#hit in the face by his sun globe

[sunflowergraves]

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Bongo Butts | 18+

I should be going to bed but I forgot to do laundry so here I am, writing more content that nobody asked for. Just like motorboating them...when I see them butts. Just. WHAM BAM. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also hope you know I had to research different types of dump trucks for this fic.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Ass Slapping, Crack Fic, Playing their asses like they're bongos, Zayne's lost sanity, Rafayel is scandalized as per usual, you mentally scar Raf, Xavier is confused as per usual, but is he confused?, he does get you back tho

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier really did need to be more careful around you. He was the one who wanted you to date him first, in your defense. He chose you. And you wouldn't let a single day go by that you didn't prove why that was a horrible decision on his end. At the very least, he could claim that he was never bored with you around.

Today was supposed to be a lazy day. You two had off from all missions and were relaxing around the apartment since it was too damn hot to actually go outside. It also happened to be laundry day for Xavier, so he was dressed in his workout attire while his uniforms were being deep cleaned from all the dirt that accumulated on them during his missions.

Those shorts. They were so damn short. You'd even call it slutty because hot damn. His ass was just right there. It was staring at you. Hypnotizing you like it was a snake charmer. Your hands were already twitching in a grabby motion as you stared directly at those perfectly rounded globes on his backside. His beautiful bubble butt.

Xavier could feel your stare burning into him as he looked over his shoulder. He was just sun bathing by the window, laying on his stomach. So vulnerable to your upcoming attack.

"Something you need?" Damn, he already sounded suspicious. It might've been by how you were practically drooling with your hands up, ready to grab at him. It was a slight give away. He should've been more prepared though, because you lunged at him in that moment.

He only had time to turn slightly when you pushed him back on his stomach, sitting on his back to pin him down. Your hands took a fistful of his ass before you began hitting them with little force. Just watching them jiggle with every little slap of your hands.

You were cackling like a maniac as you continued your assault until he managed to maneuver you off of him. You were laughing, your cheeks flushed as you almost teared up. His entire face was red as he stared at you in horror. Then you saw a flash in his eyes and you knew you were done for.

He grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. Then you felt a harsh slap at your ass, making you squeal. It was so much rougher than you had hit him. He stared at your back side and did it again.

"I can see why you found this so entertaining. I think I'll play with this for now."

"Unhand me you creatine!"

"I think not, if I let you go, who knows what else you'll do to me."

Zayne

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on Akso's best Cardiac Surgeon knew that one thing was a pure fact. He had an ass. His doctor's coat did a good job concealing it, but he couldn't wear it all the time. You had even noticed a few nurses who would glance down at him when he passed them in the hallway.

It was something you knew very well about Zayne, and something the man seemed oblivious to. The man didn't just have a dump truck as a rear end, it was a dump trailer. That shit could keep a family fed for an entire year. It was so perfect in every way. You could grab onto one cheek with both hands and you still wouldn't be able to capture the entire thing.

Yet for some reason, Zayne had no idea just how badly you needed his ass. You would often times find yourself staring at it when you hung out, had an appointment, or were just lounging at the apartments. It plagued your thoughts. You were losing sleep over this. It wasn't good for your health.

"Zayne..." You said as you relaxed on the couch next to him. You two were catching up on a TV show that you started well over a month ago but hadn't had time to really enjoy it.

"Yes, did you need something?" Oh how sweet he was, always looking out for you.

"Yes actually...can you lay down on your stomach for me? I wanna do something." You said, knowing that this man would do just about anything you asked. He eyed you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to play this game with you.

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Zayne took one more moment before giving in. He adjusted his position, laying down on his stomach just as you had asked. You decided to be subtle, leaning over his form and placing your hands on his shoulders at first. You gently caressed the skin there, massaging the muscles through his shirt as you slowly made your way down to the small of his back.

There it was. The prize. The holy grail of all asses. It was ripe for the taking as you looked over to see Zayne's closed eyes as he relaxed under your touch. You didn't hesitate. Your hands slapping down on his ass and grabbing it roughly.

His eyes shot open as he looked over at you. You licked your lips as you began gently slapping the flesh, watching the bounce as though it were made of jelly. It was a sight to behold and you couldn't help yourself. You had seconds before Zayne reacted and pulled your grubby little hands off him.

So you leaned your head in and bit down. His pants managed to cushion him from the force of your bite, but he sure as hell felt it. He sat up and grabbed you under the arms like a cat, stopping you in your tracks as you stared at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing with your nice ass."

"My butt is not a play thing."

You paused for a moment, eyes trailing down to the front of his pants, "If you aren't gonna let me slap your ass, can I play with your dick like it's a Bop-It?"

You watched Zayne go through five stages of grief. He sighed as he grabbed a blanket next to him, wrapping your entire body like a burrito so your limbs were no longer effective. He then sat back down on the couch with his legs open and placed you between, holding you tightly to his chest.

"I'm begging you, please be quiet for once and let's finish this show."

Rafayel

He should've known you were up to something if your gaze was anything to go off of. You had zeroed in on him the moment you had come over. Even during your little date as you two explored Linkon together, he knew something was up. Your not so subtle glances in his direction couldn't be considered innocent.

If only he knew why you were staring so hardcore. He had gotten a new pair of pants, or at least you assumed they were new. You were pretty sure you'd remember them with how good he looked at the moment. It was tight on him, accentuating his ass perfectly. You were pretty sure if you riled him it would also perfectly outline another aspect of him.

Still, you had a mission. Rafayel didn't know it yet, but the moment you had caught a glimpse of him this morning, you knew what had to be done. His muffins needed to be squished. His plump little cushions had to be properly admired and worshipped. You would be the one to happily give them the attention they deserved. An ass sculpted by the gods themselves were staring at you literally all day.

You closed the door to his home slowly, turning over to him. He was already heading to the living room. You slowly stalked behind him, and he could feel you were up to no good.

"Something caught your interest? I know I look good, but not even you normally stare at me this much."

"I just think you look particularly handsome today is all." As does his ass. You couldn't say that yet though, he would realize what your plans were if you verbalized it too early. Like a cat stalking a mouse, you followed him until he was in the living room. The moment he was by the couch you took action.

You rushed behind him and pressed down on the small of his back, making him stumble forward. He grabbed the edge of the couch, his body hunched over. Rafayel turned just in time to watch you drop down to your knees. Then he felt your hands harshly gripping his ass. Then the quick slaps in succession followed as you began laughing maniacally.

"Finally!" You said as you grabbed at them again. Rafayel finally reacted, rolling onto the couch to get away from your hands. You were practically panting as your hands twitched, "Come on Raf, lemme just squeeze em again."

"You are a psychopath." He said, hiding his ass from your view.

"I'm your psychopath though." Despite how horrified Rafayel looked, he was also amused by your antics. He grabbed at your arm, making you fall forward and your chest pressing against his own. His hands went to grab at your ass this time, squeezing them and laughing.

"You know, I think I'm seeing the appeal of this." He commented, his hands lazily hitting your ass cheeks like you had to him, although he was far more calm about it.

"See, it's amazing...now can I go back to playing with your butt? I wasn't done yet."

"I think not...although this has given me an idea. Do you mind if I paint your backside?"

"You wanna paint on my ass?"

"Perhaps."

"...I'll agree if you let me eat your-" Rafayel had never cut you off so quickly.

"Never mind."

The most accurate representation of what we're doing to these poor men. I will not be silenced. Their asses need to be slapped. And ate

[ghvst-ing]

It’s late at night when your phone rings.

You swipe it from the bedside table with a sluggish hand as your bleary eyes blinked open, and you cringed from the light emitting from your screen. Your fingers scrambled to accept the call, pressing the speaker option as soon as you did.

“Hey, love.”

The familiar sound of your partners voice hits your ears, and you immediately perk up, snapped out of your sleep induced haze.

He waits patiently for your reply, knowing the late hour over in England, finding himself on the other side of globe. He hears the rustling of the sheets as you briskly sat up on the bed. “Simon..!”

A sleepy smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes crinkle in the corners as you stare down at the ‘No caller ID’ across your screen, hearing him once again after a longer period of zero communication.

The high profile mission he was sent on with his team left you even more clueless than ever. With no estimated return date and little to no contact, you could only await any possible information about his status.

You hear him shuffle further away from three men whose voices you could make out in the background, and a deep, hearty chuckle makes way past his lips, making your tone fall soft.

“I miss you,” you mutter.

The way the words leave you has a warm feeling spread through his chest, a small smile of his own curving underneath the balaclava he wore.

His eyes dropped closed for a brief moment. “Miss you, too..”

A comfortable silence followed, drawing out longer than normal as he searches for words to say, rough fingers tightening their grip on the burner phone that he holds to his ear.

