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ethanesimp · 3 years ago

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WHEN YOU’RE GONE // D.D.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Damiano David x Mob GN! Reader (it was originally written with a fem! reader so please let me know if you spot any slip ups on my part)

Summary: Soulmates are already a difficult concept to grasp and things don’t seem to get any easier when you like a person who already has a soulmate.

Word Count: 9.8k (it’s so long lakjd)

Warnings: Swearing, death and mentions of it, injuries, angst -lots of it-, it’s a mob fic so violence, smoking, Damiano being kind of an asshole? Me probably using swear words in italian wrong... Just read with caution pls

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction at the beginning of the year (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) I just like it and wanted to bring it back. I did add/modify some tiny details though. The idea is probably dumb, but I’m sharing anyways.

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove @superchrystaldrug @reputationdamiano

“This isn’t how I wanted to start my morning,” Your best friend mumbled in a tired voice. You could barely hear him from where you were standing over the sounds the old -and surely broken- coffee machine kept making and the music playing from his phone.

“Well, sucks to be us, huh?” You chuckled and poured coffee on both of your cups as you did a small dance to try and shake the tiredness off your body. You handed Damiano his cup after preparing his coffee the way he liked it, a teaspoon of sugar with a splash of milk, and walked with him to the large office down the hall, “I don’t get why Ethan and Thomas can’t do this instead of us.”

The room was always cold and you seemed to forget about it most of the time since it still slipped your mind to wear a sweater or hoodie over your thin pajama shirt. You grabbed one of the blankets from the small black couch on the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body as best as you could with your free hand.

You sat down on the chair next to him to have a better look at all the papers and files he had spread out on the desk, “What exactly are we looking for?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows. All those documents were enough to keep you occupied for the whole day if you didn’t work fast enough.

“We are looking for any leads to the drug cartel or its leader. Really anything that can help us find them,” Damiano explained and took a sip of his coffee as he opened the first file.

You had been trying to track a drug cartel ever since they infiltrated your warehouse and stole some of your products. Damiano’s father had been at both of your necks ever since it happened as if it had been your fault instead of the incompetent guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance at all times, “I’m sure these are people we’ve made deals with in the past, they wouldn’t have been able to break in otherwise. We’ve always been far too careful for this to be a mere coincidence.”

He removed the gold ring from his ring finger and left it on the jewelry bowl you had placed on his desk. You had known Damiano David and his family for years. For as long as you had known him, the band on his ring finger had been gold, and you hated it.

That stupid little gold band was a silent reminder that he had met his soulmate and there was nothing to be done about it. For months you had silently hoped and prayed for Damiano to be your soulmate, but any illusion or wish you had of it happening, had vanished the moment you saw the gold ring on his finger for the first time. You later discovered he avoided wearing it on his hand because it put his soulmate at risk of being found, but he still kept it close to him at all times by using it as a necklace.

You avoided wearing yours for an entirely different reason. The black ring and all the stares and words of pity that came with it were saddening and something you didn’t need. While gold was a reminder of love and good luck, black was a reminder that your soulmate was no longer alive and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life alone. You were sure the band had been black for most of your life, or at least that’s how you remembered it.

It was safe to say you were jealous of Damiano’s soulmate, Marlee. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women you had ever met, but she got to have perhaps the most amazing man by her side until her dying day, something you could never have in any way that wasn’t platonic.

You successfully ignored it most days, which wasn’t so hard to do since you had better things to think about most of the time, but nights were always the hardest. In your loud and chaotic life, there was a speck in time where everything quieted and calmed down. During those few hours was when you’d break down and grieve for the person whose name you didn’t even get to know. You’d cry for being stupid enough to fall for someone who wasn’t only your best friend, but who also had a girlfriend.

“Damiano, Y/N?” Marlee’s sweet voice interrupted your train of thoughts. You had been reading the files consciously enough to notice anything unusual, but you had paid no mind to anything else until she walked into the room. You smiled politely at her and waved.

She walked up to Damiano and he immediately closed all files with any sort of photo that might be too graphic for her to look at. Marlee cupped his face and pressed her lips to his for a few moments that felt like an eternity to you, watching everything from the side as a feeling of jealousy invaded your senses. You did nothing but look at the painting on the wall until they stopped locking lips, which took a bit longer than you would’ve liked.

“Did you two find anything?” Marlee asked once she pulled away from Damiano. He gave her a look you knew as ‘I cannot tell you anything about the mob to keep you safe’. She had been involved with the mob’s administration for most of her life, only after she met Damiano and her father united his mob with Damiano’s did she stop working.

You had been brought in as a replacement of sorts once Marlee stopped doing any mob business per Damiano’s request. His parents had saved yours from a legal accident, which left you in debt with his family, so you didn’t have much say on whether you’d join the mob or not.

Something you were grateful for was that Damiano always kept your hands clean. No matter what business it was, he made sure to keep you out of any sort of situation in which you’d have to hurt or get hurt by another member of the mob. Most people that worked for Damiano didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him as the lenient and caring individual he was around you.

You excused yourself after spending a few more minutes flipping through the files in search of something but ultimately found nothing. It was supposed to be your free day, or at least that was what Damiano had promised. Apart from that impromptu search for information at 5 am, he promised he’d have Ethan, Vic, or Thomas help with anything he needed.

That was why you took the liberty to lock yourself inside your room and put your phone on silent. You desperately wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep you had lost in between those early morning duty calls and coffee runs. No matter how much you enjoyed spending time with Damiano, you still missed your normal sleep schedule.

When you woke up a few hours later, the house was completely silent. The usual chatter coming from the kitchen wasn’t there, neither was the noise of Vic repeatedly firing bullets at the targets in the garden to practice her aim like she did every morning or the soft sound of Thomas softly strumming his guitar as he tried to piece an unplanned melody together with the assistance of Ethan’s drumming.

It wasn’t a Sunday, which meant they weren’t away visiting their families. They were all supposed to be home. That last thought made you nervous and you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened while you were asleep. Being in the mob, you knew a lot of unexpected things happened all the time and you had to be prepared for them all.

You walked to the door, determined to investigate what was wrong. Your hand was already firmly grasping the doorknob and you were about to undo the lock when someone knocked harshly on the door, startling you.

Without hesitation, you jumped back and reached for the gun stuffed in one of the drawers nearby, “Y/N? You awake?”

You let go of the drawer’s handle and your tense body relaxed at the sound of Victoria’s raspy voice, “Fuck, Vic, you scared me,” You spoke as you opened the door to be met with her panicked blue eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed at her worried expression, but before you could ask, she grabbed you by the arm softly and dragged you out of the room.

Once you were in the hallway, you finally heard everything with a lot more clarity. The faint sound of glass clinking before falling to the floor, Thomas’s exasperated shouts, and Damiano’s complaints. You looked at Victoria, expecting an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” She began, “One second he was alright, then at like 9 AM Ethan and I heard them fighting. She’s gone and Damiano’s locked in his room, won’t let anyone in. Thomas is trying to get him to talk while Ethan looks for the keys.”

You walked past Victoria and ran up the stairs. Damiano’s room was right above yours. Upon walking up to the third floor of the house, you saw Thomas repeatedly knocking on Damiano’s door. Once he heard footsteps and spotted you, it was like relief washed all over him at the sight of you.

“Do you mind trying?” He asked, “He’s been asking for you,” Thomas added with a sigh as he brushed his messy hair out of his forehead. You nodded and got closer to the door once he got out of the way.

With hesitation, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response, which arrived only after you knocked once again, “Vaffanculo, Thomas! Which part of your tiny fucking brain cannot understand that I want to be left alone?”

You flinched at his words and took a long breath as you gathered the confidence to speak up, “I-It’s Y/N, Dami,” You said, loud enough for him to hear you from where he was. You were expecting rejection; if Damiano didn’t want to talk to people who were as close to him as siblings, why would he talk to you? Sure, you were one of his best friends, but he’d known Thomas for longer than he—

Your thoughts were interrupted when Damiano opened the door and quickly dragged you in before slamming it shut once more. For the first few minutes, you stood in silence while Damiano faced the door. You couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so you had no idea what could be going through his mind, so you focused on your surroundings instead.

The room was a mess, but not more than it usually was. What alarmed you was the shattered glass on the floor as well as the drops of blood that stained the white floor. You looked back at your best friend and noticed that it was dripping from his hand.

“Damiano,” You called, “Amore, your hand,” He turned to look at you and that’s when you finally saw his red and swollen eyes as well his tear-stained cheeks. His gaze softened once his eyes fell on yours. He choked back a sob and turned away from you once again.

If his hand hadn’t been bleeding, you wouldn’t have hesitated on wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to comfort him. Instead, you ran to his bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. After years of being in the business, treating Damiano’s cuts and injuries wasn’t anything new to you, but you were oblivious as to why he was in such a state in the first place.

Being the person he was, Damiano had learned to conceal his emotions incredibly well to protect himself, even around the people he trusted the most. You had only seen him that shaken once when something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that Marlee was gone too only gave you a worse feeling. The fact that her clothes were all gone from the closet didn’t ease your worried mind either.

Damiano was sitting on the bed patiently waiting for you to return. Once you did, he avoided your gaze and said nothing as you examined his hand. The cuts were all superficial and would surely cure on their own in a few days, which was why you only focused on removing the tiny shards of glass that had stuck to his skin with a pair of tweezers.

Once that was done and you had cleaned the cuts, you wrapped a bandage around his hand once and secured it with a small piece of tape. You sat in silence for a while, you didn’t comment on the sobs that would escape his lips every once in a while or the tears that had started falling down his cheeks.

Instead, you waited until he was ready to say something, “I don’t even know how to tell you this,” Damiano mumbled. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He seemed… embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“I was finally going to do it this morning, N/N,” He said as a sigh escaped past his lips and he took a small velvet box out of his pocket. He didn’t have to say what was inside the box because you knew exactly what it was. Damiano had been planning on proposing for months, but there was always something that managed to get in the way of completing his goal.

“She went to the bathroom and had left her phone on my bedside table. I was going to get the ring and Y/N… I-I swear to God I didn’t want to look but the messages kept coming, one after the other, the fucking phone wouldn’t stop making noise. Cazzo, she was the one feeding information to the drug cartel and Lord knows to who else,” He said those words in one breath and you had barely been able to catch them all. Damiano threw the box at the wall angrily and from the noise, you didn’t doubt there’d be an indent there.

“I asked her about it and you have no idea how much I wished she’d deny it, but she didn’t even try,” Damiano cried. Unexpectedly, Damiano turned his body around to face yours and wrapped his arms around your waist while he buried his face on your neck.

It took you by surprise, but you said nothing. Instead, you focused on rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. Part of you knew there was something else going on, even if you didn’t ask. You hadn’t seen Damiano cry in a long time and even then you saw nothing more than just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. What happened with Marlee had truly driven him right to the edge and he couldn’t keep in everything he had been trying so hard to hide.

In the four months that followed, you didn’t see Marlee once. She never had the guts to return after Damiano found out about everything she had been doing behind his back. At first, he had been utterly destroyed by her absence, it pained you to see him shut everything and everyone out with the lame excuse that he had work to do. Every single time he did so, you’d quietly sit down and help him despite his complaints.

He got better though. Once enough time passed, he healed, but all that love he had once felt for her was now nothing more than pure hatred every single time her name was mentioned. You knew better than anyone that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it didn’t matter how many times you told him so because it never truly changed much.

As for the mob, things seemed to calm down once Damiano and Ethan were able to track down the leader of the drug cartel and get the stolen products back. Everything was too good and too quiet. While your four friends enjoyed all that peace, you couldn’t help but worry about something being wrong. It was a silly thing anyway, there was nothing that gave you even the slightest confirmation that your worry wasn’t just fueled by paranoia, not a single thing.

You should’ve been grateful instead. Your sleep schedule had gotten acceptably regular and there was no more working from 5 am to 10 pm every single day. You also had time to finally sit down and read the books that had been sitting on your untouched shelf ever since the start of the year, just like you were doing at that very moment while the boys were playing poker in the basement and Vic was on a date.

Damiano walked into your room eventually, still smelling like the cigarette he had just been smoking minutes back. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the smell of lemon incense burning hit his nostrils.

You looked up and giggled at his disgusted expression, “You cannot be disgusted when you were the one who walked into my room smelling like cigar and beer,” Damiano rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to you.

“Incense is bad for you,” You shot Damiano a killer look and closed your book. He gave you a funny look back and then put his attention on your book, “What are you reading anyway?”

You hummed and showed him the cover. It had a beautiful yet simple design, which accurately represented the story hidden in between those pages, “Okay so, it’s the story of these people that all get invited to this island. They’re all summoned there for different reasons but it turns out they all have this common enemy. It’s terrifying because they get killed off one by one when a children’s lullaby plays. I truly cannot explain it enough to do justice to how intense this book is.”

“Oh and before that I got to read the most wonderful romance book! It was apparently the first book written where soulmates weren’t a thing and it was just a piece of art. Beautifully written, made me cry for hours too.”

Damiano smiled and you could almost see all the gears turning inside his brain, “Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“What would?”

He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you, “A world without soulmates, where you’re not bound to someone since birth.”

You sighed and turned to look at him, “It’s our own fault… being bound, I mean. No angel from the heavens came down to tell us we have to love our soulmate as anything more than a close friend, you know? It can be purely platonic, we’re just stupid.”

“Were you ever able to fall in love with your soulmate or was it just platonic?” Damiano asked. You never talked much about soulmates with him. He still didn’t know your soulmate had been dead for as long as you could remember.

“I never got to know them,” You smiled sadly and showed him the black ring you had gotten used to wearing around your neck, carefully tucked under your shirt to stay unseen. His mouth fell open as he grabbed the ring and inspected it closely. It was the first time he had seen a black ring.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Damiano let the ring go. You shrugged and waved your hand to silently show it wasn’t too important, “I thought you guys were separated or something.”

You shook your head, “Mom says the ring turned black when I was six, but I don’t really remember so I just like to pretend I never had one in the first place… I don’t know.”

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to ask it, as intrigued as you were to know the answer. You hadn’t talked about her ever since she left and he’d most likely avoid the question because he truly wanted to keep her name out of his mouth. Nonetheless, he noticed your hesitance because you suddenly got too silent.

“You can ask, you know? I know I just touched on a sensitive topic, so…” You nodded. Both of you were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling which had some of those glow-in-the-dark stars and planets you had glued when you first moved in to feel less lonely.

You hummed softly as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to be too straightforward with your question in fear of upsetting your best friend even though he had asked you the same question minutes earlier, “Did-did you ever… you know, fall in love with her?”

Damiano thought about it in silence, you had probably caught him off-guard with your question, “No, not really. Not in the way I was expecting at least. You know truth be told, I was a bit disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, she had this angelic look to her, she was a stunning girl. I just- there was nothing we had in common other than being soulmates. For years I had seen my parents act like they shared one mind and just thought the same things. I always imagined it’d be like that for me too.

“My expectations couldn’t have been further from what it truly was like. Honestly, I’m not even sure which part of our relationship was true anymore. Now that I look back on it, I’ve realized most of the things she did or said were just to get information out of me.”

It was weird to hear him say all that. As a person who always got to look at the way Marlee and Damiano interacted with one another, you would’ve never expected Damiano to feel that way, “And,” He continued, “I was expecting it to be someone else.”

His last confession made you turn around to look at him. It was the first time he had admitted that, probably because of the beer he had been drinking while playing with his friends.

“I know it sounds terrible but… I met her and this other person on the same day, almost at the same time. I didn’t notice my ring had turned gold until much later. I had only been with them both and people I already knew. I thought it had been the other person until she told me her ring had changed too. Meanwhile, the other one said nothing. Now I realize it would’ve been impossible for them to be my soulmate.”

It might’ve been because he was telling you all those things and you felt safe to admit what you felt, or maybe because you were tired of bottling it up for so long. Either way, you spoke up, not caring if you’d regret it later, “It’s not as terrible as you might think.”

“Look, I’m not bound to anyone. The black ring gives me the freedom of loving someone else. I never met my soulmate so there’s no guilt in being with someone else. It’s supposed to be a perfect thing, Dami, only it isn’t. I know a lot of people who’re also blacksouled,” You hated using the word. It was usually how people would refer to those who didn’t have a soulmate anymore, “And I fell in love.”

“T-that’s great!” Damiano replied, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, not like you’re obliged to tell me anything just because we’re friends but I-”

You interrupted his rant, “I fell in love with someone whose soulmate’s still alive.”

“So what? You said it yourself. Are they together?” He asked. You told him they weren’t. If only he knew you were talking about him… He’d probably run away and never speak to you again, “Then fuck it. Fuck the rules and everything else society has to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Dami. I truly wish it was, but it isn’t,” You wanted nothing more than for the conversation to be over. If it went any further, you knew you’d spill every single thing. It had gotten far too hard to conceal your feelings when you were close to him. Now that you were talking about them, it’d be even harder.

You got up and walked to your bookshelf, where you started accommodating your books as an excuse to avoid being so close to him, to avoid his curious gaze. Even if they weren’t together anymore, you knew Damiano would reject you, that was far too obvious. Even if he felt the same, after what happened, it’d take Damiano a lot of effort to ever trust someone in such an intimate way, even if that someone was you, his best friend.

“Why? It is that simple. If they’re not together, what’s stopping you? You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try,” You turned around to look at him, fists clenched by your sides, “Listen Y/N, I know you’re scared of relationships and everything they involve but you cannot let that sto—”

“Fine then, I’m in love with you! I can barely breathe when I’m around you because my love for you is so suffocatingly strong, and I can’t think straight either! You and your stupidly handsome face drive me insane. How’s that?” You admitted, interrupting his small speech midway, too irritated to process what you had just said. Once you did, your hand flew to your mouth and you shook your head. You wanted to say it wasn’t true, no, it was nothing more than a lie to get him to stop poking his nose into your love life. Except it wasn’t and, if you were being honest, no part of you wanted to hide it anymore.

Just like you expected, he said nothing. Damiano stayed silent for a few seconds before getting up and walking out without another word. He slammed the door on the way out so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the door separated from its hinges.

For the weeks that followed, Damiano avoided you as much as possible. You were still his right-hand person and needed to be present at every meeting and would have to discuss any type of business with him. It used to be your favorite part of the day when you got to sit in the meeting room with Damiano and discuss plans to make the mob prosper, now it was nothing but uncomfortable because you’d do all the talking while he looked at you as if his biggest desire was to carve your heart out with his pocket knife.

While you understood that he was still mad at Marlee and wanted nothing to do with her, you didn’t understand why he was treating you that way when you had nothing to do with it and weren’t to blame for the stupid shit his ex had tried to pull. You thought he knew that you loved him far too much to ever do anything to jeopardize his safety. Yet again, he might’ve assumed the same thing about Marlee.

You walked out of yet another unsuccessful meeting with Damiano and slammed the door as hard as you could to let him know how much his childish behavior annoyed you. Ethan was standing close to the door and you could see the shadow of a smile that was threatening to break out and illuminate his face, “Don’t you dare,” He raised his hands in defense and bit his lip to try and hide the smile that would just annoy you further.

“You two are starting to act like two teenagers and it’s fucking pathetic,” Thomas chimed in from where he was sitting on one of the couches.

“Yeah? Tell that to your friend who is giving me the silent treatment like a fucking toddler! I just want- I need to have a serious conversation with him,” You admitted and sighed as you fell on the couch right next to Thomas, head in your hands to try and cover up the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Both men stayed silent as they watched you, Even though you could feel their stares, you decided to focus on not crying instead. The truth was, the longer Damiano spent ignoring you, the more you regretted telling him what you had been bottling up for years, it had been a mistake there was no coming back from. Unless he decided to stop acting like a kindergartener, things would never go back to the way they were.

