Ogir cuyir naas olar par mhi payt.” His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper as he speaks softly to you. As he calls you back to the room, to the time, to him.

Do not startle. My heart, please, we need to leave. There is nothing left for us here.

“Val cuyir dar.” You rasp out, voice strained and small. So much like a child lost in a crowd and searching for someone, anyone to help them get back home.

She’s gone.

“Ni kar'taylir, San.  Vi…vi linibar to-"

I know, San. We…we need to-

“Ni liser't ba'slanar kaysh!” You lift your head, eyes meeting Din’s with a fierce desperation. The meaning of your actions settling in as you feel the body beneath you. “Val may ganar let ni slanar, val may ganar harmed ni, a ni liser't ba'slanar kaysh.  Liser't ba'slanar kaysh baar olar, ogir. Ogir cuyir kebise vi vaabir! Bat K'ath.  Val- val deserve at nari bat.”

I can't leave her! She may have let me go, she may have harmed me, but I can't leave her. Can't leave her body here, there...there are things we do! On K'ath. She- she deserves to move on peacefully.

He’s suddenly turning his back on you, broadsword held up in defense as two figures approach. They’re surrounded by more guards dressed exactly like him, like you. Dark billowing robes, though their hands remain gripped around handles of their own weapons. The steps of so many approaching falling on his ears alone, you are too lost in your grief, too focused on the woman who lays dead before you. Because of you.

“Stand down, we do not wish to harm her. Nor you.” A woman’s strong voice, cadence lilted in the way that conveyed a high standing. Her robes were shining in the sun filtering in from the tall, arching windows in the room. The colored, faceted glass at the top allowing for prisms of color to splash over the room even as dust continues to settle. Highlighting the damage done by the grav charge. Tables and chairs strewn about, petals from flowers littered over everything. Glass glittered about, as did the remnants of stone columns, two of which hadn’t been able to withstand the explosion. The perfect set up for what was supposed to be a joyous union, shattered down to the very details.

“Aliit, the queen commands you. Heed her words.” Another servant tempered, bridging the gap between the man standing guard before you and those that commanded all of the planet.

“The only words I follow are hers and those of my Creed.” He spares a glance back at you over his shoulder. The confidence in his stance and the conviction in his words pulls you to your feet. You gaze around him, eyes landing on the two figures standing before him. The depictions of them cast in oil paint and in holo nets the only time you’ve seen them, but you would recognize them anywhere. The king and queen of Maldovan.

The people who had been set to become your family.

The people whose son you murdered with your bare hands.

And they stand before you and Din, hands up and placating even though they just witnessed you strangle your own flesh and blood.

Instincts of flight light you up from the tips of your toes to the still aching crown of your head. Though you do not move, you simply stand behind Din, who is poised for a fight. Ready to defend you, to protect you, to ensure your freedom now that your mother’s clutches can no longer control you. You stand still and strong behind him, to match his devotion and willingness to face a potential new threat head on.

“San of K’ath.” The man steps forward, the golden jewelry adorned around his neck and the clasps on his ceremonial belt jingling as he bows at the waist toward you behind Din’s large frame. “We want to express our deepest apologies for the tragedies you’ve encountered while here in our home. From the way you were coerced here against your will to the attempt on your life just last night.”

“We want to extend the offer to undo any medical procedures your mother conducted alongside our medic. There are locked files on our system, we can only assume they worked together willingly. As well as offer you the suite in which you’ve occupied for however much time you require to recover. We humbly request peace from this point on, your skills are beyond anything we wish to fight against. Should you wish to leave this moment, we would allow you to. The contents of your room are yours, the gifts given to you for the union ceremony are yours. Should you want for any of it.” The queen bows as well, her headpiece secured over braided hair glinting in the sunlight.

“You are the Mandalorian, the one Lena had requested we put a bounty on.” The king rises from his bow, eyes focusing on the stance Din holds, the way your fingers had wrapped around the back of his robes. A question, his words are not. But a fact that is now out in the open. His fierce protectiveness, the manner in which he had held back guards that followed in his movements about the palace in his attempts to locate you, the way he holds himself, shields most of who he is from all to see.

They can see the was you hold yourself, how you had nearly effortlessly taken out the threat your mother had revealed herself to be. The use of the Force minimal, but still seen by those who had crowded the entrance to the damaged hall, called forth in haste by the grav charge you had deployed. It is obvious now, the strength you possess yourself, the skills you had hidden away in order to play the part of a willing daughter until a moment for your escape made itself known. Two trained and skilled individuals that now have no reason to hold back. The glimpse of freedom right in front of you both, yours to take, to defend with everything you had.

“She had said you were part of the people who had hunted her since her younger days. A threat that always lurked around the corner. But- that is false. From the way you’ve gravitated to her since your arrival, you’re bonded. A pair that cannot be separated. Is this correct?”

“Yes,” Your answer was immediate. “He’s…he’s my-“

“We are to be joined, according to my religion. Should she still want that after this ordeal.” Din fills the silence when your words falter. When the conviction in them at labeling what he is to you in Basic fails you.

“I see,” The queen looks between you both. “Then the proposal to wed you to our son was ill-intentioned. Stolen away from one you love for another of status. The culture of others is so foreign to us, we couldn’t imagine taking the happiness of our child away. Even if he…had incongruities.”

“The poison, it was an attempt on both your lives. We can only assume it was politically motivated. We will not discuss it here in the open.” The queen’s eyes connect with yours and you nod your head to let her know you’re not just listening, but understanding too. The Medic, the one they employed. They place the blame for all that has happened with him, with your mother. She sees the betrayal for what it is, a plan to infiltrate her family.

“We…we need a moment. If that’s...amenable.” Your fingers tighten where they are wrapped in the fabrics flowing from Din’s broad back, falling in layers from his shoulders. There’s…there’s so much to discuss, to decide. It’s not what you had expected, when your mother had all but chained you up one last time and tried to lead you back to the medical wing. There’s no telling what she had planned to do but…the kindness of the two people before you is genuine. You can sense it, there is no underlying scheme to get you to remain here. No game they are playing, simply extending honest hospitality and understanding of what you’ve been through.

“That is perfectly acceptable. We understand that this- it’s a jarring shift from just this morning. We will step into the hall to give you some privacy.”

You can’t help but feel anxious as you follow them to the medical wing, a hushed exchange of words with Din revealing that he too knew your mother had something implanted into your temples. A control device to shock you, should you step out of line or display powers. Your charts easy to hack into with the clearance code he had seen a droid enter during his time trialing after your mother the night before.

Cara is called back to the grounds, both by Din on the comm link he’s got hidden just inside his outer layer and the guards patrolling the docking yard. She and ad’ika are accepted immediately, the two of them escorted to the medical wing where you wait with Din. Plush chairs and a long couch surround a low table, food served to ease your nerves, to show that they will still provide for you despite what has been revealed.

“Everything’s okay, little one.” You let him burrow his face into the crook of your neck, small body barely a weight against your chest as you held him to you. He wasn’t making a sound, but you could tell he was trying to connect with you mentally. It was fuzzy, your body strained and exhausted so you gently shushed him and patted a gentle hand on his small back. “I can feel you trying to, but let’s wait until I’m a little more in control, okay? Don’t want you to stumble across anything bad in my mind.”

He just nuzzles closer, the point of his little nose cold as he presses it to your neck.

“He’s trying to ‘connect’?”

“Yeah, it’s just a lot right now. Those shocks really- they didn’t do any damage but my mind isn’t strong enough to put up walls should he be poking around in there. Don’t want him to stumble into any bad memories or thoughts.”

“Are you…having ‘bad thoughts’?” Din’s tips his voice low, eyes focusing on you as he stands between where you are perched and the door. On the defensive should something happen, even now.

“Yes and no. I’m not…Din, I’m trying to be okay. But it’s going to take some time for me to be.”

“I understand, I just worry. You- you deserve to feel safe and protected. To be at peace.”

“I’ll feel better once these transmitters are removed,” You try not to raise your voice though the emotion flares through you. The anger and hurt and betrayal of your own flesh and blood submitting you to something so controlling. It was already a hard enough reality to accept that she was willing to keep you in chains that would shock you should you move suddenly, but to implant something into your very head to do the same? To control with a remote should she see any sign of defiance in you from the twitch of an eyebrow to the raising of a singular finger?

It’s a vile thought, the things she had been comfortable in doing to control you, to keep tabs on you. To get it removed, the transmitters as well as a blood transfusion to rid your system of the poison and subsequent sedative, it would be a lot to undergo but you were willing to. For your peace of mind as well as a healthy reboot.

The recovery takes a few days, the faint cuts in your temples healing quickly and painlessly with the aid of bacta patches, with the tender and caring hands of a replacement medic. The one who had worked alongside your mother jailed for his corruption and manipulation. It didn’t matter that you were no longer intending to fold yourself into the royal family, you had been a part of it while engaged to Prince Cala. The principle of the matter stood firm, you had been important, of high standing, the princess at the time- there was no forgiving the man’s actions.

Din remains close, during your recovery. The suite you had resided in is where your little group set up for the time being. Din opted to sleep atop the couch across the pair of chairs clustered around the low table opposite the room from the bed. Ad’ika resting with you in the large bed or alone when his tiredness grew into an afternoon nap. Cara was quick to take the fainting couch in the closet, hoping to give you both a bit of privacy but still remain in close quarters.

She didn’t want to part from either of you just yet, to ensure that everything would be okay. That there wouldn’t be any need to transport one of you to another place. Or both back to Nevarro and then you somewhere else, either your home planet or Tatooine where your hideaway was.

The ashes of your mother, are condensed into a small ceramic box, detailed with gold over a black base coat. It’s heavy in your hand as you stare at it, mind blank and eyes losing focus and blurring the longer you stare at it. Din is standing beside the door, Cara having left the room with ad’ika at the arrival of the queen. She had wanted to hand it directly to you, her words quiet as she explained that it is customary to place the remains in gilded boxes and display them alongside photos of the deceased.

You listen solemnly, words failing you when she asks after your own customs. You tell her of the ones you know of Manda’lor. Your own from K’ath lost in your memory, something you don’t recall witnessing during your first years on the oceanic planet. It had never been something discussed or explained by your mother, questions of your father always bubbled up to the surface but had never been voiced. Not when it was as if he never existed in the first place.

She sits with you for a while, asking after how you’re feeling. If you needed anything from her at that moment, that the cooks are ready to prepare whatever you wanted should you ask. You thank her for her kindness, for her generosity, genuine feelings of admiration and appreciation for her the way she’s folded you under her wing. Her eyes shine as she takes your hands in hers and simply holds them. A lamentation for her son missing out on being the same way for her is the only depressive thought she’s voiced over his death. Her and the king both place the blame of it on the medic and your mother, something you did not correct.

It felt…wrong to lie to her. She was obviously conflicted over the actions of her son and the willingness he displayed to go along with the plan to use the lack of your memories to instill false ones into your mind. The influence of your mother strong on him for reasons she wished to know, but never would. Her son was gone, so many questions would remained unanswered, though the compassion she’s shown you a sliver of obvious as she dressed in mourning robes and does not leave the palace. The fact that you did not feel guilt for ending his life spoke volumes of your own thoughts on the matter, but you wouldn’t add to her turmoil nor disturb it.

With a quick dab of a folded cloth underneath her eyes, she’s clears her throat to explain that clearance has already been set for you to depart when you wish to.

You thank her again, standing when she does. Her hands twitch as if she wants to reach out, but she reads the way you tense at the mere suggestion of it. She bows instead, you return the gesture and that’s the last you see of the woman.

The question of where to go hangs in the air. Both parties sure of voicing it lest the answer be something they are unable to agree with. But they would willingly take you to wherever you choose to go, giving you back the freedom you nearly lost once more.

“I would like,” You clear your throat at your voice falters on the words, packing the ship had been a silent affair. The guards stacking three crates of your belongings as well as supplying you with a token of their symbol that would grant you instant access into their air space. The invitation was offered despite the fragility of the connection, born of remorse and a wish to make things right, for you to stay at one of the few seaside homes they keep up should you want to return and enjoy in the offerings of the city. “I would like to go to Tatooine. To retrieve something from my hide away there. If that’s…if that’s amenable.”

“Tatooine it is, then.” Cara treks up the ramp, cracking her knuckles as she goes. Din is silent beside you, eyes ever watching closely. Though there is something hidden behind them you can’t quite make out and refuse to reach further into his mind to figure out, not wanting to impinge on his privacy.

“I want to…I would appreciate the…um…” You trail off, feeling so offput by the way he’s focused solely on you. You know he doesn’t mean to put you on edge by doing it, used to doing so behind the visor of his helmet. He’s well-meaning with his intentions but you feel very much like a specimen under supervision, your every move giving away information on internal workings. “Maker, I’m sorry. I c-can’t think with your eyes boring into me so plainly.”

“I didn’t mean to unnerve you.”

“No, I know. I just…feel vulnerable and like you’re waiting for me to make a run for it or something.”