“Mission’s draggin’ out.” Simon finally said, using the tone he reserved for you, hoping to not break your spirits of his quick return. “Dunno when I’ll be home, darlin’.”

He heard you sigh, and a sense of guilt replaced the warmth he previously felt.

His job kept him away from you, for months on end, at times. Yet you never outwardly complained. Not once.

You frowned at his words, idly drumming your fingers alongside your phone. Anxiety coursed through your veins. What if he didn’t come back this time at all? “Yeah?”

“Okay…” Simon exhaled a long breath as your voice wobbled, brows pinching in thought.

He gave a small shake of his head, “yeah. Sorry.” He shifts on his feet, just barely kicking a stray stone beside him.

He couldn’t think of a way to ease your worries. Uncertainty was a part of the life of a soldier. Especially one working for an anti-terrorist unit like Task Force 141. For all he knew, he could take a bullet to the head in the next shootout, and not even make it to the hospital. You could be greeted with Price (or Soap) at your front door, with nothing but a plain box of his belongings being handed to you.

His gaze settled somewhere in the distance, watching the sun rise above the horizon slowly as your end went quiet.

A soft scoff left your lips, wanting to tell him off for apologizing for something he had no control over.

“It’s not your fault.” You only shrugged it off. “Just... Be careful out there..”

The mere thought of him dying out in the field made you shiver. A rational fear due to his career. It was what he did, you had to remind yourself continuously. He wouldn’t be out there with such an elite task force if he were inept.

A rugged smirk bloomed on his weathered face, brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Always am, love.”

[virginiaoflykos]

What to read after Light Bringer? (Series similar to Red Rising)

August 2023 update!

Red Rising is my favorite series of all time, and since I first read it, I have sought series and books similar in both spirit and execution. Some of these recs are books I haven’t read personally, but have often come up in discussions with other users!

1. The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson

Status: ongoing, expected 10 books in total, 4/10 out at the moment

Book 1: The Way of Kings. The Way of Kings takes place on the world of Roshar, where war is constantly being waged on the Shattered Plains, and the Highprinces of Alethkar fight to avenge a king that died many moons ago.

2. The Craft Sequence by Max Gladstone

Status: finished, 6/6 books out.

Book 1 (in publication order): Three Parts Dead. Comprised of 6 standalone books set in the same universe, the Craft Sequence tells the tales of the city of Alt Coulumb. The city came out of the God Wars with one of its gods intact, Kos the Everburning. In return for the worship of his people, Kos provides heat and steam power to the citizens of Alt Coulumb; he is also the hub of a vast network of power relationships with other gods and god-like beings across the planet. Oh, and he has just died. If he isn’t revived in some form by the turn of the new moon, the city will descend into chaos and the finances of the globe will take a severe hit.

3. Hierarchy by James Islington

Status: ongoing, 1/3 planned books out

Book 1: The Will of the many. The Will of the Many tells the story of Vis, a young orphan who is adopted by one of the sociopolitical elites of the Hierarchy. Vis is tasked with entering a prestigious magical academy with one goal – ascend the ranks, figure out what the other major branches of the government are doing, and report back. However, that isn’t quite as easy as Vis or anyone else thought it was going to be…

4. Suneater by Christopher Ruocchio

Status: ongoing, 5/7 books out

Book 1: Empire of Silence. Hadrian is a man doomed to universal infamy after ordering the destruction of a sun to commit an unforgivable act of genocide. Told as a chronicle written by an older Hadrian, Empire of Silence details his earlier adventures and serves as an introduction to the characters and the setting.

5. Dune by Frank Herbert

Status: completed, 6/6 books out

Book 1: Dune. Set in the distant future amidst a feudal interstellar society in which various noble houses control planetary fiefs. It tells the story of young Paul Atreides, whose family accepts the stewardship of the planet Arrakis. While the planet is an inhospitable and sparsely populated desert wasteland, it is the only source of melange, or "spice", a drug that extends life and enhances mental abilities.

6. The Expanse by James S A Corey

Status: completed, 9/9 books out

Book 1: Leviathan wakes. Set hundreds of years in the future, after mankind has colonized the solar system. A hardened detective and a rogue ship's captain come together for what starts as a missing young woman and evolves into a race across the solar system to expose the greatest conspiracy in human history.

7. The First Law by Joe Abercrombie

Status: completed. 3 books in the original trilogy + 3 standalone books + 3 books in the newest trilogy

Book 1: The Blade Itself. The story follows the fortunes and misfortunes of bad people who do the right thing, good people who do the wrong thing, stupid people who do the stupid thing and, well, pretty much any combination of the above. Survival is no mean feat, and at the end of the day, dumb luck might be more of an asset than any amount of planning, skill, or noble intention.

8. Cradle by Will Wight

Status: completed, 12/12 books out

Book 1: Unsouled. Lindon is Unsouled, forbidden to learn the sacred arts of his clan. When faced with a looming fate he cannot ignore, he must rise beyond anything he's ever known...and forge his own Path

9. Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons (one PB’s favorites)

Status: completed, 4/4 books out

Book 1: Hyperion. The story weaves the interlocking tales of a diverse group of travelers sent on a pilgrimage to the Time Tombs on Hyperion. The travelers have been sent by the Church of the Final Atonement, alternately known as the Shrike Church, and the Hegemony (the government of the human star systems) to make a request of the Shrike. As they progress in their journey, each of the pilgrims tells their tale.

[confessedlyfannish]

Six Years Ago

Part 1

Part 2

Jon wakes slowly, warm and clean and strong for the first time in weeks. His stomach growls and he wants food, craves a thick juicy cheeseburger instead of feeling nauseous at the thought of it. Breathing comes easy instead of the slow rattle that was making its way through his chest, though the straps going around his face and the back of his head are itchy and the air itself is chilly, a strange icy patch around his mouth and nose amidst what feels like the best heated blanket in the world.

Strong arms shift around him, and the relief is so palpable tears of it form in his eyes as he slides them open, ready not to waste another minute of not seeing Superman, because Dad's found him—

Instead he sees a slight smile, inhuman in the jag of the canines and green eyes that glow in the vast abyss of space.

"Hey there, hey—" the man is saying, white hair drifting around his face, and he's saying other things but Jon is still looking for his Dad, his Dad was here wasn't he, those were his Dad's arms—

Except they weren't. They're this man, this alien's arms, one around his back and the other under his knees, cradling him in the flames of Earth's sun, and he was there, in the lab.

One moment Jon had been hiding from the robot that had been hunting him for days, taunting him as he dodged booby traps and ate leaves that made him sick. He'd grown weaker and dirtier even as Damian's voice in his head urged him to fight, to stay alive, and he'd fallen asleep to a violet sky and the ghost of his mother's hand on his forehead, cool against his warm brow.

He'd awoken inside of a tube, a concave shape of a person, holding his eyes open long enough to see the man peering at him as if he was an exhibit. Don't tap the glass. Or do. Jon wouldn't bite. He couldn't remember how.

And now he is here, threads of plasma tickling his skin, feeling better than he has in days. Behind the man is Earth. Home. Jon is only 93 million miles from home.

He can make it. He will make it.

He stares at the man keeping him from his home, his family, and the tickle in his eyes turns to fire in a matter of blinks. Red light hits the alien straight in the chest and with a shout, he releases Jon.

Jon wastes no time, flying in the direction of Earth. He'd struggle with this, all of this, but adrenaline sharpens his abilities. The mask strapped over his mouth and nose provide oxygen from the pack taped to his chest. He wants nothing more than to rip it off but he leaves it be.

His focus is singular, the apartment in Metropolis. He can feel his Mom's arms around him already. He's formulating what he will say to his Dad, how he will explain about Jor-El. He is worried they won't believe him. Ashamed of what he committed to and then ran away from. He told his Mom to go. He said he would be fine.

He doesn't want to think about the floating island, or talk about it, and he decides he won't. He is a runaway, a failed Superson, but he is not the boy on the floating island. He didn't shiver from fever, tearing at his cape to bandage the wounds from the robot's green metal claws. He did not scream in fear when a trick arrow carved a path down his cheek. He did not give up, covered in bush and counting his ribs like a messed up lullaby.

His Dad can make the trip to the Sun in ten seconds. Jon thinks he flies even faster, and later he will think that is the reason he doesn't notice the Watchtower is missing.

But he does notice Metropolis is gone. Instead of the Daily Planet's gleaming golden globe, he lands in a marsh. Herons fly up and away, squawking in startled choir as he touches down, water lapping up to his knees. He looks to his left but there's nothing but tourists on a floating wooden path in the far distance, taking photos of geese as they weave trails through the water that was supposed to be home.

He looks to his right, and the man from space is there, floating above the water.

Jon flies to Kansas.