It was frustrating to think that your friendship would go to shit just because of your confession. Being rejected by him wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had actually stayed in your room and spoken like the adult he was.

“For the record, I think he’s acting like an idiot because he’s scared,” Sighed Victoria, who had just walked into the room with an ice pack placed over her hand, “I know it’s been a while but, give him time. He’ll come around or I’ll make him, I promise.”

You gave Victoria a tight-lipped smile and nodded. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t have to come to getting locked up in the same room as Damiano to get him to speak to you.

Except… as more days passed, you feared it would most likely have to be that way because he was still saying nothing to you. He had only spoken once and it had been to call you out for being doing everything wrong while looking through some important documents when you were, in fact, doing everything just like he had initially requested. Now, not only had he been giving you the cold shoulder, but he had started acting like a complete jerk around you too.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on all the work you had pending, but it wasn’t working. Every single day, no matter what you were doing, your mind still wandered back to the brown-eyed man and his stupid face, his stupid hair, and stupid smile.

Even as you stood in the middle of the kitchen, your thoughts made it difficult to bake the cookies you had been craving all week. You had started to work on the second batch after the first one came out disgustingly salty because somewhere along the process you had mistaken the salt for the sugar.

You hated how bothered you were by the whole situation. It had affected you way more than you would’ve liked to admit. Truth be told, you had never felt sad about his rejection because it was something you had expected ever since that attraction for him first settled on your brain. It was the way he was treating you that got on your nerves.

That was mainly the reason why you were so thankful for being alone in the house at that very moment. Apart from a few security guards here and there, you were completely alone. You allowed yourself to relax for a split second and connected your phone to the speaker system in the kitchen. You started playing one of your favorite playlists before getting back to making cookies the right way this time.

You softly swayed your body along to the music as you dumped all the ingredients on the large bowl in front of you. As you poured the flour in the bowl and mixed it with your hands, you noticed Damiano standing by the door. For some unknown reason, he scared you so bad you accidentally tipped the bowl and made a mess of the counter.

A frustrated sigh escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, feeling defeated and irritated, “I’m sorry,” Damiano spoke up hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and wiped your hands on the apron you had tied around your waist, “It’s fine,” You turned around so your back was to him and started wiping the counter with a damp towel.

“You deserve so much better…” You heard him speak up over the music. His words caught you by surprise. You turned around to look at him but said nothing. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hands trembled by his sides and the way his jaw was firmly clenched.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Damiano started walking to where you were. He placed his hands on the counter by your sides, leaving you trapped in between the counter and his body. You looked into his dark eyes to maybe try and guess what was going through his mind.

You breathed in so deeply your chest hit his. You gulped at that and tried to control your trembling hands without looking away.

“What you said the other day, did you mean it?” Damiano asked, without hesitation this time around. Your eyes widened.

“I-I… What?”

“Just answer me Y/N, please,” Damiano pleaded. He looked so desperate to know the answer, which only made your blood boil. After weeks of silence, of glares and being a jerk, he dared to just show up and demand answers?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at his chest, “How dare you?” You took a step towards him, which made Damiano take a step back, “You have no right to show up like this and ask me to give you answers after how much of an asshole you’ve been.”

He seemed taken aback by your truthful words, but you didn’t care. If he wanted to know how much truth had been behind your words that night, he’d have to hear it all, “You know I’m your best friend and you also know I’d keep up with anything you do because that’s how much I care about you, but can you stop it? I know I was stupid for telling you because of what you just went through and I’m sorry, but please don’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. I just want to fix this.”

After a few minutes of silence, you shrugged and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, spoke up, “And yeah, I meant every word.”

Your expression softened as you waited for any sort of reaction from Damiano. You expected something similar to what had happened the day you first told him. No part of you expected him to cup your face with his warm, calloused palms to bring your face closer to him once again.

Neither did you expect to feel his soft lips pressed against yours, or the feeling of his soft hair as you brushed it back with your fingers and your eyes slowly closing as you basked on the joy and pleasure his soft touches caused.

Damiano was gentle as he held your face in between his hands, almost as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you into pieces if he didn’t hold you delicately enough. That kiss felt so intimate, like nothing you had ever felt before. Everything from the way he held you to his slow movements and touches was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he left you completely breathless, wordless. There was nothing you could possibly say after the way he had kissed you, so you waited for him to find the right words instead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Damiano mumbled. He still hadn’t let go of your face, “You truly deserve better. You are so beautiful, so perfect. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot and hurting you, ignoring you. I just- I know I cannot love you as you deserve. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you close to me all the time, to kiss your lips until you grow sick of me, but I can’t,” His voice was starting to crack as he said those words to you and you knew it was because of how he saw your face fall.

“No, no, shut up and listen to me,” You pleaded and placed your hands on top of his. You gave them a soft squeeze and let your forehead rest against his, “I know it’s hard for you to trust after what happened with her and I know it’s not going to be easy, but believe me, I’m willing to try if you are, Damiano.”

“You were that other person,” He confessed and got closer to kiss you once more, with as much passion as the last time. You were too concentrated on the smell of his musky cologne and the faint taste of vanilla chapstick he had surely stolen from your room to respond to his comment.

His hands fell from your face and comfortably rested on your hips as his lips attacked yours. Damiano pushed you against the counter and kept savoring the moment as if it were the first and last time he’d kiss you like that. You hoped for your sake it wouldn’t be the last.

Damiano pulled away reluctantly and unexpectedly lifted you up so you’d sit on the counter. He stood in between your legs and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Remember when I told you about the person I met the day I met Marlee?” You nodded, “That was you... Ever since I met you I’ve felt this inexplicable attraction towards you and it’s been driving me insane. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“You’ve done so much to deserve it, so so much,” You mumbled and brought him close to you to kiss him for the third time. It was such an addicting feeling and both your heart and mind were screaming to feel it again.

That time around, Damiano didn’t hesitate to lift you up once more, he carried you to his room and locked the door.

—

It had been a few weeks since your conversation in the kitchen. Things returned back to normal after that night. Other than your relationship with Damiano, things were the same again. You had to go back to working at ungodly hours of the morning thanks to some suspicious activity Ethan had noticed. Apparently, one of the oldest members of Damiano’s mob had tried to establish a deal with an unknown subject but had been caught before he could accomplish it.

This put you both on edge because there was someone out there desperate to break into the mob and finish it for good. At first, you thought it wasn’t more serious than whatever had happened with Marlee, but Damiano’s father proved you wrong the moment he brought you, their most loyal employee, in for questioning.

It had been nothing too serious, at least not in comparison to what you had heard others say. In your case, it had been done mostly as a standardized protocol, to stop others from thinking there was some sort of preference or special treatment towards you just because you worked so close to Damiano. You knew almost everything Damiano did, so you were possibly the greatest source of information outside the David family and their small circle of friends.

“Amore?” Damiano asked softly as his hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist. You had been cuddling in bed for almost two hours with the excuse that you needed a break after all the hard work you’d done, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You turned around to be face to face with him and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose, “Not much. I was just remembering I need to get my ring resized again. I tried putting it on a few days ago and it didn’t fit anymore.

Damiano frowned at your words, “Your soulmate ring?”

“Mhm,” You responded simply and let your head rest on his chest. You enjoyed the feeling of warmth his body irradiated, it was soothing and the soft sound of his rhythmic heartbeat never failed to make you feel calmer.

“Soulmate rings don’t need to be resized, ever. Not that I know of, at least,” Now it was your turn to frown because, as far as you remembered, you had always gone to get your ring resized by a family friend who didn’t live too far away. No one had ever told you it wasn’t necessary.

You pulled away from his embrace and reached for the bedside table where you had been keeping the ring for the past few days. Once you turned back around, Damiano looked confused and almost scared, “Just, out of curiosity, tesoro. Have you ever taken off the ring and left it like far away for longer than a few hours?”

A giggle escaped past your lips at his silly question, “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Dami. Of course, I have, several times.”

You laughed nervously once you saw his horrified expression. Damiano was starting to scare you, but you knew better than to say something because you’d end up looking like a fool if he started laughing and told you it was all a joke. Except, it didn’t seem like one.

“Please get dressed and meet me in room five, okay? I might be going insane but I just need to make sure I’m not,” Before you could ask any questions, Damiano had already grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

You tried not to think much about his weird questions and got dressed quickly instead. You grabbed your cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and walked to meeting room five.

You opened the door and were surprised to see all your friends already sitting around the small table you’d use for informal meetings. Thomas and Victoria looked tired and Ethan’s long hair was tangled and messy. That gave you the impression that Damiano had most likely woken them all up for your impromptu meeting.

They all looked just as confused as you felt. There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but Ethan beat you to it, “Okay, now that we’re all here can you fucking explain why you had to wake me up? Please.”

“Have any of you three—,” Started Damiano, referring to Thomas, Victoria and Ethan, “—tried to take off your ring for a while but have started feeling sick and weird?”

Thomas and Victoria looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Ethan did after a few seconds of thinking about it, “Yeah, there was actually this one time I went on a date and I didn’t want the girl to see the ring had turned gold, so I left it at home. Thirty minutes later I was puking everywhere. I didn’t really understand why but someone at the Soulmate Centre explained rings are an extension of the soul and they need to be close to us at all times and there are actually records of people dying after losing their rings. Why?”

Damiano looked at you and raised his eyebrows to silently ask if he could share the information with the other three guys. Once you nodded, Damiano spoke up, “Y/N doesn’t need to have it close to them and they need to get it resized every once in a while.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. I don’t know. I think the best thing you can do is go to the SC.”

You sighed but nodded. Ethan’s explanation had started to freak you out. What if there was something terribly wrong with you? What if you were born without a ring and your parents lied to you all your life?

—

After having a short conversation with Damiano in private, you decided to follow Ethan’s advice and go to the Soulmate Centre that was only a few minutes away from your house. He wanted to go with you or send someone to watch over you but had accepted your petition to go alone after you told him it was a private matter and you'd tell him all about it once you got back.

So there you were, on the reception of the SC, with your sweaty hands intertwined together as you tried to ignore all the dirty looks people were giving you. Everyone around knew exactly who you were and most weren't one bit pleased to see you there. While some didn't hesitate to look at you like they wanted to kill you, others were afraid to do so.

Those few minutes that passed until the lady at the desk called your name were some of the most uncomfortable of your life. Some part of you hated having the mobster title because that usually gave people the wrong idea and drove them to hate you even if you could proudly say you had done nothing illegal or violent in your whole life. You had to admit the mob wasn’t an ideal job to have morally wise, but you had found a family inside those four walls others doomed to be cursed.

You walked up to the lady. She had what you could interpret as a nervous smile as she stood behind the desk, patiently waiting for you to tell her what had brought you there in the first place. You were hesitant to communicate your issue because you were mortified of finding out a truth that should probably stay hidden.

You reached back and unclasped the chain the ring was looped through. You left it on the counter and smiled softly as you shyly spoke, “So uh, good morning, ma’am. I was hoping you could take a look at my ring, I’m slightly concerned there was something wrong with it.”

The lady nodded and removed the ring from the chain. She inspected it closely for a few minutes before nodding her head towards one of the rooms that said ‘only employees allowed’. She started walking towards it with a quick step and you saw no other choice but to follow right behind her.

She opened the door and quickly closed it with a lock once she verified you were inside, “Listen, the only reason I’m not turning you over to the authorities is because you don’t strike me as someone stupid enough to walk into an SC with a soulmate ring like this.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise at how direct she was being. For a second, you noticed her face fall before she realized it was best to keep a face that communicated seriousness instead of begging for your forgiveness or whatever people did when they pissed Damiano off.

“I don’t know who gave this to you or in which illegal market you bought this but if a higher authority sees you with this, not even Damiano David could save you from the consequences of sporting a fake ring,” She said. You honestly didn’t know how to respond because panic had started to drown out any coherent thought that tried to form on your mind.

You didn’t even try to disguise your panicked expression that time around. Instead, you focused on regulating your breathing and trying to keep all your emotions at bay before you lost control and began to hyperventilate. The other woman noticed your distress almost immediately and led you to sit down on one of the couches.

After you took a few deep breaths, you looked back at her, eager to ask thousands of questions, “How can you know they are fake?”

She sat down next to you and put the ring on your palm, “Look at the inside,” She demanded while pointing her finger to a spot on the inside edge of the ring, “They usually have something engraved inside, a code that only repeats itself twice. Whenever one loses their soulmate, this code vanishes. Your code is still there. I also used a detector to confirm my suspicions and it detected nothing.”

“And with… with that code, can you tell me if my soulmate’s still alive? Or who they are?” The older lady looked at you with pity in her green eyes and shook her head.

“Unless this is the original code engraved on the real ring, there’s not much I can do for you other than telling you how your soulmate is. I need so much more information to ever give you a name,” You nodded in understanding. All you needed to know was if they were alive, that’s all you wanted.

She took your nod as a sign of approval and disappeared into another room. While you waited, you couldn’t help but secretly hope they were dead. You wanted all those weeks of bliss you had spent with Damiano to last a lifetime. He knew everything about you, from the number of scars scattered around your body to what book you had read the most times. No soulmate could learn that about you until years after meeting each other. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. The Gods had already been too cruel for not making him your soulmate, but now that he wasn’t with Marlee and you knew he loved you just as much as you loved him…

She walked out of the room and cleared her throat to catch your attention. You were thankful for her interruption because you were mere seconds away from bursting into tears of distress. She looked nervous to tell you what she had found out, but the way you looked at her made her spill the truth without any warning.

“Your soulmate is still somewhere out there, alive.”

—

Damiano clutched his side with his hands as every type of curse word spilled from his mouth, “Thomas! Dammit Thomas, where the fuck are you?” He screamed and pushed the ache in his throat and side to the back of his mind as he limped towards the table where his loaded gun was placed, ready to be grabbed and shot.

Things had been perfectly fine just ten minutes back. He had been drinking and playing pool with the boys in the basement. They were all laughing and messing around when Victoria heard the first gunshot. Thomas had been quick to dismiss it as one of the guards practicing his accuracy like they did every once in a while, so they went back to playing the game.

Then they heard it again and again and again. In that time it took the four men to walk up the stairs, people had already successfully broken into the house and they were shooting at anything that moved. The blood-red snake symbol all these people had on the masks that were covering their faces was one he had grown far too familiar with. These were the people Marlee had been conspiring with and they had managed to overthrow every single line of defense in between them and the front door.

Damiano had been in his room fetching a gun when a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. It had stopped him from seeing the person who shot him. Thankfully enough, their vision wasn’t much better either, because the bullet only grazed his side. It was still painful as hell and blood was pouring out of the wound, but it wasn’t going to be anything deadly.

He finally got ahold of his gun after minutes of feeling around the table to try and spot it with the low amount of vision he still had. Once Damiano had it in his hands, he raised the scarf he was wearing to cover the lower part of his face to try and lower the quantity of smoke he inhaled.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway, still holding the gun firmly ready to shoot it at the first person he saw with that red symbol. Damiano opened the door to every room on the third floor. He had to shoot at one or two people before walking down to the floor below. The first room he opened was yours. His eyes went wide as he remembered you were still supposed to be at the SC. Damiano cursed under his breath. He needed to warn you not to come back but to go to your parents’ instead. Damiano opened the tracking app first, a precaution he had been insistent on taking just to make sure you both knew the other was safe.

“Fucking hell,” Damiano mumbled as he saw that blue dot with your name above it was right on the same spot as his. You were back home.

Every thought of investigating each and every room to make sure there was no intruder flew out the window and instead he focused on trying to find you. Everything had turned chaotic on those few minutes he had been in your room, which was why it had gotten harder to get around without finding someone waiting on almost every corner for him to appear.

Damiano heard a piercing scream that made his blood go cold. You were in danger somewhere inside the large home and he desperately needed to get to you, to make sure you were safe from any danger. He knew his friends would be perfectly fine, they had their guns and several types of weaponry close-by, but he knew you didn’t. You always refused to take a gun or dagger with you whenever you went out and if they had caught you right when you had just gotten back… you’d most likely have nothing to defend yourself with.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were witty and incredibly smart, not to mention agile and great at coming up with plans on the spot, but he still needed to make sure you were alright.

He got down on the first floor and his eyes met with a pair of blue ones he knew far too well. He let his eyes trail down to her carmine-tinted shirt. Marlee smiled at him and trailed her thumb along her jawline. That’s when he noticed her hands were also red and she had also left a trail of bloody footsteps from his office to where she was standing. His office.

Damiano didn’t hesitate to point the gun at her leg and pull the trigger. He then aimed for her other leg and shot it. She fell to the floor as an agonizing scream fell from her parted lips. Damiano was satisfied now that her stupid smile had been wiped right off her face.

He quickly ran to the office and opened the door. What he saw inside made time stop. It made all those sounds go silent. It made him feel like there was no floor beneath him to stand on. You were lying on the floor, a dagger piercing your chest.

You looked panicked, sad, like you wanted to do nothing but scream and cry, which you had started doing the moment you saw Damiano walked into the room. He didn’t know if your reaction was out of relief or if there was something else that concerned you, apart from the obvious.

“Damiano,” You spoke up weakly, The sound of your raspy voice was like a slap back into reality. He didn’t waste a second to fall to his knees right by your side. Damiano cupped your face with his trembling hands and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Shh. I’m here amore, I’m here,” He responded voice barely above a whisper, “I just need to find something to press against this wound I— something…” He stood up, ready to look for a rag, bandages, anything to stop the blood from rushing out of your body so quickly, but you stopped him.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and with all the strength you had brought him back down, “No hey, stop,” You mumbled, “Unless she happened to study every major artery, vein or has awfully perfect aim, I’ll be dead in minutes.”

He shook his head and wiped the tears that were starting to fall with the back of his hand. He was not giving up. Damiano was not going to let you die, “Wait, no, no. I can do this,” Damiano took his sweater and scarf off. With the help of his scarf, he applied pressure to the wound, careful not to move or dig the dagger further with his movements.

You shook your head and Damiano couldn’t help but cry harder at the desperation and panic in your eyes, “Please, Dami. Stop it, there’s no use. I-I just want you to hold me, please.”

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded repeatedly as he careful cradled you in his arms and moved your head to rest on his lap, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Damiano mumbled and left a long kiss on your forehead, then another one on your cheek and a last one on your lips.

You cupped his face with one of your hands and wiped the tears with your thumb. There wasn’t much left to say, not like you’d be able to talk even if you tried. Instead, you offered him one last sincere smile with all the energy you had left.

He watched in horror as life slowly started to drain out of you as his ring simultaneously turned black. Damiano sat there for minutes after you were gone. He cried and let every frustration, confusion, and pain escape his body with a loud scream.

Damiano didn’t let go of your body until Victoria and Thomas had to forcefully pull him away and let someone else take care of you.

—

Ethan didn’t walk into the room until he made sure every single intruder had been killed, except for Marlee, because Damiano had asked to keep her alive. When he did walk in, all he saw was Damiano with a folder in his hand and multiple pieces of paper scattered around the desk in his room. He looked pale, mortified by everything he was reading. The long-haired man didn’t understand what had gotten his friend in such a state of shock until he walked closer and looked at what seemed to be a contract.

You were Damiano’s soulmate. All your lives you had been tricked into believing you weren’t meant for each other. Your parents had made you believe you had no soulmate and Damiano had been fooled into thinking Marlee was his. You had gotten right to the bottom of it all and the secret would’ve gone to the grave with you if you hadn’t left the papers lying on his desk and if he had left his ring on the pocket of his jeans like he usually would. But now it was far too late to do anything about it.