“You don’t have to leave with us if you don’t want to. You can…take one of the ships they offered you and go on your own. You don’t owe us anything for-“

“I-I don’t…I don’t want to be alone anymore, Din.” You whisper, feeling the thickness of your tongue in your throat as tears prick behind your eyes. You think back to traveling alongside Akiz, how much you felt like it was the right thing to do, like he was the right person to place your faith in. To care about and be cared for in return, a truly selfless person who had done so much to ensure your protection and safety, someone you had tried your best to do in return. The same feeling you had alongside Din, though there was that…additional layer of connection that sprouted warmth in your entire body and made your heart both beat rapidly and calm. “I want- I want to go with you. I want you. If that’s…if you still-“

“I do,” He breaths out, hands reaching for your own fidgeting ones. The heavy pendant revealed as he opens his fist to you, the shining beskar catching both the light and your breath. He had found it, going through the contents of the medical wing, when he had figured out what the medic had done to you at the request of your mother. “I didn’t…I was waiting for a moment alone. But yes, San, I-I do want you, beside me, traveling with me, anything you are comfortable with.”

“I had hoped she kept it,” You reach a hesitant hand out for it but think better of it at the last second, pulling your hand back and flattening in against the center of your chest. “But it’s yours, you…you should keep it. It was stolen from me, I can’t be trusted with it.”

“Mesh’la- San, I want you to have it.” He steps close and offers it once more. “I gifted it to you, it is yours.”

“I…I like the thought of carrying around something that once belonged to you,” You admit almost shyly, he feels warmth bloom in his chest at the admittance, at the willingness to share such a thing with him, even no, especially now. He feels the fabric covering his mouth shift as his lips twitch when you look up at him with wide eyes, your hand uncurling to accept it.

“Everything I have, is yours as well. I make that promise to you.”

The ship is an blend of quiet beeps and the low hum of the engines as they power the craft to move through hyperspace. You don’t let go from where you gripped tight to Din’s hand as he sits beside you, nor the hold you have on ad’ika as the child sits securely in your lap. Everything is still in the control room as the glowing blues and greens move over the glass paneling of the vantage deck. Cara is staring down at the controls, her head hung slightly.

“I reset the security protocols when I left,” Din speaks into the silence, hoping to put his own mind at ease. Everything is okay….you’re onboard the ship with him, wanting to travel with him, wanting to be at his side. Though he doesn’t know in what capacity just yet. But he could…he had to be patient. You endured so much the last few months, the last year since he had first stumbled upon you chained up in that compound. He could wait for you to approach him, to speak with him about the things you both agreed needed to be discussed. To open your mind and hear to him even if his is beating rapidly each time you suck in a deep breath or stutter our a question you wouldn’t have asked before.

He really…dislikes the idea of thinking of things and before and after. But the reality is that you both went through something, you more so than him. Way worse than him, your own autonomy stolen from you along with the very memories that make you who you are. The death of your mother, even knowing it was the only true way to be free, was going to weigh heavily on you. Greif and loss were not linear, you would feel it for the rest of your life. The levels of it waning and cresting much like the waves you admire every time the ocean is near. And he would stand by your side through it all, as long as you let him. As long as you wanted him to.

“I’ll be catching a ride back to Nevarro, once we land.” Cara announces, taking the quiet moment for herself. “I’m truly glad I could help to get you back, San. But there’s a lot that needs to be tended to, I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, of course. You have responsibilities and things that require your attention.”

“That’s not to say I regret how long it took to find you,” she turns to pin you with a somewhat pinched expression. Her eyes giving away her trepidation, even if her smile is small on her lips. “I just feel like there’s a whole lot you two need to hash out and I don’t want to intrude on that.”

The jump would take only a few hours, Cara further explaining her choice to return to Nevarro and her responsibilities. With the assurance that she would eradicate any other calls for your capture, dispute them herself if need be and that there would be a plot of land with each of your names on it should you choose to lay low. That you both have a place to return to, should you want for one.

You thank her for everything as you share an embrace with her, her own arms tight around you. She’ presses a kiss to your cheek, a smirk on her lips as she pulls back.

“He’s an alright guy, that one.” She nods to where Din is standing beside Pelli, ad’ika’s small body between the two of them as he inspects a droid no bigger than him. “He just got confused it all, I hope you two can work it out.”

“Be safe, please leave contact of your return. I’m sure we’ll be back at some point.”

Travel to home planet of K’ath is mapped out and set into the panel, a quick jump to light speed signals the journey has begun. Din had yet to put his armor back on, sensing you need to see him for who he is, not the wall of armor he typically is. His soft edges exposed to you in your low moment, someone to reach for and find a hand or a shoulder unobstructed by protective leather and hard beskar.

It’s quiet, but you could hear the faint sounds of Din’s rumbling voice as he lulled ad’ika to sleep in the hammock strung up in the small hold space. You’re laying in the moderate bunk space

The second he steps through the door, before it can shut behind him completely, you’re surging forward from where you’re perched on the very edge of the bed. Your hands reaching for his face, fingers curling into the cowl and mask, pulling the fabric down and pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss.

His reaction is instant, his own hands coming up to cup your face and flatten on the small of your back, his head tilting just so to deepen the kiss as he pulls you flush against him. His stubble is a scratching tickle against your face, but you don’t care. His bottom lip is between yours and you pull back to catch your breath, realizing that you can’t see even a twinkle of light reflected in his eyes as the bunk is in total darkness, the door shut behind him.

He whispers your name as he takes a breath of his own, pressing his lips to yours firmly. They’re so soft, so plush, they feel like nothing you’ve ever had against your skin. All fond softness and genuine intention, a true kiss in the very definition of the word. Your hands move up to shove the band of fabric keeping his head cover in place. Both the leather and soft cotton fall to the floor, his curls exposed for you to dig your fingers into.

“I-I want to see, but, Din. I can’t…I can’t make the vows to you.” You part from him for a moment, wanting to be honest, wanting to voice your thoughts.

He’s loosening his hold on you, beginning to pull away and your heart stutters. You rush to explain it further to him, the feelings tangled up inside you.

“I can’t make the vows to you right now, I….I want to. Someday. Everything is too fresh, it’s all- jumbled in my head. I want to be yours, I want you to be mine. Maker, I want that more than anything, but the idea of reciting vows right now…it-it- Din, it’s too much.” You hiccup, grasping at his shoulders so tight your nails dug into the shoulders of his robes.

He pulls you back into him, closing the small gap that had formed as he loosened his hold on you. He clings to you just as you do to him, noses touching and sharing breath. You know he wouldn’t demand anything of you, whether you voice concern or trepidation or not.

“I want you to see, even if you don’t have intentions to make the vows. I…want to be seen by you, even if it means breaking my Creed.” He pressed closed lips to yours, simply feeling you. “You are what is important.”

“I wish to see you, more than anything.” You whisper, the feel of his facial hair sending sparks to flare low in your stomach. Your fingers are still in his hair, though now they are running through the thick tresses to calm you both. “I just- can’t right now. It’s- too much, Din. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize, I will never force you to do anything. I promise that to you. But please, mesh’la, let me feel you, let me hold you. I’ve- I’ve-“

“I’ve missed you too,” You read his thoughts and repeat them to him, they are the same you’ve been having. The kisses slow down, become openmouthed as desire flourishes and heat sparks in both your bodies. He’s running his hands down either side of your neck, your shoulders. Down your back to grip you tight around the waist, fingers digging into the fabric at your hips. The robes still in place that you hadn’t yet removed, too anxious to speak with him once the little one went down for the night.

He tugs you closer, letting you feel the swell of him between his legs. The sensation dizzies you, the weight of it against your hip, though he doesn’t move against you, simply holds you close. You lower your arms to wrap around his shoulders as he bends his knees and grips you behind the thighs, lifting you without a second thought. The weight of his becomes trapped between your legs wrapped around his waist, pressed right over the softness that had developed in your lower middle. It’s a heady sensation, pulling a soft sigh from you.

He groans into the kiss, at the feel of you clinging to him. Taking slow steps toward the cot so as to not jostle you. But it all simmers when he leans down to rest you atop the covers. The stifling mood bubbles as his eyes adjust to see the faintest outline of you caressing your hands down his arms and to the fastened front of his robes. The air is warm on his skin as he lets you undress him, soft fingers pushing the fabric from his body with great care not to poke or prod any sore spots. He hadn’t been doing any of the fighting but the care and sensitivity you showed made his heart soften and a sigh escape his chest.

Your hands still at his waist, the belt and harness for his broadsword cool to the exploring tips of your fingers. The blade isn’t in place, removed for him to pilot the ship and safe in the control room. The clink of the clasps being undone causes him to twitch and you barely manage to stifle a huff of laughter before you’re tugging his trousers down his slim hips. The front of them catches but he doesn’t move to or breathe a word of argument as you drag the fabric down until it falls to collect at his feet, completely mesmerized by your slow actions. Leaving him in just his undercover.

The mood tempers even more when you lean forward and press your face to his middle, feeling the softness of the hair that adorns his middle, cheek to his warm skin as you loosely wrap your arms around him. He no doubt feels the heavy breathes you take in and exhale, centering yourself and focusing on the feel of him, the very real man in front of you. The one who had come looking for you, to rescue from those who had stolen you away…the one who had caused you to run in the first place.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Din’s hands cup the back of your head and along the back of one of your shoulders.

“Mesh’la,” He heaves a deep breath, unsure of how to voice the incessant thoughts since the moment you had stormed out of the bunk back on the Crest. He says your name, voice giving way the emotions he’s consumed by as his voice falters. You lean back, pulling him along with you. After a few moments of shifting and moving together, you’re both on your sides. Facing each other while wrapped up in each other’s arms. One of your legs thrown over his hip to keep him close, one of his wide palms cupping your cheek, heads resting on the pillows.

He whispers his apologies to you, over and over again, his lips brushing over your face to pepper kisses along every spot he can reach. He whispers his thoughts to you as best as he can explain, how he felt in that moment, how he was unsure of how to navigate such a delicate matter, how he was more than willing to make it up to you until everything was right once again. You whisper back assurances that everything is okay, that you’ve both made mistakes in that moment. That he is okay, and you are okay, that you are okay together.

“I will wait, until you are ready. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” His forehead connects with yours, his nose brushing yours as he confesses to you in a moment not born of panic or on the brink of death as he had done before. You return the words in a moment of full clarity, not on the cusp of sleep as you had done before. Both of you professing for the other to hear, to take to heart, to carry with you a better memory of the words.

I love you.

The land is disturbed before you, dug into deep and the ceramic box placed into the well wrapped up in delicate chainmail, covered back up with a few words spoken softly. A language not recognized by those beside you. Who had helped you to make the thought a reality. Allowed you the closure you so desperately sought after.

Crashing waves fill the crisp, salted air all around you. Enveloping you and transporting you to a moment in time you would much rather be in. The time of standing at the shore and watching the waves rush to kiss the sand, whitewash foaming up and making mesmerizing shapes as the bubbles fizzle out.

A small hand of your own dug into the damp sand to feel each little grain, the air filling your lungs and your back warm as you sit in the lap of your mother. Her arms around you, nothing separating you from her as she holds you steadfast to watch the sun dip below the horizon.

You knock your head back to look up at her with a gummy smile, some teeth missing while others wiggle, wile others slowly grow into place. Hair a mess of dark waves and curls as the evening breeze whips through the tresses. She smiles beautifully back down at you, her features soft and rosy. A giggle bursts from you as she ducks down to press a firm kiss to the middle of your forehead. Once, twice, three times.

She can’t hold in the soft laughter as she gazes into your eyes, seeing the world through them in how wide and bright they are. The call of gulls doing nothing to divert her attention as you purse your lips and mimic the kiss before giggling again and looking back to the vast ocean before you both. The water so close to tall reeds of grass your home is surrounded by, the smell of dinner simmering on the stove wafting in the air as it nears readiness.

“I love you, my darling. I will always love you.”

Closing your eyes as they begin to sting, you feel the memory slip away from you as you stand amidst the same tall reeds of grass now, overgrown and wild. The sand still just as pale and shimmery as it had always been. It all hushes around you as you move about, your skin feeling the energy in everything around you, the whispers of it as you feel the long-lost attachment to the woman in your memory flare up.

You weren’t sure what happened to her, what altered her so resolutely. What drove her to do the things she did, what things festered inside of her and turned her into a stranger who bore the look and face of your mother. But you promised yourself that you would never treat someone born of your own body the same way, should you ever find your identity shifting and taking on the facet of ‘mother’. Even with the all too familiar clutches of corruption you could recall as clearly as the sight of the ocean before you, the chilled breeze whipping around the ends of your dark robes, you wouldn’t succumb to it again. You would use your powers to protect, to ensure a long life, to ensure a happy life.

The sand dipped beside you as Din settled down at your side. His robes matched yours, his armor and helmet still aboard the ship. Eyes watching you closely, he turned to face the ocean when you didn’t meet his gaze.  All he could do in that moment was reach his left hand out in search of yours and pull you to rest between his propped-up legs. Willingly, you moved with him, leaning to rest your back into his warm and sturdy chest. The painful thoughts of how life had once been so simple quieted as you felt ease flow through you at his touch.