By the time the man catches up with him, Jon is curled up in his grandparent's corn field, except it isn't their corn field. He digs a hand into the ground and brings up light, loose soil that tastes like citrus, acidic and unbalanced in a way Ma Kent would never let stand (and he lets it fall from his palm with a shudder, reminded of the mud on the alien island he'd eaten, before the nausea had set in but long after pride had fled). The barn at the far end of the field has a blue door, not red.

"Dad," Jon mumbles into the ground. "Dad."

Feet lightly touch down, but this time Jon knows they aren't his father's.

The man has no heartbeat, nor breath. Even the silver robot softly whirred. But the man is silent as he touches down beside Jon, who will not go back to the tube.

Survive, Damian's voice demands. Jon closes his eyes to the world, this utterly wrong world, and he flies.

Part Four

[theycallmemisterbutterfingers]

Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places.  Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone. 

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry. 

Well. 

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God. 

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment. 

Guilt. 

Horrible, horrible guilt. 

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good. 

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel. 

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light. 

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth. 

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard. 

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him. 

His angel. His Az—hm. 

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale. 

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel. 

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest. 

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped. 

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely, 

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again. 

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly. 

And Crowley broke. 

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body. 

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time. 

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk��sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face. 

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

[thesassypadawan]

Sweet Sticky Dreams (Luke x FemReader)

Summary: What better of a way to spend the evening then curled up with your precious baby boy…while he’s having sweet sticky dreams.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Thigh fucking, somnophilia, slight mommy kink (if you squint), and…Luke’s cute, big dick.

- It’s subtle at first, his hips rut into yours and his even breaths grow heavy. You think it’s nothing, chalk it up to Luke just trying to get comfortable.

- But then progresses into something more. To his big hands cupping your breasts; kneading, squeezing them gently. Calloused fingers tugging and rolling your nipples.

- You could have sworn that your precious boy had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. However, from the way he’s playing with your squishy globes and his hardening cock is pressing against your backside…

- Reaching behind, you lightly ruffle his sun-kissed locks. A small giggle escaping you, “Still awake?”

- Soft, drowsy mumbles. The feel of his lips trailing across your neck, teeth nipping occasionally. “Mmh, hatari…”

- Despite the whines of protest for losing his favorite ‘toys’, you turn yourself around in his hold. Expecting to be met with the sight of his deep, blue eyes and that mischievous, little grin. You’re surprised to find him ‘peacefully’ dreaming instead…rosy tip just barely peeking out from his boxers.

- “Touch… Me…” He pleas, rocking slowly. Humping your thighs, smearing them with his sticky pre. “Need… You…”

- “Lukey…” Unsure of what to do, but not wanting to deny him. You trace your fingers across his chest, trailing down to his stomach. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, you follow the lines of his body. Until you’re fumbling and fully freeing him…eliciting a sweet whimper.

- “Ssh, it’s okay…” Wrapping your hand around his impressive length, you give him a few, quick pumps. Coating him thoroughly, thumb running over the prominent veins. Before guiding, positioning him at what he fondly calls ‘the gates to paradise’. “…I got what you need.”

- Luke groans low; fat head grinding and brushing against you sensitive skin. Until with a flick of his hips, he slips between your thighs…just below your clothed, trembling core.

- “Nngh…” Finally getting the stimulation he so badly sought, he doesn’t waste any time. Thrusting at a near brutal pace; angelic face contorted in pure bliss, eyes still closed.

- Watching how he pleases himself, how he uses your body as a means to get off. You can’t help but feel your own arousal build. The desire to simply pull your panties to the side, allowing him to plunge into your aching heat so great. And it only grows exponentially with each rub of his silken shaft.

- Not wanting to wake him from his slumber, you try to resist your own overwhelming urges. Even as he sucks and bites your neck. Saliva trickles down, drips onto your breasts. Adorable, little voice murmurs, “Feels so good…so warm…so tight…”

- You’re holding strong, but as he speeds up. Those hips begin to move more fervently, the sounds of wet flesh smacking together fill the air. Making your heart beat faster, breathing erratic. Walls flutter and clench around nothing.

- Another two pumps and you can feel your orgasm approaching fast. His tip kisses your entrance so perfectly that you’re practically shaking, body completely flushed. You try to keep fighting it, but if he just…used a bit more…

- With a cute growl, Lukey crashes hard. Fingers digging into your waist while he paints the inside of your thighs white. Staining your panties, soiling them along with your own juices when you…

- Forcing back your moans of ecstasy, a whine somehow manages to spill out. Causing him to stir in a different way; those beautiful eyes finally opening, staring at you half-lidded. “M-mommy, what’s…going o-on?”

- Seeing him like this, a soft smile crosses your face. “It’s nothing, baby. Go back to sleep,” you coo, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Sweet sticky dreams…”

[secretlyscraptrap]

arti art to lure you into reading a bit of fanfic i wrote >:)

tw for: death, violence, gore, usual arti stuff. Also its very long :< also i forgot about arti's jump explosion

If you enjoyed it then maybe consider reblogging? ,:)

The first thing the slugcat awoke to was blood.

Blood was pooled onto the earth around them, slowly seeping into the ground, staining it red and black. Some of the red fluid trickled into the nearby pool, staining it and dying it crimson.

There was blood in their mouth too, and in their eyes. Blood coated their paws and their tail, their ears and their muzzle. They were vaguely aware of a massive wound on their face, neck and shoulder. They just barely managed to heave themself off the ground. All their muscles and limbs hurt.

What had happened?

It was a blur.

Creatures, with too-long arms and too-short legs, with hunched spines, with sharp claws and rigid horns, with eyes that showed everything they were thinking - what the slugcat had seen them thinking, it was pure malice. The creatures had been chasing them with spears and bombs. Demanding back what had been stolen. The slugcat had nearly made it, halfway across a fateful jump, but was intercepted by a flash of noise and light and heat. And of pain.

What had been stolen?

A pearl. Just a small, pale globe, nothing unique or special about it. It looked like any other pearl under the sun. It could’ve been easily replaced with another pearl in secret and no-one would be any wiser.

Who had stolen it?

The clarity hit her like a wave, slamming her off her feet and plunging her into grief. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly collapsed again.

Her pups.

One of them had stolen the pearl.

He took it when she had her back to him.

She’d seen him, holding out the pearl with his tiny paws, holding the pearl out to her with a look of pride and joy in his eyes. A gift for his mother. 

She’d told him to not touch anything when they went through the scavenger camp. They would be hunted down and ripped apart like rats if they were.

He hadn’t listened.

The scavengers had gotten him first.

Her head was spinning and her brain was aching in her skull.

What had happened to her other pup?

She’d been holding her as she’d made the desperate last jump. She couldn’t remember anything after the explosion that had knocked her off course.

She looked to the water, barely registering the way her blood tainted the murky depths. She tried to remember but couldn’t.

Then she noticed something lurking in the water. A swarm of leeches. Fat red ones.

She knew where her other pup had gone.

A great distance away, back at the scavenger camp, they heard the dismal song of grief echoing into the camp, the caterwauls of a heartbroken mother.

In the scavengers’ chit-chattery language, one of them said, “Something survived?”

“The mother, surely,” a second scavenger responded. “I saw the pup fall into the water. Nothing that small could escape those leeches.”

“Nor could a pup screech that loudly,” a third added.

A fourth scavenger lifted its spear. “We should go back and kill it,” it said in a raspy croon.

The second scavenger shook his head. “Let her be. We have our pearl back. In the state we left her, she won’t survive long.”

Nobody questioned the orders, but a look of doubt fell upon a fifth scavenger’s face. Scavengers were not known for helping other species, but this one had empathy for anything in pain.

She pulled the second scavenger to the side and said, “I want to help her. Please let me.”

“No. She would not want our help after what happened to the pups.”

He was saddened by how downcast she looked. She nodded and walked off.

Truthfully, the second scavenger was also dismayed. When it had been learnt that a pearl was missing, he had sent a patrol after her. Yes, they had taken spears, but scavengers were skittish and terrified of everything that moved, and they had to be, in order to survive.

He had not expected them to take bombs and explosive spears from the treasury, to deal with a lone slugcat and her two children. It had been overkill, nothing else. Yes, they’d gotten the pearl back, but it was at the cost of two small lives and the grief of a mother that was surely dying now too.

He would see that punishment befell the individuals responsible for the deaths, but he would not punish them for killing the pups. He would charge them for wasting valuable items on “less-than-significant threats”, or something.

He sighed. He despised his species sometimes. But there was nothing he could do about it.

A day or so later, the red slugcat managed to find a shelter to hide in. She’d expected to die during the night - possibly from wounds, possibly from grief - but she made it to the morning. She managed to drag herself out of the den and limped onwards.

