#i would remember if the situation of the nation was brought up´but

[maikissed]

the day I saw your eyes, I stayed

jude bellingham x reader

warnings: none, just a tad of sexual tension, yeah

note: there is going to be part 2! I planned to write the whole story in one shot but I gotta go to sleep now and was too excited about this rubbish (jk, I love it tbh). And he scored today, whoop sorry for any mistakes!!!!

Rose got herself a new boyfriend. The name brought up in presence of your girlfriends caused much of a fuss. It was a grand revelation and as much as it surprised you as well, you did not share the enthusiasm as every other girl in the room. Not because you felt envious, jealousy was never your thing, you rather grew worrisome. The excitation over the fact that Rose secured herself a football player of such range – famous, a hot topic, high quality player, one of the most valuable characters in the England national team, highly payed, and to add to that: uncommonly gorgeous - absolutely knocked your friends of their feet, but to you… To you it was a sign of massive trouble. People like him belonged to a world where individuals had their impeccable ways to draw from their fame, money and phenomenon as much as they could, despite the morality or ethics. Rose always mingled among various groups of people, there were musicians, actors, even politicians. She was a lovely girl, very pretty, her modelling career developed quickly, spectacularly. But she still haven’t made her name the way she aimed to. You suspected the boys she chose were always an occasion, a special addition to make her reach for more, to be seen, to feel special and unique. She was determined, regardless of the consequences, regardless of the fact how many times she has suffered and burned herself even almost to the point of absolute destruction. It felt awful to even reminisce it. But that’s how it’s been so far, it was the path she has chosen. Although this time this whole situation felt much different, there was a spark in her eyes that could tell you many things. But you would define it this way: she intended to hold onto him, she wanted to keep him. He seemed like the greatest prize. But who would have thought that the massive trouble you feared from the very start would be your burden to deal with?

Jude Bellingham.

Girls were over the moon when the time has come and Rose invited you all to join them in a private lounge in one of the most exclusive clubs in London. You scoffed when you heard the name of the place, you remembered the time when you and Lucia tried to sneak in there, but the bodyguard was too smart to fall for your theatrics. Only precisely selected people could party there. It was one of those grand and fancy places. So you found yourself invited, at last. Yet you weren’t very thrilled about the way you were about to spend your Saturday night. It turned out you would be the only single person there.

And him? The man, the hot topic himself? He was taller than you envisioned, maybe the hair added to that? His smile truly was bright, he was well built, broad shoulders, but not too muscular, well, he was an athlete. The Brummie dialect annoyed you at the start, but the itch seemed to cease as you payed attention to the tone of his voice, there was nothing particular about it, it was just right, good, not screechy, not too deep just… pleasant. He was an amiable guy, you thought to yourself, polite and friendly at the first contact. You realised you were a careful observer until he turned to you to greet. Now you were very much noticed, now you had to act as a part of the events, not a shadow and analyser. And situation very much changed. Time seemed to slow down so suddenly, you found yourself in the strangest state of unconsciousness, like a scene in a movie where the background blurs and any noise is muted, when the spectator is deprived of any other senses despite the sight to notice those specific details that are supposed to made him feel the sublimity of a given moment. And the source of it was in his eyes, you realised, and the way he smiled softly as he extended his hand to you. It was strange and disturbing, his eyes seemed to be the darkest ones you’ve ever seen, but you most definitely had seen eyes like his before, no doubt about it. You took a breath, blinked, fought to not fall into this depth that almost sucked you in. He was smiling, now something slightly impudent about it, and you realised he truly was stunningly gorgeous. Strangely, insanely attractive. Just a simple look into his eyes made you stumble into a realisation that there was something different about this man. And it frightened you.

You did say your name back, did you?

As the night went by you decided to stay in your attentive observer state. You felt safer there, although decency inquired you to engage in few conversations with your friends. Tonight you felt tense, carefully sipping the wine, you tried with all your might to relax and stop examining so intensely the boy seated opposite you. Few new conclusions you came into in the last hour was the fact that he was a great interlocutor, he listened as well, and his smile was one of the most pleasurable things you’ve experienced in your lifetime. You just couldn’t take your eyes off. And another conclusion was that him and Rose was nothing of exclusive. No lingering stares, no secret touches. After all, they met quite recently. She wondered if she bagged him already. And if so, would they all be there if she did? He did not seem like the kind to make such effort to get himself a girl he was not seriously interested in. Rose was not the type to act restrained and unavailable. She crawled into many beds the first night she met someone. You kept yourself far from casual hook-ups and one night stands, just a simple thought of it made you uncomfortable. But for her it was a common thing, if you could use such words. So, was he really interested?

After a while all of your friends decided to use the night to the fullest as the alcohol finally kicked in, rushing to the dancefloor and you truly couldn’t find the spur to join them. You were seriously thinking about taking a French leave. And you almost succeeded.

“You’re not enjoying yourself much, are you?” a well known voice reached you from behind and you turned your head in its direction.

Something in your gut jumped as you spotted Jude. He took a seat beside you. You smiled as his scent reached you, fresh, citrus with addition of something stronger and… alluring.

“I’ve had a long day. Tired, I guess” a safe and simple answer.

His full attention was on you, no one here to accompany you. It begun to feel overwhelming because you did not expected his gaze to be so intense.

“I know the feeling. Find myself in a constant state of weariness lately, cannot get rid of it” he played with his glass, the liquid looked like orange juice.

“Well, you live quite the fast and exciting life” you noted, observing as the corner of his mouth rose a little at your comment.

“Where are you from?” he asked, not continuing the subject you just raised.

“Here, London, born and raised” you smiled again before lowering your gaze, finding the glass of wine interesting “Became as gloomy and morose as this city”

“I wouldn’t describe you with such words” his voice was soft when he said it, something itched in you to ask what words would he use to describe you, but raising the glass of wine up to your lips saved you from that. You hoped you didn’t blush.

“My grandmother always says that I’m an old soul. Emphasizes it like it’s a virtue” you continued.

“That’s a very interesting thing to say about someone. Mine says that I’m a lovely companion although I use way too foul language and it’s scandalous” he frowned funnily and you laughed at the information, he quickly accompanied you.

“Well, I haven’t yet got the occasion to hear some of that tonight”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman” he murmured “It would be improper to throw fucks around in presence of a pretty girl” a lively glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

Now you definitely blushed.

The conversation flowed from there, and you realised you grew more comfortable with each passing minute. He truly was a great listener, and a good companion. He made you laugh many times and suddenly you stopped regretting leaving your apartment for this night out. He was not daft or arrogant as you might have presumed before you met him, being smothered by all this money he had and a name he’s gotten himself at such young age. The complexity of his persona could be spotted in his eyes as you payed closer attention, but it was his words and the way he picked on any subject you brought, that expressed his maturity and wide perception. You haven’t met a guy like him in a long time.

“What are you guys doing here? Come on down, join us!” it was Charlotte’s comment as she came to the longue after a while.

You haven’t even realised how much time has passed and how much alcohol you have already poured into yourself. You only picked on that as you stood up, dizziness hit you like lighting but you composed yourself, agreeing on Charlotte’s and then Jude’s proposition. As soon as you joined the dancefloor, Rose spotted you both, throwing her hands around Jude, guiding him deeper, keeping him closer. He kept his eyes on you as she did it and a strange feeling stroked you as you kept his gaze. Charlotte grabbed you by your hands, singing the words out loud, the song was energetic and lively, you laughed at your friend. Others from your pack nowhere to be seen. So you loosened up and tried to keep up with your drunk companion. The dancefloor became quite chaotic, people jumping around, your eyes landing on Jude from time to time and to your surprise he was looking your way as well. There was a lean and tall guy that jumped in front of Jude, almost stumbling over him and you laugh at that, seeing that Jude laughed as well, his attention still on you. You wanted to share this fun with him directly, but it was forbidden since the realest fact of this night was that he was not yours to have.

“I need to pee!” Rose shouted near you and you turned, watching as she grabbed Charlotte with her, leaving the dancefloor.

You stopped and decided to follow your friends but felt someone’s presence behind your back before you made any move.

“Now I can tell you’re enjoying your night!” Jude called next to your ear, this way you could hear him well despite the thumping music.

When you turned around you noticed how close he stood, you had to raise your head to look at his face, his big and dark eyes gazing down at you, full lips twisted into an amused smile. You returned the smile.

“You are a terrible dancer” you shouted back to him, your voice filled with laughter.

“That’s a fact” he nodded “But you’re quite good, show me more” he reached for your hips to draw you deeper into the dancefloor and you laughed out, throwing your head back as he lead you with him.

You have not payed much attention to the closeness of your bodies as long as the songs were quick and your movements kept rapidly changing with the rhythm. Still, you haven’t realised the sound slowing, a more sensuous song sounded from the loudspeaker, you knew this one. If the reason could break through the basses that reached your ears, you would finish your dance right this moment. But the fact was that it did not. So you continued, with your hands placed at his shoulders you begun to move your hips. Your eyes closed as you turned around, your back to him, he was not touching you, not directly. He took your hands in his and you started to raise it up in the air, you smiled when you felt his breath on your ear. Your joined hands stayed up longer, his on the other hand slowly trailed lower and lower, down your forearms, then your shoulders, then down your body. His touch sure yet lenient and soft at the same time electrified you. Carefully and attentively, making sure to not touch your breasts on the way, he rested them on your hips, feeling the rhythm you kept on. You were not sure if it was him that pressed on you or was it purely your movement, but your back met with his front fully, and a sharp intake of breath stuck in  your throat at the realisation. His hands still rested on your hips, making your body move with no pause. You were close, too close, you could already feel too much. But you found it difficult to part with him, to stop it and call it improper. Your eyes wide open but blind. You only focused on the sense of touch, feeling him moving with you. Your hands fell down to reach his head and then levelled on his nape and you kept them there. Feeling something growing inside of you, along with a rough shot of adrenaline that made your heart beat strongly against ribs. Once more his breath landed on your ear, close, closer. A strange sensation squeezed your throat and you realised you swallowed back a moan. It was like a rough strike, you turned around to face him, with intention to take a step back, but he held you closer, pressing his palm against your back. You sighed and met his eyes. Dark, darker. You wanted to run.

“Thank you for the dance” you said innocently and he watched the movement of your lips as you spoke.

A daring smirk appeared on his mouth and you shuddered. Were you trapped now?

You had to run. So you did.

[foone]

Random thought brought on by seeing a veterinarian sign on the drive to Coffee Land, but I think Jesus would really appreciate people localizing his parable of the Good Samaritan.

Because, like, it's a good story, right? When the administrator-guy and the holy man wouldn't help the injured, the Samaritan went out of their way to make sure the injured man was able to get the help they needed, paid out of their own pocket. And that's good and all, but what even is a Samaritan? Do you know?