#damiano david x reader #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you #damiano david fanfiction #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction

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spacelessbian · 4 years ago

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So CAOS Part 4 was a mess

SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING

I used this exact same title for Part 3 but it seemed very fitting for Part 4 as well. I just want to preface this by saying I didn’t expect anything before watching (well, I expected it to be bad, which gave the show a chance to surprise me), I just hoped that my friends shipping Zelda and Marie would get some sweet sapphic content and well... Let’s get to it.

I must say Part 4 was not as nonsensical as Part 3 and I must give credit where credit is due. It also returned to the monster-of-the-week format which I love. The Eldritch Terrors were a good concept with mostly fine execution (although the Terrors could have been a little more diverse... Would it kill the writers to give one more of them a female voice? And on that nore, why not hire Janet from the Good Place to voice the Void? They missed out on that so bad!). Other things I liked, in no particular order:

Vinegar Tom coming back to life and Zelda being truly happy for once

giving Agatha her sanity back

Prudence and chainsaw, ‘nough said

Lilith finally murdering her abuser the way she and we as the viewers deserved

the OG aunties and their whole episode

Ambrose, the light of my life, and all the adult cast (except for Lucifer, what the hell was that)

Unfortunately these are mostly minor positives and I don’t have the capacity to cover everything bad with Part 4, so I’ll just stick to what I started at the beginning of the post – Mambo Marie and the wlw representation in the show. Prepare for long-ish post.

It was weird from the start. We got a cute scene in the first episode (with horrible lighting I must say, I immediately felt sorry for y’all who make gifs) but then Zelda and Marie barely interacted. Yes, they were often standing next to each other, but I don’t think they had a single meaningful interaction since. I don’t think they even touched, let alone acted romantically towards each other. Marie was also extremely shady the whole time, she was constantly acting on her own (only after the fact was it acknowledged that the rest of the coven knew, but to me it just looked weird), that I really thought I was right with my joke prediction of her being the surprise villain. Turns out she’s a surprise man and the villain is Roberto, the showrunner!

From the start of the show it must have been obvious to Roberto and the rest of the creative team that a large number of fans wanted to see some lesbians (specifically Zelda and Lilith getting together). Obviously the creators do not have do anything the fans want, but giving us a canonical sapphic relationship and then being like “syke! fooled you, there were no lesbians actually. no homo uwu” just seems extremely ignorant at best and malevolent at worst. Plus the fact that in the alternate “perversed” universe, Zelda was called Madam Spellman. Who does that??? WTF.

I must also mention that the reveal, that comes out of nowhere and leads to nothing, means that Zelda’s two consecutive partners didn’t care about informed consent. Big yikes. Of course none of this was acknowledged in universe, so thanks for that, Roberto, thank you very much.

And now to minor grievances:

Theo and his boyfriend, whose name I don’t remember, go through unnecessary conflict that just takes up time and space

it almost looked like the Blackwood twins will become real people with their own thoughts and actions, but no

the afterlife doesn’t make sense, also the glorification of suicide

people constantly bring up the color of Sabrina’s headband like if anyone cared about that to notice (I expected some twist with Sabrinas changing places and the reveal being the headband, but no)

you turned an octopus into a... diving equipment???

Sabrina and her huge crisis that she doesn’t have a boyfriend for 5 minutes (so she has to make out with more than one Eldritch Terrors)

Roberto not being capable of letting babies exist after their extremely traumatic prolonged birth scenes (yes, I’m coming back to Part 1, too, what about it)

Aaaand I think I’m ready to breathe again. I’m happy the show’s over, not because I’m an evil hater (I am definitely evil though) but because it had (and still has) so much potential, but it is obvious the writers can’t write for shit. The cast is amazing and I love almost every single one of them, their kind interactions with fans were really a joy to watch (that cannot be said for some fans but what can you do). I hope I will have the opportunity to meet some of them when the ‘rona is finally over. I also met a lot of lovely people through CAOS and I am eternally grateful.

If you’re still reading, you’re a star ♥. This was a wild ride.

(Please note I will not respond to any aggresive or nasty comments but I’m eager to read any of your hot takes or polite disagreements.)

#caos #chilling adventures of sabrina #caos spoilers #caos part 4 #madam spellman #zelda spellman #mambo marie #mambo spellman #sabrina spellman #tw: suicide

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luminois · 4 years ago

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— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰: 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐲, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝟏𝟕𝟖𝟓 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

looking down through the hole in the clouds, your wings fluttered in excitement and trepidation. the white feathers caressed your arms as they closed in on themselves, hugging your figure reassuringly.

you could see the whole world from above, magnificent and so far away. you hadn’t been an angel for long, and the memories of your past life were still present in your mind. they were nothing more than specks of light, little presents from the past that made you smile. someone laughing, a farm, the taste of freshly picked grapes, naked feet running on the grass. you had lived surrounded by animals and wheat fields, simple tasks filling up sunny days. you’d been happy, that’s what the memories suggested, and you were happy now. you didn’t know what you’d done to earn eternity, but you knew you wanted to help others reach it too.

an archangel, in his luminescent beauty, was calling the names of the angels huddled around the cavity. every time one of them got closer to the archangel, the world became bigger and bigger until only one, specific place on earth was visible. that was where the angel was being sent to, where a great amount of humans had lost themselves to sin and were in need of an angel to bring them back to the right path. you had waited for decades to be sent on earth, and now the moment had finally arrived.

the archangel called your name and you went, light on your feet, the golden path cold under them. everything in paradise was chilly, made of glass and crystal and precious metals, breathtakingly perfect. you’d always found it somewhat unsettling, how everything seemed so easy to break and nobody ever tried to. would a swift move of your hand or just a little more pressure shatter what had been there forever? you were convinced the answer was yes, and the idea of being the first was fascinating, even if you’d never act upon it. you wondered.

the place you were going to was nothing more than a town. it had been the perfect place to live until the residents had started to be uncaring of the things around them, and now it had become dirty and unpleasant. litter filled the streets, graffiti ruined every wall and many shops had closed down, now only displaying shattered windows.

“the devil has found his way to these poor souls’ hearts,” the archangel said. his voice sounded like it didn’t come from him, like it was resonating in your own head. “they’ve lost their path. the greatest of gifts is a lighthouse in the dark, tumultuous sea. go and be their light, and they will be grateful for eternity.”

the archangel leaned down to kiss your hair, and when you opened your eyes again your wings were gone, and you weren’t cold anymore.

“i can’t thank you enough, sweetie. you’re an angel.”

you smiled as you handed the paper bag filled with freshly made bread over the bakery’s counter. the elderly man with teary eyes was a regular, and one of your favorite people in town. the darkness hadn’t reached his soul directly, he was too good hearted, but he’d been greatly affected by everyone’s wrongdoings. his share of bread was always on the house.

“i’m really not, sir,” you said, “knowing i’m being of help is a pleasure.”

the man showed his almost toothless smile and left, leaving you alone to rest against the counter, taking a breath before going to check the pastries cooking in the oven. being a human was exhausting, even if it was just play-pretend. you now had to sleep and eat and you were often tired, concepts unknown to otherworldly creatures.

it had been a little over the human equivalent of a month since you’d reached earth. you didn’t know how much had passed in paradise, years maybe, the working of time wasn’t a topic you were interested in. your time was infinite, the one thing you didn’t have to worry about.

you’d had to make up a story, explaining who you were and why you’d suddenly appeared out of thin air. like almost every other shop in town, the bakery had been abandoned when you first arrived, so you fixed it up and became a young girl starting a small business in a lovely town. or the remnants of it, that is.

behind the facade of the bakery, your true job was to make things better, and you could confidently say it was going well. the mayor was a corrupt, money-hungry woman who had left her town to care for itself. but since she didn’t care about what her citizens did, you hadn’t found any resistance upon asking permission to start your own public initiatives. it had been hard to convince people to work for anything other than personal gain, but you’d discovered that kindness was the best remedy.

yours was the only bakery in town, and everyone had visited it sooner or later. watching people go from being nothing but rude to reserving their best smile for every time they opened your door was priceless. now the streets weren’t as dirty thanks to the people who had volunteered to help you clean them, and you were planning on removing the graffiti next. you didn’t have much power over unemployment and poverty, but you were sure everything would fix itself once everyone would have found the right path again.

you took out the pastries from the oven before sighing in satisfaction and walking to the door, turning the open sign. you murmured to yourself the list of things you had to do now that the bakery was closed as you walked to the back, entering the room you called home. you’d promised to help the woman who lived down the street bake a cake for her son’s birthday and plant some daisies in her garden. only days prior you’d helped her paint over the worn-out outside of her house, and it was really starting to look like a lovely place.

you took off your apron before facing the mirror next to the door. you knew your wings weren’t there, but seeing yourself without them was a surprise every time. you turned as much as you could to look at your back, moving your hair to the side as they covered the space between your shoulder blades. how could something that was a part of yourself just disappear like that? what was even more surreal was that you didn’t particularly miss the expanse of white feathers. you were just unused to their absence, but you were capable of doing everything without them just fine. the only thing left to show your angelic nature were your brightly golden eyes, staring back at you before you looked away.

you should’ve been afraid of walking by yourself in the seemingly deserted street, but you knew you weren’t alone. you could feel eyes boring into your skin as you walked, following you like a predator and its prey. that’s why you didn’t scream when someone grabbed your arm and your back hit the brick wall of a narrow alley, but a hand was still pressed over your mouth.

you always felt warm on earth, not missing the freezing air of paradise at all. right now, through, you felt more than warm. your skin was burning, like the fire in the stranger’s red irises.

he was beautiful, more than any of the angels you’d met, more than the archangels and more than what you’d imagined the highest would look like. strands of long hair touched his cheeks and the corners of his smirking lips, pitch black like the tattoos on his arms and the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. his eyes were filled with amusement and something dark that came from within. a demon. you gulped, and he noticed.

“oh little angel, am i scaring you?”

your wide eyes looked up at him, and he cooed. he was tall, hovering over you with his wide shoulders, the heat radiating from him making your cheeks bloom with crimson. his tone had been sweet, but there was sarcasm and bite behind his words.

“what have you been doing, uh? going around and ruining all the work i’ve done before you came. that’s a mean thing to do, angel. why are you being so mean to me?”

the big hand covering your mouth moved to loosely wrap around your neck. you gulped again, unable to look away from him or say a word, and his eyes flickered down as your neck moved. the demon could feel your heartbeat under his hand, rushed as your heart tripped over itself, and he bit down his lips as his smirk got bigger.

“i asked you a question, angel. it’s rude to ignore people like that,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answer.

you opened your mouth a couple times before any sound got past your lips, the demon’s fingers holding your neck a little tighter. “i’m making things better because you ruined them.”

he gasped, but so exaggeratedly it sounded fake. you knew it was, and it made you blush more.

“you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” he said, his sugary tone mocking you. “you say you’re making things better, but i think you’re ruining them, we’re not going to get along like this. what should we do?”

“you should stop,” you said, your voice a little more sure as the fear started to wear out.

he was bigger and stronger, but you were both humans right now. he had no more power than the sheer strength in his hands, and even if that was enough to kill you it wouldn’t have. the highest wouldn’t have let one of his angels die on earth like that. or that’s what you hoped.

“you know i can’t, this is what i do,” the demon said. the hold on your neck disappeared, but he got closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “hyunjin. learn my name, angel, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. whenever you ruin something i’ll fix it, mmh? would you like that?”

both of hyunjin’s inked arms were resting on the side of your head now, his bicep right in front of your eyes. he wouldn’t have had problems with shattering the entirety of paradise with his fists, and he wouldn’t have hesitated either. your words were caught up in the knot stuck in your throat, keeping you from answering. but if you hadn’t been petrified by his presence and the boiling blood running through your veins, what would you have said?

you wondered.

do you want to read more?

banner by @blueprint-han

taglist: @sleepylixie @bobateastay @meiiyue @aliceu @softieyn @riel-precious @witchylixie @tulipsandfire @sparklemin @anskiie @tpwkjerii @blackkacchan @fournia @parachuuuus @inlovewithasa @skzshortcake

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hockeyunits · 4 years ago

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This is the first time ever I write something in here, the actual first time I post something on tumblr. And the reason I'm doing it is to APOLOGIZE TO ALL FANFIC AUTHORS from the stories I've read.

Listen, I love fanfiction so freaking much! I have read TONS of it, every format, every length, sometimes I didn't even know who it was about, but still read it because the story was so well written, or so interesting...

I love the idea of creating a storyline for the characters you like, to make them live the situations your mind create, to rewrite what you thought could go another way... but most of all, I love the idea of a community being created behind of it all. It's crazy to think that I can talk to and share ideas and ask for a whole ass story for someone that's in another continent just because we find the same hockey boy cute 😌 I cannot express how much fanfiction has helped throughout this chaos we're all living, how many times it was the thing that made me scape from reality and feel bring some sort of lightness in this dark times.

The thing is, I haven't contributing to this community lately. I've been shit about interacting with authors and tell them how much O love Theis stories and how grateful I am that they crate this tiny universes and share them with us - for free I may add.

So, to everyone that wrote a blurb, 5+1 story(3+1, 4+1...),a multi chapter story, a long ass fic, a tiny concept fic, a headcanon, A NSFW alphabet, an angsty piece, a fluffy piece, a spicy piece, a baby fic... anything:

T H A N K Y O U !❤️

You've made my days better, calmed me in times of need, made me smile when things got heavy, made me giddy when everything seemed gray around and helped maintain the minimum of my mental health amidst the chaos.

@woah-were-halfway-there @spine-buster @sixmapleleafs @hockeyplayerswithpets @hockeyswedes @holidaywishes @holy-pucks @danglesnipecelly @zuucc @laurenairay @leafsbabe @leafs-lover @markymarkstrom @barzal-mat @barriesweet @anzekopistar @psychospeak-blog @hockeysmut @hocktent @hockeylvr59 @antoncutedobin @aereres @brynwrites @brandoncarlo @beauvibaby @baevillier @carey-pricemas @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @drabblemesilly @dermott @dubersbutt @dailyhockeyimagines @droppedgloves @eternal-imagines @englishmuffinwritesbooks @fivehole @fratboyvivimatthews @fredthiccandersen @fallinallincurls @f-andersen @gabelandeskog @greythreads-blog @greasygoal @ghstandpucks @hockeyplayerswithpets @harrynhappiness @hockeysmut @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @im-only-joking @itsbadgerbadgermushroom

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jessikahathaway · 4 years ago

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Into Eternity - FINAL

So, oh my gosh this is actually happening???

I have been writing this story for three years and it honestly has gotten me through so much? I love these characters and to give them an ending has brought me so many emotions. Thank you to everyone who has read and has loved these characters as much as I have.

Now buckle up, for the finale.

Pairing: Jimin X Reader

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty!AU

Words: 8,877

Warnings: Attempted Suicide (it isn't graphic, but it's there so please be aware of that), Explicit Sexual Content, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Unprotected Sex (She preggie, but y'all be careful), Creampie, Dirty Talk. Birthing Scene (Not terribly graphic but just be aware), the fluff we've all been waiting forrrrr! (If I forgot anything please do let me know!)

It had been a week since the fight with Morgana and your death.

Jimin hadn’t been coping well at all.

Taehyung entered the bedroom where they had set you after the fight. Father Jin redressed you and washed your hair, but other than that you hadn’t moved or breathed. Nothing to note that you were alive. Father Jin had resigned himself to his room and hadn’t come out. Jungkook was training for hours on end and Taehyung was too busy trying to keep Jimin alive to do much else.

Hoseok had sent for more guards and they arrived soon after. Although they weren’t allowed inside the palace. No one was to come near, Jimin would have them beheaded.

Taehyung saw the same sight he’d seen for the last week. Jimin, at your bedside, waiting.

“Sire,” Taehyung announced his entrance.

“Taehyung,” Jimin answered softly.

“I brought you something to drink and a bit of porridge, will you eat it?” He asked, looking down at the small mugs in his hands.

“Yes, I’ll eat,” Jimin answered.

Turning around Taehyung sighed as he saw the dark bags under his eyes. The look of exhaustion that filled his frame was overwhelmingly sad. Taehyung knew his friend, and he was a shadow of himself. As if he were slowly dying without you with him.

But Taehyung pressed on, a smile coming across his features.

“Here you are,” Taehyung said, setting the mugs in his hands.

Jimin ate slowly, methodically. As if it was a chore to be doing so.

Taehyung wondered if he tasted it, his eyes were so devoid. It was like he was a skeleton walking around. No joints or ligaments, just bones clacking together. The way he moved was awkward and ungraceful, nothing like the Prince he knew. One thing was for certain.

He missed you.

“Jimin, do you want to take a bath?” Taehyung asked, looking at his friend’s appearance.

“No,” he said quietly.

“It’ll take a few minutes, please,” Taehyung urged.

“I’d rather not right now,” Jimin almost whispered.

“It’s okay, perhaps later,” Taehyung gave in, knowing that it wouldn’t happen later either.

“Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice was stronger this time.

“Yes, sire?”

“Do you think she’s really dead?”

“I don’t-”

“Perhaps this is what they wanted for me. To suffer without her,” he said bitterly.

“Don’t think so lowly of your ancestor, he tried to do what he could for you both,” Taehyung admonished.

“Perhaps I should die as well, join my beloved where we can be free together,” Jimin said, laying his head down on the bed, and gazing at you with misty eyes.

“Jimin!” Taehyung yelled.

Jimin flinched but didn’t move.

“I don’t think this is what Y/N would’ve wanted for you. She wouldn’t want to watch you starve yourself. She would want you to lie here and wait for something that might not happen. She’d want you to go out and live your life. To go out and be happy. Jimin, please listen to me. The way you’re treating yourself isn’t anything like what Y/N would’ve wanted for you. She loved you so much, and wanted nothing but the best for you. So for you to disrespect her wishes like this... It makes me sad, Jimin, truly it does.”

“So you do think she’s dead,” Jimin whispered.

“Jimin,” Taehyung said.

“Get out,” Jimin demanded softly.

“Jimin listen.”

“Get out Taehyung!” Jimin screamed, standing up.

Taehyung didn’t waste anymore time, slamming the door before he left.

It was the day of your funeral...

Jimin had fought tooth and nail to make sure he never saw this day, but here it was. It had been two weeks since your death. And Father Jin said it was time to lay you to rest. Jimin had denied it at first, but now, there was an eerie calm that settle over the palace. Jimin was silent, save for the few words he spoke to Taehyung. But other than that, no words left the man.

“We are here today to lay to rest a soul who has touched all of us in many ways,” Father Jin began.

You were laying in your coffin, beautiful as the day Jimin first saw you. The maids had braided gorgeous ribbons in your hair, and graced your face with the smallest amount of makeup, enhancing that natural beauty you had. Jimin’s eyes were filled with tears as he looked at you. His beloved bride, going so soon. And it was his fault you were dead. Because he couldn’t protect you.

“Jimin,” Taehyung whispered, nudging his friend.

“I’m fine,” he whispered back, wiping his eyes gingerly.

“Lady Y/N was a tender soul. Someone who wanted nothing but to share love and happiness wherever she went. I had the pleasure of knowing her, and I will forever miss her and her laughter. She is with God now, and I will take comfort in knowing that. May God rest her soul.”

Father Jin stepped away from the casket, Namjoon taking his place.