The flesh and skin of her left face and shoulder felt like it had been scraped away with a rock. She knew she had internal bleeding, and that several bones were cracked and broken, but she did not know how to treat them. She didn’t care, anyways. So what if her body was healthy or broken? Her pups were gone.

She could’ve killed herself, jumped into the water and let her body be ripped apart by leeches. Her pups would’ve been back the next cycle. They could’ve been together again.

But she despised the cycle. The few times she had died, she was left feeling graceless and confused. She flinched and cringed for wounds that simply weren’t there. She hated the way her body was sleek and healthy while her mind was barely dragging itself along.

She didn’t know if she had had the strength to end the cycle and be reunited.

It was selfish, she knew. She should’ve saved her pups. Maybe the consequences of it would come back to stab her in her heart. Maybe she would forever loath and regret the fact she could’ve saved her pups.

But right now, all she felt was an aching, bleeding body that hurt like hell, and a mind not too dissimilar.

She slid down a pole and limped into a pipe, away from the shelter, the lake and the scavenger toll, leaving splatters of blood where her tail dragged.

The slugcat had been easy to find. The scavenger just followed its blood trail.

Yes, she was disobeying orders. But she was determined to not spend too much time with her, just enough to help mend the worst of her wounds. After that, she’d leave, allowing the slugcat to figure out the rest.

Besides, she doubted the slugcat would want to be in the company of a scavenger for very long, if at all.

The blood on the ground was recent, leading away from a shelter, overlaying older, darker patches. She followed.

There was a scavenger.

The red slugcat knew it had been following her for a time, but she tried to ignore it. She didn’t care, she told herself. Let it take her life. It was meaningless anyway.

But it didn’t. It didn’t pull out the spear from its sheath.  Finally, the slugcat grew impatient. Her hackles rose as she growled, “What?”

Scavengers couldn’t understand the slugcat language and vice versa, but it lowered itself to the ground in a submissive posture. Its eyes were wide with some emotion…pity? 

The slugcat didn’t believe it for a second. It was a ploy to lower her guard and get her killed. They stood before each other, neither moving. Then the scavenger, slowly - as if the slugcat was a bird that might fly away at any moment - deposited the contents it was carrying onto the ground before itself.

Leaves. Herbs. Some were intact, some were dried out, some were crushed. It placed one paw just before itself, then raised it up, pointing at the slugcat.

The scavenger was a healer. It meant to help her. The slugcat stared, then frowned.

The slugcat bared her teeth.

The slugcat lunged.

The scavenger turned to run, to grab its spear, but the slugcat crashed into it before it could. The momentum of the jump sent them tumbling across the floor. She sank her teeth into its face and clawed at its body. The scavenger kicked and clawed back at her, but its blows felt like nothing to the slugcat.

All she felt was rage. Fury. Wrath.

How dare they kill her pups, then try to offer her help.

She spat on the scavenger’s body, then ripped the spear off of its back and limped away.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Morning Ice Skating

masterlist

pairing: regulus black x female reader

warnings: fluff, one kiss (a peck), reggie being a child

summary: during your yule break, you take regulus along with you to go ice skating

a/n: i timmy so much, i can't-

song: beautiful boy - john lennon

"Shut that bloody alarm," Regulus groans, reaching over you to stop the blaring sound.

He hits snooze and drifts back to sleep, his arm wrapped around you, and a warm thick blanket covering you both.

You lazily sit up and rub your eyes. You had planned to go ice skating today, so you wanted to get up to have the morning sun to enjoy.

As you go to move out of Regulus' grasp, he tightens his grip on your waist.

"Where are you going, my love?"

"To go ice skating," you say kissing his forehead.

"Why? Stay in bed and cuddle with me, I need affection," he whines like a child.

"You had plenty of affection last night," you grin as his face flushes.

"Hush," he says sitting up.

"I'm going to get ready now, you could stay in bed if you want... or you could come with me," you suggest.

"Nope, absolutely not. Do you not recall what happened the last time we went? I had the bruises on my legs for days," he rolls his eyes.

"Pfft, that's only because it was your first time. I'm sure you'll be much better this time. Can you come with me, please," you give him your puppy dog eyes. He gives in, only because he can't say no to you when you do that.

"Fine. But if I fall, I am coming straight back and going to sleep again... after I throw some snowballs at you," he huffs.

"Deal," you nod with a grin. You get out of bed and drag him along with you. The two of you change into warmer clothes and you put your hair back. You both brush your teeth and grab the new ice skates you bought for him and you.

You walk out towards the frozen lake. Because it's early and the sun is still rising, you guys are the only ones there. There is a light snowfall, making the scene around you even more beautiful. You always loved snow, when it was snowing you liked to think of the world as a snow globe.

"Okay, are you ready?" Regulus looks at you and hesitantly nods.

"Great, grab my hand and we will go slow"

"Hm, okay, please don't let go," he begs as he nervously steps onto the ice with you.

"I promise I won't," you reassured him.

"Now, bend your knees a bit- good, now with your right foot..." you go on to explain how to skate in simple steps to make it easier for him to understand.

He slowly gets the hang of it and loosens his death grip on your poor hand.

"I'm going to give you a little push, and see if you can do what I told you without falling. Is that okay?"

"Yeah- um- okay... I got this," he mumbles to himself, getting a laugh out of him.

"Yes, you do," you gently push on his back and he does as he was told. He keeps repeating his movements and is slowly going around the ice on his own.

"Fabulous job, darling!"

He looks up at you and sees your bright smile, a feeling of pride takes over him. As much as he didn't want to come, seeing as last time it ended horribly, he would do anything you asked him to. Seeing you smile at him like that made everything worth it.

You skate over to him and intertwine your fingers. You talk while you slowly ease him into going faster with you around the lake.

"By the way, I forgot to mention this morning, that if you keep buying stuffed animals for the bed, they are going be either shoved in the closet or you're going to sleep on the couch," you inform him with a smile.

Every time you go to your room there are more somehow. You don't even know where he gets them from. Now they take up about half the bed and a lot of space.

"I don't think so, you wouldn't kick me out of the room"

"Oh yes. I do think so, and indeed I would," you put your finger in his face, trying your best to keep a straight face.

He gives you a mhm look, and you shake your head. "Okay," you sigh, "no I wouldn't. But some of them are going in the closet!"

He turns to you and places his hand on your cheeks that are pink from the cold air nipping at your skin.

"I love you so, so much, sweetheart. You know that right?"

You relax your face into his hand and admire him, wondering how you got to love this angel.

"And I love you so, so much, as well"

"You sure? Even with all my stuffed animals?"

"Yup, even with all of you room-taking stuffed animals," you smile pecking his lips.

[anchoeritic]

hi i absolutely adore your little blurbs and rockstar!ellie has awakened something

she totally plays every instrument like drums guitar bass and she’s very good with her fingers if you know what i mean

thank you baby!! and i totally agree so here are some hcs.. ♡

• she’s a fucking monster when she plays the drums. likes to be in her own lil world when it comes to playing musical instruments, jamming away to whatever song’s playing in her headphones and matching the beats of the bass. sometimes you’d walk in on one of her sessions and just watch in awe, loving the amount of passion she shows towards her music.

• to add to the drums part: she absolutely loves teaching you as well. having you sat on her lap, putting a drumstick in your hand and letting you play your own stupid beats. “c’mon, play with me.” one hand is firmly gripping over yours while the other is holding onto your hip, making you stay in your place.

• “dunno what to do.” you mumble, looking at all the different drums you could hit. ellie chuckles, digging her face into the crook of your neck. she could hear your breath hitch with every one she took getting closer to you, the hand on your hip itching lower and lower. “y’know what to do, gorgeous.. don’t let me stop you from playin’.” let’s just say it leads to more than just a drum lesson.. by the end of the night, your legs would be wrapped around her waist, begging for her to let you cum just once.

• moving onto guitar/bass; this is the area she feels most comfortable in. not only because she grew up on strumming those very strings, but because her love for the instrument is very, incredibly symbolic to her. she was just like every other little girl, hoping to create something bigger than her dream. hoping for a life without being known as the black sheep. “joel, i don’t understand.” “watch this, kiddo. you got it.” young girl learns guitar from step-dad, crawls out from her shell, and runs along the seashores of the beaches out here in california. there was no easier way to describe her upbringing.

• every time she plays, he is the first thing to come to mind. her win was his and his loss was hers. it was such a beautiful yet disappointing scenario. after the loss of joel, she lost herself. drowning her sorrows away by diving head-first into a body of water filled with badgering sharks, ready to sign her off from being an independent artist. they wanted to get her brand purely just for the money.