Well, they're a ethnoreligious group from northern Israel who follow Samaritanism, which split from Judaism sometime around the 11th century BCE. There's only about a thousand of them left. But around the time of Jesus, they were not very popular with your average Hebrew. Remember the Seleucid empire that was oppressing jews? There's a yearly celebration about it, involving a candle that lasted for 8 nights. Yeah. So at the time the Samaritans had taken the opportunity to point out they're not Jewish, they're Samaritans, so they wouldn't be persecuted. So they were seen as, like, selling out their brothers and sisters in the faith. Then by the time the Romans took over the whole area, the province of Judaea contained Samaria.

So basically the Jews and the seen-to-have-sold-them-out Samaritans were stuck in the same province, thanks to some Romans consolidating the areas they'd conquered. Tensions between the two groups were high, and I don't imagine either of them liked each other very much at all.

To a Jew of the first century CE, a Samaritan is basically the worst kind of person you could be, and that's exactly why Jesus used them in the parable of the Good Samaritan!

The parable isn't about Samaritans. It's about how the worst person you can imagine is a better person than the people you idolize and uplift, if that person takes care of their fellow man. It's about how you should love your neighbor as yourself, and who is your neighbor? Everyone. All people are your neighbors. Help them when they need help!

And that's why I say it should really be localized. You should tell this parable differently than it was told in AD 29 or whenever. Do you hate Samaritans? Probably not! You probably barely know who they are, even after I did some explaining up there. So why use them as your example? If Jesus was here, I don't think he would have done that.

So like, if you were giving a sermon on the good Samaritan in the 1960s to a white church, you should be like "so the policeman walked past, and the pastor walked past, but then a poor black guy saw the injured man, and got him help at the local hospital."

In the 80s, his rescuer is Soviet. In the 2000s, they're a Muslim, from Afghanistan or Iran.

Today? Maybe they're trans.

As an American, there's been many times that "Mexican" would have been the best choice. Maybe even today, especially if you specifically make them an undocumented migrant.

But yeah, the point is that you pick the group of people most hated by the audience you're talking to, and make the point that THEY ARE A BETTER PERSON THAN YOU and ALL THOSE YOU UPHOLD AS PILLARS OF THE COMMUNITY if they help their fellow man. If your worst enemy is lying injured in the street, you call the ambulance, you pay their doctor, you get them help. That's what Jesus says you should do. That's loving your neighbor, that's the Great Commandment.

And in the Roman province of Judea back in the first half of the first century, when talking to a Jewish audience, that meant the rescuer was a Samaritan helping a Jew. That was just the context for that one particular telling of the story. It shouldn't be told the same way today, or in the future. It should be an evolving parable, always changing, always adjusting the nationalities and situations and genders and everything. It's not a story about a specific event, it doesn't pretend to be history, it's a metaphorical lesson about what makes you a good person.

This parable is basically in the form of an "X, Y and Z walk into a bar" joke, and just like jokes, it should be updated over time. Those don't stay funny though the decades, as cultural attitudes shift. And this parable hasn't been updated in nearly two millenia, so it's long overdue.

[toothfa-1-ry]

I WOULD HAVE REALLY LIKED DOING JUST LAUNDRY AND TAXES WITH YOU. -finnick odair

you and finnick wonder about what could have been

based on hunger games catching fire

you and finnick were not lovers, you could never be lovers

Simply because Panem was a country not built for love. It could harvest fear, hatred, anger, perhaps even hope by the looks of it but never love

despite these words, you find yourself resting against Finnick's shoulder at what seems to be the dead of night. Even though he was keeping watch, you choose to remain awake with him, alongside him.

"you should get some rest" finnick whispers but you don't reply, he takes your silence as your response, knowing better to fight against you

"never thought I'd be back here" he looks around the jungle, letting out a low whistle "it's just how I remember it, i still hate it"

The silence engulfs you both, it's obvious how the two of you were not the only ones who hated the situation. None of you had really thought you'd be back in the arena and surely none of you had hoped to

You look over at where Peeta and Katniss were asleep "you think they're really inlove?"

You both talk in low whispers, not wanting everyone else watching to hear your conversation

Finnick pauses, he thinks, "yes, I think so"

"really?" You give him a quizzical glance

"yea" Finnick pauses again "they just don't realise it"

You bite your lower lip, nodding your head "well then paint me green with envy" you mumble softly

Finnick locks eyes with you, confused, puzzles "why you say that?" His voice is ever so soft and gentle

"the entire nation is rooting for their love and turns out, they really are inlove" your words are simple but yet Finnick feels a pang in his chest. He notices the way you emphasize the word inlove.

It's obvious that if any of the other tributes, say namely finnick and you ever fall inlove, then Panem surely won't welcome this news with the same warmth as they did to Katniss and Peeta

You find yourself leaning even closer into Finnick, finding comfort in his warmth "if.." your words hang from your tongue, as if though you were unsure of your words

"if?" Finnick questions

"if things were different, would we have never met?" You hate the way your voice has a hint of desperation, slight confirmation

"you mean if the games never existed? If Panem was simply just another country?"

You nod too quickly, you realise.

"you'r crazy if you think that we'd never meet" there's a slight smile etched in his face "I'd go against the universe if it tried to keep me away from meeting you"

You hold your breath for a second, the same feeling blossoming in the pits of your heart, the same feelings you had always kept hidden in the pits of your heart.

Despite the complication in your chest you continue, ignoring the implications of his words

"universe?" You ask before you could stop yourself "you think there's a universe out there where none of this happens?" You refer to the war, the pain, the games.

"hey, it's you who brought up the topic not me" finnick quips, again silence befalls the both of you,

"if another universe existed" you continue, since you brought up the topic after all "I think you'd be an actor, I can't imagine you anything but ordinary" there's a smile in your voice, a tone of half teasing "you'd live in the limelight, adored by your fans all across the world"

He let's out a laugh "there's nothing this handsome face can't accomplish" finnick retorts, matching your tone, grinning "and you? I can't imagine you anything else but ordinary aswell"

"oh trust me I would love to be just another ordinary person" you say "I would do anything to be a normal person living in a normal place"

Finnick sighs, dramatically "I guess then I'd have to give up my celebrity life for you" he raises his eyebrows as he looks at you " you know I'd love to have an ordinary life with you"

There's a softness to his words, no sharp edges, no tears, no bites. Just pure genuinity, you could almost call it love, you wished you could allow yourself to call it love

"and ordinary life with me would be boring" you shake your head, discouraging the idea

"life could never be boring if I had you by my side"

You didn't want to admit it, you didn't want to admit that maybe perhaps you felt a certain way towards Finnick, maybe he did too.

Your life was all too messed up, beyond repair and broken.

you didn't want to bring yourself to more pain, especially not if it was in the hands of finnick

"you'd have to do boring regular things" you continue to argue, not wanting to believe finnick. It was all too painfull

"I'd love to do boring regular things with you," finnick retorts back "what exactly is this boring regular things?"

"like laundry and...." Your loss for words "and taxes!" Your blurt out the only thing in your mind

Finnick give you a hard long stare, his jaw tightening before he looks away from you, looking towards the blank sky

"well then, I would have really liked doing just laundry and taxes with you"

Again, the same silence engulfs the two of you, finnick still not tearing his eyes away from the sky as you in turn refuse to look away from his face.

you and finnick were not lovers,

because then the Capitol would see that as treason. you and finnick couldn't be lovers because then the entirety of Panem would see that as rejection

But yet you and finnick were many other things. Many unnamed things, a bit too close to be called friends, a glance that lasted a little too long to be considered acquaintances,

you and finnick were all the things, all things but lovers, never lovers.

But right now your leaning against him, your hands caressing his cheek and your lips colliding with his for the entirety of Panem to see,

"I would have really liked doing just laundry and taxes with you too" you whisper

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🥀 Exes Fic Rec

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🥀 Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo {E, 114k}

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

🥀 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 109k}

For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him?

For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

A story of love. A story of loss. A story of fighting for each other, no matter the odds.

🥀 somewhere in between lightning  by jassy117, @nauticalleeds, shiningdistractionwrites / @shiningdistraction {E, 99k}

As Louis took another bite, he thought back to how he had once believed that the hardest thing about being on Love Island would be Liam handling his social media.  He had been wrong. It was Harry Styles, peeking over at Louis as he forked a pancake into his mouth, and gauging his reaction. It was having to quench the swelling of his heart, which felt simultaneously like hope and the breaking of a thousand pieces.

A summer gone wrong (or very right) when, under Liam’s persuasion, Louis finds himself drunkenly applying for Love Island, and getting accepted. Oh, well. A summer spent on an island paradise couldn’t be all that bad, right?

Imagine his surprise when Louis arrives in sunny Majorca to find that his first love and ex-boyfriend, Harry, is another contestant, about to capture the hearts of everyone in the villa. Most normal people don’t have to face their ex on an otherwise straight TV show. Most normal people don’t fall for their ex again in front of the whole nation, either. Too bad this whole situation isn’t normal.

🥀 Emperor’s New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships {E, 92k}

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

🥀 Consequences by @allwaswell16 {E, 78k}

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

🥀 your memory over me by @shimmeringevil {E, 64k}

Three years have passed since Louis last saw him, but all it took was a few minutes in Harry’s presence for him to be relegated to the desperate twenty-one year old that was practically begging his boyfriend for an ounce of reassurance that he still cared about him.

Harry shouldn’t be here. He’s brought too many unresolved feelings with him, that Louis thought he’d never have to face.

It’s Harry’s apparent apathy that’s the most difficult to come to terms with. Anger, he could handle. Regret, he would welcome. But Harry’s amiability, and carefree demeanor can only be born from indifference.

He’s moved on. He doesn’t care. And that is something Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever be strong enough to face.

OR - The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

🥀 Feels Like Coming Home by @phdmama {E, 60k}

The last thing Harry Styles expects when he's hanging out at the Someday Cafe in Somerville one rainy October day is for his ex, Louis Tomlinson to walk through the door, but that's exactly what happens. After a spectacularly ugly break-up three years prior, Harry hasn't heard one word from Louis, and he's moved on. Gotten over him. But having Louis back in his life, not to mention working at the restaurant where he's a chef, isn't easy, and the feelings that Harry thought he'd left turn out to be not so easily forgotten.

This is a story about love and the power of forgiveness, and how the hard choices we make define us, and change our lives.

🥀 The Second Hand Unwinds by @kingsofeverything {E, 51k}

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA's top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he's sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep.