Little chirps and huffs of exertion announced ad’ika as he climbed out of the bag resting in the sand at Din’s hip. The small child shuffling and climbing over limbs to settle in your lap like you were in Din’s.

Ad’ika knocked his head back to gaze up at you with his wide, brown eyes. He coos as you look down at him with a soft smile. Bowing over him slightly, you touch your forehead gently to his own, feeling the velvety texture of his soft skin and fair hairs there. His giggle ignites something in you, a devotion springing to life deep inside of you. A shared past, shared experiences and struggles bonding you to the older being in your lap. He’s got so much more time than you do, but you vow to ensure that as long as you’re breathing, he will know love and peace.

“You will know love, ad’ika. I swear it to you.” You murmur into his soft skin, earning another giggle that flows into the air to mingle with the sound of gulls overhead.

His little face ducks out from underneath you, gaze going back to the ocean. Before you know it, he’s pushing up and away, running as best his little legs can manage over the sand until it smooths out on the shoreline. The waves reach for him but he stands just out of their touch, turning to hold out a claw to you with a question in his eyes.

“Gar aalar guuror yaim, ner kar'ta.  Nayc vaii has ru'aalar guuror yaim par a munit ca'nara ni sheber olar sa adiik.  Ni'm glad at aalar bic tug'yc, ti gar bintar.” You whisper as you lean back a little further, prompting a huff from the child watching you closely. Din’s arms wrap around you securely, making sure to not irritate your sore muscles. He’s gazing down at you with eyes so soft it makes your stomach swoop and your breath leave you quickly. Craning up slightly, you press your lips to the bump of his nose, hidden beneath his cowl and mask. His eyes are closed when you open your own back up.

You feel like home, my heart. Nowhere has felt like home since I sat in this very spot as a child. I’m glad to feel it again.

“Gar cuyir ner yaim, shi sa ni cuy' at gar. Sa munit sa gar vercopaanir par, mesh’la.” His words are soft, barely audible over the cresting waves. But you hear them, and they settle into your heart. Another kiss is pressed to his hidden face before you disentangle yourself from him with an airy laugh. Your robes bounce and flow all around you as you approach the child, feigning looking out at the water until the last moment, and you’ve closed the distance. Your sudden scoop of his small body startles laughter from him and you’re twirling effortlessly in the shallows as you hold him up in the air.

You are my home, just as I am to you. For as long as you wish, mesh’la.

Din watches from where the sand begins to slope, far enough from the water’s edge to not get sprinkled as the waves meet the shore but enough so to step in should something happen. You know he can see the small smile on your lips and hear the ringing of your combined laughter as you splash about in the cool water, never going in past your calves. Ad’ika is enjoying the way you dip him just at the waves receive, pulling him up to your chest when they flow toward you, little claws reaching for it below him.

His happiness infectious as you soon begin to commit the moment to your memory, tumbling the edges of old ones so they aren’t so sharp anymore.

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[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part six)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.2k summary: moving on is not as easy as it may seem. unless, of course, revenge is in the mix.

a/n: this chapter also features steve harrington x popstar!fem!reader

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / very little comfort, minor use of pet names, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Falling in love was not nearly as magical as you grew up to believe. 

Turns out, not everyone is as lucky as your parents. Not everyone gets to find the person they want to be with and just live out the rest of their time together, just like that. No muss, no fuss… no pain.

And recently, all you’ve felt was pain. 

Heartbreak caused by the man that’s done it before. You should’ve been smarter than to let him do it a second time, but lost in the chocolate of his eyes and the softness of his skin, you believed in the love you so desperately craved since you were a kid. You believed in his love. Believed he wouldn’t hurt you again, simply because he promised he wouldn’t. Hushed mantras in between the kisses he trailed along your jawline. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been,” he’d repeat like a prayer. In reality, a fool is what he made you.

For the whole world to see at that.

ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST

EVEN HONESTY COULDN’T KEEP THEM TOGETHER

WHY HEAVEN AND HELL DON’T MIX

The list of borderline patronising, and also rather sexist, articles on the downfall of your short-lived relationship with the Corroded Coffin frontman haunted you for months. It didn’t help that they were all lies. Figments of journalistic imagination that only had one thing in common: you were nothing but a lovesick girl, and Eddie ever the conqueror of Hollywood’s elite. Gone was the title of America’s favourite popstar. Replaced instead by “Oh, you’re Eddie Munsons ex, right?”.

Your management team was scrambling to get out of this PR nightmare as quickly and effortlessly as humanly possible, because they didn’t grow your career to the superstardom level it was at, only for you to be regarded as an ex-girlfriend of someone far less popular than you. The team did everything, from pushing brand advertising campaigns forward, releasing a previously stashed single with no promotion, and even faking sightings of you with New York’s most eligible bachelors — (it was actually Val in disguise, more than willing to help). 

While all of this was going on, you resigned to rotting away in bed.

The New York apartment you called home yet again, was cold in comparison to Eddie’s mansion. Every item of furniture, every decorative piece, all carefully picked out by you back when you first bought the place, seemed out of place. No longer bringing you the intended joy. You missed the blank walls of Eddie’s living room, the feel of the hardwood floors underneath your bare feet, the once unused kitchen, his display of vintage guitars. You missed his California King. Missed the way it would form perfectly around your frame every time your head hit the pillows. Most of all, despite desperately trying not to, you fucking missed him.

Eddie Munson was your downfall, yet every fibre of your being ached to be close to him once more.

Memories of your time with the metalhead flashed before your eyes every minute of every day that’s passed since he stomped all over your heart, making it bleed. What made matters worse, you were convinced Eddie didn’t miss you, didn’t think about you nearly as much as you thought about him, if even at all.

The reality couldn’t have been more different, but you didn’t know that because the morning Eddie broke you for a second time, his actions were accompanied by a conscious decision to stay out of your life for good. It wasn’t what he wanted. He just didn’t see an alternative, your grandmother’s threat ringing in his ears as the look on your face visibly changed in front of his very eyes from awe to despair.

In the months that followed the split, Eddie also thought about you all the damn time. 

Everywhere he went, there you were. Or rather the ghost of you. A memory so vivid, he instantly felt nauseous. He screwed everything up for a second time and even if he wanted to somehow fix it, he knew the only way to do that would be by telling the truth, but even Eddie Munson wasn't an asshole enough to come between a girl and her Nana — no matter how evil the old hag was.

Instead, Eddie focused on his music. 

The resounding success that was Honesty, a song about you, performed with you, made the pretext of spending day and night at the studio a little more realistic ‘cause “the band needs a few more songs to complete the album”, he’d say to Marianne. She knew the real reason behind the hours Eddie spent locked inside the recording booth was the sudden, and by all accounts, unexplained breakdown of his relationship with you. She also knew not to say anything.

By all accounts, things were going quite smoothly for Eddie. Sure he felt like a fucking prick for hurting you the way he did — yet again — and on most days, the guilt was eating Eddie alive, but his actions, and their unfortunate consequences, fueled an endless supply of songs he couldn’t deny were about you. Songs that would undoubtedly make the album the best thing Corroded Coffin have ever released. Shit. Did that also make him selfish? He wondered if it was fair that his creativity blossomed while you were hurting. He wondered if profiting off this heartache was the right thing to do. Would it make you more mad? Would it break you even more?

Then he saw it.

MISS AMERICANA MOVES ON 

What the fuck.

-

“Did you forget that you promised to come help me shop for dresses?”

You groan at Val’s question, pulling the blankets over your head until your face is entirely hidden and a faint darkness envelops around you. This is your safe space now. This is where you wish you could stay for all eternity, but alas, the universe always seems to have other plans.

“Val,” you mumble under your breath, “I say this with all sincerity, please fuck off. I’m clearly in no shape to hold up to my promise, so just take my credit card and ask a friend to go with you instead. Please.”

She huffs, and even though you can’t see her, you know she’s rolling her eyes. Then, without skipping a beat, she does the exact opposite to what you asked her to do, opting to yank the covers off you entirely with a wicked grin. 

“I am done letting you wither away, okay?” She states, “It’s been months of self-pity and I’m fucking sick of it. Everyone is sick of it. Jesus, he broke your heart, big deal. People get their heart broken all the damn time and you don’t see them wasting away in bed.”

“Because they don’t have the privilege to.” 

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Nana calls you an ungrateful brat all the time, behind your back of course. I think you just proved her point.”

The sting of Val’s words causes you to visibly grimace, but you can’t say you didn’t deserve her hostile push back. You were acting like a brat. Saying the wrong things in the heat of the moment, you knew better than that. You were taught better than that. Just like you were also taught to uphold your promises, keep your word and do the things you said you would do. 

With an exaggerated sigh, you stand, and for the first time in months, you go get dressed in something that’s not an overpriced pyjama set. Val cheers you on, proud of  herself for being the person that could convince you to leave the confines of your apartment, even if it was only for one afternoon.

Fifth Avenue is a Manhattan staple. Stretching from Greenwich Village, where you grew up, all the way to Harlem, a secret favourite, if anyone ever asked. Personally, you opted to steer clear of Fifth Avenue as much as you could, though, being one of the most expensive shopping streets in the world, it made sense this is where Val asked Hank to escort you two. Especially, since after hours of browsing stores your little sister normally couldn’t afford on her own, your journey’s end is Saks.

“Tell me again why we’re dress shopping? You hate dresses.”

“Because, since you’ve pretty much turned yourself into a recluse, Nana asked me to join her at the upcoming charity function she’s throwing. Her one demand was that I need a dress.” Val explains, browsing through a carefully crafted selection of garments. “Preferably expensive.”

“She didn’t say anything to me,” you say, furrowing your brows.

“Like I said, recluse.”

You sigh. Nails, overdue a manicure, now at the brim of your lips, threatening to push through at any given moment. It was a bad habit. Something you’ve recently done a lot because speaking your mind clearly wasn’t good enough and only led to misfortune. This was the only way you could ease the anxiety surrounding the mess you’ve made of your life, as gross as it was.

“Well, I didn’t want Nana, or anyone else for that matter, saying I told you so, or thinking I had it coming since apparently I was the only person that had blinders on when it came to…”

His name got stuck in your throat like a bad apple. A choking hazard that brought tears to your eyes and caused your chest to heave suddenly with bated breaths. Clearly, you hadn’t gotten over him, otherwise you wouldn’t spend your days locked up in your apartment. What you didn’t realise though, was that you hadn’t said his name out loud since that fateful morning in his kitchen.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

The vile tone behind those three words rings in your ears. Of course he deserved it then, there’s no denying that. He still deserves it today. If you were ever to see him at any Hollywood function, you’d either ignore his presence entirely or greet him the same exact way you said your goodbye: “Fuck you, Eddie.”. But for a split second, you feel sad that this is the way you remember his name on your tongue.

“We wouldn’t have made you feel worse, sis.” Val says, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “What do you think of this one?” She proceeds to steer you further away from your deprecating thoughts by holding up a simple red dress. Single strap, maxi length. Exactly the opposite of her usual style, primarily because it was a dress and Val always said she’d rather be caught dead than wearing something designed to limit her movements.

“It’s gorgeous,” you compliment, “Exactly your style.”

If she detected your tiny, white lie, she didn’t say anything. Although, judging by the elated look on her face, no one's opinion really mattered anyway. Not even the one she asked for. The one from her famous older sister.

“It really is, isn’t it? I’m gonna try it on.”

Wanting to see your genuine reaction to her wearing the garment, Val asks you to momentarily join Hank, and wait outside the private dressing suite. You giggle at her, missing the fact that this was the first genuine laugh you let out since Los Angeles, and step outside the heavy door without protest.

Hank greets you with a tight lipped smile, but doesn’t say anything. He never does. You liked that about him, especially considering everyone else in your life always had too much to say. Hank’s silence was like a breath of fresh air. However, unknown to you yet, this time, Hank should have been talking, saying literally anything, repeating any old story, ‘cause then, his deep voice would mask what unfortunately catches your attention next.

It’s not really a squeal, not really a groan either. It’s honestly not really any distinct sound, just something that echoes down the hall, reaching your ears and causing Hank to stop the tune he was quietly humming. Both your heads snap in the direction of the noise, just in case it is something you should worry about, like a paparazzo that somehow snuck in, despite the heavy Saks security. Unfortunately for you, the person that comes rushing around the corner is a lot worse than any ol’ shutterbug.

Suddenly, at the end of the hallway, in all her redheaded glory, appears Max Mayfield.

Recognition feigns across her features as her movements come to a halt the second she sees you perched up against the corridor wall. Her mouth parts in shock, proving that she’s clearly just as surprised to see you here. 

Having never officially met, Max still knew exactly who you were. And not because of your fame, the articles about you and her brother. No. Judging by the look in her piercing eyes, Max knew you more intimately. She knew you from the stories that fell directly from Eddie’s lips. She knew details of your relationship that were kept secret from the public. Hell, she might’ve even known more than you.