• “um, hey?” a new voice. your voice. “sorry, i just wanted to come by and say hi?” blinking a few times, she turned her body to face you, surprised to see a younger looking woman other than a clean-looking businessman waiting to get her on one of those stupid contracts. your smile was the first thing she noticed, and her guitar was the first thing for you. well, her guitar and the sick ass tattoo on her arm. “yeah, yeah, hey.”

• “sorry, let me just—“ “oh, i’m so sorry to burden you—“ ellie stands up to put her guitar away, nearly tripping over her own two feet. you noticed her flushed cheeks once she finally looked up at you under the blinding rays of the sun, her freckles growing warmer too. “hi, i’m ellie.” she smiles back at you awkwardly, brushing away all the fallen strands behind her ear. “i’m y/n. just thought you sounded great, that’s all. i heard you from one of the other rooms.” you sent her a wink. god, it’s been too long since she’s talked to a woman. especially, a pretty one. she didn’t know whether to shake your hand or ask for your number, or— well, you had different plans.

• a hug. she should’ve expected that. it didn’t take long for you to wrap your arms around her stiff figure, warming up to her before she could do so. she felt at peace in your embrace. oh dear, y/n, y/n, y/n. your name was racking up on her brain, engraving into it until she sees you the next time around. little did she know, that was only the beginning of your love story and you’d be travelling across the globe as the rockstar’s girl.

• “you did fuckin’ amazing, holy shit!” you scream, jumping into her arms. she only laughs when you quite literally wrap your body around hers, engulfing her into a tight hug. “you think so?” “god, you know i fuckin’ know so!” she was covered in rose petals and sweat after her concert; your favourite look to date. luckily enough for you, you get to see that shit every night after every single performance. another pro: that’s your rockstar.

[tigertan]

neighborly favors and chicago cigarettes. [ jellybeans. ]

part two of said slow burn fic ^_^ this is mainly a snippet but there is some silly smut incoming in the full chapter oooops ..

part one [ mac n cheese ]

ao3 link

[ word count ; 1k ]

;; all fluff. awkward meeting again. carmen takes a strange interest in your nails.

your new acrylic nails gleamed in the cold sun of chicago’s morning as they curled around your steering wheel. a pretty candy pink, nothing fancy. they were short and blunt to maximize efficiency, and you’d always liked doing your nails. 

with your new job starting tomorrow, you arranged a nail appointment early this sunday morning just to get it out of the way. 

you rounded the corner of the apartment building's back parking lot and hopped out of your car into the complex. 

despite your freshly scrubbed face and still damp hair from the morning shower, yesterday night’s chicago smoke lingered both on your skin and your memories. the mild hangover you’d gotten was bravely fought off with a fistful of tylenol and gallons of water.  

after finally finding something in common with carmy, sydney rushed out and began apologizing for richie’s behavior, to which you’d reassured her it wasn’t a big deal. you’d just avoid him your entire life after that. because while you weren’t in the wrong, it was an embarrassingly public outburst that burned itself into those moments your brain would never let you forget. 

sydney decided to take you home at that moment, and you didn’t complain. 

you nodded a bye to carmy with a smile still stuck with a cigarette and he’d nodded back, unsmiling.

it was only after you’d wrapped the covers around you did you realize you never asked him if his name was really carmy. 

oh well, you guys were neighbors. you were bound to see him anyway. 

you hummed a song to yourself— specifically frank sinatra’s classic hit, rain in my heart— as you climbed up the stairs and turned the staircase straight into a brick wall. 

but that couldn’t be right, because why did it stumble back at the impact at the same time you did? 

the answer was easy; it wasn’t a wall. it was the tightly fitted cotton-shirted chest/face of your neighbor carmy. his awful brown jacket was thrown across his right bicep, and you could see his tattoos much more clearly. the numbers on his fingers weren't numbers, they were three letters of ‘SOU’ on his index, middle, and ring respectively. 

there was also an inked flower on the back of the same hand, and further up his arm was a measuring cup carrying a globe. you noticed he had more but stepped back too quickly to discern others. 

your nose stings lightly at the impact, and you raise a hand to hold it, eyes widening. a tiny part of you wonders if he is going to yell at you. 

“shit,” you say, blinking. 

“sorry, i didn’t see you,” 

“are you okay— sorry,” 

you both spoke at the same time, which pushed a smile out your lips, and you giggled. so he wasn’t going to yell at you.

“sorry,” you whisper, a grin peeking out from either side of the hand in front of your face. he blinks, the chicago morning sky making his already ice-blue eyes seem ever clearer. 

“you uh— your nails,” he blurted, a muscle in his temple shifting as the words nearly burst from his lips. 

it takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about, but you lower your hand and splay it out, the uv coat catching the light perfectly. 

“oh! yes. nails. got 'em done a few minutes ago.” you explain, giving him another quick smile. “they uh, they’re nice. like jellybeans.” but the compliment, if you could even call it that, was stamped out with deliberate volume and a strained edge of a rather inept tone that creased your brow despite your smile. 

“... thank you,” you reply, absentmindedly running your thumb over the groove of the keys in your pocket. 

he watches your hand fall back beside you and then swallows. 

“do you like—“

“is your—“ 

your voices overlapped once more, and this time he smiled too, curving into his left cheek and carmy released a singular, airy laugh. 

“sorry. uh. you go ahead,” he gestured to you, flicking his eye contact from you to the floor. “yeah, sorry.” you grinned with genuine humor now, “is your, is your real name carmy? sorry, i just heard syd say that last night and i just…” you trailed off, the question sounding dumb and cold on your tongue now that you said it aloud. he blinked again. “uh. no— no. it’s a nickname. for– for carmen. carmen berzatto.” 

he extends his hand out as if you had guys met for the first time. finding it endearing, you take it, a gel-nailed hand clasping the weathered, inked one. 

“were you heading to work?” you ask, and after a momentary silence, he nods, then scrunches his brows and quickly shakes it, the oat-colored curls on his head bouncing. 

“hm? no, just… heading out. kitchen doesn’t open until four today,” he replies, carding a hand through his hair. 

you mouth a silent oh and nod back. 

“well uh, it was good to see you neighbor,” you grin and step the side lightly, breaking the awkward yet giddy conversation that had transpired. 

“yeah. yeah, you too.” carmen gave you a half-smile back, nodding a final time as he passed by you, his hair bouncing as he walked down the stairs, not looking back. 

you did, however, watch until his curls disappeared behind the coffee wood and industrial metal of the stairs. 

you realized you didn’t ask him what he wanted to ask until you’d slotted your key into the lock with a smile. 

—

carmen slammed his car door behind him as he sat, cushioned in the faux leather seat, hands firm on the steering wheel. he stared directly in front of him, boring holes into the dusty red brick of the building wall, sky tinted a slight grey from the windows. 

“jellybeans? really carmen?” he sighs-slash-scoffs, running a hand over his face before fumbling his keys out of the jacket pocket. brows scrunching, the man hesitates before putting the keys into the ignition. despite the faint alarm bells going off in his mind— they seemed to always be there anyway— he twists in the front seat to look behind him at the building entrance as if she’d walk out of the large, heavy-duty door at that moment. 

for a moment or two, he stares. but the reality of it catches up to him in flushed, heated cheeks and brows creasing further. “fuckin’ stupid.” he mutters, finally shoving the keys into the car as the engine purred to life. it was odd how the light from yesterday’s cigarette had bent around her mouth despite the unforgiving fluorescence of the alleyway, and made carmen stare. 

but that’s all. she was only enough to stare at, he concluded with a steely grip on the wheel. with the bear at its peak, how could he do anything but stare? 

he pulls into the back of the bear’s parking lot with the recipe for a spaghetti alla carbonara stuck in his head and a smile stuck in the corner of his mouth. 

—

for more / updates check out the ao3 !

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 6/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

(FYI Chapter 5 was only post two days ago so maybe check you've read it if it's been a few days...)

CHAPTER SIX

                “Shh. Shh. Shh. You’re sick.”

                Bradley can barely open his eyes, his entire body aching, feeling weighed down, taking all his effort to turn his head toward the voice. Silvia is sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing his hair back from where it’s sticking to his forehead, her hand feeling nice and cool and he thinks he might have a fever.

                “Here. Drink this…”

                A straw is put to his lips and he takes a sip, the sudden sharp sourness of lemon hitting his tongue and he pulls a face and then takes another sip, suddenly reminded of just how thirsty he is. Silvia draws the straw away and replaces it with some plain water and he gratefully sucks down several mouthfuls.

                He’s bullied into the shower, and when he comes out he finds Silvia remaking his bed, tutting and mumbling under her breath and it’s too quiet to catch but he suspects she has opinions on his bachelor lifestyle. Then he’s back in bed, falling back to sleep almost immediately. Later when he wakes it’s to the smell of something savory cooking and then Silvia is at his bedside again, this time spooning broth into him and he feels dreadful making her come and look after him. He’s a fully grown adult. He doesn’t need this treatment.