🥀 The End Should Be A Good One by bananasandboots / @anylessreal {M, 43k}

It doesn't feel like falling in love, the way it had felt the first time around, easy, simple, almost like floating, wrapped up in a whirlwind of touches and kisses, late nights spent laughing breathlessly into each other's skin. This feels broken, complicated, like every move carries the weight of their past. Like the floorboards beneath them could collapse at any moment. This doesn't feel good.

Or, the one where Harry loses the love of his life on New Years Eve and finds him again, six months later, ready to open some poorly-stitched wounds.

🥀 Sometimes You Just Know by @2tiedships2 {M, 33k}

“Dear diary. Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why...”

“What are you doing?” Louis mumbled as he bit into a piece of toast.

“It’s been almost two years and today Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson reunite. Louis is very excited about…”

Louis’ chair screeched along the kitchen floor as he flew up out of his seat, quickly grabbing the paper from Niall’s grasp. As he scanned the page he found it amounted to lines of nothing.

“What is this?” Louis asked again. “We’ve discussed how Harry Styles will never be spoken of in this flat. I don’t care how long it’s been.”

Niall snatched the paper from Louis and proceeded to draw a line across the page before writing.

“Today is the day that he-who-shall-not-be-named is coming to dinner.”

Or the one where Harry and Louis don’t believe in soulmates… until they do.

🥀 like a timebomb ticking by @infinitelymint {M, 31k}

Louis loses everything. Harry's still there.

🥀 Cowboy Like Me by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings {M, 29k}

Going legit and starting over in a small town was supposed to solve all of Harry’s problems. That was until a string of robberies in wealthy towns brings him face-to-face with his rouge ex-partner and their dicey, unresolved past.

🥀 Get Out Of My Head (and I'll get out of yours) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter {E, 29k}

“You really that desperate, are you?” Despite it being a shitty thing to say, Harry didn’t mind too much, as the bitterness in Louis’ tone sounded like music to Harry’s ears. Harry was winning tonight. “Can’t find anyone new to be interested in you, so you try to hit on Zayn.”

“I can’t find someone interested in me?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re having a laugh, mate.”

“Yeah, well, where are they, then? Because from what I’ve heard, you’re here alone.”

“As if I’d bring anyone to somewhere I knew you’d be. I wouldn’t wish your presence on my worst enemy.”

“Aw,” Louis cooed in a way that made Harry want to slap him. “You’re saying I’m not your worst enemy?”

“For someone to be an enemy, you have to give a shit about them. So, no. You’re not even on the list.”

“Oh–kay. Well, it’s been lovely as always, gents,” Zayn said before knocking back the rest of his drink.

Or the one for the Bottom Harry Fic Fest where Harry bottoming is more of a side plot, because angst got in the way--but it doesn't really matter because the fest stopped existing when I was halfthrough.

🥀 some things fade (some never do) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed {T, 25k}

Matching tattoos. He’d never thought he’d be the type for tattoos to begin with, let alone matching or magical ones, but once Harry had put the idea in his mind it had never quite managed to disappear. And it had made sense. With their relationship a long distance one, this was simply another way of feeling close to one another. Of knowing where the other was, how they felt. It had made so much sense.

Back then.

Three years after their break up, Harry calls.

🥀 Might've Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove {M, 21k}

It's been two years since Harry and Louis broke up. They were that couple in high school -- you know the one; been together forever, hopelessly in love, all over each other, the whole nine yards. Even when Louis went off to university, they found a way to make the distance work.

Until they broke up.

Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can't be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

“They got a name?” Bebe asks.

“What?”

“Your ghosts,” she says, her voice suddenly soft. “If you want to tell me, I mean. I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but. Sometimes it can help to exorcise them.” She pauses, and chuckles. “Other times, vodka works better than sage.”

Louis holds his breath for a moment, building the courage, before he finally murmurs, “Harry.”

“Sorry?”

“Harry,” Louis says again. The name feels like a time bomb in his mouth, but it hasn’t blown up yet. “His name was -- is -- Harry.”

🥀 lost in my head by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {E, 12k}

Louis had been, until about a year prior, the love of Harry’s life.

🥀 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry {T, 11k}

Harry met Louis in college and fell in love with him in record time. Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

What happens when they run into each other at a bar three years after breaking up?

🥀 give me things to stay awake by embodied {E, 10k}

It’s shitty and it’s counterproductive and it’s self-indulgent, but he lets it become a thing. On Saturday nights Harry goes out and gets so pissed he can’t stand, and when the bartender cuts him off he rings Louis and is in his car within an hour. It’s not a cycle he’s proud of, but it’s also something he can’t resist, and he keeps doing it as long as Louis keeps showing up.   AU. It's been a year since Louis broke up with Harry.

🥀 Now That It's Over by @lululawrence {NR, 8k}

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis' dates.

🥀 Unspoken by Speechless / @smokingluckiesalltheway {E, 5k}

Harry and Louis broke up when they were nineteen. They see each other after six years.

"I'm not going to be the guy you fuck on the side while you settle down with your blonde wife." Maybe it's the way he phrased it, something about what Louis has just said tears a small laugh out of him. "I don't want that." Harry says, serious again. There is no reason for him to keep on holding onto Louis' scarf like this, but he does. "The last time I saw you I thought we would fix it." Louis' the one laughing this time, his vision blurry. "The last time you saw me was right before you got on a train and fucked off." "And I thought we would fix it." Harry repeats, his voice shot. "I thought you'd come."

🥀 Not yet a breach, but an expansion by theweightofmywords / @lil0 {NR, 2k}

“I don’t understand why we keep running into each other,” he says as his hands grip his hair in frustration.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he scoffs. “You know why, Harry."

Fate, it seems, still holds their lives in her ceaseless orbit.

[last-starry-sky]

put your ear to my heart // or set your teeth against my throat

shifter/monster!price x f!reader (this was written for @the-californicationist's nameless challenge, so he isn't named, but Price was def. my inspiration!)

[NSFW - MDNI - MIND THE WARNINGS: ~1k, mentions of murder, blood and gore, minor character death (reader’s bf), pet names, implied abuse of power, kidnapping, monster fucking (extra hair, claws, and teeth mentioned but nothing specific), unprotected piv sex, biting, crying, noncon/dubcon, mating press, cumming inside, unsanitary sex? (idk what to say here lmao), breeding kink (mentions of rutting and pregnancy), fingering, oral.]

Something lives in these woods.

A shapeshifter. A monster. Something you should stay away from. It lurks in those hills. Made a home somewhere in those thousands of dense trees in the forest around the mountain. This place has been it’s home for ages longer than this area has been a national park, you see. 

It belongs to him. Not to you.

It doesn’t mind making one or two of those asshole "campers" or "hikers" disappear when they wander into his home, disrespecting his land either. This thing, it’s careful too. Nothing like how an animal would kill. Too smart. Too clean. Something that leaves nothing behind but an abandoned campsite. A smear of blood on a tree. A forgotten boot in a stream. A missing persons report growing colder by the year.

You don’t have to worry though, miss. You seem nice enough. You take only photographs, leave only footprints when you visit. Every single time. You stupid, silly thing. I guess it’s for the best that the loud, stupid man that you brought with you - he was your boyfriend, you said? shame - never came back from taking a piss in the middle of the night. 

See, he didn’t follow the rules. Put out the fire. Stay on the trails. Never go anywhere alone. He didn’t care to learn that they weren’t your rules. They’re his rules, and now it’s too late for him.

It’s okay, little lady. I know you’re scared. It’s only natural when things like this happen in the dead of night! So how about you pack up your backpack and I give you a ride to the nearest ranger station? Doesn’t that sound like a good idea? It’s about to get awfully cold, and with your friend - sorry, boyfriend - missing, I can’t leave you alone out here. 

The cabin is nice and cozy. I know you’ll like it. I’ll radio in the missing person - never mind that it’s supposed to piss rain for the next few days. The search team will never find what’s left of the body - and make you some hot cocoa. Strip down, let your soaked clothes dry by the fire, then you can curl up in my bed, sleep off this whole terrible situation. 

Shame how those two people went missing last summer. That couple, remember? They found the guy a couple miles from the campsite I heard. Nasty stuff. Probably a grizzly or wolf from the damage. The rangers didn’t have much to show the cops by the time they were able to get there. Shit like this always happens right before the worst fucking weather, I swear. It was enough for a death certificate at least. The poor girl was never found, though. Heard she was a pretty experienced hiker. Loved that park, too. I sure hope they find her one day, even just to give her parents closure.  

Meanwhile; you, miss missing person, are curled up safely in the strong, hairy arms of the thing that took rescued you that night. He covers you in flannel and furs, with enough wood next to the fire to keep it going through the night. No need for you to even think of leaving his hidden little love nest. He likes to hold you, your naked bodies twined together. He pets your hair and whispers sweet nothings about how perfect you are, how lucky he is, while you sleep curled into his chest.

His claws and canines emerge unintentionally at the thought of your shit-bag dead boyfriend. The thought of anyone besides him ever having you, of taking you away from him, it makes him see red. Makes him want to howl at the moon.

Don’t worry though, pet. He’ll slake the worst of his bestial need far away from you. Tear into some flesh, drink their warm blood. Their dying screams a background hum to the pounding in his ears. 

You enjoy seeing him after a kill. He’ll return to you: sauntering up bold and naked, hair matted to his body with sweat and gore, mud spattered up to his thighs. He’s still in the in-between: thick body-hair not yet all the way receded, claws clacking the wood floor, mouth full of long, sharp teeth. 

How sweet it is when you wipe their unworthy blood from his mouth before you tiptoe up to kiss him. 

You act so gentle then, but he knows you’ll keen and cry for him to take you harder. Let his claws dent your soft flesh. Leave love bites, wet and red, down your neck. So open and soft and destructible for him. He loves to tear into you, cock pounding you speechless. Sometimes you cry, wet rivers running down your flushed cheeks, breathlessly begging too much. Your cunt doesn’t lie though. You’ve been soaked from the very beginning, only getting wetter once he pushed your legs to your chest to rail you into the bed. He’ll cum with a long, low growl, nuzzled into your neck. His cock emptying against your cervix. 

Blood, mud, cum, sweat, rain, slick. It coats his happy trail, hair painting your belly as he fucks you. He loves seeing the mess he makes of you. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open, as he watches his cum ooze from his woman’s raw hole. Fuck he can’t wait to breed you. Come fall his rut will hit with those first long, cool nights and then you’ll be his. Permanently his. He’ll watch you grow round and ripe day by day, his little monster inside you, as you tuck in for the winter. 

For now, though, he’ll have to be content with fingering your ruined pussy open. His tongue lapping over your neglected clit, sucking at you slowly until you quiver beneath him. You try to push him away, but he won’t move until he gets his fill. He’ll grunt, ignoring you to focus on slurping every bit of sweetness from your folds, leaving you clean and perfect once again. 