“Lady Y/N was fearless, and bright. Always willing to lend a hand to those in need. I failed her a guard and I will forever be unworthy. But as I continue on with life I will live for her, I will live with her in mind so that no one will ever suffer the same fate. I will protect the Royal family for the rest of my days, and will forever ask for forgiveness that I wasn’t able to protect them this time. Lady Y/N, I am so sorry. May you grace us with your love and kindness, so that we may forgive ourselves as well. You will be missed, dearly,” Namjoon said.

The rest of the proceedings went on, yet Jimin felt numb.

You lay there before him, so close yet out of reach. His soul yearned to reach out for yours, longing to touch you, to hold you. To bring you into his embrace and care for you as you did for him. When it was finally his turn to save you, he failed...

“Y/N was a beautiful person,” Taehyung began.

“She was smart, funny and a true joy to be around. I remember the first time I met her. She was outspoken, yet, in the best way. She challenged all of us to be better. To think more, to be more. She challenged me to be the best version of myself, and all I can say, is that I will continue to be the best person I can be. I will remember her fondly, and I will always be grateful for what she has done for me and my friends. May God rest her soul,” he repeated.

Yoongi spoke next, saying little but it was enough. Although Jimin still felt as though something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Soon, it was Jimin’s turn to speak.

He felt awkward as he went to the front to speak. He took a deep breath in and imagined you, holding his hand. The warmth that suffused him gave him the strength to speak.

“Y/N was... everything to me. Never have I loved like I loved her. She was beautiful, caring, sweet and... maddening. She challenged everything I knew about myself. Everything I ever thought I knew, and she changed me. Y/N changed me for the better. She made me believe that I could do anything, be anything. No matter what I thought about myself, she always believed in me. More than I did. Y/N was knowledgeable. She loved to read, I promised her a library. That way she could read without me getting in her way, I had a way of interrupting her at the most important part of the book she’d tell me...” Jimin laughed, tears coming down his cheeks. “I love her so much, even now I love her so dearly and so fiercely that this all feels wrong. To be burying her feels like a foreign concept to me that I cannot accept. I-I... don’t want this to be it.”

“Y/N, I love you. Please forgive me,” Jimin said, taking out a vial.

It was poison. Jimin had planned to end his life here. Perhaps that was what had felt so wrong the whole time. The fact that he knew he’d be ending his life in front of his friends brought him no comfort. He only felt guilt, but he couldn’t bear another day without you here. It wasn’t feasible to him. It was everything he could do to stand right now.

“Jimin no!”

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, bringing the vial to his lips.

“I love you too,” a soft voice answered.

Before Jimin could turn around, Namjoon and Jungkook tackled him to the ground, taking the vial from his hands.

“No!” Jimin fought back, thrashing around like a child.

“Sire please!” Jungkook said, reaching for the vial.

“Jimin?”

Everyone froze.

Jimin looked up to see you, his beloved bride, sitting up in your casket.

“Y/N?” he whispered. Unable to believe his eyes.

“Jimin? What’s going on?” you asked, looking around. From your standpoint, you felt like you’d been asleep for a very long time. As if you’d be put under a sleeping spell or something along those lines. But now, you felt better than ever, as if you were refreshed for the first time in a long while.

“Y/N...” Jimin said, looking at you in disbelief.

“Jimin, what am I doing in here?” you asked, placing your hands on the side of the coffin.

“My love,” Jimin said, standing up and coming to your side. You looked up and smiled, so glad to see him.

“Hi,” you said, placing your hand on his cheeks. He’d been crying, you could tell.

“Y/N,” he whimpered, wrapping you up in his arms and cradling you to his chest.

“Jimin?” you asked, trying to push him back so you could look at him. But he held you firm.

“My darling, I thought I lost you,” he said, tears falling down his cheeks so freely.

“I don’t understand, the last time I saw you I was... How am I here?” you asked, looking around.

“It doesn’t matter, my love, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here now,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you.

“But Jimin,” you started.

“Shhh,” he shushed, tangling his fingers in your hair. “I love you, so much,” he said, tilting your head up.

“I love you too,” you said back, but before you could say much else his lips were on yours. Jimin wasted no time, pulling you from the coffin without much difficulty. Jimin had you in his arms and like hell he was ever going to let you go again.

Slowly he pulled away and let his head rest against yours.

“Can you stand?” he asked, placing your feet on the ground.

“I think so,” you answered. Carefully, you took a step, almost falling to the ground if it wasn’t for Jimin’s strong arms keeping you up.

“Maybe not just yet darling, let me carry you,” he said, sweeping you up into his arms.

“Jimin!” you gasped, hanging onto his neck, not wanting to fall.

“I’ve got you,” he said, starting to carry you back towards the palace. The rest of the men there did nothing but watch as Jimin carried you in his arms.

“I never thought that this marriage would work out,” Taehyung said softly, looking at the disappearing silhouette of you and Jimin.

“Well, never say never I guess,” Namjoon said back, crossing his arms.

“I’m glad it worked out, Jimin deserves to be happy,” Jungkook commented.

“They both deserve it,” Father Jin said, smiling.

Your coronation was creeping up on you.

You and Jimin both would be crowned King and Queen of Arcane Kingdom. The people would be yours to govern and yours to care for. They were now your responsibility and duty. It weighed heavily on you, the stress of being a Royal. But you didn’t let it show, because you had been given a second chance at life another try.

No one gets that lucky.

But you did. And you weren’t going to waste it.

After everything that had happened, you were still so glad that you were with Jimin. Able to call him yours. It made your heart sing knowing he was your partner in all of this, your husband and truest love.

A knocking at the door shook you from your thoughts.

“Lady Y/N,” Father Jin said from the other side of the door.

“You can come in Father,” you said, putting your hairbrush down as you turned to face the door.

“I’m here as you requested,” he said, holding his bible and other various things you’d requested.

“Wonderful, I need your help,” you said, moving towards the bed.

Father Jin looked at you with confusion.

“It’s been two months and I haven’t bled yet. I-I was hoping you could find out if I was with child?” You said softly.

Father Jin almost fainted on the spot.

“W-With child? My dearest Y/N are you sure?” He asked coming forward.

“I’ve been having symptoms, the nausea in the morning, wanting weird foods and of course not bleeding but, I just wanted to know. I know if I have the palace physician check and I am pregnant he’ll run and tell Jimin. I want to tell him myself, it’s our possible child,” you said.

Father Jin beamed at you, quickly getting his materials ready.

“It would by my absolute honor my Lady,” he said. You smiled.

He busied himself with usual questions and looking at your stomach.

Finally Father Jin smiled brightly at you.

Biting your lip hard you heard his answer.

“My dear Lady Y/N, congratulations. You’re with child,” he said. Tears burst from you quickly, unable to handle the emotion of the whole situation.

You had been so worried that perhaps Morgana killing you would ruin your chances at having a child with Jimin. And considering you two had been having plenty of intimate moments, it was starting to become a fear.

But now...

Now you’re pregnant. With Jimin’s child.

Everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

“Father Jin,” you cried, hanging onto him so tightly. He pet your head gingerly, making sure you were alright before pulling back.

“Your timeline is correct, you are around two month pregnant,” he said, looking at your stomach with nothing but sheer adoration.

“I’ve been so worried,” you hiccuped.

“It’s alright Y/N, you are pregnant. And may the Lord bless you and your unborn child,” he said softly.

“Can you please keep this between us?” You asked.

“I won’t tell a soul,” he agreed.

“Thank you Father, truly, thank you so much.”

—

You were incredibly giddy for the rest of the week. Everyone had taken notice of your spunk and lively attitude. The stoic Yoongi even asked what had you all excited.

You just brushed it off, telling them you’d read a really good book or just ate something delicious. You wanted to tell Jimin so badly. But he was nowhere to be found no matter how hard you looked. The only time you were with him was when he crawled into bed with you early in the morning. Wrapping himself around you and keeping you close to him.

But he was always gone before you woke up.

You knew he was getting ready for the Royal coronation coming up soon, but it still made you a little sad. The distance.

However, you had planned it perfectly.

Jimin’s favorite lace night dress was wrapped around your body. A soft pink dressing gown over top. The man enjoyed unwrapping you like a present.

It was everything you could do not to just run to him in his study and proclaim your pregnancy to him then and there. But you oh so loved the look on his face when you gave him surprises.

Teasing little hints.

It was already late into the night, but you were determined to stay up and see your husband. It was moderately boring in your bedroom, alone, but it wouldn’t be lonely for long...

Just as you thought about going out on the balcony for some fresh air, you heard Jimin enter the room. You hadn’t seen him awake in a few days so you rushed over immediately to see him.

“Jimin!” You said, rushing to bring him into your arms.

Jimin smiled, looking exhausted, but happier now that he got to see you.

“Y/N, it’s late. What are you doing up?” He asked, kissing the top of your head with such tenderness it made your heart ache.

“Wanted to see you,” you mumbled, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“Well, you’ve seen me. But I think it’s time for bed,” he said, removing his tunic and draping it along the chair of your vanity.

“Can we talk first? There is something important I have to tell you,” you said, taking his hand in yours.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“Just sit down,” you said, moving him towards the bed. Jimin sat down heavily, looking up at you with a gentle smile.

“Alright my love, what did you want to discuss,” he said, rubbing his face.

He was utterly worn out, and you could see it on his face. But you knew what you were about to say would make it all worth it. It would be okay.

“Jimin, I want you to know something,” you swallowed hard. Trying to keep your emotions from becoming too much.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m fine Jimin. But, I want you to know how much I love you. How much I adore waking up in the morning next to you. And how much I love being your wife,” you said, bringing your hand to his cheek softly.

“I love you too,” he said, a smile appearing on his weary features.

“Jimin, I-I...” you stammered, trying to find the words to get them out. Jimin frowned at your flustered attitude. Normally you could tell him anything, he wondered what had gotten you so worked up.

“Jimin,” you said, walking closer. His sparkling eyes looked up at you and you so hoped the babe in your stomach would inherit those beautiful eyes.

“Jimin I’m with child,” you said, bringing his hand to your stomach.

Jimin’s whole demeanor changed instantaneously.

“What?” He croaked, looking up into your eyes with so much hope.

“Father Jin confirmed it,” you said.

“Y-You’re really pregnant?” He asked, looking at your stomach with a multitude of emotions running across his face.

“Yes,” you said.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” he cried, bringing you into his arms. Big fat tears were rolling down his face, catching in your hair and dressing gown.

“It’s okay, Jimin it’s alright,” you said, holding him tightly.

“I’ve waited for so long to hear those words from you,” he whimpered.

“I was worried that... possibly I couldn’t after-you know. But, I-I know they’re healthy, I can feel it,” you said brightly.

“I know they are too, my love. You’ll care for them so well, they’re going to be so perfect. You’re perfect,” he said, bringing his lips to yours gently.

Smiling into the kiss you attempted to deepen it, longing for your husband's touch. But Jimin quickly pulled away.

“I’m so exhausted my love, would it be okay if I just held you tonight? Both of you?” He asked, looking down at your stomach with so much love it made your heart stammer.

“Of course, Jimin, that’s always okay,” you said.

You both went to bed, sharing innocent pecks and warm words of love for each other.

It was so perfect.

—

Being pregnant was rather grueling task, you’d found out.

There were the weird food cravings. The palace chefs could hardly keep up with you. Then the constant nausea that had plagued you and often made you miss out on certain meals. And the aching of your back and feet was another problem.

But the love you felt for the being inside of you right now, was more than you could’ve ever dreamed.

Although, there was another symptom of your pregnancy that had been particularly hard to handle.

You were ravenous for your husbands touch.

Except, he hadn’t really wanted to do anything like that with you for a while... the last time you two had been intimate was when you made this baby. And that was five months ago.

Now that you were coming into a different stage of your pregnancy, everything was getting harder. Clothing yourself, putting on shoes. It was all so taxing and you mainly wanted to rest.

Unless Jimin was there.

In which case you wanted him to ravish you until the morning came.

But, for some reason, he didn’t feel the same.

Of course he loved you, this wasn’t something you doubted. But he was very busy and you were already pregnant so what was the point in engaging in those kinds of activities if the end goal was achieved... right?

You knew Jimin loved you, he said it and showed it often. But you wished he would take you to bed and pleasure you. Let you have as much of his cum as you wanted. However, something was stopping him.

And you were determined to find out what.

Walking through the palace halls you found your husband admiring the gardens out in front of the castle. Jimin loved seeing the flowers blooming and flourishing with colors. Made him feel light inside.

You came up beside him and looked at the flowers with him. He smiled at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and bringing you close.

The two of you stood like that, in silence for a few moments before you decided to speak.

“Jimin,” you said, keeping your eyes trained outside.

“Yes my love?” He answered, looking at you with pure joy.

“You seem distant lately,” you said, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“Have I? I thought we’d been spending quite a lot of time together... although if you’re feeling neglected I can see if I have more time to spare-”

“I-uh... I’ve noticed that we haven’t been... intimate since we conceived and I was just wondering, if you simply weren’t attracted to me being like this? Or if it’s because we’re already pregnant so there’s no need to try anymore or, um, something else maybe?”

Jimin’s face looked mortified as he tried to gather his scrambled mind and unprepared thoughts.

“Y/N, love no! Of course not! I absolutely adore being intimate with you! And not attracted to you? I-I can’t hardly control myself when I’m around you. Pregnant and swollen with my child,” he said, almost growling out the last part.

“Then why Jimin? Why haven’t you been touching me? Letting me touch you! What’s going on?” You asked, wondering what was causing the distance between your husband and you.

“T-the palace physician warned me about being with you like that, I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” he said softly.

“But it’s not dangerous-Father Jin was encouraging me to, well as much as he would encourage someone to be intimate...” you said. “He said we should be... with one another as much as we can. It’s good for us to relieve the stress and I’ll never complain about you showing your love to me and my love for you.”

“But, what if I go too hard? What if I, I don’t know, make the baby come early? Or what if-”

“Jimin, my love, these are a lot of what ifs. Not a lot of what will... Nothing will happen to me or the child. That I can promise you,” you said, holding your distended stomach with affection. “You’d never hurt us.”

The young King looked so torn. Like he truly didn’t know what to do.

“I’m just... I’m worried about you,” he said softly, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m tough,” you said, squeezing his hand gently.

“I know, God I know how strong you are. More than fit to be the Queen of this Kingdom, my wife, my equal... But, carrying a child is no small feat,” he said, brushing your hair off your face.

“It isn’t but I’m not doing it alone,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’ve been with me every step of the way. We had rocky beginnings, but look at where we are now. Look at how much we’ve overcome and how much we will overcome in the future. It’s incredible, Jimin. You are the ruler that destroyed the witch Morgana,” you said.

“Actually, you’re the one who dealt the killing blow on that one, I just get all the credit cause I’m the King. Unfair if you ask me,” Jimin laughed lightly.

“What I’m saying is, you’re so brave, stubborn and wickedly smart. Surely you can think of a way in which we can be intimate and it not harm me or the babe?” You said, biting your lip.

“Don’t do that, I’ve been having dreams about your sweet mouth,” he groaned.

“Mmm, have you? Perhaps I should give it to you then, hmm?” You teased.

Jimin was a rather dominant person, but you’d discovered that sometimes he likes to be pushed around in bed. Told what to do and to be praised. It wasn’t something you’d been entirely good at to start, but, with a little practice you’d gotten the hang of it.

“My love,” he croaked.

“Jimin, I know you. I know how careful and gentle you can be. I’ll tell you if anything hurts or if I’m uncomfortable. But please, please take me to bed,” you begged.

Finally, it seemed you broke through. Because soon, you were being practically dragged down the hallway. Jimin’s grip on your wrist was tight, but not enough to hurt. You smirked as he hauled you into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind the two of you.

“God, look at you,” he murmured, coming forward to place his hands on your swollen belly. “So beautiful, so perfect carrying my child.”

“All yours,” you agreed, humming as his lips touched your neck.

“And I’m yours,” he said softly.

“Take this off,” you pleaded, tugging at his shirt with disdain. Giving you a coy grin, he pulled the shirt off and threw it on the floor. You ran your hands over his beautiful body, teasingly pinching his nipple, causing him to flinch.

“Little sprite, I’ll teach you to tease me,” he growled. Wetness pooled between your legs. Jimin came forward, finally connecting your lips.

Kissing Jimin was something you’d never tire of. You were certain. The way his plush lips moved over yours with reckless abandon make you squirm. His mouth captured your own, pulling you into a romantic embrace as the pair of you shared your breath.

“Jimin,” you whispered as he pulled away.

“What is it my love? What do you desire?” He asked, moving his lips along your jawline.

“Whatever you’ll give me, I want it all,” you pleaded.

“My my, so greedy. What a greedy Queen I have,” he tutted. You whined at his tone, wanting nothing more for the clothes between you to be removed.

“I just want you, only you,” you pleaded.

“You have me my love, all of me,” he said, kissing you softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, cradling his head. You felt the back of your bed against your knees, forcing you to sit down while Jimin kissed you with such ferocity it made your poor core clench tightly around nothing.

“And you have all of me in return,” you smiled. Jimin pushed you onto your back, making you stare at the ceiling. Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest, you could feel it in your throat.

“I-Is it okay if I pleasure you? With my mouth?” He asked, looking at you beneath his long lashes. You smiled and brushed his hair from his face gently, but this was not without difficulty, you swollen tummy proving to be an obstacle.

“Mmm, that does sound nice. But, you have had me wait five months for you. I’m slightly tempted to skip the foreplay and go right for the main event,” you mused, watching as Jimin’s eyes inflated slightly. You smiled at his obvious desire for you, before you sat up and undid the ties at the front of your gown. Jimin watched as your chest relaxed, breasts bigger than they were before you’d gotten pregnant.

“I-If you’re wet enough,” he said, licking his lips.

“Why don’t you check?” You said, peeling your dress from your shoulders and easing the fabric down. Jimin moved so you could wiggle out of the offending material and lay naked on the bed. He was astounded and slightly concerned that you hadn’t been wearing any undergarments underneath.

“Oh my beautiful wife, how lucky am I to have someone like you...” he trailed off, gazing at your center with wanton desire.

“I’m just as lucky, if not more so,” you smiled, tugging on his ashy locks, earning you a warning grunt in response.

“A husband who neglects his wife for months on end? Surely you jest with me,” he chuckled sadly.

“You are more than attentive. Sometimes smothering, but never neglectful. Jimin listening to the palace physician isn’t wrong. He just happens to think he knows everything while Father Jin has had actual experience with pregnancy and birth. By the way, he will be delivering our child, not that ridiculous palace physician. I’d rather not have him near me when I’m giving birth,” you huffed, pouting slightly.

“Oh? I see, who else did you want there while you deliver? I know I should’ve asked this but-”

“You, Father Jin to deliver and Jungkook as well as Taehyung. Yoongi and Namjoon, and... Hoseok,” you said pondering for a moment.

“Those are all men, Y/N,” Jimin reminded, pouting from above you.

“And? Hoseok is our Godfather for the child, I believe he should be there. Jungkook is good in a crisis and also has knowledge of pregnancy and birth from his mother. Taehyung is such a dear friend, I certainly want him there. Yoongi is always calm and collected, and Namjoon would just feel left out if I didn’t include him!”

“You missed one,” he frowned.

“Of course I want you there silly. It’s your fault I’m like this, so you’re going to be there for the whole thing, no stepping out and no leaving me, understood?” You asked, raising a brow at him. Jimin just nodded.

“It’s not just my fault you’re like this, I don’t ever recall you saying no,” he snarked.

“I’m also not saying no now, if we could get back on track?” You asked, bringing his hand to your throbbing center. Jimin seemed to get the message as he rubbed his fingers along your slit, collecting your slick between the pads of his fingers and your skin.