                “You didn’t have to do this…”

                “And let you die?”

                “I wouldn’t have died.”

                “You’ll get better faster with care,” Silvia says, patting his face. “Plus you’re family, and we look after each other okay?”

                “Okay.”

…            …            …

                Bradley had, despite everything, gone and gotten Jake sauce. He doesn’t want to come on too intense or too fast, but god does he want to. He hasn’t felt this comfortable with someone so quickly in… years, he realizes after thinking about it. He’s not going to look at the fact that Jake is a naval aviator too closely, because that’s not something he wants to confront right now. He’s had a couple of boyfriends in the past, is still friends with them, but there are little mannerisms that Jake has which remind him of both Ice and Mav. Remind him of home in a way he had forgotten about.

                Right.

                Not thinking about it.

                That’s going great.

                He distracts himself by turning his attention to Jake’s body, it’s a nice distraction and Jake preens under the attention. An idea is formulating as he places little butterfly kisses over the curve of Jake’s shoulder. He’d have to make calls, but he doesn’t have to go back to New York with the others. But he wants to make sure he’d be welcome if he stayed around.

                “So, you said you’ve got about three weeks left of leave. You got any plans?”

                Jake turns and he can’t parse the look at all, isn’t used to all the different ways Jake looks at him. This is a new one, which isn’t surprising, he barely knows him, but rather than make him nervous he simply wants to learn them all.

                “Only plans I have are helping my sisters on the farm and soaking up the sun. Unless I get a better offer.”

                Bradley licks his lips, shuffles in closer.

                “I don’t have a spare three weeks. But I do have two weeks.”

                “Two weeks huh? You need a big vacation after all the work you’ve just done?”

                “Yeah. Something like that. Wanna help keep me busy?”

                “Well, I think someone needs to keep you out of trouble.”

                “Yeah? You think you’re up for the job?” Bradley asks with a grin as Jake sucks at his neck and hums before pulling back.

                “I mean, it’s messy work. But someone’s got to do it.”

                “Well, better get to work then…”

…            …            …

                Jake does leave, eventually, just before lunch. Tells him he needs a change of clothes at the bare minimum. When Bradley makes a comment about his plans not requiring Jake to be wearing clothes he gets tugged in for a filthy kiss and slap to the ass and told he’s going to be taken out for some dancing. Bradley finds he’s looking forward to it, that he’s just, on a fucking whim, changed his plans. God. What is he thinking. This isn’t like him. Except it sort of is. Going to the airport and just getting on the first flight had taken him to Italy and then the Gallo family. He trusts his gut in the kitchen, and in front of the camera and everything right now is screaming to take a chance with Jake. Against all common sense and rationale thought he wants to.

                “He’s coming back?”

                “Yeah… I need to make a couple of calls.”

                “Wait… I’m confused. Why is he coming back when we’re meant to be leaving tomorrow? Oh my god. You’re not coming home?”

                “Not this week,” Bradley says, and he flinches in anticipation for the arm slap Vi lands on him. “Vi…”

                “So much for catching up on Orange is the New Black.”

                “I can do that here.”

                “We’re meant to watch it together remember?”

                “You could stay too…” Bradley suggests with a grin, knowing that’s going to go over like a lead balloon and sure enough she gives him the finger and swears under her breath in Italian and Bradley grins.

                “I’m sorry, but I’ll be back home in a couple of weeks…”

                “It’s fine. I’ll make the most of the empty apartment and wander around naked and drink directly from the carton.”

                “You know neither of those things bother me right?”

                “Because you are a disgusting human being.”

                “High praise. I’m a human this time huh?”

                “Maiale. Anyway, I’m meant to make the phone calls. It’s what you pay me for.”

                “It’s also how you keep tabs on me.”

                “And I’m about to set you up for two weeks of debauchery with your Cinderfella, so you can be grateful for those tabs. Let’s talk logistics.”

…            …            …

                Jake bangs the door open and steps inside, knows at least one of his sisters will be inside.

                “Honey I’m home!” he calls out, kicking his boots off and he knows he’s grinning and also that he’s no doubt going to get so much shit but he cannot bring himself to care. Leo wants to spend time with him. More time. That they somehow both have free together and he isn’t religious at all but it definitely feels like some higher body is letting things go his way.

                “The prodigal son returns…”

                “He does indeed,” Jake says, taking a bow and grinning at Maria, his third-eldest sister.

                “Oh, you are in far too good a mood. Was it that good?”

                Jake quirks an eyebrow, because he might overshare with Nicola and Amanda, but Maria has never seemed interested before.

                “Yes. It was. And I’m going back for more.”

                “He’s local?”

                “Uh. No. But he’s staying in town for a couple of weeks. Taking his vacation time in our little home town…”

                “Convenient. What’s his name?”

                “Leo. Actually, funny story. I actually met him years ago, when I was first deployed. Had some shore leave and took a risk going to a club…”

                “He’s Italian?”

                “No. American. But he was there. He’s actually the first guy I ever kissed.”

                “Bullshit.”

                “No. Seriously. Weird coincidence, right?”

                “That’s some romance novel bullshit right there. Ugh. Why does my brother get the romance novel?”

                “Uh…” Jake starts, because it’s a little too early to be discussing grand romances.

                “Oh relax. I’m not expecting you to bring him home with a ring on his finger. You’re just planning on screwing each other’s brains out for a couple of weeks. Right. And that’s still better than my love life. You know this is going in the group chat right?”

                “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Jake says dryly, having long given in to being the main topic of conversation in his sister’s group chat. No doubt Nicola will be calling as soon as she sees the message, and she’s the only one he told about Leo specifically, she kept so many of his secrets before he was ready to share them with the world. He loves all his sisters, but Nicola has a special place in his heart having come out as a lesbian years before Jake had even realized that he might not be exactly straight, giving him someone he always felt was going to be in his corner.

SEVEN

[cyrusthedragon]

And there is no other God but me.

The melody sounds in his ears, although there is no music.

It definitely is somewhere, deep inside his head. It spreads like airflows in his veins, inflates his body like a balloon, and in the sky, while the Stars and Stripes flutters behind him, he explodes, emitting a bloodcurdling scream.

The sun sets, hits him in the back with its rays, illuminating as he was the new Jesus, but that's a nonsense, because he is better than Jesus, he is more than the son of God - he is the God. And he screams until his ears are blocked, he screams until not his flesh drops from his face and his shell falls in rags to the ground, irrigating it with his bread and wine. He quotes Galatians 6:7:

"Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked!"

And his mocking tone thunders over the city as he stands, the Only Man in the Sky, covered in blood, like a newborn that left the body of the woman who died giving him life. He laughs a crazy laugh, his blue eyes are scarlet, his wheat-blond hair is stuck together, tangled, and his even snow-white row of teeth suddenly remains spotless.

Homelander, but not John, sighs, enjoying the silence of the evening world, where time stops and the sun no longer moves - to hold the halo of its rays at his head. He whispers, holding the globe in his palms, but looks at it as a merciful ruler who found his creation in it's last seconds of life: "...for I am God, and there is none other; and there is none like Me."

The globe falls from his palms, like the Stars and Stripes fall from his shoulders, like a single tear falls from his eyelids, mixing with the blood on his face.

God doesn't smile anymore.

God's eyes glow red.

[zarvasace]

SKY!!! Anything with sky please and thank you <3

Of freaking course :) some more sci-fi au because I can't get it out of my headddddd. Only about 500 words

References the fic Powerlessness and Trust

---

Sky pushes the little globe diagram to the side, where it continues to spin and give off blue light, and pulls up an empty table. He uses a physical keyboard to fill it out with data he's long since memorized. “Anything new on your end?” 

The colorful but staticky video of Zelda’s head and shoulders on the wall in front of him shrugs. “Not much, no. I mean, our control station is finally set up for deep-space communications.” She gestures, clearly indicating this call. The video cuts out for a moment but returns as she hits something with a gloved hand. “Mostly.”

“I mean, I won't complain about seeing your beautiful face more often,” Sky teases. He brings up another planet’s diagram and positions it next to the first, using a feature to snap them into place. Some numbers fill out automatically. “I do have something more serious to tell you, though.” 

“Oh?” Zelda pauses, the end of a normal pen between her lips. She pushes a piece of whitened hair behind her ear. 

Sky glances at his bedroom door, but it's shut and sealed. He has the lights in here turned up quite far with full-spectrum bulbs to simulate the sun. Twilight doesn't do well in the light, so it's a bit dim everywhere else on the ship, but Sky still needs time in the light. He's pretty sure that nobody can hear him through the door. 