You don’t get to ask her though. You don’t even get to say ‘hello’ because she glances behind her shoulder, your gaze following just as quickly. Holy shit, you think, knees now wobbling underneath you. If Eddie walks around that corner you might… Well, frankly, you don’t know how you’d react. You also didn’t really want to find out. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

So your fingers reach for the door handle and you’re just about to push it open, retreat back inside, when the person that’s with Max comes into view.

The disappointment that briefly rushes through you is unmatched. Even if you didn’t really want to see the rockstar, you still wished he was actually here. Instead, you’re now face to face with another brunette with hair just as wild as Eddie’s. Only his attire is different. The suit that’s perfectly tailored to his slender frame is also undoubtedly expensive. Armani, you notice.

“Jesus, when will you learn not to—”

He sees you then. The same exact look that Max is currently sporting spreads across his sharp features, so he must know you too. Difference being, you don’t know him.

“Oh shit. Sorry. We, eh, we were told no one was here.” He apologises, glancing between you and Hank, who’s posture is proper. Intimidating.

You step out in front of your bodyguard. An unspoken signal that says he doesn’t need to tell these people to get lost just yet. 

“That’s okay,” you reply to the stranger, quickly weighing your options in terms of what the next words to spill from your lips should be. One more glance in Max’s direction solidifies your decision. If her brother is going to repeatedly break your heart and get away with it, you’re going to play dumb and pretend he didn’t really matter to you.

With a polite smile and a swift extension of your hand, you introduce yourself. First to the mystery man, then to Max. The redhead is slightly more apprehensive about the hand shake, but she takes your extended fingers in hers regardless before saying her own name, as if you didn’t already know it.

The guy you now know as Steve clears his throat. 

“We’ll come back.” It’s simple. Meant to ease the awkwardness since the three of you clearly knew what — or rather, who — you had in common, but none of you seems willing to say the name aloud first.

“That’s okay,” you repeat, “Stay. We’re nearly finished anyway.”

And right on queue, Val calls your name from inside the private dressing room. You excuse yourself, leaving the two to exchange a knowing glance, and a whisper, undoubtedly about what they should do next.

Val, of course, looks breathtaking in the dress she picked out. Hand on your heart, you stare at your little sister in awe, wondering, probably for the first time ever, when the hell did she grow up so fast. And it’s an odd feeling that spreads through you. Pushing down the heartbreak momentarily, is melancholy for all the time you lost with your siblings because you were too busy being a star. It brings tears to your eyes, but you push them down quickly since you’ve been called dramatic enough for one day, and right now, it was all about Valentine.

“I think I understand why you’re always wearing skirts and dresses,” she says, spinning in front of the large mirror with the biggest smile on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like a fucking princess.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips. You agree with her sentiment, then add, “You look like mom.” Meaning it as the highest of compliments and her eyes twinkle at your words. 

“She’s going to love this dress.”

You nod. “She’s going to love you in this dress.”

It’s decided, just like that. The dress is being bought and Val thanks you ten times over for offering to pay for it, along with a pair of Louboutins to compliment it. You tell her it’s the least you can do for finally getting you out of bed, then you tell her that you’re glad you did this together — biting your tongue when it came to the apology for missing so many key moments in her life, because again, this moment was about her, not about the guilt you suddenly felt for focusing too much on your career and too little on your family.

Using the phone inside the private dressing room, Val calls for one of the Sales Assistants to come up, and while you two wait, you leave her again to get redressed in her normal clothes. 

Max and Steve are gone. 

That’s the first thing you notice when stepping back into the corridor. Hank doesn’t say anything as to their departure, unsurprisingly. He does, however, hand you a receipt from a nearby coffee shop. There’s scribbles on the back of it: ‘MEET ME’, along with an address in Brooklyn.

“From the redheaded girl,” Hank admits.

-

Max Mayfield has tolerated a lot of shitty behaviour in her lifetime.

The list of people that hurt her, and the people closest to her, was quite long, especially for a twenty-something year old. But her upbringing had a lot more downs than ups, and because of that, for the longest time, Max considered herself to be the most unlucky person on the planet. So she blamed the people around her for it, because how else is a kid supposed to judge universal injustice?

To this day, she remembers every single individual that has wronged her in any way, along with the associated place, and most importantly, the how. Max was never entirely sure what she’d do with that information, but she stored it at the back of her mind regardless — hence her thick skin and inability to tolerate any sort of bullshit. 

Which is why it sucks ten times more when it is the people close to her doing the hurting, with no rhyme nor reason.

If Eddie asked, that’s why she left you her address. If Eddie asked, that’s why she wanted to talk to you. He did the hurting. Then he spewed bullshit as to why he ended things with you. Max didn’t believe any of it. Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t believe it.

“I think she’s the love of my life,” Eddie announced one day, out of the blue. 

He called Max every Tuesday, when it hit four in the afternoon for him. Usually, the two of them talked about Max’s adventures in New York. How she’s doing with her studies, what she’s been up to with her friends (old and new), and if Sinclair has been driving her crazy, which he usually is. The odd time, Eddie would drop in some details about his whirlwind of a life, though he never talked about dating.

That is, until her older brother met you.

Then he wouldn’t fucking shut up.

Max liked this side of Eddie. A truly happy Eddie. And the redhead knows, better than anyone, the rockstar hasn’t been truly happy in all the years he’s been in a set presence in her life.

So to say she was surprised when the news broke, NO MORE SWEETHEART FOR EDDIE MUNSON, would be a vast understatement.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Max questioned her brother.

“Nothing,” Eddie answered plainly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “turns out she wasn’t anything special.”

“Eddie,” Max breathed, “you’re acting like a prick.”

She heard a sigh on the other line. Defeated. A little annoyed. Maybe even… sad?

“Whatever,” he brushed the comment off. “Listen, Red, I really don’t wanna talk about this, ‘cause if I did, I would’ve told you it ended myself.”

“That’s another problem I have—”

“Let’s not, okay?” Eddie snapped. “I really don’t wanna deal with shit from you, on top of everyone else, okay? We were never a real item, so it’s not a big deal.”

Max dropped it then and she swore she’d never bring it up again, but then, she bumped into you. She imagined meeting you many times over. The girl that made her brother happy. She wanted to know that girl. She wanted to thank her.

When it all went to hell, Max thought she’d never get the chance. Especially since, seemingly, you seemed okay with the downfall of your relationship with Eddie, spotted out on dates all over New York City. For a brief moment, Max let herself hate you. Clearly, you weren’t upset, which means, clearly, you didn’t care about Eddie nearly as much as he would have believed.

But then she saw you.

Max noticed how your face twitched with recognition the second your eyes locked together, how your hands shook slightly when Max looked behind her shoulder, the brief disappointment when it wasn’t Eddie who came around the corner, and how you tried to plaster on a pristine smile when you introduced yourself.

And now that she saw you, one thing was clear. Eddie hurt your feelings. He may have even broken your heart. That sort of behaviour, Max couldn’t stand for.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say with a delicate smile.

Your moves are apprehensive when Max further pushes her apartment door open, allowing you into her home. She leads you down the long hallway and offers up the couch for you to sit, while she steps towards the kitchen cabinets to grab a couple of wine glasses. 

In the time that Max opens up a bottle of Cabernet, you allow yourself to glance around the space. The furniture is all mismatched, definitely vintage, probably thrifted. There’s a fireplace, but you think it must be disconnected since instead it houses cream-coloured candles, all of different burn degrees. Otherwise, the decor is minimal, and it makes you think of Eddie and the empty walls of his Los Angeles mansion.

Though there is one prime feature. A framed Corroded Coffin poster, signed by all the members.

A faint smile circles your lips as you trail the details of the image. Though you haven’t been a fan before, having dated Eddie for a couple of months, you now knew the poster was from their first headline tour. The poor scribbles on an old photo, something that could one day be worth thousands. You’re sure though, that to Max, the value of this is priceless.

So your nerves bubble to the surface. Your leg starts to bounce, thumb back at your lips as you stare at the poster in front of you. The question of why exactly Max asked you to meet has been circling your mind ever since Hank handed you the address. It’s only intensified now that you are here. Now that you are looking at an A3 print of the brunette rockstar in his sister’s apartment. The guy that, despite your best efforts, you still cared for quite deeply.

“Here you go,” Max hails you back to reality by handing you a glass of wine. “It’s nothing fancy though, I eh, don’t usually host celebrities,” she tries to joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say and take the drink out of her grasp. “I-I actually prefer the cheaper stuff. Keeps me rich,” you try to joke.

Max seems to like your efforts ‘cause she huffs out a laugh while making herself comfortable on the armchair to your right.

“If only my idiotic brother carried the same principles as you,” she says. And just like that, the air is tense again. Your attempt at a joke is turned into an uncomfortable reminder of what the two of you have in common, and the reason for why you’re here tonight.

There’s a brief moment of slightly awkward silence. Then Max sighs softly.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come.”

“The thought did cross my mind, yes.”

Max smiles, it’s small, yet genuine. 

“Look, Eddie has never been one for chatting about feelings. That’s one of the things we actually have in common, which is probably why we’ve always gotten along so well.” She pauses.

“Full transparency, I don’t know what went down between the two of you. All I know is one day, he’s telling me how he’s crazy about you, and the next, I’m reading in the tabloids how it’s over and Eddie’s not willing to give up any reasons why.”

Your face falls momentarily. Something Max picks up on instantly.

“You thought I knew more.”

“That obvious, huh?” You smirk.

“Just a little.”

There’s another moment of silence.

“I’ll be the first to say that Eddie can be a bit of a dickhead sometimes. Especially recently, when the money started rolling in and apparently no one in Hollywood understands setting boundaries, his ego has grown for sure. But I also know what he’s been through. Hawkins wasn’t the kindest to him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It comes out as a whisper.

“He hurt you,” she’s blunt.

You don’t mean to, but you scoff. “No offence to you, or your brother, but I’m sure I wasn’t the first person he’s hurt, and I certainly won’t be the last, so do you sit down with all his ex-flings?”

Max sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing down momentarily, as she drops her gaze to the wine glass in her grasp. For a moment, you think you came off too bitchy and a little dismissive, after all, she hasn’t made her intentions known yet. Your instinct is to apologise, but then she clears her throat and looks back up at you.

“You’re the only one he’s ever talked about.”

-

“Do you wanna hurt him back?” — Max's question dings in your ears like the alarm bells you should have heard when she first asked it. 

Not now. Not the next night, after you had already agreed to her plan. After the plan was already in motion, you were simply just waiting for the other person to arrive.

Waiting for Steve Harrington.

This was all honestly a little too crazy, but again, you thought so a little too late. You should have been second guessing the idea the second Max presented it to you, like a pretty little gift, wrapped in a big bow known to most as ‘revenge’. Though last night, two bottles of wine in, you would have agreed to anything the redhead said. You did agree to everything ‘cause you realised that she just needed someone to vent her own feelings to, same as you.

She said Eddie didn’t want to talk about it, and she wanted to be sympathetic towards his feelings, but seeing you reminded her, he wasn’t the only person involved in this situation. She needed to talk to you. And honestly, you were glad for the opportunity, hence why you showed up at the scribbled address. Since all you got from your close circle was judgement, it couldn’t hurt to spend time with someone who’d refrain from commenting on how foolish you were.

As the night progressed, so did the topic of conversation.

The two of you had moved on from small talk relating to the person you both knew, and to the real reason Max asked you to come over: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“I-I…” Clearly, the redhead caught you off guard, “Well, I-I haven’t really—”

“If you tell me you haven’t thought about it over the last few months, then I will say you’re full of shit, because no girl of your status gets her heartbroken so publicly, only to let the other person scot free.”

She moved from the armchair and sat back down next to you, then continued, “And I’m not saying this is about your career. It’s about principle. Taking away the fact that Eddie’s my brother, he’s an entitled rockstar who thinks other people’s feelings aren’t as important! Which personally, is just so baffling considering what he went through with Chrissy—”

“Who’s Chrissy?”

Max didn’t really answer your question, though the look in her eyes gave some of it away. Chrissy was, at one point in time, someone very important to Eddie. The name slipped out, you weren’t supposed to know it, that much was definitely clear. And you were smart enough to deduct that Max wasn’t going to tell you much else about this mystery girl, but maybe, whatever she had planned, would allow you to learn it from someone else. Maybe even Eddie himself.

“Okay,” you agreed, “What do you have in mind?”

That’s how you found yourself at Minetta Tavern, fifteen minutes early than agreed with Max ‘cause you knew you’d need a glass of wine before Steve arrived. There was a pit in your stomach. This whole situation was honestly so twisted, even for your standards. But you kept repeating to yourself how it was too late to back out now. Too late to call off this whole thing since the paparazzi you asked  Holly to arrange were already lurking outside.

Steve shows up about ten minutes before the agreed time.