“My love, so ready for me,” he murmured, coming in closer to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh of pleasure, running your hands down his back, scratching along the skin gently, causing goosebumps to rise in your wake. He groaned as you gripped his ass in your palms, causing him to rut forward like a pup in heat. You smirked at his enthusiasm, squeezing once more before he whined against your skin.

“Oh!” You gasped as he entered one finger inside your tight heat. A soft groan came from his cherry red lips, causing you to clamp down on the digit inside of you. Jimin moved his finger gently, stretching your hole out carefully. Everything he did, he did with purpose. It made your heart stammer in your chest as you could feel another finger slipping in next to the first one.

“So tight,” he growled, pumping in and out of you with a delicious tempo that had your hips grinding down against his hand. “You’re soaking the bed my darling.”

“I-I can’t help it, you feel too good,” you moaned.

“Mm, you sure I can’t have a taste? Just a little bit wouldn’t hurt,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. You wanted so badly to encourage his devilish mouth, but you gripped his wrist and forced him to stop moving those dangerous fingers inside of you.

He looked worried for a moment. But you smoothed your thumb over his brow.

“I can’t wait any more, please don’t make me wait,” you whined, humping against his fingers. “Give it to me, please. Fill me up.”

Jimin’s eyes turned dark as he pulled his hand away from your center. Watching with rapt attention you saw him take his sticky digits and put them in his mouth, sucking lewdly on your arousal. Jimin made a show of it. Licking and sucking on his fingers, trying to get every last drop of your essence off of his fingers. He was also proving that he could pleasure you with his mouth if you’d only let him.

“You want my cock? Want it so bad huh? My beautiful Queen, you want it? Huh? Tell me why I should give it to you?” He said, eyes glazing over as you presented yourself on all fours for him.

“Because, I’ve been so good for you. I’m carrying your baby, so pregnant and full, but not full enough. I need more, more of your cum Jimin. Want more of it leaking from me, please, remind me how you got me pregnant. Please, won’t you give me your cock? Your cum? Please, I want it so badly,” you pleaded.

Jimin’s eyes darkened further. He knew you were good at begging, it was one of his favorite things to teach you, because you learned so quickly what he liked. And he would never be able to deny such an earnest request.

“If that’s what you want my love, then you’ll have it. Have me,” he agreed, moving off the bed to push his pants and underwear to the ground before coming back to the bed. You felt his presence behind you, smoothing over your back gently. “Is this position okay? Or do you need something different?” He asked, kissing your shoulder.

“This is okay, I’m comfortable,” you encouraged. “Now, fuck me.”

Jimin needed no further words as he sank into you slowly for the first time in months. The pair of you breathed out heavy sighs as you finally felt the fullness you’d been craving for weeks. Jimin choked on a moan when you flexed your walls around him, making him buck into you a little harsher than expected.

“Sorry! I haven’t-Since we haven’t been doing anything I haven’t even pleasured myself, I haven’t had the time, you feel so good around me, fuck,” he moaned out, gripping your hips firmly.

“It’s okay, I won’t last long. I’ve missed you so much,” you moaned, your fists tightening in the bed sheets beneath you.

“Oh shit,” he growled, bucking into you again, building a steady rhythm that had your chest jolting almost painfully. Your core was soaking, and Jimin wasn’t letting up. He was fucking into you so hard some of your arousal was falling down your thighs.

“Jimin, harder,” you pleaded, head falling into the mattress. Your husband didn’t have to be told twice as he started rutting into your wet heat with vigor.

“I’ve been thinking about this everyday since you told me you were pregnant,” he snarled, pulling all the way out just to force himself back in once more. You cried out when his fingers found your clit, causing you to grind back against him. The air rushed from his lungs as he watched you practically use him for your own pleasure.

“Everyday? Then why didn’t you do anything?” You whined, bouncing back against him harshly. Jimin swallowed hard as he tried to stave off his looming orgasm.

“Because the physician... I was worried I’d hurt you or the baby, like I said earlier. But now that I know this is safe, don’t expect to be able to walk for a while,” he warned, pulling on your sensitive nipples gingerly. You cried out into the mattress when milk started to leak down Jimin’s hand. He watched as the pearly white substance soaked the sheets beneath you like your arousal had earlier.

“Fuck! Jimin, keep going please!” You begged when he got distracted by your chest practically flooding the bed.

“Have you not been expressing the milk? Doesn’t it hurt?” He asked.

“Yes, it aches so much during the day and I’m so sensitive when I try to sleep. Sometimes I wake up and my nightdress is soaked from milk,” you whined, trying to reach for him so he would keep pounding into you.

“Mm, since I didn’t get to have a taste of your pussy... Maybe you’ll let me have something else instead,” he teased, licking the milk off of his hands and groaning when it hit his tastebuds.

“More, please more!” You begged. Jimin noticed your frantic bouncing and eased you into a spooning position. He was still throbbing inside of you, but you could feel his head come to your shoulder, placing soft kisses against it.

“Let me drink from you, it must hurt my darling. So full and heavy with milk for our child, but they can share, surely?” He teased, kissing the side of your breast while giving shallow thrusts to your womanhood.

“You can have it, whatever you want as long as you keep fucking me. Please, Jimin, I’m so close,” you whimpered. Sensing your urgency Jimin started his brutal pace back up. You cried out in bliss when his mouth met your sensitive nipple. Jimin gently suckled at your chest, causing more milk to enter his mouth.

He groaned at the flavor and gave a few sharp ruts into your clenching pussy. You were besides yourself with pleasure, almost in tears at all the stimulation.

Jimin wasn’t doing much better. Five months without even masturbating was proving to be his end far too quickly.

“Y/N, I’m going to cum. Are you close?” He asked, reaching down to push at your clit gently.

“Yes! Right there, pleasepleaseplease! Jimin,” you cried. Your walls tightened beyond belief, causing Jimin to freeze in his thrusting. He watched your face as you fell apart for him, causing him to reach his end as well. A cry of your name on his lips as ropes of hot cum painted your walls milky white. Jimin shuddered in overstimulation as you continued to clench yourself around his spent cock.

The pair of you lay there, clutching each other in the afterglow as you tried to catch your breath. Jimin decided to move first, pulling his still twitching length from your abused center. You watched as he stood on wobbly legs and came back with a towel to clean you up with. A soft smile took over your features as you spread your legs easily for him.

After he was satisfied, you opened your arms for him. Jimin moved forward without hesitation, wrapping your exhausted body with his own. He kissed the top of your head, then around your jaw and finally a firm kiss was placed on your lips.

“I love you so much my darling,” he smiled, resting his head on the pillow.

“I love you too, we both do.”

—

You’d never thought that giving birth would be a pleasant experience.

But never in your entire life did you imagine it would hurt this much.

The contractions had started early in the morning. Making you wake Jimin with a frantic push.

“My love what is it?” He asked, sitting up in the bed with a bewildered look on his face.

“Get Father Jin right now,” you demanded, leaning forward to hold your severely swollen stomach. Jimin was out of bed and quickly called the guards to get the Priest from his room as fast as possible.

They yelled back their confirmation before they hurried off. You felt the distinct cramping from your groin and moaned low in pain. Jimin came back over to you, looking at you with worry etched onto his features.

“Do you want anything? Anyone? I’ll call for whatever you need,” he said, taking your shaking hands in his.

“Good morning,” you whispered, giving him a weak smile.

“Good morning,” he smiled back, kissing your knuckles gently.

Soon you were in a different room entirely, getting settled into the blankets and all the people close to you had been summoned.

Jungkook and Taehyung had gotten there first, both excited and ready for the proceedings.

“Lady Y/N! It’s really happening? Oh my gosh! I’m so excited for you,” Jungkook said, coming over to place a gentle kiss on your hand out of respect.

“Thank you Jungkook, how is training the new recruits going?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the pain.

“Oh that’s all boring! We don’t want to hear about that!” Taehyung said, coming next to you and also kissing your hand.

“Maybe she does my Lord,” Jungkook sneered. You knew the two of them had always had a friendly competition going on. But, right now you shushed them and told them to go sit down.

Hoseok and Namjoon were next, coming in shortly after Taehyung and Jungkook.

“My lady,” Namjoon said, taking to his knee in front of you.

“There’s no need for that right now, Namjoon. How are you? We haven’t had tea in a while, and I fear if this babe comes now we might not for a long while yet,” you teased and Namjoon just smiled as he stood up.

“We can sneak some tea in soon my Lady, leave the child with the King to see how he fares,” he smirked. Jimin was pouting. You knew it without even looking at him.

“I might have to do that,” you smiled. Hoseok came over quickly after, kissing your hand a few times before looking at you with excitement.

“Is there anything you want? Anything you need? I know you’re not supposed to eat anything right now but maybe some water?” He asked.

“It’s so sweet of you to offer, but right now I’m just tired and a little cranky,” you laughed, trying to keep yourself in good spirits.

Hoseok seemed to understand, giving your hand a soft squeeze before walking over to talk with Namjoon and Jungkook.

“Where’s Yoongi? And Father Jin?” You asked, looking around.

“We’re here!” Father Jin said, a bright smile on his face as he escorted a grumpy looking Yoongi through the doorway.

“Yeah, here,” Yoongi said, yawning and scowling at the older man.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” you whispered, reaching out for the stoic man. His resolve quickly melted as he came by and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

“I’m sure you’d rather be sleeping now too, but I’m fine. Are you alright?” He asked, looking at you with an intensity you always forgot he possessed.

“Yes, just some contractions right now. My water hasn’t broken yet,” you said. Yoongi nodded and looked at Jimin with a soft smile.

“How are you faring, feeling okay?” He asked, looking at the father to be with kind eyes.

“Nervous, but happy,” he confirmed, taking your hand in his.

“Wonderful,” he yawned, going to sit down and hopefully doze off while you were still in the early stages.

Father Jin gathered everyone up and they all listened attentively to whatever he had to say. The day progressed and your water hadn’t broken yet, but the men all stayed, asking if there was anything you needed, holding your hand if you felt a particularly rough contraction.

But most importantly, Jimin was right by your side the whole time.

When your water did finally break, it was like hell also had broken loose.

It was later, probably afternoon when you felt it happen.

Father Jin was suddenly on his feet demanding towels and hot water for you, as well as some herbs that would help numb the pain as much as they could. Jimin looked panic stricken when you clutched onto his hand.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, another wave of pain crashing through you without remorse.

“I’m scared too,” he confessed. “But I know you can do it. You’re already the perfect wife, now you’re going to be the perfect mother... Our child is almost here,” he said, kissing your cheek.

“Jungkook, Lord Taehyung each of you grab a leg and hold them please,” Father Jin said as he sat in front of you. Both men looked shocked at the idea, but you and Jimin both nodded, giving them permission.

Jungkook gently placed his hands on your calf and pushed your leg back holding it in position for you. Taehyung did the same, each of them keeping their eyes respectful.

“Why do we have to hold her legs?” Taehyung asked, looking at Jungkook.

“Gives her more leverage and relieves some of the pressure on her back,” Jungkook answered.

“The only problem is it can close off the birthing canal at an awkward angle, but for now this is the best position to give her a break,” Father Jin said.

When you started pushing, you felt your lower back ache with how much strain you were under. Jimin could only watch as you cried out in pain when Father Jin urged you to keep going.

Everyone in the room was tense with worry.

Your health had always been fragile, even after coming back from the dead you still fell sick easily and had trouble with your lungs. But Father Jin was focused on the baby, while Jimin was focused on you.

“I never expected it to hurt this much,” Namjoon whispered, watching on in horror as his Queen and dear friend struggled to keep conscious through the pain.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you wailed. Hoseok was quick to grab a bucket that was formerly filled with water and held it as you threw up. Jimin smoothed his hands down your back, trying to keep himself from crying. Jungkook and Taehyung had given you a break with your legs so you could turn as you emptied your stomach.

“Y/N,” Jimin murmured, kissing your shoulder gently.

“Sit back straight, Y/N, you need to keep pushing,” Father Jin said. You were delirious with pain and exhaustion. You needed something to keep you grounded. The one thing you knew would always keep you grounded.

“My love, talk to me, just keep talking to me,” you pleaded, voice hoarse with how much you’d been crying.

“Y/N, it’s alright,” Jimin soothed, kissing your sweaty forehead with worry. “They’re almost here, we’re so close to meeting our baby. We’re so close to being a family.”

“Alright your Majesty another big push on the count of three, one... two... three!” Father Jin said, you pushed hard and felt nothing but sheer agony as the child started crowning.

“I can see the head!” Hoseok said, standing behind Father Jin, now hanging onto Yoongi tightly.

“Oh my God,” you cried, head falling back on the pillows.

“Keep pushing Y/N!” Father Jin said, preparing a cloth.

“I can’t, I really can’t, I’ll die if I keep going please,” you stammered. Taehyung and Jungkook shared an anxious look. Namjoon looked at you with fear written all over his features.

“My love, look at me,” Jimin said softly, bringing your eyes to his.

“It hurts, I can’t... Please don’t make me, ah!” You cried out as you felt another contraction.

“Y/N you need to push! Hard as you can,” Father Jin said, looking at your situation.

“Keep going Lady Y/N,” Jungkook said, looking up to your weary face. He’d seen several women give birth in his village, his mother being a midwife. But, to see someone he cared about going through this was difficult.

“You’ll be alright, you will. But if you stop pushing you’re putting you and the baby in danger,” Father Jin warned.

“How much longer?” You cried, giving another hard push.

“You’re so close,” Yoongi said, watching you with concern.

“You’re doing great!” Taehyung chirped, watching on in amazement.

He couldn’t wait to have his own family...

“The head is almost out, come on Y/N, keep going,” Father Jin said.

“Jimin,” you whimpered, clutching his hand as you gave the hardest push yet.

“I love you so much, keep going Y/N, I love you,” he whispered into your ear. You pushed again and finally, finally there was some relief.

“Oh my God!” Hoseok yelped, gripping onto Yoongi’s arm so tight he was certain that he was going to break his limb.

“You’re going to rip my arm off! Father Jin is a little busy right now!” Yoongi growled.

“Can you give me one more push? Just one more,” Jimin asked, kissing your shoulder. Looking at him with tears in your eyes you nodded, giving another strong push before soft cries filled the room.

“It’s a boy!”

“A prince!”

“Congratulations your majesties!”

You slumped back onto the bed, breathing heavily when a small bundle was placed on your chest. Looking down you saw your son, wiped off haphazardly and clutching your nightdress tightly.

“Oh Y/N,” Jimin whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“He’s so handsome!” Hoseok cooed, looking on at you and Jimin both. Father Jin had you push a few more times to deliver the afterbirth, but nothing was as intense as giving birth to your son.

“Ji...min...” you breathed, eyes growing heavy.

“Can she rest Father?” Taehyung asked, looking at the little prince attached to his mother with tear filled eyes.

“Not yet, Y/N, stay awake,” Father Jin warned.

“Why...?” You asked, slowly taking in deep breaths.

“I need to check you and the baby over, and he needs to feed,” Father Jin said softly, cleaning you up still. Your eyes were still heavy, but you heard your baby crying softly on your chest.

Instinctively you shushed him, bringing him to your chest so he could latch on. After a little struggle, he was feeding eagerly. You brushed his hair gently, watching with sleepy eyes as he ate his fill.

Father Jin came over, congratulating you on a wonderful delivery. He did tell you everything you needed to do for the coming days, encouraging you to stay in bed and keep the baby close to form a relationship. He also told Jimin to take the baby and have time as well.

“It’s important that you two stay together for this coming week, I’ll make sure that the advisors and everyone just leaves you alone unless it is absolutely life or death,” Father Jin said, looking at your babe with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“What’s the baby’s name? Hmm? What do we call our new prince?” Namjoon asked, raising a brow.

“Jihoon?” You asked, looking at Jimin for confirmation.

“It’s perfect,” Jimin agreed, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“Prince Jihoon, I’ll let the advisors and everyone know,” Taehyung said, running into the hall.

“Lord Taehyung! Just hang on a second!” Namjoon yelled, chasing after the excited noble.

“We’d better go and make sure they don’t get into any trouble,” Yoongi said to Jungkook, patting his shoulder before guiding the younger male out the door.

“As much as I’d love to spend time with my Godchild, I have to make sure that my brother and friends don’t cause a scene,” Hoseok said. He came up and gave your hand a gentle kiss. “Congratulations Lady Y/N, I’m truly happy for you.”

With that he left the room, followed shortly by Father Jin.

You and Jimin were alone with your baby, the soft sound of his gurgles filling the room. Jimin looked down at you, eyes watery as he kissed your child’s head. You brushed the tears away from his face, even though exhaustion was flooding your aching body, you wanted to make sure he was okay too. He had also been through a lot today.

“I love you,” you said, watching as more tears fell from his eyes.

“I love you too, both of you... So much,” he whimpered. “That was the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing I’ve ever had to experience.”

“Heartbreaking?” You wondered out loud.

“To see you in so much pain, and there was nothing I could do about it,” he said, looking at your child, hands shaking.

“It’s alright, I’m okay now,” you said, holding his hand in your clammy one. Jimin pressed a delicate kiss to your wrist, looking up at you with so much love and adoration.

“I’m sorry you hurt so much, if I could take your pain I would,” he said, brushing your hair back.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore,” you mumbled, eyes closing slowly. “Just tired now...”

“Sleep my love, we’ll be here when you wake up.”

And they were.

And they always would be.

Forever.

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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you’re someone i just want around fic announcement

a @sunflowervolvimp3 and @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy collaboration

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice draws him out of his hungry haze, snapping him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass.

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while taking a leisurely sip from the straight tequila in his highball glass.

Mitch gives him a deadpan look. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.”

The curly-haired vampire flashes his friend a light smirk over the rim of his drink. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Despite the dig, Harry loves the way Mitch is honest and straightforward with everything that crosses his path. It’s one of his favorite traits about him, and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him as his best friend. Mitch doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. But he’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that spot.

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and especially not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate life. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for.

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older vampire remarks sarcastically, bumping his glass bottle against Harry’s crystalline cup in encouragement, using the stout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

or a story about opening up to new dynamics, an undealt past, a stolen ring, a psychotic ex, and an alluring young man with a peculiar taste in beverages.

part I: one in a million, my lucky strike

part II: she makes my heartbeat go faster, the thing is i trust her

part III: car nous nous en allons, comme s’en va cette onde (for our life slips by, as the river does)

part IV: let me inside, wish I could get to know you

part V: she’s got blood cold as ice, and a heart made of stone

part VI: when did this just become a mortal home?

part VII: lately my heart’s been so empty, but it feels different when you’re with me

posting schedule: TBD

A/N: so leyla and i have been plotting and planning this for a few days now. it started as just a random concept we were chatting about at 3 am, but then we both started putting more and more into the plot and characters and made the decision to make it our first collaboration ever!! we spent a whole day building an outline and adding details and we’re both super excited to share the au we created with everybody :D the posting schedule is going to remain pretty fluid because we both have a lot going on (school, work, etc.) but we just loved this idea so much that we had to jump on it right away cause we got attached OOP! so yeah, we can’t wait to show you what our brains came up with at the ass crack of dawn 😌 thank you in advance for any support and patience you guys are willing to put into this fic and we hope to do you justice! 💌

#ysijwa #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles blurbs #vampire!harry #one direction fic #1d fic

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thekisforkeats · 4 years ago

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The Joys of Fandom, or, how TMA helped me rediscover my love of tea

So among the many (many) good things The Magnus Archives podcast has brought to my life, none has been quite so profound as remembering how much I love making a good cup of tea. I’ve got a whole post about how it’s helped me categorize the anxiety cloud I live with on a constant basis, how it’s gotten me writing again, and writing poetry which I haven’t done in forever, how identifying with so many openly queer boys going through so much crap has helped me figure out that I want to transition.