He may be an animal in the shape of a man. He maims and murders. He kidnapped you, forced you to live this life. He never gave you a choice. Never will. But he will always eat you out until you’re shaking, crying out his name into the night air. You’ll always look at him so softly after, patting his cheek or ruffling his hair, as he catches his breath against your belly. It doesn’t matter how rough he was, how much blood is caked in his hair or mud there is underneath his nails. Right now, laying together sweating, panting like dogs: he is yours and you are his.

He’ll silently pull you to curl up in bed with him. Just like he always does. And you’ll fall into the warmth of his body, like you always do. Caressing your body, running his fingers through your hair. You sigh and sound so at peace. It makes him wonder if you would leave if you had the chance. Maybe, just maybe, this is right where you always wanted to be.

a/n: i SWEAR i was just trying to get back into the groove of writing daily, just wanted to jot this idea down in my random ideas doc, and this happened :x thank you very much to @gemmahale for linking me to the challenge! I hope you all enjoy and have fun guessing the entries!

The title is from the song “the garden” by the crane wives.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

Hey! I meant to ask you this last week when the #SeAcabo documentary come out, but can you explain the situation with Marta Cardona? I remember reading some things about her. Where does she come out through all of this?

marta cardona is one of the biggest cautionary tales when it comes to trusting rfef and is an example of how vilda used and discarded players to his advantage. and she bought into his bs, was too naive and/or brainwashed, and got burned in the process.

journo andrea menéndez faya said this earlier in her review of #seacabo but i believe this theory: vilda used call-ups and rosters as a means of controlling players. why did vilda call up laia codina during 'las 15'? because he knew she was aitana's best friend and that would hurt her. and it would force laia to choose between her career and her best friend. same with nuria rábano, she was called up as a replacement player, expressed discomfort with being there because of players left behind, and we never saw her again...

so anyway, for background, cardona is a current atletí player who was in the spanish selection player pool as part of the forward line, during euro 2022, 'las 15,' and in the lead up to the world cup. she's a former real madrid player and current gf of misa rodríguez (which becomes important later).

cardona was one of the players who joined the 'real madrid faction' during the split with 'las 15.' but more notably, she was one of the players who spoke very highly of vilda in the media, defended him after the euro debacle, would be brought out during press conferences, and remained very faithful to him.

and yet, when it came to the final roster for the world cup, she was left off. 😬 this came as a surprise to everyone because we all thought she would be rewarded for her loyalty. even brands had included cardona in their ads for the world cup.

so now going back to misa, it was clear that misa expected cardona to be at the world cup and that was part of her re-awakening as to vilda and the bs with rfef. and that's when you saw her hanging out more with the dinosaurs and the barça players instead of her own teammates. and it makes sense why misa spoke up after the japan match in favour of the dinosaurs wearing the captain's armband and why she was benched (punished) by vilda after.

fast forward to january 2024 and cardona gives an interview to abc where she breaks her silence on what happened and said:

in the training camps we attended, the coach himself spoke badly of the players he later selected and who went to the world cup.

it was good for him that they were available because they are the best in the world, that's the reality, but that doesn't take away from the fact that the treatment he had given us was not up to par.

he left me out after going every year to the national team. it was a very tough decision for me and my family, and it's something i have always carried and will always carry with me. my dream was to be there and win the world cup. It was very hard and i often find it hard to see or react to the content that they have won. obviously i'm super proud of my teammates, but personally it hurt a lot.

so yeah, it's a cautionary tale. now cardona is injured but let's see if she makes her way back to the national team under montse 🤷‍♀️

[linkemon]

Home (Zuko x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

"ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]. ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴀʀ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ. ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ, ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇꜱ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ."

— I'd like a refill of jasmine tea. — Iroh was happily lounging on the couch.

Zuko sighed. His uncle looked almost healthy. He could make the brew himself. However, he willingly took advantage of the privileges of a sick person. The boy was forced to jump around him and serve him. He adjusted the pillows, listened to the nagging and also prepared drinks. The latter took the most time. Iroh was an expert and as a result, he was not satisfied with the first drink he came across. Usually [Reader] saved the situation. As a healer, she knew these things. In addition, she quickly became the favourite of the Dragon of the West.

The prince headed towards the kitchen. He hoped he would find the tray soon. The little temple was truly beautiful but there was a happy mess everywhere. Some rooms were used for drying herbs, others were converted into granaries and others into sick rooms. During the war, this must have been of particular importance. Currently, the only people who visited here were those from the villages below the hill. And now he and his injured uncle too.

[Reader] found them unconscious in the nearby forest. A chance encounter with a unit of Earth Kingdom soldiers ended in disaster. The boy's cuts and bruises healed quickly but he had strained his fire magic. The first day he woke up, he felt a strange emptiness. He couldn't do anything. There was no question of searching for the Avatar in this state. Only three days ago he managed to create a flame large enough to burn the wood in the fireplace. The healer, like Iroh, claimed that the condition of his tired soul was responsible for his illness. So, to heal it, he did all sorts of things. Starting with weeding the garden, sorting medicines and ending with cleaning up after Aiiro. The big, blue peacock gave him the most problems. The extremely proud animal did not like to move. He had to push it as hard as he could to get it to move. Sometimes it even snapped its beak but it never hurt him. After feeding, he felt like hitting it with a broom but he always remembered that it was that thing that had brought him to the temple, so he refrained.

Zuko took the tea leaves, the kettle and the clay cups. He put it all on the tray and headed back towards the living room. However, a familiar voice caught his attention:

— I'll say it one last time. They are my guests. You have no right to demand that I hand them over! — [Reader] was standing at the entrance to the temple.

— Consider this, even if we leave them alone according to the law, they can still convict you of treason. I say this as a friend.

The prince looked at the man behind the door. Slightly worn, green clothes and a straw hat marked the farmer. He must have come from Hefei. There were no other settlements nearby large enough to farm.

��� Is this a threat? — The girl clenched her fist. — My family has been serving people for generations. We don't ask who they are, we just treat them. My grandmother delivered your mother, my mother delivered you and I delivered your children...

— That's different! They murdered innocent people! Our entire nation suffers because of them! — Hate burned in the man's eyes.

Zuko knew that look well. Almost everyone looked at him that way. The Earth Nation, the Water Nation, the Fire Nation after they were banished, the Avatar, his sister and most of all, his father. Everyone wanted him gone. He missed his mother. He had the feeling that apart from his uncle, she was the only one who truly loved him. And now he met [Reader] and for the first time in a long time he felt that someone had truly dismissed his mistakes. She looked at him, believing that he had changed, even though she knew how much evil he had done in the past. It was like a warm ray of sunshine after a long winter. That's why he froze with his tray, listening for the answer. He was scared. However, it was not that if he was extradited, he should run away. He was afraid of rejection. A girl standing a few steps away gave him hope. He didn't want to lose her.

— Go away! — The healer pointed to the stairs.

— Pack your bags!

— Are they coming for us? What a pity. I didn't have time to finish my tea. - The general put down his cup sadly.

Zuko was used to his uncle's calmness but [Reader's] composure told him something was wrong.

— Why aren't you packing? — he asked, leading Aiiro out.

— Because I'm not going anywhere. — The girl calmly handed him the saddle.

The prince froze as he reached for the item.

— You're not serious, are you?

— My family has lived here for generations. It is my house. We even survived the Fire Nation War. I will stay here like everyone before me.

The healer passed the boy and began to saddle the peacock. The bird sensed anxiety. He began to pace impatiently in place.

— It's stupid!

— Do you think years of tradition are stupid?

— Yes! If there's a chance you'll die from it, then yes!

Zuko grabbed the strap of his bag. He squeezed it as tight as he could.

— You can heal people anywhere — he added. — I think your ancestors would have wanted you to do this, even if not in this temple.

— I won't be able to help. There are all the plants and books here and…— Her voice broke. — Here's everything I know, Zuko. I grew up here. How do I leave it? — Tears welled up in her eyes.

— I know what it's like to leave home — he took a deep breath — but it will get better with time.

The moment of exile flashed before his eyes. When his father declared him a traitor, he lost his home. Since then, he has been desperately trying to get it back. Every step in recent years was supposed to bring him closer to his goal. His search for the Avatar brought him to this place. So did he have the right to ask her to leave? If he could turn back time, would he oppose the general? Would he agree to Agni Kai with his father? He wasn't sure. Yet he tried to force someone to voluntarily abandon their home.

He looked over the white marble columns. Over a dozen or so days, he managed to like the atmosphere of this place. The scents of lemon trees and flowers surrounded him. There were many little creatures living in the garden. He saw frogs, butterflies and birds. Even snails, although they destroyed crops. [Reader] didn't have the heart to kill them. Fat koi fish swam lazily in the pond. He felt at peace as he crossed the bridge over them. He felt like the last time he felt this feeling was when he and his mother were feeding the ducks. He was a little boy then. The times when they formed a family together with Azula and their father seemed very distant.

And now he had the impression that he was on vacation on the Amber Island again and like a child he didn't have to worry about anything. The curtains on the temple terrace fluttered slightly. He sat in the shade on soft pillows. A healer was sitting opposite him in the sun. Iroh poured tea for everyone while explaining the rules of pai sho. He set up the board, chattering happily. Zuko paid no attention to the ongoing conversation. He smelled fresh laundry. It was hanging on a string a little further away. His nose also told him that another batch of herbs was drying nearby. He took a sip of the warm drink. It had a mild, chamomile aftertaste. He bit into the cereal cookie, enjoying the crunch of the dried fruit. He glanced at [Reader] and saw Ursa for a moment. However, the impression quickly dissipated. He laughed at his uncle's weak joke as he moved his pawn. He knew he was losing because he wasn't focusing on the rules. He should be annoyed. After all, he was wasting his time and Aang was still enjoying his freedom. Still, this moment seemed too beautiful to care. The undisturbed idyll was stuck in his head. For some reason, he remembered this ordinary afternoon the best. He felt that it would come back to him again.

It was difficult for him to leave this place. It was hard for him to admit it to himself. Waking up at dawn on a cold morning, breakfasts with freshly brewed tea, hand-dug vegetables for dinner, afternoon walks in the shade of trees, afternoon teas with games, dinners by the warm fireplace and nightly reading of books — all this would now become just a memory. He knew he would leave this place one day, so why did it hurt inside like he was thirteen again?

— Zuko, get in, we don't have time! — The general grabbed Aiiro's reins.

Is it really about the place? This question occupied his mind.

He looked at [Reader]. He realized that he had been wrong so far. This house was not created by shapes, colours and smells but by her. Without her, none of the images flashing through his head would exist.

The boy threw all his supplies out of the bag and handed it to the girl.

— What are you...

— Take all the seeds and books you can fit in here. We will hold them until your return! — The flame flared up above the prince's fingertips.