The hostess walks him over to your table and you immediately notice how nervous he seems. He still offers you a charming smile and bends slightly to your level, greeting you with a half-hug. When he sits across from you, he’s quick to order a Jameson on ice, and only when the waiter is out of sight, Steve looks at you.

“Even if this is a fake date, I do have to say, you look really beautiful tonight.”

A timid smile circles your lips at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you, Steve. You look rather handsome too.”

“Nah,” he brushes you off with a smirk, “Not to be overly forward, but I’m all sweaty after a whole day’s work. Wanted to change shirts. Ended up running late this morning, so I didn’t take a second one with me. Then I tried to bribe one of my colleagues to give me his spare shirt, so he told me he’d bet me for it with a game of pool, which I clearly lost. It was a whole thing.” Steve dramatises, the smirk ever present. 

“Bet you’re regretting calling me handsome now, huh?”

“Not at all,” you reply honestly, “Actually, surprisingly, quite the opposite.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”

And you nod. “Not to be overly forward,” you repeat his earlier sentiment, “But I’ve never been on a date with someone that had a real job.”

Steve laughs. “I just told you I played a game of pool at work to win a clean shirt. That’s a real job to you?”

It’s rather effortless how he makes you laugh too.

“Well, I’m assuming that didn’t take the whole day, so for at least six hours today, you worked, no?”

Still smiling, he bops his head in agreement. “You got me there.”

Celebrating your mini victory, you take a sip of your wine. 

“So, what do you do, Steve?” You ask after the waiter brings over his drink and takes your food orders.

“Wall Street,” he answers plainly.

“Shit,” you reply with a grin, “You’re so right. That’s not a real job.”

When Steve laughs again, you forget why you’re both really here. When he laughs again, the slight shake of his head causing his hair to bounce in compliment, you forget the circumstances surrounding your date. As the night continued, with every spoken word, every little joke and giggle, you end up forgetting a lot of things actually.

You forget to ask Steve why he agreed to do this with you. Forget to ask about Eddie and what their friendship meant to him, since he’s here, acting out a revenge plot. Most importantly, you forget to ask about Chrissy, who she was, and what she really meant to the rockstar.

This fake date with Steve turned into one of the best dates of your young-adult life.

Apparently, you two had a lot in common, more than you could have ever imagined. You both came from families that always lived above the norm, which in itself was a challenge only people from similar backgrounds could understand. Steve had said how the weight of the world was always on his shoulders whenever he was around his parents, and that’s how you felt with your Nana. Nothing was ever good enough, yet you kept trying to impress them regardless. He shared the privilege you’ve always felt, so you bonded. Without ever meaning to.

It wasn’t until after dinner, which Steve paid for, by the way, you remembered the circumstances that brought you here together. He seemed to understand the apprehensive look in your eyes ‘cause he was quick to offer to leave first, before you, and not with you — just in case you had second thoughts — but you just shook your head, Max’s question humming in your ears once again: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“He really hurt me, Steve.”

The brunette nods. “Let’s go then.”

The next morning, Page Six features a spread about you on a date with “a mystery brunette”. In the picture, Steve’s got his arm around you, hugging you close, as the two of you push through the paparazzi to get into his vintage car.

When Steve calls your apartment a few days later, you ask him if he regrets being put on blast like that.

“No,” he answers quickly, “Real or not, I had a really good night with you. Which honestly made me think about all the possible reasons Munson might’ve had to do what he did.”

“What did you come up with?”

“That he’s a fucking idiot. You’re incredible.”

You damn well know he can picture the smile you’re sporting right now as you wrap the cord around your wrist, like a little school girl talking to her crush. If your Nana saw, she’d tell you to snap out of it. Although, unlike Eddie, Steve was exactly the type of guy she’d want you to end up with.

Intelligent, charming, kind — and those were just the qualities you learned in a single night. The more you thought about your not-so-fake date, the more you found yourself wanting to learn even more about the handsome brunette.

There were just a couple of other questions you needed to get out of the way before you asked Steve out on a real date. Things you should’ve asked the first time around, instead of getting caught up in the moment.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If Eddie’s your friend, why did you agree to Max’s plan?”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Albeit, very  brief.

“I guess the same reason Red even put this in motion in the first place.”

“Chrissy?”

You can hear him sigh into the receiver, but you don’t get to actually hear him confirm it, or ask any of the follow ups you should have actually asked him during your date, because there’s a knock on your door. Then again, only louder, more intense.

“Steve, I gotta call you back,” you say, attention now focused on whoever it was that’s on the other side of your front door and the eagerness behind their knocks.

“Sure thing, darling. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, someone’s just at my door. I’ll call you in a couple minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, “Speak in a few.” 

The next thing you hear are three beeps, so you hurry to put the phone back before approaching your front door. You don’t really think to check who it might be through the peephole, since there’s only a limited number of people that would get past your doorman with no prior notice. That was a mistake.

On the other side of your apartment door, drenched from the September rain, stood none other than Corroded Coffin frontman himself, Mr Eddie Munson.

Your mouth parts slightly in shock as Eddie slides his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, meeting your wide gaze. He tries to smile, though the corners of his lips don’t really move that far upward.

And you’re not sure how long the two of you stand there, just looking at one another. It’s only when one of your neighbours comes out of their apartment, into the shared corridor, that you snap out of whatever spell you had found yourself under.

The panic sets in. 

He’s actually here. Eddie is standing in front of you. Now, Mrs McAllister has seen him, and she’s got a big mouth, yapping to the ladies at bingo about all your activities, gossip that somehow always travels back to your Nana — the last person you needed on your case, again.

So without really thinking, you slam the door shut.

Right in Eddie’s face.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie

[throneofsapphics]

Hello!! I have a request if you don’t mind😊😊. Could you do one with Rhys where both him and reader take a aphrodisiac chocolate and see how long they can go without touching each other but eventually give in rather quickly 🫣🫣

Have a great day🩷

chocolate

Summary: Rhys challenges you, and you can’t turn it down. 

Warnings: smut - pure smut, drug use, minors dni, not proofread

A/N: thank you for the request! It’s cold shower time 

You split the chocolate in half, handing one to Rhys. He raised one brow, “are you sure you want to do this?” he spoke directly into your mind. 

“You can speak out loud.” You huffed, elbowing him. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It was your idea.”

“You wanted a challenge.” 

You narrowed your eyes, it was true - but Rhys’s idea of a challenge was absolutely cruel. Aphrodisiac chocolates he somehow acquired, from where? You have no idea, but you could never turn down a challenge or dare. That had led to some questionable results in the past but … you popped the chocolate in your mouth with a smile. He matched your movements, and you settled in. 

You stayed on opposite sides of the couch, distracting yourself with a book. Somehow, the only books available happened to be very explicit romance books. Something of his doing. 

Rhys wasn’t even bothering to try and read and focus, instead he kept his gaze firmly fixed on you, and you felt it like a brand. 

The chocolate, combined with his attention and the novel you were reading had your blood heating, wetness starting to pool in between your thighs. 

You heard something like a growl coming from the other side, and pointedly ignored it. You stared at the same sentence, reading at least ten times without comprehending. Rhys didn’t bother to disguise his arousal, didn’t bother to hide the scent. 

In the end, he gave in first - and the book flew from your hands. You glanced at the clock, “not even five minutes,” you tutted as he rose and stalked towards you, standing in front of where you curled on the couch. You clenched your fists tightly against your clothing. The first to touch loses, that was the rule and you’d be damned if you gave him another thing to lord over you. 

His eyes scanned your body, and you focused on your breathing, focused on looking anywhere except him. 

“Look at me darling.” The pure command in his tone had your eyes moving on instinct. Desire flooded through his violet eyes, his pupils dilated and lips slightly parted as he watched you. 

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, and that was his undoing. He moved quickly, switching your positions so you stood in front of him, in between his legs. His hands roamed up your sides, brushing against your breasts. 

“You lost,” you teased him, and he snarled, pulling you down onto his lap. Your lips met in a frenzy and you didn’t know where to focus. His soft lips moving against yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other fisting itself in the back of your hair, your hips grinding against the hardness forming in his pants. 

You whimpered, the combination of the drug and your arousal almost overwhelming. Your core throbbed with need, your body already on edge from the slightest touch, and he wasn’t much better. There was nothing gentle about how he ripped your clothing off, or how your tore his away, nails digging into his skin. 

He hissed as your nails scratched down his back, and pulled you closer towards him, so close every inch of your skin was pressing together. 

He laid you across the couch, his eyes focused on yours as he threw your legs over his shoulders. Apparently, the chocolate was foreplay enough because he buried himself inside you, lifting your hips up as you keened into him. He didn’t hold back, and fucked you brutally - you braced one hand against the arm rest to keep yourself from slamming into it. He drew screams and moans out of you with each thrust, each movement. 

“Gods, gods, gods.” you panted as you grew closer to the edge. 

“My name,” he demanded, “Say my name.” 

“Rhys,” you screamed, and chanted his name over and over against as his thumb circled your clit, sending you hurtling towards one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 

He followed shortly after, spilling inside you. 

You each barely had a few breaths to recover before you felt him harden inside of you again. 

“Are you up for it?” He challenged, sending an image of you - of exactly what he was looking at. 

Breathless, you nodded, and he grinned.

[bygiornogiovanna]

An unexpected surprise

His birthday was coming up, but he didn't feel anything about it. Not happiness, as most people feel when their special day comes up, not hatred, as it is a constant reminder of his birth, nothing.

Just pure emptiness.

Not that his life as the biggest man in Italy allowed him to relax, there was nothing but a constant fight between him and the cruel world he lived in.

Despite his young age, Giorno was a tired man.

He's been trying for at least 5 years, ever since he defeated Diavolo, to get rid of the drug dealers that lay carelessly around Italy. And he got rid of many of them, but they kept coming.

It wasn't an easy job, quite the opposite.

On his 20th birthday, after a long day, all he wanted was to come home and stay near you. He wanted to spend time with you, but he didn't have any expectations. The blonde knew your hatred for him. Why wouldn't you hate him?

Probably everyone does.

A sweet chocolate scent hit his nose and he was suddenly curious. Did you or the maids cook something? No, the maids were out of question. All of them should've gone home at this hour, their shifts ended.

"Shhh! Quiet, he is here!" He heard your soft voice as he was going up the stairs and everything went quiet. What was going on?

He didn't want to believe that you planned a surprise for him, yesterday you two argued so bad and it took all the power he had to not punish you, even after all the hurtful words you told him.

"Three...two...one..." Giorno heard Mista's (not so quiet) whisper and, when he entered, he was met with darkness. Still a little confused, he turned on the lights and then...

All of his close friends jumped from their hiding places and a very loud "Buon Compleanno!" (Happy Birthday) could be heard.

Then there was you.

You were standing with the brightest smile on your face, holding a (silly, if you asked him) decorated cake, on which he could read "Happy birthday, Giorno!" in your prettiest handwriting. He could see that it was baked by you, from the way it was iced and glazed and because it was a little uneven.

But that made it even more special.

While he was taking your smile, (oh, how much he missed your true smile), he didn't notice the amount of decoration placed around the house. All of them were handmade.

From hats to confetti, everything was handmade by you and his friends. Everyone helped in the making of a surprise party.

For him.

Giorno felt happiness rush through him, disguised as a shiver that ran down his spine. Without even realizing it, as the usual birthday song started to play rhythmically from everyone's mouths, a small tear fell down his cheek, followed by many others.

The whole room cooed at that truly rare sight as the blonde hid his face behind his palm. Giorno never cried, not in front of others at least. Nobody saw him cry. Not even Bruno.

"Oh, caro." you gave the cake to Bruno and rushed to give the young man a hug. It was a surprise to see his green eyes gloss with tears. It melted your heart.

You took his face in your palms, your soft hands caressing it, wiping away the tears that kept flowing down his now rosy cheeks.

"Why are you crying, amore? It's your birthday, we should be celebrating, not crying!" you said, pushing back all the memories of the countless moments when you were in his place, crying, desperately seeking his comfort. This wasn't about you.

Today was about him. You were going to leave all of the moments ever since he took you away in the past and make him happy. If you can't escape him, at least make some memories with the one you used to be so close with.

Maybe you could still be close, if you accepted his love. That's what you wanted two years ago, right? Smiling, you kissed his nose, giving him another hug.

"Come on man, we came here to have fun!" Mista said and Giorno laughed, wiping his tears away while looking around the room. All of the guys were looking at him in an awe, even Abbacchio had a look of sympathy in his eyes.

"You're right guys. I'm sorry for this, you just...surprised me. I never had someone organize a birthday party for me." he says after taking a deep breath and breaking the hug.

"Group hug!" you yelled and all of you jumped on the blonde, hugging him tightly.

Giorno smiled, hugging you all back. Well, at least trying.

He was so lucky to have them.

To have you.

take this drabble and be prepared cause i started writing again! 🫡

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

The executive director of a police union in California has been placed on leave and is facing federal charges after allegedly importing drugs from overseas and distributing them throughout the country.