But.

Tea is the reason we’re here today, because making a pot of tea has become a daily ritual since I started listening to TMA, and it’s been one of those tiny things that’s changed my life profoundly, and I have TMA to thank for this almost entirely.

I did not grow up drinking tea. I am from the Seattle, Washington area, and I’m just old enough Starbucks was a popular local coffee shop when I was a kid. My parents both drank a TON of coffee, my mother basically runs on the stuff, and by the time I was 6 I was drinking coffee too. Tea, growing up, was Lipton, sometimes iced or sometimes not. I didn’t even realize herbal tea was tea. Green tea was a thing one drank at Chinese restaurants. I was not at all informed.

When I got my first job, I would stop at Starbucks during the bus layover (as once does in the Seattle area) and one day in a fit of teenaged desire to be “cool” and “writerly” because I’d seen a tin of “Writer’s Chai” in the store I bought a chai latte. I loved it, and that became my go-to Starbucks drink.

I still didn’t really get tea, but I at least started learning how to boil water in the kettle and waiting for it to actually boil, pouring it over the tea bag, etc. I didn’t put in milk or sugar because I drank coffee black unless it was a latte or a mocha. I would just sort of... boil the water and pour it over and wait a few minutes and drink the tea with the bag still in the mug.

It wasn’t until I moved to Toronto that I sat down and had a good cup of tea. The woman who hosted the social group I was part of had her particular tea-making rituals, and she encouraged me to try it with milk and sugar, and it was... amazing. Life-changing, even. My perseveration drive kicked into full swing and I had to know everything about tea and its history and how to make a proper cup and so on and so forth. I learned all I could from our hostess, and then turned to the internet.

I bought a kettle to make tea at home but my ex wasn’t really supportive of my desire to brew tea on the regular, so loose leaf and teapots and “does the milk go in in cup before or after the tea” had to wait until I moved out and got a place of my own.

Then I moved to Tallahassee.

In Tallahassee, the coffee was atrocious unless it was from a couple of specific places, mostly serving cafe con leche. But I had my own place and my own dishes and I could have a teapot and make tea and nobody could stop me. So I did. Mostly for myself, while I was contemplating things, and it was really nice to sit and stare out at the ridiculously heavy Florida rain--which hit, in Tallahassee, right about 4:15 in the afternoon all summer so perfect for tea time.

I moved back to Seattle with my spouse, and we moved into my mother’s house. For a long while we didn’t have a kitchen of our own and we had small children, so tea wasn’t a thing I did any more. I had leftover coffee (or canned/bottled coffee) for the caffeine fix, but rarely tea. When my grandmother died and we moved into her old apartment we didn’t have a stove, and I despise heating water for tea in the microwave.

So for the better part of a decade, I barely drank any tea at all. I did discover Oi Ocha in this time, which is bottled green tea from Japan, which is amazing and I love it, but again--it was in a bottle. Not a thing I was personally making.

Then I started listening to The Magnus Archives, and I really identified with Martin Blackwood, because of reasons too complicated to get into here. But it inspired me to want to make tea again, and so I started getting K-cup pods, but it just... wasn’t... right. It wasn’t the same. I mean, it was tea, but it wasn’t... tea.

So I went and bought an electric kettle, and a teapot, and a strainer, and ordered regular deliveries of loose leaf tea, and started making tea for myself and my spouse. I developed my own ritual: cold water in the kettle, put hot water into the teapot (so it doesn’t crack), put three scoops of loose leaf in the strainer. Pour out the water in the teapot when the kettle boils, put in the strainer, pour the boiling water over the strainer. Wait four minutes or so, and while you’re waiting put a splash of half-and-half in the tea mugs (milk goes first so it doesn’t scald and we like the taste of half-and-half best). Then pour the tea into the mugs. The mugs are big enough that I take three spoons of sugar and my spouse four, so put all the sugar into the mugs and then increase the entropy (aka stir) until the sugar’s dissolved. Bring the tea out into the living room, enjoy.

The first time I got it all right, and made a good cup of tea, I literally cried, I was so happy. It was like seeing the sun after it had been dark for so long I’d forgotten what the sun looked like.

The thing I have come to realize about what tea means to me is something that Jon says in the trailer for Season 5 of TMA. Martin brings him a cup of “tea” and Jon goes “that’s not tea” and, indeed, it turns out to be some weird skittering thing. The following exchange really crystallized things for me:

Jon: This is no longer a world where you can trust-- Martin: Tea?! Jon: Comfort.

And that was it, right there. Coffee is fuel, for me. Coffee is “Wake Up, Get Up, Get Out There.” (Quite literally; part of playing Persona 5 was remembering how much I love trying out new coffee blends.)

Tea, however, is comfort. Tea is slowing down. Tea is caffeine, yes, and therefore focus for my poor ADD/autistic brain, but it’s afternoon focus. It’s contemplation. It’s sitting and breathing in the aroma and thinking about things in a way that isn’t spiraling or catastrophizing. Whether it’s breakfast tea or Earl Grey or green tea, or an herbal like peppermint or chamomile, tea for me is self-care.

Taking those few minutes to get up and go make a pot of tea in the afternoon, to stop the business of the day and just stand there waiting for the kettle to boil, is something I’ve desperately needed. Coffee is easy to sort of make as “fire and forget,” to the point that I’ve gulped down cold or lukewarm coffee I’d forgotten about just because I need the caffeine. Tea, though, if you’re doing it right you have to stand there and wait for the water to boil and wait for the tea to steep. If you walk away to do something else you’ll ruin the whole thing. I completely understand why Martin is running around making tea for everyone in Season 2 all the time, because everything is falling apart in slow motion and it’s a chance to stop, to focus on making the tea, and then to take the time enjoying the tea itself.

Making tea for others also means love to me. I make tea for my spouse alongside myself. I included one of my teenaged children in tea-making for the first time yesterday and my youngest keeps getting the last bit of tea in the pot, and it’s such a joy to see their faces light up. Bringing someone tea means bringing them a mug of love and care. Another reason I identify with Martin--I often don’t know what to say to help someone, so I try to be sure they’re fed and hydrated and cared for. And I, too, had to learn to stop setting myself on fire to keep those people warm. I had to learn to be sure I was fed and hydrated and cared for, so I could care for them. But even now as I get older and wiser and grumpier I still run around making sure everyone’s fed and has had their mug of tea, I just don’t do it at my own expense anymore.

One of my next crochet projects is a tea cozy in the shape of a green owl, in honor of the Magnus Institute owl, because my little tea-making ritual is always going to be connected to TMA in my head. Also I have a “Fifteen Fears” mug and my spouse has a “Magnus Archives” owl symbol mug, so it’s literally just this really intense connection between TMA and tea, for me.

It’s funny how much comfort a horror podcast has given me since I’ve started listening. There are a few fandoms that have profoundly changed me--Star Trek was the first big one, Babylon 5 was the first that directly inspired me, Mass Effect helped me get out of suicidal depression, Persona (specifically Persona 5) inspired me to take responsibility for myself in a way therapy never quite managed.

And here I am with TMA, figuring out how to navigate anxiety and pain and grief in a world that feels like it’s falling apart around my ears. The concept that what we do matters; that right or wrong you should be making a decision instead of just reacting from fear or surprise; that sometimes you screw up and there’s nothing to be done, that “sorry” doesn’t fix everything, that sometimes nothing you do will fix anything and you can’t let that paralyze you... it’s all been necessary, and helpful, and I’ve been terribly grateful.

Thanks to TMA I’m writing again after years of terrible writer’s block. I’m facing my own fears and accepting that despite (because of?) my terrible arachnophobia I’d probably serve the Web if I served anything (although Eye and Lonely would also get a look in--I did say I identified with Martin pretty strongly). I’m recognizing dysphoria and dealing with it after years of trying to deny the elephant in the room.

I’m also making tea again. And for that, I am eternally, profoundly grateful.

#tma #the magnus archives #tea #martin blackwood #tma spoilers #i guess sort of?#i mean just in case #long post #my writing #seriously i cannot overstate how much tea means to me #it's been one of those things i didn't realize i needed until i started doing it again #i will definitely be posting pics of the tea cozy owl as i make it #because it's gonna be adorable af

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faethraziel · 4 years ago

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Numbness

Because when it's external feelings I can still heal. Sometimes my mind tires and the switch turns off for a second; Silence for the next few hours, safety for the next few days. And I am grateful for not feeling. I remember how it was, I see a door disappearing at the bottom of the soul that writes you now, but It does not arrive to me and if it tries to then I'll get distant before I can breathe again. I well know how tired I am of trying to prove that what I feel exists for me so I stop existing. I cess. I walk but it's an empty skull, my soul lies in peace in some shallow terrain inside me but I can not remember how to feel. I remember how it was and not for a moment I wish to do so for now. But I still remember: It's a rainbow in the middle of the crowd. It was multicoloured; not necessarily joyful. It was a roller coaster always going down.

Now I do not care if you forgive me for needing rest and wishing for eternal sleep.

Introspection

When the wave comes from within is different. And I know where it comes from. It is harder to stop because it has no stop sign or barrier. It hits me in the middle of my chest, I am confused at first. And desolate. All I had planned becomes dust on my fingers and my smile turns into blood that spills non stop for days while I try to clean my eyes to see the way forward. When I look back the way was always clean except I couldn't see it. These are issues. No more than questions or assumptions. Some lack of love or lack of the idea of love(D). I think I was never loved - not completely at least -, something always get in the way. But I still got the chance to stop searching incessantly for love if someday somebody prove me that it is possible to like me after you take off the mirrors and rose-coloured glasses.

Pass? It will pass. But I'm tired of going to sleep every day with fewer answers than I had the last time I woke up. And the plan is now surviving. To burry deeper the part of me responsible for feelings until it smother itself and die. So what if I'm never the same person again. I've never been anybody else other than myself. Maybe being nobody's more delightful. I'll always miss being light like that. I weight like a father. no feelings, no heart. No hurt. And I'll be fine. Goodbye.

Love who you love

My heart is all I am now. As much as I've got love to offer it does not look sufficient. Lana del Rey sings "Sometimes love is not enough" I thought it was. I give but you can't see it. Love is not something you can touch or feel. You can believe it's there but don't know where it comes from and if it comes from where you think it comes. And falling in love again brings adrenaline and adrenaline feeds us, but home (where our hearts reside) is quite different and I wonder how can I understand so much if I went alone my whole life and always pretended this was not something of importance to me. "When it's time, things will settle down" I said, without ever realizing that I've been looking for it since the day I found that here I wouldn't get it. Proximity, intimacy, compassion and simply, love. I'm aware it's more complicated than that or simpler but I don't understand. They can't see what I offer and it's one more reason for nobody to stay. And you don't love me, it's not your fault. We don't get to choose who we love, no one can. Gladly I'll make sure I hate the part of me that chose you to love. No one is guilty. Nothing's understood enough to rationalise love. You have as much choice as I do but also nothing is the end. Maybe I'm innocent and either too or less on concepts I predicted for love but maybe I'm right.

Last question, dear love: Knowing so much about love, when my time comes is it going to be different? I don't think it depends on me since I don't choose how I feel about anything. I don't command but I appreciate and I desire. You. It's hatred. It's desire. I love and I don't want to.

Quotes by F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Love Of The Last Tycoon (1941), Virginia Woolf - Night And Day (1919). Nina Simone - To Love Somebody (1969).

All text between images is written by myself. I dedicate this one to D, to this love one more time. I hope be it the last time.

#numbness #introspection #who you love

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shesey · 4 years ago

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Wintering by Katherine May

“Wintering is a season in the cold. It is a fallow period in life when you’re cut off from the world, feeling rejected, sidelined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of an outsider. Perhaps it results from an illness; perhaps from a life event such as a bereavement or the birth of a child; perhaps it comes from a humiliation or failure. Perhaps you’re in a period of transition, and have temporarily fallen between two worlds. Some winterings creep upon us more slowly, accompanying the protracted death of a relationship, the gradual ratcheting up of caring responsibilities as our parents age, the drip-drip-drip of lost confidence. Some are appallingly sudden, like discovering one day that your skills are considered obsolete, the company you worked for has gone bankrupt, or your partner is in love with someone new. However it arrives, wintering is usually involuntary, lonely, and deeply painful. Yet it is also inevitable. We like to imagine that it’s possible for life to be one eternal summer, and that we have uniquely failed to achieve that for ourselves.” “Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives that they lived in the summer. They prepare. They adapt. They perform extraordinary acts of metamorphosis to get them through. Winter is a time of withdrawing from the world, maximizing scant resources, carrying out acts of brutal efficiency and vanishing from sight; but that’s where the transformation occurs. Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but its crucible. Once we stop wishing it were summer, winter can be a glorious season when the world takes on a sparse beauty, and even the pavements sparkle. It’s a time for reflection and recuperation, for slow replenishment, for putting your house in order.” “That’s what humans do: we make and remake our stories, abandoning the ones that no longer fit and trying on new ones for size.” “In the changing room later, I experience a different kind of warmth: the nakedness of a dozen women, all unashamed. These aren’t the posing bodies you find on the beach, dieted beyond al joy to be bikini-ready, and tanned as an act of disguise. These are northern bodies, slack-bottomed and dimpling, with unruly pubic hair and the scars of hysterectomies, chattering companionably in a language I don’t understand. They are a glimpse of life yet to come: a message of survival, passed on through the generations. It’s a message I rarely find in my buttoned-up home country, and I think about the times I’ve suffered silent furies at the treacheries of my own body, imagining them to be unique.” “Ghost stories may be a part of the terror of Halloween, but our love of ghost stories betrays a far more fragile desire: that we do not fade so easily from this life.” “Winter has decorated ordinary life. Some days, everything sparkles.” “You realize that no one is what they look like, on the surface. Everybody has their dose of suffering; it’s just more hidden in some than in others.” “I think about this a lot, she says, the needle breaks the fabric in order to repair it. You can’t have one without the other.” “In the absence of sunlight, it would be too costly to maintain the machinery of growth.” “I’m fairly certain that my decision not to have a second child rests squarely on my worship of sleep.” “I have nothing to show for my forty-odd years on this earth, except for a pile of dusty books.” “4am. The ego flares like a struck match: bright, blue, fleeting. I am thankful to be alone when this happens, to let it burn out in private. We should sometimes be grateful for the solitudes of night, of a winter. They save us from displaying our worse selves to the waking world.” “Certainty is a dead space in which there’s no more room to grow. Wavering is painful. I’m glad to be travelling between the two.” “Sometimes writing is a race against your own mind, as your hand labours to keep up with the flood tide of your thoughts, and I feel that most acutely at night, when there are no competing demands on my attention. That slightly sleepy, dazed state erods the barriers of my waking brain.” “I can confess all my sins to a piece of paper, with no one to censor it.” “Our personal winters are so often accompanies by insomnia, but perhaps we are still drawn towards that unique space of intimacy and contemplation, darkness, and silence, without really knowing what we’re seeking. Perhaps, after all, we are being urged towards our own comfort.” “Lucy is a symbol of absolute faith and utter purity, but the sins for which she suffers are not her own. Instead, she shoulders the weight of the male gaze, and is destroyed by it.” “Some winters creep up on us so slowly that they have infiltrated every part of our lives before we truly feel them.” “We felt broken into pieces, but at the same time, never so loved.” “We changed our focus away from pushing through with normal life, and towards making a new one. When everything is broken, everything is also up for grabs. That’s the gift of winter: it’s irresistible. Change will happen in its wake, whether we like it or not. We can come out of it wearing a different coat.” “I could have stood there and cried on the spot, just knowing that I wasn’t alone.” “I felt accepted in a way that I hand’t for months.” “This isn’t just an unkind attitude, it does us harm, because it stops us from learning that disaster happens, and how to adapt when it does. It stops us from reaching out to people who are suffering. And, when our own disaster comes, it forces us into a humiliated retreat, as we try to hunt down mistakes that we never made in the first place.” “I simply had no defence against the changes that were happening in my life.” “Life never does quite offer us those simply happy endings. I often that that it’s all part of my own craving: the moral clarity of cause and effect, reward and punishment for my actions. A map for living that renders everything explicable.” “All her desires were for elemental things: love, a little comfort, the society of interesting people. Everyday life is so often isolated, dreary, and lonely. A little craving is understandable. A little craving might actually be the rallying cry for survival.” “I love the inconvenience [of snow] the same way that I can sneakingly love a bad cold: the irresistible disruption to mundane life, forcing you to stop for a while and step outside of your normal habits.” “In autumn, the male drones are sacrificed because they’re no longer of any use, and would otherwise just be hungry mounts to feed.” “Our lives take different shapes: we do not work in a linear progression through fixed roles like the honeybee. We are not consistently useful to the world at large. We talk about the complexity of the hive, but human societies are infinitely more complex, full of choices and mistakes, periods of glory and seasons of utter despair. Some of us make highly visible, elaborate contributions to the whole; some of us are just part of the ticking mechanics of the world, the incremental wealth of small gestures. All of it matters. All of it weaves the wider fabric that binds us.” “We may sometimes drift through years in which we feel like a negative presence in the world, but we come back again, not only restored, but bringing more than we brought before: more wisdom, more compassion, a greater capacity to reach deep into our roots and know that we will find water.” “Usefulness, in itself, is a useless concept when it comes to humans. I don’t think we were ever meant to think about others in terms of their use to us.” “We flourish on caring, on doling out love.” “Winter is a time for the quiet arts of making: for knitting and sewing, baking and simmering, repairing and restoring our homes.” “We sing because it fills our lungs with nourishing air, and lets our heart soar with the notes we let out. We sing because it allows us to speak of love and loss, delight and desire, all encoded in lyrics that let us pretend that those feelings are not quite ours.” “As I walk, I remind myself ot the words of Alan Watts: ‘To hold your breath is to lose your breath.’ In The Wisdom of Insecurity, Watts makes a case that always convinces me, but which I always seem to forget: that life is, by nature, uncontrollable. That we should stop trying to finalize our comfort and security somehow, and instead find a radical acceptance of the endless, unpredictable change that is the very essence of this life. Our suffering, he says, comes from the fight we put up against this fundamental truth: ‘Running away from fear is fear, fighting pain is pain, trying to be brave is being scared. If the mind is in pain, the mind is in pain. The thinker has no other form than his thought. There is no escape.” “The future, to which we devote so much of our brainpower, is an unstable element, entirely unknowable.” “When we endlessly ruminate in these distant times, we miss extraordinary things in the present moment. They are, in actual fact, all we have: the here and now; the direct perception of our senses.” “I’m beginning to think that unhappiness is one of the simple things in life: a pure, basic emotion to be respected, if not savoured. I would never dream of suggesting that we should wallow in misery, or shrink from doing everything we can to alleviate it; but I do think it’s instructive. After all, unhappiness has a function: it tells us that something is going wrong. If we don’t allow ourselves the fundamental honesty of our own sadness, then we miss an important cue to adapt. We seem to be living in an age when we’re bombarded with entreaties to be happy, but we’re suffering from an avalanche of depression; we’re urged to stop sweating the small stuff, and yet we’re chronically anxious. I often wonder if these are just normal feelings that become monstrous when they’re denied. A great deal of life will always suck. There will be moments when we’re riding high, and moments when we can’t bear to get out of bed. Both are normal. Both, in fact, require a little perspective.” “We need friends who wince along with our pain, who tolerate our gloom, and who allow us to be weak for a while when we’re finding our feet again. We need people who acknowledge that we can’t always hang on in there; that sometimes, everything breaks.” “I recognized winter. I saw it coming (a mile off, since you ask), and I looked it in the eye,. I greeted it, and let it in. I had some tricks up my sleeve, you see. I’ve learned them the hard way. When I started feeling the drag of winter, I began to treat myself like a favoured child: with kindness and love. I assumed my needs were reasonable, and that my feelings were signals of something important.” “We tend to imagine that our lives are linear, but they are in fact cyclical. I would not, or course, seek to deny that we grow gradually older, but while doing so, we pass through phases of good health and ill, of optimism and deep doubt, of freedom and constraint.”