— Better late than never! — Iroh, pleased, pointed to his nephew's fire.

Was this the balance they talked about so much? Now had his soul finally found a good reason to release the embers?

He created a wall of fire. It burned as brightly as when he fought Azula. He felt strangely calm. There was no nervous, battle fever about it. It was replaced by composure mixed with the belief that what he was doing was right.

Zuko looked up. That night, the starry sky was decorated with hundreds of constellations. The moon lit the way and the dense summer beneath them. Aiiro flapped his powerful wings, creating strong gusts of air. Uncle's loud snoring could be heard from the saddle.

— Zuko. — The girl's quiet voice woke him from his thoughts.

— You're not sleeping yet? — he sighed.

— I could not fall asleep. — She moved closer.

Up there it was hard to hear what others were saying. The wind effectively drowned out the words.

— Me neither — he admitted.

He knew it would be a long time before he forgot about the hill temple. The envious inhabitants of Hefei used his fire in anger. They burned everything that could be destroyed. From the peacock's back he saw first a burning glow and then thick, gray smoke. Ash danced in the cool air along with shreds of pages from ancient books.

— Thank you. — [Reader] wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.

— What for? For burning down your house? — There was regret in his voice.

— You know very well that you didn't burn it.

The prince knew that what she was saying was true. And yet he didn't realize how much he needed to hear it from her.

— If I had stayed there, who knows…— She looked behind her. — Maybe I wouldn't be here anymore.

— I couldn't leave you there because…— The unspoken words hung between them.

He was afraid of another loss. That was the truth. He managed to trust someone and didn't want to face the pain again.

The healer spread her arms. He tentatively snuggled into her. She still smelled of flowers and herbs. Her hair tickled his face. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to cry. He didn't know why he was crying anymore. Was it from longing for a temple or a palace? Was it for family and a future that could never exist or for [Reader] who could be dead? Was he crying for himself or for others? It didn't matter. He sobbed like a little child, who deep inside he still was. In the cool air, hundreds of meters above the ground, the firebender found warmth.

[redrandomposts]

hi it's me again from the luka vs ivan r7 ask, and claiming the 🌦️ emoji :>

for their song i wanna go w something like nightglow by tanya chua from the hi3 game. it's THE year ender event for the segyein and the entire city is packed into the arena.

i can see the producers dressing them up in complementary styles. luka wld have elements of ivan's signature style and vice versa.

imagine the entire time ivan and luka ARE in equal footing. luka has the fanbase power and experience ivan cant match, but ivan has a type of completely human showmanship that luka cant replicate. imagine them dancing during their round too and they keep on switching back and forth on who gets the lead !!

luka can see that ivan is singing the song for SOMEONE but he cant pinpoint who and it's throwing him off just a bit. it's one of those rare rounds where luka doesnt have any immediate upper hand on his opponent and the aliens are eating it up !! a dark knight to go up against their brilliant prince ? absolute genius.

but also consider : the producers dont want anyone else but luka to win. so they rig it :> the final score is a tie, but a gun is shot and ivan falls...

... just in time for the rebels to barge in :>

(so similar to canon!r7 ending except ivan wasnt reaching out for someone in the crowd and no one is cradling his head on their lap lmao)

why are alien stage fans allergic to happy endings? you guys arent vivinos, you can do what you can to give them happy endings...

i think unsha's coming in clutch and preventing this. that, or the show gets boycotted because they decide to off ivan. you know how rii7e's whole situation had the entire company boycotted by nations and people from other fandoms? that is happening.

the whole show would plummet in stocks, aliens pulling out their human pets from the program, protests and rallies ongoing.

im projecting my love for ivan, but also, i 100% believe this would happen.

its not like ivan can be brought back to life. till visits his grave, where fans constantly leave flowers; monuments are brought up to support ivan, flowers flooding each and every one. till remembers, quite clearly, how ivan died alone on the stage, reaching out for something. ivan looked lost, sorrowful, somehow relieved, and he hates it.

anyway, that's what's happening guys!!! ivan dies, aliens boycott alien stage and whatever else, and everyone is happy and alive.

[malum-forev]

Bingo - “you deserve better”

the reader has a boyfriend but he treats her poorly and Bucky notices, something like that i can’t wait to read it

Hiii I decided to incorporate this ask into my other work! Hope you like it!

One single droplet of sweat traveled from the back of your neck down your back. Had church always been this hot? Maybe it’s the incense? Yes- that’s the reason. Who are you trying to convince? Your brain shot back. The aisle was covered in a rainbow reflection coming from the stain glass windows.

Suddenly, there was a knot the size of an apple in your throat as you heard the organ start to play. The large wooden doors opened, the guests stood up and there he was. Hair slicked back into a bun, his black suit pressed to perfection and a nervous hue of pink adorning his cheeks. 

Bucky licked his lips and took the first step, his eyes were on you and only you. He saw your chest rise and fall quickly, not able to stop the smile forming on his face. The mask you put on for the world crumbled at the sight of him and he couldn’t be happier. Your icy and rough exterior was chipped away with each step he took closer to you. 

All too quickly, Bucky was at the end of the aisle. You were even more beautiful up close. He thought. Your hair was pinned up perfectly, your makeup enhanced your already stunning features and your dress, God how he wished he could sneak you into the back room and do impure things to that body of yours. It would be effective- he thought- commit a sin then come out and conveniently repent only a few steps away.

It was only when he heard Richard clear his throat that Bucky realized he’d been holding up the ceremony. To his right, Rebecca squeezed his arm and looked at him with wide eyes. Bucky quickly nodded and cleared his throat, finding it hard to rip his gaze away from you. Bucky let go of his sister’s hand and lifted the white lace veil covering her face. He kissed both of her cheeks and then turned to her future husband. 

Bucky brought his right hand up to the back of Richard’s neck, making sure his signet ring pressed against the bones. 

“Ricorda, il mio sangue viene prima. Benvenuto in famiglia.” Bucky repeated the same words he’d heard your father say a million times. 

Richard’s face drained of color as he nodded furiously. 

Bucky glanced one last time to you, taking in your light pink dress as you stood next to his sister at the altar. 

Children ran around your family villa’s garden, laughter and clinking glasses were everywhere. The sound of the nation’s top singer filled the large space. Lucky for Rebecca, he happened to be your father’s godson so when your father had “suggested” he come to her wedding, the singer dropped out of his tour and traveled to upstate New York. 

You twirled your champagne flute between your fingers, watching as the bubbles appeared at the top. 

“Did your father ever tell you not to play with your drink?” Bucky’s cheeky voice appeared next to you but you kept your eyes on your drink. “Are you going to finish that? Some of us actually want to forget their sister just got married.”

“Do you ever think of your wedding?” You met his blue eyes. 

“My wedding?” Bucky wasn’t one to laugh too often but this time he couldn’t help the bubbling sound coming deep from his chest. “I once remember you telling me I was too repulsive to look at. Creating feelings of nausea on women all around the world.”

“That was before I saw what you looked like in a suit.” Your smirk was challenging. 

Bucky threw his head back with a smile. “I wear a suit every day.”

“Not a wedding suit you don’t.” You picked a piece of lint from his shoulder but quickly backtracked, looking around to see if anyone had spotted you. 

Bucky saw in her eyes the look of something he’d seen many times but never from you. He’d even taken advantage of that kind of look many times before, especially in situations like the one you found yourselves in. 

Let me offer you a piece of advice James. Your father had told him once. Weddings make women desperate. The fact that someone their age has already completed what they have not makes them look around for a suitor. That’s where you come in my dear Jamie, you swoop in like a knight and in return. Well I think we both know what you’ll get in return.

 Although Bucky thought your father’s words seemed a bit old fashioned, they turned out to be true. But looking at you, the happily unwed, giving him the same look, it felt… Wrong. 

“What about you? Huh?” Bucky tried to lighten the conversation. “Will you wear a traditional white dress or surprise no one and walk down the aisle wearing black?”

You snorted. “By the looks of it, I’m going to end up marrying William. If I do, there will be no wedding if it’s not traditional.” 

Bucky grimaced at the sound of your boyfriend’s name. He looked around the garden for William but couldn’t find him. 

Bucky had told everyone he was a terrible fit for you ever since you accepted his first date. There was something about him that didn’t sit well with Bucky and sadly, it took only four months of you dating for him to find it out. 

Bucky grabbed your elbow and took you to a hidden part in the garden. You complained every single step of the way, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Stop manhandling me, you animal!” You whispered. 

“I need to tell you something.” Bucky said, holding your face between his hands. Your expression changed from annoyed to hopeful in a matter of seconds. 

You gulped at the sound of his words, praying he would say the three words you’d been thinking about over and over again ever since he came into your room all those months ago. 

Bucky tucked a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. “It’s about William.”

Your shoulders slumped at the sound of your boyfriend’s name.

“William-“ Bucky was trying to find the correct words, as to not hurt your feelings, he settled on three words. But not the ones you wanted to hear. “You deserve better.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “Is that what this is? A talk about how he’s not good for me coming from someone who thinks he’s my authority?”

 “Please listen to me for once.” Bucky said, trying to loosen the knot on his suddenly constricting tie. “I saw William with-“

You looked down at the floor. “I know.”

“No, you don’t understand. He went into the Continental Hotel wi-“

“I said I know!” You yelled. 

“You know?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “How can you be with him?”

You let out a dry laugh. “James, I’m past the age of pretending to be offended when someone isn’t faithful. You know what my mother’s friends call me? What they think of me? All because I haven’t wed. It’s a vicious society.”

“But your family, your father-“ Bucky argued.

“Whoever marries me knows they will never be head of our family. Because everyone knows who the next in line is.” You didn’t need to say his name for Bucky to know you were talking about him. He’d never considered it before. Your powerful family meant nothing if whoever was to marry you would never be next in line, all because Bucky stood in your wary. 

Bucky shook his head. “You can’t possibly consider marrying someone who isn’t faithful. You should be with someone who worships you, who makes sure to put your needs in front of his. Someone-“

“Someone like who?” You whispered, your eyes piercing his blue ones. 

The air surrounding the two of you became thick. Bucky knew it should be him, but he couldn’t. 

“You deserve better.” Bucky repeated, looking down at the floor. He vowed to protect you but it had to be from afar. Even though his body burned to be with you.

“You should leave now.” You said, holding your head high, trying to stop your tears. “I don’t want people seeing us together. Not when I wish William to ask for my hand.”

0-0

Pleaaaseee be sure to comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Remember, one comment = one kiss on my forehead! <3

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

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*I have tagged those who commented and reblogged my last Mafia!Bucky story, I hope that's okay! If not, please message me so I can take your @ off the tagged list :)

[roxannepolice]

I understand where the "RTD is pulling an obscure past villain in a supposedly new audience focused season" take-with-critical-flavour comes from but. Like, this may be one of the things that make his writing for me, but all of these past situations hardly ever required lore literacy?