Joanne Marian Segovia, 64, ordered thousands of synthetic opioids including valeryl fentanyl that were disguised as chocolates, wedding favors and makeup, according to the criminal complaint filed Monday by the Office of the United States Attorney.

Segovia, who serves as the executive director of the San Jose Police Officers' Association (SJPOA), allegedly used her personal and office computers to order the opioids and made shipments using the union's UPS account, the complaint said.

Segovia has been the executive director of the union, which represents officers with the San Jose Police Department, for nearly 20 years, according to CNN affiliate KGO-TV.

At least 61 shipments containing drugs worth thousands of dollars coming from countries including Hong Kong, Hungary, India and Singapore were shipped to Segovia's home between October 2015 and January this year, according to the complaint.

"The manifests for these shipments declared their contents with labels like 'Wedding Party Favors,' 'Gift Makeup,' or 'Chocolate and Sweets,'" the United States Attorneys Office for Northern California said in a press release.

"But between July 2019 and January 2023, officials intercepted and opened five of these shipments and found that they contained thousands of pills of controlled substances, including the synthetic opioids Tramadol and Tapentadol," the press release said.

In February 2023, Segovia was interviewed by federal investigators but she continued to order drug shipments, including a package in March containing valeryl fentanyl seized by federal agents in Kentucky, according to the complaint.

Segovia has been charged with attempt to unlawfully import valeryl fentanyl and faces up to a maximum sentence of 20 years, according to the complaint.

An attorney for Segovia did not respond to CNN's request for comment.

Segovia has been placed on leave and cut off from all access to the police officers association, San Jose Police Officers Association spokesperson Tom Saggau told CNN in a statement. No other individuals with the association were involved or knew about the scheme, Saggau said.

"Last Friday we were informed by federal authorities that one of our civilian employees was under investigation for distribution of a controlled substance and the POA has been fully and completely cooperating with the federal authorities as they continue their investigation," Saggau said. "The Board of Directors is saddened and disappointed at hearing this news and we have pledged to provide our full support to the investigative authorities."

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for kicking a clown who wanted to wish me a happy birthday out of my house, spraying him with water, and tricking him?

I (M) am a cat and I was trying to take a nap. My owner (29M) forgot to turn off the faucet, and it was dripping water onto a pan, so I put a cork in it. It already put me in a bad mood, but this will be important later too.

I heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, and this clown (M) came to my door and started singing happy birthday. He assumed that an old woman lived in our house and wanted to see her, but he had the wrong house, so I shut the door on him. I heard another knock on the door, and it was him again, still singing. I shut the door again, because people who sing like that need to be drug out into the street and shot, but he got back in through the window.

The clown wasn't too happy about me shutting the door on him, so this time, he began playing his birthday song for me as a one-man-band. Then, he asked me to smell his flower. It was a squirt flower, and I got sprayed with water. I kicked him out again and shut the window so he couldn't get back in, but he came back in again through the chimney.

He came back and called himself "Santa Clown" and gave me some "presents," if you can call them that. One contained a "splurt," which was actually a pie in the face. Another was a box of what looked like chocolates. I quickly began to eat them, but then "Santa Clown" told me that they were actually chocolate-covered Tabasco peppers. My mouth felt like it was on fire, and I rushed into the kitchen to get some water. I saw the cork I put over the faucet to stop it from dripping and unplugged it, but when I did, it sprayed water, sending the clown out of the house.

Surprisingly, he still came back. So, I dressed like an old lady, and he didn't see through my disguise. He sang to me and gave me a bunch of presents meant for that old lady. He came back again because my owner hired him to wish me a happy birthday too. My owner doesn't speak cat, so I don't know what he thinks, but he seemed confused when he saw how scared I was. I wonder if I just let the clown sing for me or pulled out the old lady disguise earlier if he would've gone away. Was I too extreme?

[ladytheoris]

The Adventure in Jujutsu High

Warning: Mahito (it sums up almost everything), crackfic

Words:

AN: I hate Mahito, and I use every possible way to show my hate to him. Manga readers can vouch for that hate.

Pick Me

In this school, every student has different opinions on everything. Be it be the fact that their hate for Todo who did nothing -literally, or their hate for their ex-principal, or their opinion about having baseball as an event for the annual sports day, it is always different.

But one thing they all can be together on is their opinion about a certain student; Mahito. Nobody knows where or how this one became a student. A person who has stitches all over his body, and the ones who drop off him at school and pick him back look more or less like people who run the mafia. (One guy with ash brown hair, who smokes like a burning volcano, and another one with roses, dragon, and some other random things tatted on his skin.)

Were they wary of him? No. It is just that they all hate the moment this one opens its mouth, which mostly is for spouting nonsense or catcalling literally anyone. The situation which made them hate him, even more, is when their beloved teacher Yn was teaching and he decided to whistle like he doesn't care. Nobara swears she nearly threw her textbook -which is one thick book of all Shakespearean works- at that blue head, and he would have surely popped a few stitches. And yes that is true too, had it not been for Yuuji that day, Mahito would've seen the doors of hell that moment.

As things like this happened that day, Nobara was sure to make sure everyone in the school know about that rancid person and her pent-up anger against him. By the time lunch break was done, Megumi has to drive away a lot of students from other classes who came to see Mahito. Was Mahito bothered by that? No, he was three seconds away from doing a strip show if it wasn't for that one teacher with beige tux; that's what he told. It is a fact that the only person this Mahito guy was scared of was Nanami.

It was a shame for him that he decided to befriend the most badass-looking teacher just to show others that he has even more ground than others. Who was this teacher, you ask. None other than Ryomen Sukuna. Who according to the Zen'ins is the King of Curses. Because there is no time in this universe without this one teacher screaming all the curse words. A second it is fuck, the next it is shit; to the point, they thought he was banging his random side chick in the Physical Education classroom.

That aside, Mahito tried every possible trick in his sleeves to make Sukuna like him. There is a rumor going around that Mahito secretly wants to bang Sukuna. The next one was that Mahito was the one who brought hash brownies to the school on Valentine's day, which Gojo Satoru ate and got high. It was all baseless, yet believable. This takes us to today, Mahito standing in front of the PE room with a box (which Miwa guarantees is a box of condoms, because he bought that same thing from the store she does part-time for).

What we should see here are the bunch of students (Yuuji, Nobara, and Miwa) are standing -more like in a disguise to observe Mahito- behind the wall, eyes keenly on Mahito. Mahito knocks on the door, from which Sukuna appears. Now, Yuuji is fretting like a lost puppy. He sees Mahito offer Sukuna the box, and they three have different conclusions. Because all the saw was Sukuna walking back into his room, and Mahito doing his little victory dance- wiggled his non-existent butt.

"I'm sure that box is drugs," Nobara says.

"I am telling you guys for the hundredth time, no I saw that butthole buy a box of condoms yesterday, and that is the box." Tells Miwa.

"Guys, that could also be a box of chocolate," Yuuji tells, eyes fixed on the door, which Mahito walks in.

"Yuuji you are too pure to exist," Nobara pats his pink hair.

Yuuji gave a small pout, and without thinking twice, he walks towards the room. Now it is Miwa and Nobara who are fretting. Because of Yuuji, their undercover works might see the light, right now.

"What-" Yuuji's words stop in the mid as he sees what was happening in the room. Mahito's shirtless back was all Yuuji could see. There were a few stitches and tattooed stitches on his body, with Sukuna hugging him.

"S'kuna what are ya doing?" Yuuji screamed. That was the day Sukuna saw red.

"OMG!" Nobara and Miwa were also doing a few loud fan chants. Even though nobody shipped them, was this ship somehow sailing?

Sukuna was quicker than a lightning bolt to react to his astounded students. "Kids, it is not what you think."

"Then what is this?" Yuuji's voice was two tones higher than usual when he screamed at his half-brother. "It clearly looks like you are having fun, trying to kiss that nasty ass". Yuuji's pink hair looked red than usual like his anger seeped through his hair. "I swear that guy does not even clean his ass after pooping, why are you with him of all creatures?"

"It was pure self-defense. He tried to attack me from behind." Sukuna tried to justify.

"Then why is he half naked?" Yuuji yelled back.

"He told me a few stitches popped and to check it out."

"And I can clearly see you checking him out." Yuuji retorts back.

"Yuuji, I know you are angry about me burning your lunch, but think about my side too." Sukuna justifies. "I turned back to get the flashlight, and he suddenly pounced on me from behind. That is what happened."

"You tried to put him in a chokehold?" Miwa asks.

"And he clearly enjoying being choked by Sukuna," Nobara tells.

"Ryo, can you do me a favor?" This was another voice that wasn't heard till then there.

"Yes, darling", Sukuna, as if on cue responds. Just to realize his mistake a few seconds later, he pushes Mahito against his body.

"Ryo?" "Darling?" The students were screaming in surprise, only to be even more surprised seeing the owner of the voice. None other than their beloved teacher, YN.

"You guys are dating?" Mahito asks.

"Oh sheet, Mahito you were trying to ruin their relationship?" Nobara did throw her textbook at his head finally, knocking him out; but not entirely.

"Oh hey, kids!" YN wished back at the surprised-looking students. "Cover my last hour with their class, I have a meeting," Yn tells Sukuna.

Sukuna nodded his response, and YN turns to her beloved students, "Kids back to class, lunch break is about to end."

"Don't you think we'll start the rumor of you guys dating?" Yuuji asks YN.

"Of who? Me and him? Oh cut it out Yuuji, we've been through this before. I am not dating your brother but giving him dating advice to bag one person he is trying to see." YN tells. "And no Nobara, that is not me. I have a certain someone else in my life at the moment."

What left the kids surprised wasn't that Sukuna had his eye on someone, but there is a specific ring on YNs finger that caught their attention.

And that is for today's episode of Jujutsu High. In the next episode, we'll see how the student unveils the darker secrets of their teacher.

Shoko and YN chatting over a coffee:

Shoko: Oh he finally had the guts to ask you out?

YN: Yeah with a ring pop.

[youofsomesong]

Friends Describing Starkid Characters (part 4)

(There will be spoiler pictures from Nerdy Prudes Must Die, so look at your own risk. They show up after Curt)

james

typical nerd

he has a letterman (i mean its in the photo)

this looks like the harry potter one (yup)

this information does not help me at all though (yes it does!!!)

gregory (front) and william (back) (noooooo)

they are in a relationship (oh 100%)

the gun in the underwear is for later tonight theyre spicing things up

(i have the better picture of peter, dont worry. but i wanna see if theyll realize its the same character)

montgomery

nerd but he knows your name, address, social security number, and credit card information and it not afraid to use it

megan

tired barista (SAME)

good at names and faces (not same) (same bestie)

knows martial arts

quincy francis iv

a cowboy with absolutely NO cowboy skills

saw a horse once and went “cow!!”

oh theyre also gay gay homosexual

nobody knows about their relationship though (well...)

elizabeth (left) and grace (right)

theyre into cosplay

businessman businessman businessman

slightly below average at his job but covers for it by being likeable and social (jfhkjasdhf thats not true)

his name is ronald

marco

theatre kid

rebecca

a proud trans woman who will take no shit

OH MY GOD WAIT

THATS UMBRIDGE ISNT IT (...maybe)

jafar (whats with my friends and thinking achmed is jafar???)

tried to sneak in an aladdin picture with the starkid. im onto you (youre not though cause thats achmed, not jafar)

bridget

likes reading

not very popular but a nice person

patricia

she has a pufferfish on her head

shes a strange one

still kind of popular though??

jasmine and jafar (this one im 87% certain) (youre half right bestie)

they pulled a switcheroo

that other one was aladdin and i was wrong (you were wrong but youre still wrong)

rachel

big fan of the little red riding hood story. made it her entire personality (jksdhfjdksh bestie)

thats a classic jack right there

total asshole (a bit, yeah)

sells drugs to minors (but he doesnt. he loves hannah like his own kid)

that previous guys brother but this ones a good person and keeps getting pulled into his brothers crap

his name is riley

definitely has pronouns

not straight (oh he 100% is not straight)

generally well liked but has one specific enemy (more like we love him but we hate him)

looks like a noah to me

self proclaimed “party animal” (everyone hates him except like one person whos pretty neutral about him) (lies. we all love him)

name is... liam (derogatory)

andrew garfield in disguise (askjfdhakjs)

thats all

“tall dark and handsome” (has platforms in his shoes)

daniel

NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE PHOTOS!!!! CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK

thats a whole zombie fr fr

name was revoked

but his name WOULD have been zachary

watched “the last of us” and liked it way too much

became his favorite character

straight man (derogatory) (kajfhasdhf i dont believe max is straight AT ALL)

the woman is bi (grace is repressed bi, what did i tell yall?)

her name is haley his name is michael

he needs to put his shirt back on (no he does not. he is hot)

goshdarn jessica

Mean Girl ™️ (i mean...mariah was regina george...she was in mean girls...)

manny

generalized anxiety disorder (if he wasnt first labeled as obnoxious teen i would say yes. but he did have that whole waiting for hot chocolate line(s). oh and xe did not connect that the petes were the same character. i did not tell them that either and idk if i will tell him)

MARKIPLIER?

thats it

dyed hair and pronouns

quinn

at this point in time i did tell them that nibbly and blinky were not female even though both are played by women (and the fact that i hc nibbly as agender)

thats a rowan

absolutely slays

also has pronouns

liked wreck it ralph

naruto fanboy

his name is blake but he asked people to call him by the name of his favorite character

(nobody does)

this one is a big fan of sonic

has a sonic themed backpack and lunchbox

morgan

jeremiah

i see an anime shirt hes an anime stan (well thats obvious)

has at least two twitter accounts dedicated to anime (honestly wouldnt be surprised)

[viacursecasting]

True Colors.