#winter #books #quotes #katherine may

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years ago

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December 20, 2020 - Today Is The Fourth Sunday of Advent

The First Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians, iv. 1-5.

Brethren: Let a man so account of us as of the ministers of Christ, and the dispensers of the mysteries of God. Here now it is required among the dispensers, that a man be found faithful. But to me it is a very small thing to be judged by you, or by man’s day; but neither do I judge my own self. For I am not conscious to myself of any thing, yet am I not hereby justified; but He that judgeth me, is the Lord. Therefore judge not before the time; until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts; and then shall every man have praise from God. - by Bishop Ehrler, 1891

“Prepare ye the way of the Lord.” (Luke 3: 4).

The whole season of Advent is a time of preparation for the coming of our Redeemer. “Prepare ye the way of the Lord!” It is divine faith, my dear brethren, which prompts this preparation; and heavenly hope, which encourages us to keep the Commandments, in spite of all obstacles which our evil inclinations oppose thereto; and to walk steadfastly in the way of salvation. But, since this path is, for the most part, rough, difficult, and repulsive to our natural desires, it is the all-powerful love of God alone, which can make all the crooked paths straight, and all the rough ways plain. If men would but love the Lord, their highest Good, with all their hearts, with all their souls, and with all their minds, they would easily overcome all obstacles, here below, and without doubt, would hereafter, “see the salvation of God;” that is, they would enjoy for all eternity, the Beatific Vision of Him Who is the delight of heaven and earth, our first beginning and our last end. My dearest Christians, I implore you, then, to love this Holy One Who is most loving, most lovely, and most perfect in all His attributes. Love the Lord, your God,

I. With your whole hearts, that is, with your whole understanding; II. With your whole souls, that is, with your whole will; and III. With your whole minds, that is, with all your memory. I. Human understanding acknowledges that God is most worthy of our love:

1. Because He is the essence of all good; and 2. Because all His works are infinitely great. 1. Knowledge of a good is essential to a love of it. No matter how precious a thing may be, if we do not know its value, we do not love it. God, it is true, is so far above us, my brethren, that we cannot fully comprehend His being or perfections. “What do you imagine God to be?” asks St. Augustine. “Whatever image you form of Him, is not correct; for He would not be God, if you could comprehend Him.” Nevertheless, the knowledge of Himself which God imparts to His creatures, is in proportion to their love for Him. No truer conception can be formed of the Deity, than that which regards and worships Him as the highest, most desirable, and everlasting Good; a good which may be, indeed, admired, but never comprehended by any of His creatures.

2. Man has been favored from the beginning, with the most wonderful revelations of the Deity. “The heavens show forth the glory of God (Ps. 18: 2).” He, it is, of Whom the Apostle says, “Of Him, and by Him, and in Him, are all things (Rom. 11: 36).” When we contemplate this great universe in which we live, we may form some idea of the majesty and grandeur of the Creator. “He manifests His inestimable power,” says St. Bernard, “in the creation of such numerous, great, various, and splendid things.” His marvelous wisdom is displayed in that matchless order which regulates everything above, below, and in the center of the earth. When we reflect upon the aim and exalted destiny of all created things, we can not sufficiently admire the goodness of God nor the wonderful beauties and benefits of creation in which even the most ungrateful have a share. By these, and similar considerations, we must endeavor as much as possible, my brethren, to grow in the knowledge of God. And this knowledge must certainly beget in our souls, a true and lasting love of God.

II. To love God with our whole souls, the will must be ready.

1. To fulfill all the commandments of God, and 2. To do this in adverse, as well as in agreeable, circumstances. 1. God says to man; “My son give Me thy heart (Prov. 23: 26).” What does this mean, dear Christians? Nothing else but to do God’s will, as He Himself explains: “I have found David, the son of Jesse, a man according to my own heart, who shall do all my will (Acts 13: 22).” “Remain in My love,” says our Saviour to His disciples; “If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love; as I always have kept my Father’s commandments, and do remain in His love (John 15: 9, 10).” The commandment of love, “is the greatest and first commandment of the law (Matth. 22: 38),” yea, it is, as St. Paul declares it to be, “the fulfilling of the law (Rom. 13: 10).” He that truly loves God will certainly keep His commandments; but he that does not keep his commandments, shows thereby that he has no love for God. If divine love is present in a soul, it is sufficient; but if every thing else is present, except charity, all else is of no account.

2. It is not enough to perform the will of God or obey His commands in certain circumstances agreeable to the Christian. Man’s will must be submissive to that of God in all circumstances. “Who then shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation? or distress? or famine? or nakedness? or danger? or persecution? or the sword? In all these things, we overcome, because of Him that hath loved us (Rom. 8: 35, 37).” What did not St. Paul, in common with all the other Apostles, suffer for Christ? Love assuaged all their pains, and sweetened all their tribulations. “Jacob served seven years for Rachel: and they seemed but a few days, because of the greatness of his love (Gen. 29:20)”; although that ancient patriarch acknowledges himself that: “Day and night was I parched with heat, and with frost, and sleep departed from my eyes (Gen. 31: 40).” According to the testimony of St. Bernard, “where true love exists, labor ceases to be a burden, and the lover finds a joy in the severest toil.” St. Chrysostom says, that an ardent lover often dies for his beloved, although, after death, he can expect no return from her. O, what an outrage! Man is willing and eager to do more for the love of a miserable, perishable creature, than for the love of his living God! How often, alas! my brethren, do we voluntarily turn our backs upon Him without even the excuse of a fear of death!

III. We love God with our memory

1. When we constantly recall the recollection of His past graces and benefits, and 2. When we occupy our thoughts with those which we yet hope to receive from Him in the future. 1. Love always demands a return of love. “I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore have I drawn thee, taking pity on thee (Jerem. 31: 3).” Mighty and manifold are the evidences of His love which God has manifested in His works. “Remember, man!” says St. Augustine, “that once thou hadst no being, but that now thou hast begun to live; and for this, thou hast to thank God.” “Thy hands have made me and formed me,” says the Psalmist (Ps. 118: 73). “Yes, thou hast made me,” man might exclaim, “only a little less than the Angels!” “Thou hast crowned him with glory and honor; and hast set him over the works of Thy hands (Ps. 8: 6, 7).” And St. Paul adds his testimony to this universal chorus of divine praise and love: “But God commendeth His charity toward us: because when as yet we were sinners, according to the time, Christ died for us (Rom. 5: 8, 9).” Let us not ask, dear Christians, with the ancient Prophet: “Why then is Thy apparel red, and thy garments like theirs that tread in the wine-press?”–for Christ answers, with a pathos and tenderness that might melt the very hardest heart: “‘I have trodden the wine-press alone (Isai. 63 : 2, 4).’ I have suffered for you, I have agonized for you, I have shed the last drop of my blood, all out of pure love for you, my poor unworthy children!” Does not such love deserve–shall it not, this day, elicit an ardent and sincere return of love?

2. What shall I render to the Lord, for all the things that He hath rendered to me?” cries the grateful Psalmist (Ps. 115: 12). To me! You see, my dear brethren, that here there is question of personal favors done the royal David. Apart from all those past benefits which are common to the whole human race, let us, (following his example), consider those particular blessings which we daily receive; the grace of Baptism and faith, the grace of vocation, the grace of God’s longsuffering patience in our regard, the grace of conversion, of the frequent remission of our sins, all our daily inspirations from heaven, etc. O, Lord! what shall I render to Thee for all these things? “He hath not done in like manner to every nation (Ps. 147: 20).” “He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me up on the water of refreshment (Ps. 22: 2).” “Unless the Lord had been my helper; my soul had almost dwelt in hell (Ps. 93: 17).” Ask yourselves, this hour, my brethren,–each one of you in the secret of your soul: What return can I make for all these benefits? And I will reply to you in the name of God: The only acceptable one of love. He requires nothing but what He Himself has commanded: Thou shall love the Lord thy God.”

Peroration.–Knowing clearly this commandment and the most perfect method of fulfilling it, let us, therefore, love the Lord our God with our whole heart, with our whole soul, and with all our mind. The very thought of such a precept should overwhelm us with humility and reverential gratitude. “My God!” exclaims St. Augustine, “who am I in comparison to thee, that thou shouldst command me to love Thee? Thou threatenest, and art angry when I do not love Thee! Thou promisest me a great reward for loving thee. Where, then, is my love for thee? What pleasure or gratification dost thou find in me?” What king says to his subject: “Let us be friends, and, as a reward, I will give you a whole province?” Not to our own merits, but to the ineffable goodness of God, are we indebted for all our blessings. He wishes to be loved, and He, alone, is most worthy of our love. How foolish then, are we, when we do not love Him! O most amiable God! from this time forward, we will love thee with our whole heart, and with our whole soul, and with our whole mind. By this love, shall we overcome all the difficulties of this life; all that is crooked in us shall be made straight, all that is rough in us shall be made plain. And, in the end, we “shall see the salvation of God,” and love and praise thee for all eternity! Amen.

#fourth sunday of advent

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darrencrissarmy · 5 years ago

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Darren Criss

You have been working with Ryan Murphy for a really long time now. How has the collaboration grown in these years? Have you guys gotten into a shorthand?

I think just by nature of him inviting me to be a producer on here was definitely a step of me growing up a little bit. I can’t take a whole lot of credit for this show, we had a dinner where I didn’t intentionally pitch what would become this show, we were just talking about 1940s Hollywood, which I neither invented or created.

Hollywood in the '40s is a genre that — and I say genre, not just a period because it is so full of mythology and lore that we all love so much. It’s kind of up there with sci-fi and fantasy. It has its own kind of world. So we were just riffing on that.

By the time he sold the show after we were kind of just brainstorming, he sold it within a day or two. And then afterwards, he just asked me if I wanted to be an executive producer. And I said, 'are you sure? That is very kind of you, but I understand that this will be your thing and I don’t want to be too big for my britches.'

And of course he was like, 'you are an idiot, of course take it.' I say that because I was very appreciative, I think of the goodwill that he gave to me because he knew that it was something that were kind of piecing together.

But I definitely didn’t write the script or anything. He was very gracious to include me on the sort of very preliminary creative steps and was very open to my input and he was very receptive to that stuff. So there’s a shorthand in so far as I have learned to, he is the busiest man in Hollywood, so I try and keep it short and sweet and concise and I try not to be too big for my britches. It’s the Ryan thing and when in doubt, let him take the lead and I am just happy to be invited.

Your character is also half-Filipino, just like yourself. Talk about how much you can relate to your character.

You have been around in my life in a much more Filipino capacity than others. It’s a huge part of my background. But it wasn’t until the past few years where the idea of being white passing or the idea of a part of your identity being unrecognized was ever really a concept to me.

I think it was made clear because there are so many people, either from the Filipino community or other historically marginalized groups, that kind of gave me the term of, 'oh you are white passing.' And I never thought of that because my whole life, I just was me.

I knew I was Filipino, my dad was white, it was what it was. And so I never thought of that as an internal conflict or an issue until honestly working on “Versace.” It was a conflict for Andrew because it was something that he tried to hide because he was ashamed and he didn’t want to be different, whereas the villain in this scenario is less the self and more, the main antagonist of this show is the '1940s and the suppression and repression that comes from the time itself.

I am happy to say I don’t relate because I have never really felt slighted in any way because of my background. I am very lucky in that way. I have always felt very supported and welcomed and that’s just a lot of luck and I am very grateful in my life for the people who have given me that.

But somebody like Raymond, he sees this as a reason to kind of start this social justice crusade. You know what, he’s just like Ryan Murphy in the sense that there are things about him that he has had to fight through and accept as a young closeted man from a small town in Indiana, growing up to own the things that he was insecure about and using them to his advantage and in so doing, breaking down the walls for other people that were also in the shadows.

So I think there’s a lot of Ryan Murphy in Raymond, who looks at film and television as a way to push culture forward and to be an advocate for the underdog.

It was great for you to get into old time Hollywood. But facing the problems we are living in today, how do you envision the future of the movie industry? How can we reopen the space in the cinema while protecting and keeping people safe?

Oh gosh, I am definitely the last authority on this matter. I am just as interested in that question as I think all people are in the entertainment business. I don’t know what the answer is but I do know that after we make it out of this, I think we are going to reevaluate a lot of systems that have been in place for several decades, if not a full millennia.

So I love the big joke that once we started going into quarantine, I saw something going around about now we all know which meetings really could have just been an email. So there are a lot of things where we go okay, we really don’t have to do it this way. And times of chaos make you reevaluate systems. I mean personally, I am a fan of the cinema, I will always be a fan, I think it’s because I am a theater person.

What is the first thing I am going to do when I am out of this? I am going to go to the bars, I am going to go to my piano bar, I am going to get really close to people, and I am probably going to make out with everybody at my bar, frankly.

I mean I just want to be with people, I enjoy the catharsis of communicating, of experiencing things with strangers in a fun — that is what entertainment does, it brings us together.

And even though we are brought together in our homes, there’s something so magical and eternal about sitting in a room and in real time feeling people and hearing people laughing or crying and realizing, oh they are feeling what I am feeling. That’s one of the sort of nuclei of the human experience is getting to do it together.

So I hope that cinemas can reopen soon, however given the priorities of human necessity, I should hope that it isn’t the absolute first thing that needs to happen, I say that to my own chagrin, I work in entertainment and I work in the theaters.

Obviously I would love this to happen but only when it is safe for the world at large. But I think no matter what, human beings will always find a way, even though we always say, 'oh, we are on our phones, everyone is so disconnected, look at all the kids, they are on their phones,' human beings inevitably always find a way to get together in person. It is inevitable and I wholeheartedly believe that.

What does the word Hollywood evoke for you? What is the first image, the first sound, the first memory that comes to your mind if I say Hollywood?

It is such a huge concept because I didn’t think, it wasn’t until I moved to Los Angeles that I even realized that it was a place.

I think for so many people, it’s a concept. To go to Hollywood is so much bigger than the sign and the place and the industry, it’s a mantra of sorts to people. So Hollywood to me was the entertainment industry.

I think there are people who aren’t even in the entertainment industry that refer to Hollywood as going big, going for broke, the big dream, the classic great white somewhere.

It’s always meant a whole lot. I mean it’s hard for me to disassociate it from the Hollywood sign and my own career. But gosh it’s an interesting question, it’s just all the things, it’s dreams and it’s the dream factory. For me, all of us having dreams as kids and wanting to work in the entertainment industry, you hear the world Hollywood and it’s exciting, it’s this eternal exciting Mount Olympus that you hope you get to visit. And I have been lucky enough to be granted access and I am still waiting for them to kick me out.

#darren criss #hollywood netflix #ryan murphy #fil-am #fil-am representation

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jadelotusflower · 4 years ago

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September Roundup

So it wasn’t a very productive month, writing wise. I think I wrote less than 1000 words due to various RL issues (a shoulder impingement giving me grief among other things). I can’t entirely blame that, but nor am I going to dwell. It’s my birthday tomorrow, and while I’m having the usual existential crisis about another year slipping by almost unnoticed and without significant accomplishment, I am resolved to return to my novel and get at least the first draft finished by the end of the year. We’ll see how that goes.

In the meantime, I’ve at least been reading more. I’ve also consumed too much film/tv instead of writing, but hey.

The Testaments by Margaret Atwood - the long-awaited sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale, this was an engrossing read, if perhaps not what people were expecting. While I agree with some of the criticism, I really enjoyed this book.

Like the original novel, it takes the form of primary sources from the rule of Gilead, in Aunt Lydia’s secret chronicle, and “witness testimony” from two young women - one who grew up within Gilead, and the other outside. It’s fairly obvious from the beginning who they are, but I’ll avoid spoilers. Events become a little convenient towards the end, but it’s a great improvement on the tv show’s third season where things just became ludicrously easy and consequence free. I don’t think Atwood will ever write again in this world, but there is still so much to explore and I hope she does.

Henry VIII and the Men Who Made Him by Tracy Borman - As far as Tudor biographies go, there’s nothing much new here, but it is an interesting character study of Henry VIII through the men who had the greatest influence on him, especially as a young despot in the making. Through this lens it really does become just so shockingly clear that with a few exceptions, almost everyone of importance in Henry’s life goes through the same cycle of being built up, brought close, and rewarded, but then cast aside or crushed by his unchallenged power and narcissism - and often on very flimsy pretext.

Top End Wedding - I love a romcom, and this was really charming - it’s now on Netflix so I highly recommend. Starring and co-written by Miranda Tapsell, and directed by Wayne Blair (who also directed The Sapphires - a must see if you haven’t), it’s a film that shows great love to classic American and British romcoms (and the tropes are all there), but also uniquely Australian (Tapsell and Blair are both Indigenous, and care was taken to liaise with the Aboriginal communities where filming took place to ensure that proper approvals were given and and respect paid to the traditional owners). The backdrop of the Northern Territory is just beyond gorgeous, and this just the kind of heartwarming fare needed in these Trying Times (TM).

Bill and Ted Face the Music - As is this! I’ve loved the first two Bill and Ted movies since I was a kid, and was so happy that they’ve finally completed the trilogy. Look, it’s not high art, and you’d be forgiven for thinking this is just another cash grab off the sequel-reboot merry go round, but this was made with such clear love and affection for the originals that I just don’t care.

Here’s the thing: I hate an unnecessarily reboot as much as the next person - I don’t think there’s any point remaking something unless you have something new to say about the material. I also hate the “bleakquel” - where the only idea to follow up the original material is to tear it down just to rebuild it the same but without the heart (looking at you Star Wars). However, I am a sucker for the follow up/sequel just to catch up with those characters you love and see how they’re doing 10, 20, 30 years later. It’s familiar, it’s comforting, and sometimes that’s all it needs to be. Really, that’s all B&T FTM is, but I was perfectly satisfied by it.

Maybe there’s nothing more this film has to say than Be Excellent to Each Other (again), but honestly that’s a message I think we all need right now. There’s of course more to it than that - for the first time, we see a Bill and Ted who have become disillusioned that despite mastering so many different forms of music, they haven’t found The Song that will align the planets and bring out world peace etc, despite their most valiant attempts (That Which Binds Us Through Time: The Chemical, Physical and Biological Nature of Love: An Exploration of the Meaning of Meaning, Part 1 is a neat joke but also a legitimate banger complete with throat singing, a theremin, and bagpipes). And SPOILERS: In the end they discover honestly the only possible answer: that The Song itself doesn’t matter, it’s the world united through music, playing together, that brings everything into balance.

Does all the time travel work within the established rules of the universe? Not really - we see alternate Bill and Teds of the future without any explanation of alternate timelines. Are Samara Weaving (as Thea Preston) and Brigette Lundy-Paine (as Billie Logan) essentially doing impression of Winters and Reeves? Sure, but they are so charming that I don’t care.

Now, there are some obvious holes - covid made reshoots/pickups impossible so the opening “where are they now” montage got nixed, there was clearly more story for Elizabeth and Joanna (”the Princesses”) that is sadly missing, and the ending is very abrupt, but circumstances being what they are I can see why they decided to work with what they had and release the film, which is an antidote to the current, depressing state of the world, and at least in my view, a worthy third and final part of the Bill and Ted trilogy. (But I wouldn’t say no to a time-travel through music history show with Billie and Thea).