Nastene consciousness is a very simple concept that neither benefits nor loses from having seen TotA. The Daleks' focus was entirely in reference to the Time War. Cybermen in s2 were specifically parallel universe Cybermen. The Sontarans were simply on their usual bullshit. Ice Warriors were only brought up as Mars's natives that would explain were the Flood came from (you remember that, right? that the Flood was Ice Warriors' weapon?). Dammit, Rassilon being Rassilon is only established in one line and apart from added epicness of literally fighting your technocratic god this doesn't give or take away much. The Toymaker got one flashback to remind that yes, he and the Doctor already know each other and there's a pinch added bitterness but no, this isn't a revenge story, this is "humanity is fascinating with their little nation dolls and war games" story.

And I left him for the last, because even THE MASTER wasn't there for "history between us" nostalgia fest sake. Yes, the childhood friendship had to be brought up because it's too important in this case, and the times the Doctor stopped the Master as well as the times they cooperated had to be brought up to show how they differ in their perceptions of their relationship, but that's pretty much it and you get all this from the story on its own. You can get an added rush from the little threegado nods but that's just the aesthetic.

Like, the universe is large, multiverse even more so, but sometimes you're just going to run into the same anthropomorphic or zoomorphic personification of pure concepts, and the only thing you can do is deal with it again, with the caveat the gods can't be tricked twice?

[scrambledpancakes03]

Before the presidential debate...

I've got some thoughts.

While I know that even the "best" presidential outcome feels like a loss at this point, you do have to vote.

I totally understand not wanting to vote for Joe. There are a lot of reasons for that, some more valid than others. That's not my point rn. There's many genocides happening: read how joe is handling it from verified sources and make your own choices, I trust you'll do what you think is right. I'll just be here full of endless dread no matter what...

But for fucks sake before we all lose hope please remember...

Vote down ballot.

Conservatives win repeatedly all over the country and have been able to make life substantially harder for every individual working person, especially those with marginalized statuses... and it's not primarily due to the shit they've pulled in the Oval Office... it's because they're getting elected to sheriff's offices and school boards and zoning commissions and STATE LEGISLATURES.

Don't let your disillusionment with the president keep you from showing up for candidates you won't hear about from national news... because they are the ones who can save us.

Without progressives, leftists, and even more moderate liberals in local offices, every aspect of life gets substantially harder. Local programs shut down, public services are cut from city budgets, and police keep getting more and more absurd militarized resources. And in that environment, how would we ever stand in solidarity with people suffering around the world? Or even people marginalized here in the US?

Here are some (but not all) elected offices that may be on your ballot in the fall that need your attention in no particular order:

1. Secretary of state: oversees the states record keeping... including voting. Don't let them be fascists.

2. School Board: they decide pretty much everything to do with public school's funding, curriculum, and sometimes even personnel matters or district geography. They decide what your kids learn, where, how, and with whom. Don't let them be bigots.

3. District Attorney/Prosecutor: they decide what crimes have charges brought against them, and in what manner. They're the difference between a teenage kid being tried as an adult or a child for a felony, as well as other matters like that. Don't let them be racist.

4. Sheriff: have insane amounts of power over how criminal investigations are conducted and how a community is policed. FOR FUCKS SAKE STOP ELECTING RACISTS. Also we should just... reconsider the concept and maybe try not having sheriff offices at all. But that's a whole different goal.

5. Planning and zoning commissions: if you are struggling to get housing or stay housed, they are the reason there is little to no affordable housing in your area, because they decide what gets built or maintained in your area. Businesses, parks, houses... yeah. Don't let them be corporate puppets.

6. Public works commission: they control the utilities, the water, the trash, and the recycling. This is one of the main places the environmental movement should be looking to make change. They write regulations that can be used and enforced to reign whole groups of people and corporations in to make real collective change in the way we generate power, consume resources, and manage waste. They are also how we prevent more crisis situations like the one in Flint, MI.

7. City, state, and federal legislators. They write the laws. They appropriate the spending of your tax money. Stop narrowing your focus to the federal executive branch when the left needs to gain momentum writing laws at every level. Don't discount local change, because it adds up.

I know we are all focused on the genocides going on around the world right now. The best way we can continue helping as November comes and goes, is to elect local leaders who will support global liberation by writing laws and regulations that protect our free speech, ensure the quality and equity of our education, and commit to divestment from violence all over the world.

Okay? We all got this?

Can we all just agree to do this part, and we can fight about biden separately, please?

TLDR: Fuck you, vote in all the local races.

[aphroditestempleimagines]

The Obsidianite Jewel

A fem!reader x Chevalier Michel Fanfiction

18 + !!! NSFW

Chapter 13 -> Chapters Masterlist

Words: a fuck ton

Warnings: nsfw, fingering, vaginal sex, handjob, overstim, kissing, nipple play

Summary: It all started when your fiancé, Prince Gilbert, brought you to the palace of Rhodolite. He hoped he would find the secrets of the princes. Instead, he lost your heart to the brutal beast. However, Gilbert is not going to let your heart wander away easily

A month had passed as you stayed in the fortress. Gilbert was still chained underground. You visited his dungeon every day at first, mixing his medicine with his food in secret. Despite his imprisonment, his sickness started to withdraw, although the bags under his eyes grew in volume. At some point, he asked you to stop visiting. He had his back turned on you from you when he begged you to leave him alone. You did not ask why. You did not have to. You both knew how each of you hurt the other.

After a month the negotiations for peace were seemingly going well. Jade retreated and Benitoite joined Rhodolite's side is shutting down the last of Obsidian's generals. Even so, the ebony empire was vast and far too unpredictable. Too many times in the past it had feigned defeat, only to come back stronger. You had seen nation after nation bend to their knees as they were engulfed by the empire's shadow. More importantly, your kingdom's safety depended on your marriage to the man currently in the dungeons, and your loyalty to the Obsidianite crown. If word got out that you were roaming freely in the Rhodolitian camp the rumours would not be far from the truth to start spreading about an alliance between you.

"Chevalier?", Nokto repeated your words, "I think he's already in his room"

"Oh I see", you said sorrowfully, "thank you"

You return to your room to meet your sorry bag. You had laid each one of the dresses given to you on the bed. A knight brought them to you the next day after you arrived at the fortress. They were simple but not plain, their cut clean to suit your figure but lacking any eye-drawing embellishments usually worn by royalty. You sat on the bed and run your hand over the blue fabric of the one closest to you. Blue, white and gold, those were the only colours the dresses had. It was such a subtle detail that could easily go over one's head and so it would not draw any attention. That genius idiot...

You smiled, your fingers crinkling the fabric of the beautiful dress. The one you wore paled in your eyes in comparison even though, although tattered from the fall in the river, it was adorned with jewels from all the kingdoms conquered by Obsidian. You let out a sigh. You had long decided to leave, yet kept postponing it in an effort to see Chevalier again. You had caught glimpses of him as he raced through the corridors, venturing out for scouting and coming back bloodied from top to bottom. But there was no delaying it any longer. You had to go back. Every day you weren't either publicly announced as a hostage or returned to Obsidian or your homeland as a runaway cast suspicion over your relation to the kingdom of roses. You had to leave. But you also had to see him again. At least one more time. It could have been the last.

You don't remember how you ended up in front of his bedroom's door but soon you were knocking three times on the wooden surface. There was no sound at first but as you were turning to leave you heard Chevalier's voice from inside saying "Just come in". You stood silent for a moment, contemplating what to do. Going inside would be out of the question in a normal situation; you could not risk raising questions about what was happening behind the closed door. But now? This was your last chance to see him. You looked around. There was no one. You hesitantly put your hand on the handle and opened the door.

Chevalier was sitting on his desk's chair, leaning back as he read his novel. He held the book in one hand and supported his head with the other, elbow on the desk. His sword was leaning sheathed next to him. A smell of soap and roses surrounded him, the stench of iron and blood nowhere to be found anymore.

The door quietly clicked behind you. He raised his head. He immediately put the book down the moment he met your eyes. "Princess y/n", he said formally.

"I...ah...I had to see you", you said. You tucked your hair behind your ear. You could not look him in the eyes, despite your brazen claim. You lowered your gaze. "I'm leaving", you stated, "I'm departing for Istidor come dawn"

"Why?", he stood. It was not long before his face twisted as he answered his own question.

"Yes", you replied to his thought, "I can't draw more attention. The emperor will punish my kingdom for it"

The silence was deafening. You knew in your heart you had to say it. You hated to admit how right Gilbert was but you knew you would be filled with regret if you left with it weighing on your heart. You did not expect anything to change. It was probable that you would never see Chevalier again. But still...

"I....", you stammered. You looked away again. "I love you", you finally spat, "I'm sorry, but...I love you. I know you don't feel the same way about me. But I can't help how I feel about you. And I....", at this point tears had begun streaming down your eyes, "Maybe you'll think less of me now that you know this, but..."

His shadow suddenly enveloped you. You had not taken notice of when he had moved to stand in front of you. He was so close. You looked up at his crystal blue eyes as they gazed upon your face. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb gently brushing over your skin again and again. He leaned in. His lips hesitated just an inch before they touched yours. You could feel his breath cascading upon your face. Your eyes had already fluttered closed, your heart too weak to pull you away.

And then he kissed you.

He smelled like roses and parchment and tasted like sweet tea. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers entwining between your locks. His other hand gently pulled you closer by the waist, barely touching your body. You cupped his cheek as you switched sides on your kiss. Your fingers caressed his cold skin.

His lips remained close as the kiss ended. "Why do this?", you asked against them, "I did not know you could be so cruel"

"Perhaps I could be", his husky voice was louder than ever. He touched his forehead to yours. "But not this time", he said.

You pulled away. You had to retain your logic. You could not be pulled into a place you could not return from. Chevalier's expression was as frozen as ever now that you were looking at him once again. He could not have meant it, could he? Chevalier was the most incredible person you knew. You knew he had a beautiful heart which he suppressed each day under the weight of his duty. He always acted with purpose; the only purpose he could have to say such a thing would be to weaken Istidor with a war with Obsidian, something that would probably not interest him in the slightest. But the alternative, of him having meant it, was even more improbable.

"What are you s..."

"What do you want?", he cut you off. His hand returned to your cheek as he held you, eyes locking.

"It does not matter what I want"

"If you want a new life you can return to Istidor", he said, "Perhaps you should want that. You would be the happiest"

You laughed. "I wouldn't, but I have no choice"

"Yes, you do", his voice was cold but now both of his hands held your face, "You do"

"Chevalier, you know I don't", you sighed, "The emperor..."