Still, he lowers his voice. “You remember the Champions.” It isn't a question, but she still nods. “The Hylian Champion is still alive. And so is the princess.”

Zelda drops the pen and covers her mouth. The video call doesn't transmit enough details to be sure, but Sky can imagine tears in her pale eyes. “She is? They are? Are you certain?” 

Sky thinks back to that rather awful night trapped in a Black-Blooded dome, the holovideo he'd seen there, and the undeniable resemblance between the Champion and Wild, as well as the conversations they've had since. “I am.”

“Well, where are they?” Zelda asks. “Taking it easy, I hope? We have years of lunches to catch up on.” 

“They experienced some, uh, temporal displacement too,” Sky says. He copies some of the data from one table into another and runs a little simulation. A tiny hologram of the Epona flies between the two planets and crashes on the second. He frowns. That isn't right. “He's still my age. And I can only imagine that she's still yours, too. I'll try to find you a way to contact her, but from my understanding, she's deep into hiding.”

Zelda nods, serious. “I understand. I probably would be, too. Please let me know if there's a way to say hello, I… miss her.”

“I thought maybe you might.” The second simulation Sky runs ends in the little hologram of the ship landing safely. He nods, and a blinking light in the corner of the video catches his attention. “I'll ask. It looks like I need to go, though.”

“All right.” Zelda smiles and lays her hand on the screen. “Stay safe, love.”

“I will. You too.” Sky touches the image of her hand, and although they're separated by lightyears, he can almost feel her skin. “See you later.”

“Bye!” 

[forabeatofadrum]

Ever After (4/21)

AO3 | S&C

–

MAKE

What is going on? Blaine is the one who wants to ask Kurt the same question. There are still so many mysteries surrounding Kurt’s appearance here.

But Kurt keeps asking questions.

“Where exactly are we? Is this a dream? Who are you, really?”

“Uh. This is the kingdom of Daltonia, we’re in the castle. I don’t think this is a dream. And I told you, I’m Blaine.”

“Right. And I am Oprah Winfrey.”

Blaine has no clue who that is.

“… I, uh, don’t know what else to tell you,” Blaine says earnestly. He decides to flip the conversation. “But where are you from? A rancher found you east of Castle Town. Do you need help going home to your own kingdom?”

Kurt narrows his eyes. He doesn’t trust what Blaine’s saying, or so it seems.

“What other kingdoms are there?” Kurt challenges him.

“Oh, well. There’s the kingdom of Dobry to the east. Then there’s Stantonius to the north. West of Daltonia is Walcotte and south of Daltonia is Saint Patricius.”

There are more kingdoms that border those kingdoms, but Blaine starts with the neighbouring ones.

“This is getting freaky,” Kurt mutters, “It all lines up.”

“Lines up with what?”

“The Cooper Chronicles!”

“What are those Cooper Chronicles you speak of?”

“Everyone knows The Cooper Chronicles!”

“I don’t. Apparently.”

Kurt sighs. He seems frustrated.

“The Cooper Chronicles, written by B.D. Dalton. You know, the biggest children’s book series on Earth? Everyone who’s born in the nineties or later has read them!”

Earth? Is that the kingdom where Kurt comes from? The globe is big, and even as a prince, Blaine doesn’t know every kingdom by heart. Is Cooper famous in a kingdom he hasn’t even heard of? Does Cooper know?

“If Earth is your kingdom, we will help you find a way home, but you must’ve travelled a long way!”

“Gosh, what the fuck?” Kurt drags his hand over his face, “For the past three days, everyone’s been acting as if we’re in The Cooper Chronicles. Come on, this must be a dream!”

“What happened to you in the past three days?” Blaine quickly asks.

Kurt huffs out some air.

“I was just minding my business, walking around New York and all that, when suddenly I feel super nauseous. I lean against a wall, which, is a gross thing to do in New York since dogs piss everywhere, you know?”

Blaine doesn’t know. He also hasn’t heard of this New kingdom of York.

Kurt continues.

“Anyway, I lean against a wall and close my eyes, just to see if this nausea dies down, but when I open my eyes I am in some sort of, I don’t know, evil liar. That’s the best way to describe it. Like, it was stereotypically evil! So I am confused and walk around, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, when someone fucking hits my head from behind and the next thing I know I am in some sort cell!”

Why didn’t Kurt tell the doctors and nurses all this?

“So I am imprisoned by some stereotypically evil looking dude, and I cannot believe what is going on and…”

Kurt suddenly trails off.

“And?” Blaine prompts.

Kurt shakes his head.

“Never mind. This… isn’t real. Or… Whatever.”

“You got hurt,” Blaine fills in the blanks.

Kurt’s eyes widen and his snappy and upbeat demeanour disappears as snow before the sun, as if he’s finally remembering something bad, as if the realisation of whatever happened sinks in.

Blaine reaches for Kurt’s hand, so he can comfort him the way nurse Marcelina did, but Kurt flinches when Blaine touches him.

Both apologise at the same time.

“Anyway,” Kurt says, a bit too loud. He continues his story, but he sounds more strained and forced. “I was only there for three days, or so I think, and well, I got out. Some idiot guard left the door open, it was almost comedic! But I had no clue where I was. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, buddy. Or New York. Honestly, I thought I was gonna die in those woods, but then someone found me.”

“The rancher.”

“Probably,” Kurt says, “Didn’t get a good look. My eyes hurt. But my mind was a bit of a mess after enduring that man’s weird experiments, so you can’t blame me.”

What man? Experiments?

Blaine wants to ask, but since Kurt’s just pushing through, he has the feeling Kurt won’t tell him any more than that.

“Uh… If I am correct, you believe that you are in a fictional world?” Blaine asks after Kurt complains some more about the woods.

“Obviously. Daltonia is from The Cooper Chronicles. That’s what I have been saying.”

“But this place is real,” Blaine tells him carefully. He’s sure of it. This is his kingdom. He’s lived in it for his whole life. His family has been leading it for centuries, and Cooper will take over the throne once his parents abdicate. Daltonia is as real as Blaine.

“… No, something weird is going on here,” Kurt says back, sounding equally careful. It’s as if they both don’t want to upset the other. “I am either in a really weird dream, or someone is playing an insane and elaborate trick on us. Given the scope of things, I think it’s a dream.”

“This isn’t a trick!” Blaine says, sounding strained, “I am not a trick!”

Kurt looks at him with that same intense gaze. It’s still unsettling. It’s as if Kurt’s trying to make sense of Blaine.

What does Blaine make of all of this nonsense? Maybe Blaine’s miracle potion has cured Kurt from all physical pains, but as Blaine knew, it wouldn’t clear mental issues like the confusion. Kurt got hurt, that’s for certain. He said he got hit on his head. He must be really, really confused, or whatever ailment he has.

“You really think you’re prince Blaine of Daltonia, huh?”

“I am Blaine of Daltonia,” Blaine exclaims.

“Everything alright over there?” nurse Marcus asks from his desk.

Blaine doesn’t answer. He can’t take it. He turns on his heels and basically runs out of the infirmary.

--

End notes: The neighbouring kingdoms are named after other schools in CP Coulter's Dalton: Dobry, this universe version of Crawford Academy, Walcott, Shane's "weed dancing school from Colodaro", Stanton, the school of the Fab Five, and St. Patricks, the rival sports school.

[aimeedaisies]

Princess Anne’s visit reinforces Sri Lanka-UK bonds - Plaudits for hard work and modest outlook

Published 14th January 2024

By Pramod de Silva

The British Royal Family is changing their outlook following the demise of Queen Elizabeth II and amidst increasing calls for truncating or even abolishing the monarchy.

Indeed, gone are the days when the British Empire was known collectively as a region where the “Sun never sets” as its colonies were located all over the globe, from Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) to South Africa. Now there are only a very few British protectorates left, including the Falklands Islands. All others have either become Dominions with King (Charles III) as the titular Head of State (examples include Canada and Australia) or Republics with no sovereign ties to the British King, such as Sri Lanka and India.

A humble Princess Anne carried her own bags off the plane as she arrived at the Bandaranaike International Airport in Katunayake with her husband Vice Admiral Sir Timothy LaurenceA humble Princess Anne carried her own bags off the plane as she arrived at the Bandaranaike International Airport in Katunayake with her husband Vice Admiral Sir Timothy Laurence.

Yet, the British Royal Family maintains a measure of popularity in the so-called Commonwealth Countries, which are former colonies of Britain, even if their fame has taken a hit in the UK itself particularly following the death of Princess Diana, and the separation of Prince Harry and his wife Meghan Markle from royal life. The couple has since been living in California, USA.