Disclosure (dir. Sam Feder) - a fantastic documentary exploring the representation of trans people in film and television, which sadly has often vacillated between lack of representation to misrepresentation, but with hope that things are slowly improving. A really worthwhile watch.

Enola Holmes (dir. Harry Bradbeer) - Twas charming! I hadn’t read (or even heard of) the YA books this is based on, and am uninterested in Stranger Things, but found this very entertaining and Millie Bobby Brown delightful in the title role. There was also a nice balance in the supporting cast, in that they resisted the urge to stack the decks too high in Enola’s favour, or make all the characters around her completely incompetent so she’s only heroic by default. She is clever and accomplished, but also finds that practicing jiu-jitsu is very different to an actual fight against someone trying to kill her.

Fleabag (seasons 1-2) - I never want to be too harsh on movies or tv that have been hyped to the heavens, because expectations are always too high and are rarely met. I liked this show, but did find all the smug asides and looks to camera a little grating in the first season. I enjoyed the second season a lot more, because while Fleabag was still a screw up, she wasn’t stealing money from her date’s wallet level terrible, so there was more of an emotionally satisfying arc (+ Andrew Scott who is always great), and I felt the humour was pitched a bit better. Olivia Coleman was the standout for me (isn’t she always?) as the Godmother, whose smiling, passive-aggressive villainy was masterful and worth watching for that alone.

Lucifer (seasons 1-2) - This show has crossed my tumblr dash for years, but I’m not really fond of crime procedurals. I am fond of mythology so seeing as the whole thing’s now on Netflix I decided to give it a go, and I have to say I am intrigued by the concept of the devil as a wayward son whose punishment for rebelling against God was to spend eternity punishing others, rather than straight-up evil incarnate. So far the procedural side of things is ho hum, but I am enjoying the mythology side, and Tom Ellis is very very handsome. I’m also pleasantly surprised at the number of female characters in the main and supporting cast and their treatment - they are actually allowed to talk and be friends with one another. Can you believe?!?

#roundup #personal #reading watching writing #september roundup

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keagan-ashleigh · 4 years ago

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Ooooh damn, I just watched the finale (couldn't watch it live, had to wait a little bit, that's why I wasn't on Tumblr yesterday and today, I know better than login in when they're is an absolute certainty to get spoiled). I am such a mess right know, I am crying my heart out for real, sobbing and sobbing.

Sure it wasn't exactly the ending I was hoping for. But it's okay. I was telling it the other day my hope about getting a destiel happy ending was actually real low because I am disillusioned and Jensen's acting in episode 18 screamed that it was a definite goodbye to Castiel, his tears and lack of fire reaction he always had when Sam or Cas died and was fighting to get them back, it was just so solemn, it was telling "this time there is no defying death", so that's really what was getting my hope low. And at some point I saw Misha's post saying something around the lines of "you did that guys", I knew he wasn't in the episode, so I made my peace with not having my ideal ending before hitting play.

I expected Dean to die (just not like that, to be honest) because Jensen told that he wasn't feeling ok with his ending and knowing the context about lgbt representation (I didn't think they were going to give us a canon destiel, I was hoping for it but I know most shows don't do that and that Supernatural wasn't going to be different on that end) I sort of knew it wasn't to be Dean and Castiel flying away, the only logical and probable explanation was that Dean died. But I did wanted Castiel to just be there, if not on earth then in heaven. I didn't even mind if they weren't going to be romantically together, I just wanted them to be together. They didn't. They didn't go the extra mile, but I know how it is, despite great show being more inclusive I know there is so little shows willing to go that extra mile, so no, I wasn't expecting it, I was hoping that maybe, you know.

I wanted so much more than such a fast ending for him and for Castiel, it was disappointing on that point, yet I feel like it's ok. I wasn't even expecting the show to make Castiel speak of his love for Dean, to make him gay, they delivered more than I was hoping for just a week ago. It's not perfect, it's not ideal, but it's ok. They still ended it the way that was right for Dean and Sam, the first being at peace with himself and the world, feeling loved and deserving of happiness, the ultimate happiness that is heaven, with the certainty of an eternity spent with the people he loved, minus Cas (but I will headcanon them reuniting cause if he helped reshape heaven that means that he is ok, that Jack brought him back from the empty), resting at last, him the soldier who could never stop fighting, it fits him well that in the end he stopped, because it was right; the latter having the life he dreamed of, with normalcy, a family, a dog, a steady and fufilling life, before finding back his brother in heaven.

I understand what Jensen meant. It doesn't feel right at first, no he can't go like that, so fast, so miserably, but then it feels appropriate and respectful of who the character had been for 15 seasons. He deserved heaven, he deserved rest, he deserved self love. Sam deserved a life. We never hoped for less for those characters, so yes we may feel robbed because we didn't imagined it like this. But it was nonetheless beautiful and right.

The finale felt not epic, no big fight, not a super dramatic way of dying in comparison to every over death they got us used to in this show, but they did got an epic finale in episode 19, this was way more intimate and I think it's exactly what it needed to be.

I just wished they went the extra mile with Cas, I wish they just brought him back. My only disappointment was that they didn't bring him back at all. But I can't complain because him finding happiness in loving and sacrificing for Dean was in character, even though it would have been better if he could have just been around more. Being with humans, with Sam and Dean, then being a father for Jack, taught him so much about love, he learned to be free, to stand for himself and for the ones he love, so, it's not actually the worst way to end his character arc. I know people are disappointed, I understand why, I am not 100% happy I this ending either,but it was a logical end for his character, if not the perfect ending for him. It still makes sense, no matter how wrong it does feel from our perspective.

So, in the end, I am not disappointed. I am not angry at them for not making destiel canon. They actually gave way more than what I was ever hoping for with that show and with television in general.

They changed the game. If I am not mistaking destiel is the first ship that was so iconic that if you ask people to tell you about fandom and shipping Supernatural and destiel pop into minds, I personally can't think of any ship prior to the show that has been so visible in and outside the realm of fandom, perhaps in Star Trek, but at the time fandoms were a discreet thing, it wasn't at the same level of visibility. They changed the fandom experience, fans and cast, outside and inside the show by acknowledging fandom and paying it their respect, they changed the fandom experience.

They left an imprint because the fandom has been so important that it gave the very loud and clear message "this is what we want, we want you to make efforts to give a better representation". I'm not saying it is just spn that has had this impact, this wouldn't be fair to all the other shows that were making efforts, I don't know all of them but this is the first time that a gay ship is so iconic that you know about it even if you don't even watch the show. I remember what tv shows looked like around 2005, I was 17 back then, there was that dynamic het hero and het love interest and even though shows were progressing, they weren't flirting that much with the idea of two male leads being in a romantic dynamic and they weren't giving two shits about their fandom and about acknowledging their importance and the importance of their work to enrich the whole experience. SPN went the extra mile for that period's standard, that is something we can't brush away.

That doesn't mean we can't criticise the queerbaiting, of course not, it doesn't mean we got to praise it no matter what, I don't say they were perfect, they weren't and they are to blame on some levels, that just means that no matter what, Supernatural changed the dynamic in television. Shipping existed before but never before was it so much vocal and present outside the secrecy of fandoms. We owe them to recognize the good they indeed did. They really did way more than 90% of the shows out there, especially from shows that started around mid 00's, in terms of representation and in terms of allowing fandom, and especially fanwork, to be respected. I'm not saying we owe only to Supernatural the fact that more and more shows give us better representation and respect, I am saying that they had a significative influence. We have to look at what was television and fandom before to really see what drastically changed thanks to that show and some others.

They didn't go all the way to making it canon but they did something spectacular in delivering a bit of what we were asking for. I wasn't expecting them to ever acknowledging destiel on screen at all. They did. And I was gobsmacked because I never thought they would. They have turned some of the queerbaiting into foreshadowing, and that my dudes is huge. Yes there is job to do to get rid of the kill your gays and making more than half of the ship canon, but they've set a standard. From such an iconic show to make that step is sending a message. I know other shows have canon gay ships, maybe Supernatural showrunners got inspired by them, but despite the fact I love those show dearly and passionately we have to recognize they aren't having the same cultural imprint that Supernatural is having.

This is in the end let's say, not satisfying because they could have been even more progressive and even more right to the characters, but it is progress, and it is right to the characters. And I am happy for it. I am not mad. This is not meaningless.

I can't express how thankful I am for this show that has been such a comfort in my life, a show that has introduced me to the world of fandoms, a show that has brought me so much joy and relief from life, a show that has been there to give me a sense of being part of a community, a show that has introduced me to the concept of shipping, a show that has actually taught me a lot about bisexuality and introduced to the lgbt community, a show that taught me about deserving love and to be true to myself, a show that has inspired me as a writer, as a person, a show that has held my hand for 15 long years. I can't be mad. I can't feel resentment because my ship isn't canon, because in the end they told me it was right to write my own story about the characters and that I was right to believe in it. I can't be mad at this ending even though I wished it was different, because it still is a respectful goodbye, and it feels like they told me "that's okay". I can go now. I can turn this page and start to write another one. They have changed me, they have helped me become the person I am today, I learned so much through those characters.

I owe them a thank you, a billions of thank yous, not a "you could have done better".

So, that is how I feel. I understand people are unhappy and it is important that we address what is wrong with it, but I think we should be grateful for everything they did delivered during those 15 years, and they delivered... so much.

#i am in tears #i will miss the show so much #i will miss the cast so much #I hope they get a long and fulfilled carrier after that because they deserve it so much #farewell supernatural #supernatural spoilers #spn spoilers #my posts #spoilers #spn last season #spn #supernatural #spn season 15 #supernatural season 15 #supernatural finale #destiel

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hunnyuwu · 4 years ago

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Connected // Pt.1 || NCT 127

Summary: Humanity has reduced down to a dystopian wasteland. Women disappear daily, civilians now rely on physical modifications and nodes to feel alive, and the concept of civilization is a far cry from their current state. While the one who reigns supreme is the puppeteer of societal affairs, will a small group of men be able to regain the humanity they once held so dearly when they were young? Or were the doomed for an eternal state of dreary, impoverished slums?

Genre: dystopian, cyberpunk, futuristic, angst, romance

WC: 2k

~ ~ ~

Part I : 008

"How are you feeling, 008?"

A small woman regained her consciousness as she was shaken from her delusional state. She always hated these examinations.

"I'm fine." She stated, wanting to do nothing more than pull the dumb wires and circuits out of her sore limbs. She waited patiently as the examiner in all white, wrote down a few bullet points on a small clipboard.

"You are done for the day, 008. Except, for visiting the girls and the head master, of course. Who will you visit first?"

The examiner assisted the girl with long, wavy black locks out of the machine's system, pulling out about a hundred thick and thin wires that were attached to separate areas of her small frame. The girl became impatient as the process was taking too long.

"I'll visit the girls first, then visit the head master. Thank you for your assistance, 375." 008 started ripping cords out, even if they did sting like no tomorrow, but she was finally free of her mechanical restraints, so that was a win in her book.

"Before you go, 008. I have a question for you."

008 started walking out of the room, but halted when 375 piqued her attention.

"What is it?"

"How have you lasted... here so long? When the others haven't?"

008 thought for a second before a simple little smirk grazed her lips, an odd sight to say the least.

"I think that is a question I will have to answer another day. See you tomorrow, 375." 008 gave a little bow to her companion, leaving the examination facility hastily. She always hated that place. Her 'skin' crawled every time she heard the place even mentioned, never forgetting her first experience in that wretched room.

"How are you, trainees?"

008 entered a large room within a smaller, pristine white building a little further away from the main compound. Why did everything have to be so white? It almost made her sick at the bleakness of it all.

"Good!" The girls all replied, turning their attention to the respected woman on the grounds. They all looked up to her, not only was she a top tier, but she has also maintained her position for years, a feat that only belonged to her. It's not like they wanted to be there, but if they wanted to hang onto a sliver of their lives, they might as well do what they do with dignity.

"What has been the progress for today? Any new recruits among you?" 008 stated sharply, picking up a pile of clean cut white papers, quickly grazing through reports of treatments, part changes, the usual business.

"Today, we have started weapons training, starting with the pulverizers."

008 quickly cut off the lead trainer of the recruits, her eyebrow quirking into a confused frown, "You started with the pulverizers? And how is that working out?" She stated lowly, a threatening growl laced through her simple question.

The trainer visibly gulped, nervous by 008's unrelenting strictness, "It's been..." She trailed off, her body freezing under 008's glare. There was no point in even continuing her report as 008 already knew the answer.

"We start with every day objects, 489. If these ladies can't defend or attack with the bare minimum, then there is no chance of survival for them outside of the barriers. In our world, high tech gadgets are nice, but sometimes there's no time for that. Now, get back to work. I know I've taught you better than this, 489."

489 nervously bowed to 008. Her cold, militarism attitude left her shuddering every time they interacted. She nonetheless had nothing but respect for 008, if you didn't respect her, she would make you do so.

"Good, I'll be leaving. I would like to hear better news tomorrow. Have a productive training, Ladies." 008 ducked, a ton of 'thank you's' and 'yes ma'am's' rung from around the room. 008 went to her next destination within the heart of the main complex. She knocked on a large golden door, a soft 'come in' allowed her to enter the large, gadget laced office.

008 came face to face with the back of a sleek, high-tech office chair, only allowing her to see the top of the head master’s balding scalp.

"Hello, Head Master. I have gone through my examinations and the check in with the girls. Was there something else you would like me to complete today?" She stated softly, her hands instinctively tucked in front of her torso as a courteous way of addressing him. His chair slowly spun around so that she could see the man that she has known for far too long now. The man she wanted to bury into the soil of the earth herself. That day would have to wait.

"Hello to you too, Dear. Please have a seat. You have had a long day." He purred, gesturing to the mini couch in front of his extravagant desk. 008 tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, complying to his wishes. She gently and gracefully took a seat in front of him, sitting exactly like she was taught so long ago.

He simply examined her physique as she stared at the ground. One of the most basic rules of interacting with the Head Master was to never look at him unless asked to do so.

"So, tell me. How have I been dealing with the resistance?"

"Is that something you would like my opinion on, Sir?" 008 stated gently as her back stiffened. He always asked her questions like these that she was afraid he was going to kill her for one of these days. It was only a matter of time she stepped out of line.

"I have always trusted your opinion, Dasom. That is why you have served me for so many years now."

008 gulped, hearing her name being spoken by the Head Master. A name he only allowed himself to call her. Was it endearment? Did he want to feel special to her? Was she particularly special to him? Yes, yes, and yes. She didn't know what his obsession was with her, but whenever he reminded her of her sheer withstanding permanence within the force, it made her heart drop to the floor. When would he finally pull the plug out of her?

She hummed, pondering his serious question, carefully plucking and choosing the precise words she would present to him, "Well, as you have heard, the resistance becomes larger and stronger, slowly but surely. I believe that you have deployed more units recently, Sir?"

He nodded, concentrating on every word she said, "Well, I believe that the increased influx of violence and push back is causing the resistance to attract more attention and following. I think it would benefit with you if you would not deploy more units, but instead, spy on their movements, waiting for the perfect moment to exterminate those who are discovered. They all have one another's backs, Sir, so spying on them would be beneficial to you." She sighed silently after spewing her thoughts. She always regretted giving him her strategic thoughts, she was simply too intelligent. While it helped her live this long, it also came with a great price.

He gave her an endearing smile, folding his aged hands down onto the table.

"Why won't you let me designate you as the tactician, Dasom?"

Dasom forced a smile, gritting her perfectly shaped teeth. She received this offer so long ago, but politely declined ever time, even though he continued to persist with the offer thereafter. She was lucky enough that he gave her a choice to begin with; others never, ever get choices around here.

"That position is above me, Sir. I am very grateful to continue assisting the new recruits through their training."

"Do you intend on betraying me, Dasom?" He said wistfully, walking over to the fully-glass wall that gave a perfect view of the whole city. The neon lights permanently illuminating his enormous accommodation on the highest floor of his personal skyscraper.

Dasom sucked air through her nose, eyes shooting wide. She didn't dare look over at him, not even with his back facing her.

"Never, Sir. I intend on staying loyal to you until the end of time."

"I've never trusted anyone as long as I have with you, and here you are, still beside me. You will continue to follow me until my empire crashes and burns, won't you Dasom?" He cooed, every word dripping with honey, but in actuality, was a constant threat that he inflicted on everyone who worked beneath him.

Dasom felt fear course her body for once, a feeling that she rarely felt. The Head Master simply trusted her too much in such an untrusting, back-stabbing world.

Dasom must survive at any cost.

"Yes, Sir. I will follow you until the very end of time itself."

~~~

"The streets are too quiet today."

"You didn't have to state something so obvious. Stop wasting your breath, Mark."

"Damn, okay then."

The shorter of the two mimicked the older by scrunching up her face and quietly restating what the other said. The two bickered for a little while, scoping their district from the top of a skyscraper with cameras and binoculars.

"Why do you think Taeyong has been so uptight lately?" The younger, Mark, lazily asked while bringing his binoculars up to his eyes, scanning the other side of the block.

"I'm not sure, but I sure as hell wouldn't ask him whatever you do. You know how he is whenever he is upset about something."

"Which is always."

The older gave a strict glare at Mark, but he payed no mind to it. The two were like brothers, but they could barely acted like it anymore; everything was becoming so tense so fast nowadays.

"Ah, he texted us to come back. Ready to go, Johnny?"

"Yep, lemme quickly pack up my shit real fast."

The two headed back to their underground compound, disguised as a zap shop above them. (will be explained later)

"S'up boys."

Mark said while throwing up an awkward peace sign, gaining the attention of a few who were doing various tasks within their underground mole hole. None of them gave a response.

"Oooookay then." Mark puckered his lips into a pout, going to the kitchen to look through their little to nonexistent food supply. They were become flesh and bone fast, so they were going to have to make a supply run soon.

"The streets are clear tonight." Johnny reported to Taeyong, who was going through some documents on his small table in the corner. He didn't believe in private offices, so they had one large common area where most of them did their work.

"Intriguing..." Taeyong muttered to himself, setting down a file that he had been going over and over. He ran a hand through his silver hair, biting his lip as he ushered Johnny to leave him alone.

"Taeyong, I have a letter for you."

Jungwoo happily walked over to the tired male, making said man always wonder how the younger could be so happy during such miserable circumstances they lived in.

"Thank you, Jungwoo." He sent him off before opening the small envelope.

“Who sends physical mail in this day and age?” Tarting whispered as he smoothed out the creases of the paper.

I miss you. I miss you to the point that I wish I could simply forget what you did to me. The hell that you couldn't even bother to save me from. But it's fine; it is easy to live and forget, right?

Love you to the end of time,

No, no it couldn’t be.

Taeyong threw the letter, hands quivering as he rolled his chair as far away from his desk as possible. The members in the common area were startled by Taeyong’s harsh reaction, jumping up in their spots respectively.

Taeyong shot up from his chair, body pin straight as he sneered down at the clean piece of paper limply sitting over his laptop keyboard. Emotions that he hadn’t felt in awhile flooded his system like a tidal wave and he didn’t know how to digest it at all.

He took one look at his members before bolting out of their grounds.

Doyoung was the first to react, cautiously walking over to the slip of paper that had their leader shaken up to the point that he literally left their site.

“What did Taeyong do?” Doyoung whispered to himself, feeling strangely upset by the letter of someone who he didn’t even know.

“And more importantly, who’s BD?”

~ ~ ~

Prologue || Part I || Part II

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