"Is in the dungeon of this fortress", Chevalier completed nonchalantly. You furrowed your brows. It did not take long for you to realise he meant Gilbert. Chevalier scoffed. "He did not tell you", he muttered, "Of course he didn't. He preferred to create a persona to keep you with him, the messiah."

"Gilbert is not-"

Chevalier let go of you. "I should not have told you", he said, "I have every reason to lie and therefore am not a reliable bearer of this news. But you can verify them once you reach your homeland". He passed you by and reached for the door. "Your future is finally yours", he said behind you. You heard the door open. "You should find someone who makes you truly happy before they try to marry you off again"

Maybe it was the fact that you could not see him anymore and relied solely on your ears, but you detected the slightest hinge in his voice when he said those words. An almost undetectable hesitation that was uncharacteristic of his nature. You turned towards him and pulled him so he would face you. It was the first time you saw him truly surprised; but there was something else, deeper, peaking under his expression now that you had caught him off guard. It was sorrow.

Your eyes widened. This time you pulled him in for a kiss. He reciprocated. It was much more intense than the first. His hands scrambled around your waist, needy enough to pull you close but too scared to do so with all their might. His kisses left your lips and moved towards your neck. You let out a sigh. Your back hit the door and the two of you were knocked back into reality. He looked away.

"You should go", he said coldly and walked back to his desk.

"You said the choice was mine"

"So you shouldn't waste it"

"I'm only going to ask you this once", you said, your anger evident in your tone, "How do you feel about me?"

"That much is clear"

"Do you love me?"

"Are you saying you can't tell as much?"

"Chevalier, do you love me? Yes or no?"

He rushed back to your side. His lips collided with yours in another fervent kiss. His hand pulled at your waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck. He continued kissing you again and again until he was out of breath. He touched his forehead to yours, his thumb pulling at your lower lip as he warmed it with his heaving breath. "You simpleton", he said, "You should know the answer to that already". His face was still lacking expression, yet his ice-blue eyes had caught fire, and so had his voice.

You stayed quiet for a moment, still processing what had transpired. "Then shut up and stop pushing me away", you said annoyed as tears spilt from your eyes. Chevalier raised his eyebrows in surprise. You could tell he had not planned for such a reaction.

You pulled him in once again. He pushed your bodies together against the door as he kissed you. You blindly searched the space behind you until your hand found the key and locked the door. Your other hand was still holding his white linen shirt, pulling him towards you so he would not escape even though he seemed to have no intention to. His lips were devouring every inch of skin they could find. You felt him slow down as he reached your cleavage. His hands were hesitantly hovering above the buttons of your dress. You reached behind your back and pushed his hands towards them. He played around with the first one until he was able to unhook it, then easily undid the rest. He untied the ribbons of your skirt and petticoat. You shook your dress until it pooled around your feet.

Your hands worked on his own shirt until you were able to pull it off of his shoulders. You traced his toned torso, the bandages of his wound still wrapped around it. You dropped your gaze and your head as your fingers traced the white gauze. His crooked finger hooked underneath your chin and raised your head once more. He kissed your lips, hands tracing your figure until they reached your waist. You gasped when he lifted you up, letting your legs wrap around his hips.

"Chevalier your wou-"

"I can do so much", he waved your concern away. He carried you to the bed. He let out a grunt of pain as he tried to place you softly upon the mattress, the weight pulling at the muscles he shouldn't move.

"Don't", you told him. You sat on your knees and cupped his cheeks before you kissed him. His breath relaxed, the warm air breaking on your skin. You broke the kiss and looked at the bandage. He placed his hand above yours as it passed over the wound. He moved them together towards his heart. You met his gaze. It was intense; determined. Without any words, he told you that the worst pain he had had to experience was in his heart when he was apart from you.

He slowly climbed on top of you, kissing and biting at your neck and collarbone. His fingers hooked under the fabric of your chemise and lifted it until he exposed your honey pot. He traced the lips with his digits as they grew wetter. You took a sharp inhale as his thumb pressed your bud. He raised his head. His eyes examined your face as his thumb drew circles over and over again. He leaned for a kiss when he plunged a finger inside your walls. He was slow, careful as he drank every sigh and moan he pulled out of you. You opened your legs further for him. He thrust another one of his thick fingers inside you. You broke from his kiss to let out a cry of pleasure. He stopped for a moment as he examined your face, quickly returning to his good work. He scraped your walls with the pad of his fingers and your neck with the edges of his teeth. You combed his golden hair, pulling on the strands as he picked up the speed of his thrusts.

You called his name in his ear. He leaned to your neck and planted a loving kiss. Your bodies danced together, the tears they had shed while apart were turning into a fiery passion. You did not know if you wanted to cry out of joy or out of the sheer pleasure his fingers were granting you. He pulled your corset right under your breasts to expose them and took one in his mouth. Your fingers curled. You could feel his smile as his tongue circled one of your nipples. You could feel a coil building up in your body, curling up like a spring underneath your belly. His hands were both at work between your legs, one thrusting and one circling your rosey bud. He suddenly switched breasts and the coil burst. You panted and trembled as you covered his fingers with your essence. He slowly pulled his hand away. His fingers lightly pressed on your oversensitive entrance. You shuddered at the feeling, hips both running away and moving towards him.

He brought his head to his bandaged stomach. "Dammit", he muttered. Before you could pose further questions, he sat next to you, back on the headboard, and pulled you between his legs. This position reminded you of something yet you could not name this thing even as you searched into the depths of your memory.

"Chevalier", you said before he covered your eyes with his palm. The darkness made the kisses on your neck even more intense. It made the way he cupped your breasts feel more direct. His breath was on your nape. And that was when it clicked: There were not a lot of romance stories that you read, but there was this one you knew all your female friends had read. You had jokingly mentioned it once in front of him, never expecting him to actually read it. Goodness, you hoped he would not after you contemplated further on the vulgarities contained in this particular book. But he did. And he knew. And though you had mentioned it mockingly, you did not believe there were many women who would not be turned on by the things in that book.

He nipped on your ear. "I wanted to tell you", you felt rather than heard his words, "You enjoy some pretty interesting books". His fingers held your entrance open. "But I would like to hear what you want coming from your lips", he lifted you and led you onto his length, "Personally, I would prefer to look at you while you're making that face"

You felt the kiss he planted on your shoulder as his length stretched you. He continued to kiss you repeatedly as you got used to him inside you. He helped you as you moved up and down. You called his name. You heard his grunts loud and clear with your heightened ears even though he tried to bury them in your neck. He started moving more ferociously, more passionately. Your back arched against him as you tried to keep your breath steady, with no success. Your head leaned back to lie on his shoulder. At some point, his hand slipped away and you were met face to face with the expression he hid from your behind your previously obstructed gaze. His heaving chest, his rose-coloured cheeks, his feverish forehead, his hungry gaze....his everlasting and ever-burning love. It was too late for him to hide again; he probably realised it. He caught your lips in his. One hand dived underneath your arm and cupped your cheek, keeping your lips locked with his as he thrust inside you. The other pinched and circled your bud. You moaned. His tongue was entwined with yours. Your legs wiggled at the weakness of your breath. You reached behind you and hooked your arm on his nape. You aided his fingers as they urged your release. Your cries of intense pleasure were nectar drunk by his thirsty lips.

He kissed your nose. He was panting. He was not hiding anymore. His hands held you close, begging you to stay, even if his lips would never ever express such a wish. He was not a man who would succumb to his desires, but that did not mean they were not there.

"Lay down", you said as you raised your hips. You cupped his cheeks as he fell onto the pillows on the side. Your lips kissed every inch of his handsome face. His hands held your waist, thumbs tracing the dimples of your hips. You kissed every patch of skin you could find between the bandages on his torso. He pulled you back up mid-climbing down. He combed your hair with his fingers. You wrapped yours around his length. Your thumb traced the head and he bit your lip. You moved your head up and down. He was still determined on kissing you, yet you could taste the sweet moans he himself now left, and the sway of his hips towards your hand. His hand wrapped around yours. At first, you thought he was going to stop you, but he merely urged you to continue faster.

He came, panting against your face, his warm essence shooting from his length. He cupped your cheek before moving his hand to your nape and pulling you into his embrace. His hands wrapped around you. He softly kissed your back. You pulled him close, your own arms diving underneath his. He held you as if you were the most precious treasure in the world. His thumb rubbed on your skin and you knew he was tracing the marks that he himself had left.

"I'm coming with you", you said against his chest, "To Rhodolite"

Chevalier tightened his embrace. "Good", he said.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

resolve, reason, and the tower

(a look at the political ramifications of Alexandria--and dealing with the Warrior of Light)

-------

Of course, Lama’tyi hadn’t been thinking fully when she’d chosen her champions. And he’d not done much research either. A mistake that Koana was quick to rectify the moment he’d settled into his new station. He didn’t doubt the purity of Riven and her allies’ intentions…it was just…they were strange. A feeling that had only intensified during the short war with Zoraal Ja and…

Everything else.

Shards, reflections, rifts–other worlds–words and concepts that made his head spin. Even now on the other side of it all, he still didn’t fully understand. Far easier and simpler to focus on recovering, rebuilding–and innovating. The scrapped Alexandrian machina takes up a separate courtyard, and his people are already hard at work researching, studying. Reverse-engineering.

They will not be caught flat-footed ever again.

He is present at the council of advisors when Lama’tyi declares her intent to allow the Alexandrians to keep their soul machinery for the moment. He is witness to the faint changes of expression and auras on the faces and bodies of the new Sunforged–he is Hhetsarro. He can see these things.

The Eorzeans are not happy. But they do not say anything. Riven and her brothers are polite, charming. They smile and offer murmured deference, and leave when the meeting is adjourned. Koana watches them go, his tail twitching. He remembers what he has learned, the stories from the sailors, from their new allies. The Warriors of Light not only kill gods, but topple governments as well. Alexandria is the most recent example.

Their people cannot afford disharmony amongst their rulers. 

He waits until after dinner, and then calls upon Riven in her guesthouse. She is surprised, but welcomes him in for a late drink and snack. They chatter briefly of the latest ship from Sharlayan, which has brought seeds and other needed supplies for Mamook. As she pours him another cup of tea, Koana judges that the time is correct. He broaches his true reason for coming.

“You are not pleased with the current decision regarding the Alexandrians.” 

Riven had known this was coming. And if she’d had her way, she would have broached the subject much sooner. Perhaps even gone so far as to have completely shut down Oregeanics in its entirety. But she is an outsider, and there has been enough pain and suffering as it is. She can see the wisdom in Wuk Lamat’s choice–the Alexandrians need familiarity. They need reassurance. She cannot be unbiased in this, nor can her brothers, nor can the Scions.  