Warnings: Alcohol, drugging, coercion

"So this is where you've run off to."

From the wooden arch bridge that overlooked the koi pond in the garden, teeming with roses and weeping with willows, Arte broke from his trance to see a slate gray chameleon dressed in an immaculate ebony suit. "Oh, Leonard, right?"

"The one and only." Leonard winked as he handed the cat a glass of Merlot that matched his fur. "Grew tired of making pleasantries with the highbrows?"

Arte chuckled, accepting the drink. "That obvious?"

Leonard took a sip from his own glass as he stood beside the cat. "I don't blame you for escaping the gala. This pond is breathtaking."

Like a melody, the sound of a gentle babbling brook and distant chirping birds filled the fresh air. "Agreed," Arte replied. "I like to come here to calm my nerves."

Leonard eyed him curiously. "You? The well-spoken, brave, dashing Kingsley heir gets nervous?"

Arte tinted. "I wouldn't say dashing—"

A smirk graced Leonard's lips as he leaned forward attentively. "Then what would you say?"

Arte slightly chilled the glass before he took a sip, relishing the raspberry taste layered with herbal notes and a hint of... dark chocolate? He didn't dwell on it, for he gave a bitter laugh. "A disappointment maybe?"

Leonard looked remorseful. "Why?"

Arte gazed at his forlorn reflection in the glass, idly twirling the liquid. He sighed as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "I just feel like a lot of people are counting on me. And honestly I'm not sure if I can live up to everybody's expectations."

"It's not your job to please anyone else," Leonard tried to convince him. "Just please yourself."

"I wish it were that easy," Arte said, lifeless. "Father built this hotel with his bare hands. And now I feel this pressure to uphold his legacy."

Leonard viewed him with understanding. "If it makes you feel any better, I feel the exact same way."

Arte's eyes widened. "You do?"

The reptile nodded. "Except it's with my mother and her country club."

"Let me guess," Arte added, "she expects you to uphold the family name for future generations?"

"Yes!" Leonard exclaimed. "She's very traditional as well. Don't date, but also get married. Marriage before kids. Make sure you marry for the sake of the company. The whole shebang."

Arte grinned mischievously. "You sure she isn't my father in disguise?"

Leonard's shoulders shook with mirth. "If so, then he wears a dress and pearl necklace very well."

They shared a laugh, cheerful notes that intertwined with the vines and butterflies, echoing throughout the blossoming Eden. When the laughter died down, Leonard sighed wistfully at the landscape. "This sunset is quite romantic."

Arte gazed toward the horizon as the sky's hues of marigold and rose blended seamlessly like a watercolor painting. The glow of the golden rays reminded him of the ambers of a particular arachnid. Because of her mild case of frostbite, he insisted she take the day off to recover, though truthfully he wished she were here. "I suppose—"

Just as he turned toward the chameleon, their lips harshly met, which caused their glasses to slip from their hands and crash into the pond below, staining the water crimson.

Arte gasped in surprise, tasting Leonard's subtle hint of black cherries with a mocha finish. He tried to pull away but the firm grip in his platinum hair and around his hips kept him in place. It seemed like the more he resisted, the tighter he was held, so he relented, giving in to the ebb and flow of the kiss.

The hypnotic rhythm of the reptile's lips lulled Arte into a daze, making his knees go weak. He fought desperately to keep his eyes open, but those lips were quite soft...

With the ounce of strength he had left, Arte slapped the chameleon across the face with a resounding smack!.

A low chuckle rumbled in Leonard's throat as he caressed his stinging cheek. "Feisty."

Arte couldn't meet his lustful gaze, feeling objectified as he straightened out his jabot. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I don't see you that way." He motioned to leave—

Leonard caught him by the arm. "Why not? We understand each other so well. Not to mention our families would be ecstatic." When the feline didn't respond, he asked, "Is there someone else?"

Arte's breath hitched, which confirmed the chameleon's suspicions.

Leonard drew him close. He matched the temperature of his blood with the cryokinetic's, enabling him to clutch his waist. "Let me help you forget all about them."

Arte mewed as the reptile forced his lips to dance with his once more, making his mind go fuzzy. He got goosebumps from the way scaly hands stroked his jawline and caressed his lower back. He felt wanted—desired—feeling his core pool with heat despite his icy body.

Something's... not right... Arte could hardly form a coherent thought as every touch made him feel like he was on fire. Yet he craved more of it. "You..." Arte panted between open-mouthed kisses, "You spiked... my drink..."

The chameleon said nothing, but Arte could feel those lips smiling.

As the waltz continued, Arte found himself growing drunk from the chameleon's fruity tongue, growing deaf from those husky moans. Possessed, he clutched the reptile's lapel, deepening the lip-lock.

But as he felt wandering hands tug at his belt, he cried, "Ivy—!"

Leonard drew back, breathing heavily. His eyes darkened as his voice bled with contempt. "Ivy?"

Arte was shocked at his own outburst as he averted his gaze. "She's... my bodyguard."

Leonard's features twisted. "You've fallen in love with the help?"

Arte clenched his fists. "She's not just the help—"

Leonard tutted his tongue before he made his tone sickeningly sweet. "Don't be daft, Artie. You can do so much better."

"It's Arte," the feline mumbled.

"Think about how perfect we could be," Leonard insisted. "Your hotel. My country club. We could make a fortune!" Then with a sly smile, he lifted the cat's chin with a clawed finger. "I can even handle your body."

Arte swatted his hand away, staring daggers at him. "Is that all you care about? Don't you want to marry for love?"

"Love?" The reptile let out an amused scoff. "What do you know about love? Your glorified babysitter saves you once or twice and you're head over heels for her. Has it ever occurred to you that she's just doing her job?"

Arte narrowed his icy pools. "She has more heart in this finger"—he held up his middle one—"than you have in your entire body."

Leonard glowered. "Tread carefully, Artie—"

"It's Arte," the cat scolded before he retreated to his chambers, leaving the chameleon to quietly fume on the burned bridge.

[wyvernet]

OC Showcase! [ Furry Edition ]

I hope you guys enjoy this small batch of OC's of mine!! I have TONS more, but Tumblr will only let me post so much XD [ Post requested by @blocked-zombieartist!! ]

Cutter Candy (Originally named Cutton Condy, and was a gift from a friend! though I don't remember who </3)

Forren (an OC I made in Fer.al! he looks spooky cause he's just silly like that X3)

LSD (originally made for a roleplay where drugs, chemicals, etc were personified how we imagined them! it barely went anywhere though </3)

Obey (originally made as an SCP OC! he has lots of neat stuff about him but i'd have to go looking through a handful of channels to find it all LOL)

Hesoris (a galaxyspace OC! his name is a mix of Hesperos and Moris :3) (First piece is a gift from an old friend of mine!)

Dawn (an MLP Changeling OC that regularly disguised as a Kirin! and her partner in crime, Dexter who was one of my old friend's OC's) (Art piece by an old friend <3)

Miiky (originally named Melancholy. I'm not sure his original purpose, but he's a silly little guy and i love him lots <33)

R.A.M (Random Access Memory) (an edgy furry OC turned silly guy!! a weird sticky liquid electricity constantly flows from his bandaged eye)

Casey (originally named Cinnamon! she's a living chocolate rabbit like in those easter packages! yes, she can be eaten and regenerate her body)

Cat-Putt Piorum (silly little gradient OC who's a dual-tailed fox and an alien!) (also, have a WIP drawing i'll likely never finish where i was gonna lightly redesign him X3)

Hypryst (kinda pronounced like High Priest! he doesn't really have an origin point, but I originally created him because of @vivalaplxto's OC's Mac and Exavior X3)

Khroma (a self-indulgent Sonic OC that has WAY too much going on LMAO, he's basically the embodiment of "be cringe, be free" <3)

StarLord (originally a Doctor Who companion OC that I made with my friend Shadow!) (secondary image is what he's originally based off of, the OG creator of the image is fine with his existence!)

Jessie (a Minecraft OC originally based off of a skin i saw! though I have no clue where the skin is or how to find it TwT)

Truxby (an OC originally gifted to me by someone whom I don't remember </3 i really need to draw him more LOL)

Thresh (a thresher shark OC originally made for my friend's mini-universe! a very silly guy who I still love to bits despite the negative emotions attached to him now <3)

Daivat (an orca OC! same origin as Thresh :3)

and lastly, Aspect Ratio! (a skibidi toilet OC I originally made to pair with my ex-boyfriend's OC named Ace! he also has negative emotions attached to him now, but I still love my little cinemaman silly so much <3) (secondary image drawn by my ex-boyfriend!) I have tons more OC's, like TONS more, but Tumblr only allows 30 images per post XD I hope you guys like them all!!

[lonetala]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE !!

Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

TALA

► NAME: Tala

► NICKNAME: Amber (only to the other mercenaries)

► TITLE(S): Beast In Disguise

► AGE: ~100 Years Old. Even she's not sure of the exact number.

► SPECIES: Beast (wolf) / Human

► SEX: Female

► NATIONALITY: n/a

► INTERESTS: Nature, hunting, plants, teas and the forest. She loves being in the forest. She also loves chocolate in like every form.

► PROFESSION: none, she's a wanderer and a green witch.

► BODY TYPE: skinny, lean.

► EYES: amber/yellow

► HAIR: red with paler streaks

► SKIN: tan

► FACE: Anne Hathaway, for now. Might add others too.

► POSTURE: Healthy

► HEIGHT: 5'7"

► VOICE: have not decided yet :(

► SIGNATURE OUTFIT: Her green ragged cloak, off-white capris and grey tanktop. She never wears shoes. She wears silver bracelets on her left angel and left wrist. And a crescent moon necklace.

► SIGNIFICANT OTHER: lol no one

► COMPANIONS: None. She is a part of the Venal Mercenaries but she rarely does missions with them that last long

► STRENGTHS: She's independent and can live in just about any environment thanks to her survival skills. She doesn't beat around the bush and she's very tactile when approaching new situations.

► WEAKNESSES: She's a loner. Refuses to get too close to people for her own good and she doesn't trust them profoundly at all. She's not physically strong either so if she can't get away from something or out-maneuver it, she's in trouble.

► FRUITS: Not her absolute favorite but she does like them. She likes berries and apricots.

► DRINKS: Mostly water, tea other times when she feels like making it or can find it.

► ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES: When she's at taverns she'll indulge but it's not a habit of her.

► SMOKES: Nope.

► DRUGS: Nope.

► DRIVER'S LICENSE: absolutely not haha

Tagged by: @uncxntrxllable Tagging: you~!

[sciatu]

DOLCI SICILIANI & PICCOLA PASTICCERIA

Devo smetterla!! Basta con questi dolci, con l’illusione di temporaneo piacere che danno, con questo stordimento provvisorio che regalano per nascondere le spine del mondo, i fili spinati dietro cui rinchiudi i tuoi desideri ed i tuoi sogni. Non è forse così anche per il sesso che camuffiamo d’amore? Quel cercare negli angoli della strada, nei momenti in cui siamo soli, tra Instagram, Tik Tok e Tumbrl , tette e culi, voglie viscide come seta e disperazione solitaria cupa come oscuro velluto. Un voler nascondere la realtà, nella crema dei cannoli, tra piatti di carbonara e Influencer che ci strizzano l’occhio per poter tirare su due soldi come tutte le mignotte di strada. Basta i cornetti trasbordanti di crema al pistacchio, i bignè gonfi di crema Chantilly, l’eruzione di cremosa panna sulle granite di pistacchio o di caffè. E’ una droga legale, questo riempirsi di piaceri minimali, simulazioni di gioie irraggiungibili, come i video porno, è un masochistico piacere lo schiacciare tutti i “grilli parlanti” che dentro di noi dicono cose ragionevoli ma che obbligano ad uno sforzo, ad un viscoso ed estenuante impegno. Meglio fuggire in una torta a sette veli di cioccolato, in una cassata, in un sogno coperto di zucchero al velo, meglio illudersi nel sonno della coscienza che svegliarsi nel grigiore asfissiante della realtà. Meglio ignorare piuttosto che essere. Affondare la lingua nella ricotta di un cannolo e pensare di averla immersa dentro di lei e cercare il piacere mentre con la punta accarezzi la rossa ciliegina candita pensandolo il suo capezzolo....