Queen Elizabeth II’s visit

Sri Lankans, for whatever reason(s), do have a soft corner for the British Royal Family, in spite of the mixed colonial legacy in the country. This was evinced when Queen Elizabeth II arrived here for the first time in 1954. This visit was significant for two reasons. The first was that Sri Lanka hadsaman gained Independence from Britain just six years earlier, in 1948. And Sri Lanka was still a Dominion back then.

The second was that this was one of the Queen’s first official overseas visits after her Coronation on June 2, 1953. She wore her Coronation Frock at one of the events in Colombo during this tour. She would go on to occupy the Throne for nearly 70 years. Her next visit to Sri Lanka was in 1981, by which time the country had become a Republic. But judging by the raucous reception she received wherever she and Prince Philip went, her popularity in Sri Lanka was intact.

In between those two visits, the couple became the proud parents of four children – Princes Charles (the present King), Andrew (Duke of York, though now mostly retired from Royal Duties following a string of scandals), Edward (Duke of Edinburgh) and Princess Anne, now known officially as Princess Royal. She thus happens to be the only daughter of Queen Elizabeth.

It is no secret that Princess Anne is the sibling closest to King Charles, ever-ready to steady the ship amidst the turbulent storms that the Royal Family faced in the years following the tragic death of Princess Diana in Paris in 1997. Her scandal-free life and easy going nature had endeared herself to Royal fans all over the planet.

This might explain the buzz surrounding last-week’s official visit of Princess Anne to Sri Lanka to mark 75 years of diplomatic links between the two friendly countries. Given the revolving door that is Number 10, one cannot imagine a better ambassador to mark this occasion than apparently someone from Buckingham Palace – and the hardest working member of the British Royal Family at that. Princess Anne has earned that moniker from the press thanks to her non-stop work for good causes around the world.

A royal expert has explained why the Princess Royal was chosen as the first member of the family to go away in 2024, as she was praised as being “invaluable” to King Charles. Richard Fitzwilliams said: “Princess Anne is an example of what the public most admire in a working royal, she is dedicated, conscientious and prefers a low profile and no fuss.”

First-ever Royal visit for 2024

Princess Anne began the second day of her Sri Lanka tour with a visit to the Sri Dalada Maligawa (Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic) in KandyPrincess Anne began the second day of her Sri Lanka tour with a visit to the Sri Dalada Maligawa (Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic) in Kandy

In fact, her trip to Sri Lanka gained international media attention due to several reasons, with magazines such as Hello! And People devoting multiple pages to the coverage, not to mention all mainstream British newspapers. After all, this was the first-ever overseas visit by any Member of the Royal Family for 2024. Princess Anne is no stranger to Sri Lanka, having visited the country previously in 1995, as a patron of the Save the Children Fund.

The media were quick to highlight the fact that Anne (73) and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence (68) flew on a commercial airline to Colombo, whereas they could have requested a Government Airbus A330 or other aircraft from the Royal Air Force (RAF). In fact, SriLankan Airlines, the only carrier which flies directly between London (LHR) and Colombo (CMB) could not hide its delight, posting on X under the headline “A Service Fit for a Royal”.

A SriLankan Airlines post said: “We are delighted to welcome onboard Her Royal Highness (HRH) the Princess Royal on her journey from London to Colombo on a three-day official visit to mark 75 years of diplomatic relations between Sri Lanka and the UK. It is truly an honour to extend Her Royal Highness and the delegation our inherent Sri Lankan warmth and hospitality, thereby presenting the first taste of our island home through our service. We thank the HRH for honouring us with her presence onboard and choosing us for the journey.”

Royal commentators and observers were also delighted to note that the couple carried their own bags, both at the points of embarkation and disembarkation. Princess Anne and Sir Tim’s down-to-Earth nature was displayed by them carrying their own bags onto the flight, the commentators said. One eagle-eyed royal writer even noted that one of her bags was from the French brand Longchamp’s La Pliage Line, costing just 115 Sterling Pounds, at a time lesser mortals like to show off bags from the likes of Louis Vuitton costing thousands of pounds or dollars.

A welcome ceremony at the airport saw the two Royals greeted by dancers, music, Union Jack flags and a red carpet. Princess Anne, sporting sunglasses, was received by dignitaries including the British High Commissioner Andrew Patrick and Minister of Foreign Affairs Ali Sabry, PC.

Princess Anne and Sir Tim kicked off their engagements right away, heading first to the MAS Active Factory near the Airport, one of the largest apparel tech companies in South Asia and identified by the UK Fashion and Textile (UKFT) Association as an important Sri Lankan partner. As President of the UKFT, the Princess Royal met staff and toured the facility to hear more about their innovative designs and partnerships with leading UK brands.

Princess Anne, Princess Royal signs the golden book after she arrives for a three-day official visit to Sri Lanka at the BIA in KatunayakePrincess Anne, Princess Royal signs the golden book after she arrives for a three-day official visit to Sri Lanka at the BIA in Katunayake.

Letter from King Charles

The couple also met President Ranil Wickremesinghe and Prof. Maitree Wickremesinghe at the President’s House. Her brother King Charles had outlined “considerable challenges” that the world is facing in a letter delivered by Princess Anne to President Wickremesinghe during this meeting.

The Royal Couple also got the opportunity of meeting former President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga on this occasion. She was the incumbent President when Princess Anne last toured the island in 1995. Royal watchers praised the Princess’s modest outfit worn to this important event. Hello! Magazine described her outfit in this manner: “Putting on a colourful display, the Princess Royal asserted her sartorial prowess in a ravishing red shift dress adorned with blooming pastel flowers. For an additional pop of colour, the royal added a berry-red lipstick, balancing her ensemble with a draped cream scarf and white gloves.” Another royal watcher said that her white gloves worn at the event were a subtle nod to the legacy of her mother.

Princess Anne, with her lifelong affinity to the Save the Children Fund, also took time off her busy schedule of meetings to visit its offices in Colombo and inquire into their programs in Sri Lanka. After unveiling a plaque commemorating the 50th anniversary of Save the Children working in Sri Lanka, she gave an impromptu speech to staff and guests at the charity’s Colombo HQ.

Princess Anne said: “It’s a real pleasure to return to Sri Lanka and the chance to visit Save the Children’s (headquarters) and underline the fact you have been doing extraordinary work here for 50 years.’ And I know, because when I came before it was slightly different, things have changed a lot. But the very fact that you are here and seen as valuable partners to the Government and the departments – that says a lot for what you’ve achieved…So a big thank you to all those who have been part of that journey, thank you all very much.” She also visited the Lady Ridgeway Hospital (LRH) in Colombo.

Princess Anne paid her respects to the Fallen Heroes of World Wars when she laid a wreath in their memory in Colombo, during her first visit to a Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) cemetery in the Jawatta area as the organisation’s President. They also visited the nearby Vajira Pillayar Hindu Kovil, where Sir Tim dashed a coconut to ward off bad luck. Chief Priest Sachithanantha Kurukal went into the shrine to conduct the pooja as Princess Anne and her husband watched, and they later toured the temple viewing the many shrines to Hindu Gods.

The Royal Couple then left for Kandy, where they paid homage to the Sacred Tooth Relic of the Buddha at the Sri Dalada Maligawa. Dressed in white, Princess Anne was ushered into an inner sanctum, reserved for the temple’s most important guests, to make her offering to the Sacred Relic in private.

Princess Anne engaged in a friendly conversation with Former President Chandrika Bandaranaike KumaratungaPrincess Anne engaged in a friendly conversation with Former President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga

Later, the couple travelled to Jaffna, where they toured the famous Jaffna Public Library, which was burnt down by mobs in 1981 and then rebuilt to reflect its former glory. The couple toured the library “where they heard of its significance to the community and met key figures from the fields of education, arts and culture,” said the British High Commission in Sri Lanka. Andrew Patrick, British High Commissioner to Sri Lanka, called the building “a landmark of great significance”. “This important moment marks the first visit by a member of the Royal Family to Jaffna,” he added.

The library was one of the largest libraries in Asia and housed over 97,000 unique and irreplaceable palm leaves books (ola), manuscripts, parchments, books, magazines and newspapers, before its destruction in 1981.

The couple had several other engagements in Sri Lanka before they flew back to the UK after a highly successful visit, which reinforced UK-Sri Lanka ties. Several more events will be held in 2024 to mark this milestone.

Princess Anne’s Sri Lanka visit is her second official engagement of this year, having returned to duties on January 4 to attend the Oxford Farming Conference.

The King and Queen are also set to fly overseas later this year. The couple are expected to visit Canada in May, before flying to Australia, New Zealand and Samoa in October.

As for the Prince and Princess of Wales, they too will be preparing to return to Royal Duties in the coming week, which comes after the family celebrated Princess Kate’s 42nd birthday on Tuesday January 9.