I have to stop !! Enough with these sweets, with the illusion of temporary pleasure they give, with this temporary stun they give to hide the thorns of the world, the barbed wires behind which you lock your desires and dreams. Isn't that the same for sex that we disguise as love? That search in the street corners, in the moments when we are alone, between Instagram, Tik Tok and Tumbrl, boobs and asses, silky slimy cravings and lonely despair as dark as dark velvet. A desire to hide reality, in the cream of cannoli, between carbonara dishes and Influencers who wink at us to be able to raise a penny like all street whores. Just the croissants overflowing with pistachio cream, puffs puffed up with Chantilly cream, the eruption of creamy cream on pistachio or coffee granitas. It is a legal drug, this filling up with minimal pleasures, simulations of unattainable joys, like porn videos, it is a masochistic pleasure to crush all the "talking crickets" that inside us say reasonable things but which require an effort, a viscous and exhausting commitment. Better to escape in a seven-ply chocolate cake, in a cassata, in a dream covered with icing sugar, better to delude oneself in the sleep of conscience than to wake up in the suffocating greyness of reality. Better to ignore than to be. Sink your tongue in the ricotta of a cannolo and think you have plunged it inside her and seek her pleasure while with her tip you caress her red candied cherry, thinking of it as her nipple

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: The Seemingly Joyful Sufferings

Typically, those who have come into contact with Buddhism through me can be broadly divided into two types: Buddhists and those who are interested in Buddhism but prefer to maintain a distance in order to stay objective - non-Buddhists. Most Buddhists hope to turn non-Buddhists into Buddhists. Providing Buddhist advice to non-Buddhists thus becomes an enjoyable task for many Buddhists. In this respect, I'm no exception.

I've noticed that many Buddhists and non-Buddhists share a common question. Non-Buddhists who show interest in Buddhism usually admire its philosophy and mostly accept its theories. However, they often express to me that something in Buddhism seems too pessimistic. For instance, they can't accept the "Dharma Seal" in Buddhism that states "all compounded things are suffering". Most people consider this conclusion too pessimistic and arbitrary.

They believe that although there is famine, cold, deception, betrayal, terrorist attacks, and mass slaughters like in Rwanda in the world, there are also joys worth pursuing such as familial love, romantic love, and the sense of accomplishment from work.

Long-term interaction has made me realize that it's not only non-Buddhists who hold these thoughts. Many Buddhists think the same, even though most of them don't voice their doubts. However, this doesn't mean they completely agree with the Buddha's conclusion internally. With these thoughts, you can't possess a sense of renunciation because you think reality isn't bad enough to necessitate renunciation. You believe there are things that aren't so bitter, so you have expectations. Having expectations means there will be suffering.

When we talk about the "compounded happiness", we can give a simple example. When you're tired from standing, you'll want to sit down. At this moment, sitting down is a kind of "compounded happiness" (maybe we should call it "seemingly joyful suffering"). If sitting down is true happiness, then we should be happier the longer we sit. But that's not the case. If you sit for more than an hour, your buttocks start to protest. You'll want to change your position, or you might think standing for a while would be more comfortable. After standing for half an hour, you'll want to sit down again.

This shows that our so-called happiness is just suffering disguised as joy. A friend once told me that work is what brings him the most happiness. I wanted to tell him: the things that bring you joy can also cause you the most damage. If you find yourself unable to work, you'll be in great pain, just like a drug addict who can't find their drugs. From a Buddhist perspective, compounded happiness is like a drug. Although it might bring you a bit of joy, it's more like a quagmire covered with flowers.

Everything is impermanent, and so is the definition of happiness. When you're hungry, you might think that eating ten hamburgers would be happiness. But soon, this (eating hamburgers) turns into suffering. You might only eat five and not want to touch this food anymore. Your happiness has turned into not eating hamburgers.

When your happiness depends on something, it's not true happiness. True happiness is the kind that doesn't need an object. You can't even call it a type of happiness as it transcends both joy and suffering. For example, if your happiness is based on being able to eat Cadbury chocolate frequently, this happiness will soon change. You might not be able to eat what you want, or eating too much might turn it into a form of suffering.

We've all experienced this. When you obtain the thing you've been longing for, you often find that it's not as exciting and joyful as you imagined. What you get is just plainness.

When you get married, you might be full of hope for the future. But after a few years, you find that the person sleeping next to you has become someone who opposes you on almost everything.

What we're discussing here are not the obvious sufferings, not the kind where your hand is cut or you're scolded by someone. There's no debate about such suffering; no one would deny that being beaten is painful. It's easy to reach a consensus on this.

What we need to recognize here are the seemingly joyful sufferings, those that you've perceived as joy until now. When you are noticed, admired, valued, and gladly accept all these, you're actually trapped in them. You indulge yourself in pursuing these seemingly joyful sufferings. The result can only be more suffering. Therefore, recognizing their true nature is very important.

If you still think these things bring happiness, you won't have a firm sense of renunciation. Because you'll anticipate those joys, even though they're fleeting. You might think that even though there are many things not going well in life, overall, joy outweighs suffering. With such thoughts, you won't aspire to become a Buddha.

A Buddhist master once said: if your leg itches, scratching it might provide relief, but if it never itches, that would be even better. Compounded happiness is like scratching an itch.

First published on November 19, 2007.

Copyright Notice：All copyrights of Ling Shan Hermit's articles in Simplified and Traditional Chinese, English, and other languages belong to the natural person who owns "Ling Shan Hermit". Please respect copyright. Publishers, media, or individuals (including but not limited to internet media, websites, personal spaces, Weibo, WeChat public accounts, print media) must obtain authorization from Ling Shan Hermit before use. No modifications to the articles are allowed (including: author's name, title, main text content, and punctuation marks). We reserve all legal rights.

灵山居士：那些貌似快乐的痛苦 

[catdotjpeg]

The top executive for San Jose’s police union imported synthetic opioids over an eight-year period to orchestrate a national drug ring that disguised packages of pills as wedding gifts, makeup and chocolate, federal officials said Wednesday.

Joanne Marian Segovia, the 64-year-old executive director of the San Jose Police Officers’ Association, used her home computer and police union equipment to facilitate the mailing of the synthetic opioids, according to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. The drug smuggling allegedly took place from October 2015 to January 2023, with Segovia facilitating more than 60 shipments from Hong Kong, Hungary, India and Singapore.

In a three-and-a-half-year period ending in January, officials allegedly intercepted five shipments to Segovia that contained thousands of pills, including synthetic opioids Tramadol and Tapentadol... 

Segovia allegedly used the encrypted messenger WhatsApp to handle logistics, exchanging hundreds of messages with someone using a phone with an India country code. The messages—containing shipping and payment details, pictures and receipts—continued into this month even after federal investigators interviewed Segovia in February, prosecutors said.

On March 13, federal agents in Kentucky seized a package that contained valeryl fentanyl and was addressed to Segovia, officials said. The package originated from China and the contents were listed as a “clock.”

Segovia was charged with attempting to unlawfully import valeryl fentanyl, according to a complaint that was unsealed Tuesday. The complaint alleges Segovia was apprehended as part of an ongoing Homeland Security investigation into controlled substances being shipped into the Bay Area from abroad.

Will Edelman, an attorney listed for Segovia in court records, did not immediately respond to a request for comment. Edelman previously worked as a federal prosecutor in the same U.S. Attorney’s Office that charged Segovia, according to his LinkedIn profile.

The complaint against Segovia said that she told federal investigators she had nothing to do with the drug smuggling and blamed the shipments of pills on a woman she identified “as a family friend and housekeeper.”

Segovia allegedly told investigators that after their February meeting, she realized “like a light bulb” that it must be this unnamed woman who smuggled the drugs.

However, the complaint casts doubt on Segovia’s statements and includes photos that she allegedly sent to a collaborator. One image shows a computer with police union work materials in view and another shows her signature on a packing slip sent from the police union address. 

Tom Saggau, a spokesperson for the San Jose Police Officers' Association, said the union became aware of the alleged crimes on Friday and has been cooperating with federal authorities. He added that Segovia had no role in handling financials for the organization and was not involved in decisions about the organization’s stance on police issues.

“No one at the POA is involved or had prior knowledge of the alleged acts,” Saggau said. “The POA immediately placed the civilian employee on leave and as is standard procedure cut off all access to the POA. The board of directors is saddened and disappointed at hearing this news, and we have pledged to provide our full support to the investigative authorities.”

-- “SJ Police Union Exec Accused of Smuggling Drugs as Wedding Gifts, Chocolate” by Josh Koehn for The San Francisco Standard, 29 Mar 2023

[Image ID: A person wears a San Jose police jacket during a press conference outside of the San Jose Police Department. End ID.] 

[psalmonesermons]

Love is a weapon Part 2

How should we use love?

Love as a weapon

The concept of love as a weapon is not new as was used to significant effect by Martin Luther King; ‘’ Fifty thousand who took to heart the principle of nonviolence, who learned to fight for their rights with the weapon of love, and who, in the process, acquired a new estimate of their own human worth’’.

God has provided each believer with protection for day to day life and this includes the whole armour of God which describes to us the revelations we need to incorporate into our lifestyles for us to be continually fully protected in our spiritual lives. The weapon known as the sword of the spirit is when we use God’s rhema word as weapon against temptation in its various forms and disguises.

In the church life the weapon of love is displayed in our various actions such as forgiveness, kindness, tolerance, unity, and service (be addicted to service of the saints- tasso).

Are we practicing these day by day? Love is a drug, but it is a good habit.

John 13:35 “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another,” This is the acid test of our discipleship. Brotherly love is a great witness and highly reproductive. The weapon of love helps us to win people to Christ.

1 John 3:16 “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers,” Agape love is a sacrificial love.

Romans 13:8“Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for he who loves his fellowman has fulfilled the law,” You owe me a debt of love and I owe you a debt of love, When we forgive each other in love it releases each other from the bondage of unforgiveness which is the breeding material for Satan’s destruction of our relationships. Love is all about giving and forgiving.

Radical love -Loving our enemies

Luke 6:27 But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you,

In any given situation if we can demonstrate God’s agape love then we will be wielding our most powerful weapon.

Jesus tells us not to render evil for evil but do good to our abusers and tells us even to pray for them. King David fasted and prayed for his enemies. Pretty radical. Most times we struggle to fast and pray for a friend!

In this life if we can keep showing love when people treat us badly then something must give and where we show longsuffering love it will break through albeit later than we had hoped for.

Some ‘Dirty’ tactics

The late Dutch woman and evangelist Corrie Ten Boom had to forgive a prison guard from Auschwitz where her father and sibling were murdered. She could only do this through the love of God. We need to act in love and just as importantly react in love.

Corrie said this; You never so touch the ocean of God’s love as when you forgive and love your enemies: this is very challenging.

Many years ago a neighbour whose marriage had broken up in the then recent past came to complain about my son hitting her son. We told her that we would investigate and get back to her. We sent our son over with chocolate biscuits for her, befriended her and were able to lead her and her son to Christ. Love is a powerful weapon

Do not underestimate the power of even small kindnesses and ask God to show you how to do them every day in life. Many situations can be turned around by small kindnesses.

A cup of cold water on a hot day, a bowl of warm soup on a cold night?

The Love Weapon in our speech

Proverbs 15:1 A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger

How about telling a sibling you have had an argument with that ‘you love them with love of Lord and that you can see in them the glory of our King’!?

It is hard to fight against such power because the love of God is active in it and will touch their heart!

How to use the love weapon

In the spiritual type of battle we often use the opposite spirit to defeat the enemy e.g. when someone forces us to go a mile, we go the extra mile. They are compelling us be we are submitting to them.

If they ask for our tunic give them our cloak as well.

They are demanding but we are compliant. When people are mean to us, we should be kind to them. Love is giving and love is forgiving.

Matthew 5:40 If anyone wants to sue you and take away your tunic, let him have your cloak also.

Walking in love, repentance, and forgiveness –some people have equated this to wearing the shoes of the gospel of peace- (among our weapons of spiritual warfare) and have suggested that this lifestyle is effective against curses, sickness, and hatred. Perhaps this is worth thinking about!

In personality clashes with people when we respond in a godly way by showing love or forgiveness then this usually turns the situation around. Love is indeed a powerful weapon. When you want to hit them, hit them with weapons of love, forgiveness, and kindness!

Conditional or unconditional- my opinion

This love of God is unconditional in the sense that it does not look at who we are, where we have been or what we have done but focuses on what we will become when we are willing to be changed by the most powerful love of God. The ultimate victory of Jesus Christ’s victory over sin and death has the condition that we must believe it to receive the new birth with forgiveness of our sins and the inheriting eternal life.

Wear your weapon of love and wield your weapon of love each day as a lifestyle

Summary

We need to ask the Lord to continue to pour out the Holy Spirit into our heart’s day by day so that the liquid love of God will flow through us producing fruit in our lives that can be tasted by those around us.

Be continually filled with the spirit. We need to use this agape sacrificial love which is out most powerful weapon.

We might need to 'fight dirty' to win hearts and minds and souls to achieve God’s purposes in our lives!

Amen

Prayer