And yet…

“I’m not.” She says. “But it is not my place to interfere, especially after actions taken by myself and mine that have led to the current situation. And we cannot truly offer an unbiased opinion.” Especially since there is a very real possibility she and her brothers may have to take matters into their own hands for the safety of the star.

“You are permitted to offer your own opinion, you know. Do we not all speak from some sort of bias?” Koana offers. He gives her a small smile. “I ask because I would not like friction between us, or between you and Lama’tyi. She would be sad if you were upset.” Riven rewards him with a faint smile, and then sighs. Inhaling, she cradles her cup of tea, then looks up at the Hhetsarro.

“Alexandria is a ticking time bomb for you and yours.” She begins. “I do not doubt that it can be kept hidden from the rest of the world, even more so because Tural does not want to involve itself in the affairs of other nations. But that time is marked now. Already the sailors from Eorzea would have begun to spread word of Zoraal Ja’s ships over the harbor back home. They may speak of the machina army–and of Alexandria itself. I would be surprised if you do not hear anything from Limsa or Sharlayan on the next boat, wanting to know what’s going on.” And on that front Riven was certain something would come. By now it was probably no secret back home that she and the others were in Tural. 

Only a matter of time before other adventurers come. More folk, wanting to make a name for themselves, wanting to find treasure, wanting to explore. And Riven didn’t begrudge this, for she was doing the same. Hells, she could practically hear Cid and the Ironworks salivating over electrope, and hear Nero’s snarky voice over Alexandrian technology.

But when it came to their use of souls, and the…not-Lifestream? 

That’s going to go over as well as the Church being wrong.  Mathye’s voice echoed in Riven’s memory. Folk are not going to be welcoming to people who want to use the spirits of their loved ones to keep their own existence going. How do you know there’s not going to be some lot that get desperate enough to repeat what Zoraal Ja did to his own city?

“For that matter, can you guarantee that there won’t be an Alexandrian–or Alexandrians who may get desperate to keep their lifestyle going, and so strike out on their own?” She voiced. “You saw it happen. It was a simple thing to kill a person and harvest their soul for use. Living Memory is permanently offline, but their false Lifestream is still operational. And I suspect it can be replicated.”

“...You fear they would head to your home.” Koana said. 

“I fear what’s going to happen should such a thing occur.” Riven countered. “Because if it does, the Scions are not going to be able to stop whatever the Grand Alliance brings down upon you all. Your father was afraid of an invasion, and united your peoples so that this land could remain safe.”  She leaned forward, her eyes directly meeting Koana’s own.

“It needs to end. It should have ended. Is it a mess? Yes, because the Alexandrians are dealing with pain, and loss, and grief for the first time in their lives. They are learning a long-overdue lesson regarding death, and I would not wish that on anyone.” Riven paused, drawing back. She reached out for her mug, wrapping her fingers around the pottery’s surface.

“The longer they continue to have their soul-system, the worse the dismantling is going to be. And you may not have the luxury of calling upon Raz-at-Han if it goes the wrong way and the Grand Alliance gets involved.” She watched as Koana’s eyes widened. “In fact, Vrtra and Azdaja would more than likely stay out of it. Their sire swore an oath to the Mothercrystal, and the Alexandrians’ actions would be seen as a threat to that promise.”  Oh wow. The Vow of Reason’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, but Riven didn’t care that she was possibly frightening the Hhetsarro. She inhaled, searching for a way to soften the blows she’d given, but no words came to mind.

“There is no resolution in which everyone is happy in this.” She finally said. “There is only damage control. Cut the Alexandrians off now, destroy the system using currencies as souls. The wound will heal cleanly, abet messily. You will be safe when the other nations come demanding to know what has happened here. Otherwise if you continue the way you are going now, you risk your father’s fears coming true. And Tural will be forever changed by the fallout.” Riven watched as Koana swallowed, giving her a nod. Had her words gotten through to him?

For the love of the gods, please take heed! Please! Riven watched as Koana got up and left, the door closing behind him. There were other options that could be taken to stop the false Lifestream, and she didn’t know if the Vow of Reason was aware of them. Or if he was–he wasn’t saying anything.

I would rather they solve this. Not any of us. On this Riven didn’t want to act as the Warrior of Light. Nor did Augustine and the others. But if they had to…nothing was stopping them from destroying Oregenics entirely.

Or in the absolute worst-case scenario…sending Alexandria back to whence it came, and destroying the portal behind it.

[ceiling-karasu]

Have you ever thought about what an equivalent to the former states of East and West Germany would be like in the Squirrel and Hedgehog universe? (Apologies if you've already made a post about this)

I haven’t actually! Also thank you for bringing this up, because that is possibly something important that I would need to address I my own AUs.

If I remember correctly, East Germany may have been one of the first countries in Europe to recognize North Korea as its own nation.

Also, oddly enough, Germany is the only Western Nation to have a statue from the North Korean Mansudae Art Studio, that builds monuments, palaces, statues, and other artworks to send to overseas clients.

Specifically, they gave Frankfurt Germany the Fairy Tale Fountain.

It’s a rebuilt version, actually, since the original was melted down in World War Two for scrap.

In modern days relations are not that great, but when the shoe came out they might have been pretty good.

In the actual show, outside of my AU? It would depend on if some type of World War Two happened. North Korea and East Germany knew about each other due to the Soviet Union and the split between East and West. East Germany recognized North Korea but not South Korea, while West Germany recognized South but not North, so that would probably be mentioned (although I don’t think the concept of the international community recognizing Flower Hill as its own nation comes up).

It’s a propaganda show at its core, so the wolves would be running West Germany and everyone in there would be super miserable, while East Germans would be comfortable and happy with what they had.

I’m sure they would have a great relation with Flower Hill, and they would send aid and delegations back and forth. I can see Geumsaegi being sent as an envoy by the Weasels to help the wolves running the West Side, and having to meet with the East Side and pretending not to recognize anyone.

East Germany would probably help Flower Hill with Espionage, and there would be a plot of Geumsaegi trying to get information to them. West German citizens would probably be portrayed as brutal like the wolves or seen as something to pity with their hard and unfulfilled lives but not something to worry about.

They might still want to reunite due to separated family members.

Other than the Uncle Gom metaphor, I don’t think we have seen much of a Soviet Union that would be able to take over that region.

I think the general idea is that Rabbit Village represents China. China assisted North Korea in the war, especially with troops, but we don’t see a large rabbit force helping Flower Hill soldiers outside of what happens in Operation: White Snow. Although, China actually split from the Soviet Union at some point.

We don’t see a large Russian Soviet force appearing in the show, either, with Uncle Gom supposedly representing the Soviet Union as bloated and failing in episode one. A Soviet Union existing would result Flower Hill getting a lot of soldiers, orders, and equipment from their benefactors, or at least have them mentioned with high praise.

As such, Flower Hill appears to be going at it alone, with no Soviet Union, which would suggest that an East and West Germany situation is not happening. Germany was split from 1949 to 1990, and the first episode of Squirrel and Hedgehog came out in the 1970s (Korean War being in the 1950s) so the friendly relations would have been known, and could have been brought up at some point. Maybe they could have been going there had we seen more of S2, since the wolves that supposedly represented Americans appeared, which could have led into such discussions. But, we do not see any sign of this, so it could be up in the air.

Then again, given Uncle Gom, the writers appeared to know that the Soviet Union wasn’t going to last much longer with how it was growing, so they might not have bothered.

As for the AU, though?

I have the village of Dol Jogagga in chapter 6 that does sculpting and artwork for international clients to help relations between Flower Hill and other nations. International relations are mentioned a few times in the show itself, so that checks out close to canon enough to work.

So, since I am sort of working with blending Squirrel and Hedgehog with real North Korean relations, I did have the idea that Flower Hill did send some artwork to the Germany nation.

Unfortunately, that’s as far as I had gone with the idea at the time, other than some trade. I haven’t even come up with a fictional name yet.

Personally, I had the idea that the world wars, or at least the Second World War, did not happen in my AU due to species’ biology prohibiting wars on such a larger scale. Which means less of a Cold War, which means the split between West and East Germany would not have happened.

If there was a split between East and West Germany, the wolves would be in West Germany, and some other group would be in East Germany. I can’t create absolute union without scrapping everything and starting over at this point, and I have no intention of doing so since I figured that there was no huge Soviet Union due to the above reasons.

Which now makes me realize that I’ll have to come up with a reason for the Germany country to be friendly with Flower Hill, since the original friendliness came from being occupied by the Soviets.

I did kind of have the idea of using the silk trade (since I have a massive silk trade going on in Flower Hill due to the prevalence of silkworms for food in the Koreas), since Germany had a longstanding tradition and history with silk leading back into the 17th century, although I hadn’t decided on if they would be competitors acting friendly or a very good client (production wise, possibly the former since I already have Chaand Hadia and the Jindo Empire as major clients).

[sokkastyles]

Hi,

Hope you are doing well.

I have another query regarding TSR. When Katara confronts Yon Rah and spare him at the end, I didn't notice Zuko's silence at that moment. Now, I am realizing that his silence in a way shows that he accepted and respected Katara's choice. He may not have liked it, but he understood that it was her choice, and that was that.

Looking at the way Aang responded at the end of the episode, I don't think he understood her choice at all. He simply assumed that she forgave Yon Rah, when she did not. It seems like he did not want to understand her choice at all.

On a separate note, do you feel that when it comes to Zuko's actions in the episode, it seems a bit weird that some people say that Zuko wanted Katara to murder Yon Rah in revenge, when not once did he bring that subject up in the episode whatsoever, and the one who brought that topic up was Aang?

I would like your thoughts on this.

The thing I find funny is that people try to make this about Zuko or Katara not respecting Aang's culture when throughout the episode, the one who is consistently unwilling to accept other people's perspectives is Aang. Aang is the one who insists it's about revenge. And I agree, Katara saying "maybe it is" is probably the point where that idea entered her mind.

I'm not saying that was never a possibility, because let's be real, they're not going there to make friends with the guy. But reducing it to revenge ignores the fact that these are people who need to be stopped. No one knew Yon Rah was retired. (I've also said before that Zuko and Katara should have at least disabled the Southern raiders' ship after learning Yon Rah wasn't there, because those men certainly were not innocent.) It's also about Katara reclaiming her legacy. Yon Rah thought he had murdered the last waterbender, remember? One thing that did give Katara closure was being able to affirm her survival and confront the man who could have been her murderer with it. This also ties into why learning waterbending combat was so important to Katara. The Southern raiders' mission was to wipe out waterbenders because the fire nation feared them as a threat to their war. Katara confronting the man who supposedly killed the last waterbender with all her power is an affirmation that that mission had failed. This is also why I have no time for people who insist that fighting is not a part of Katara's legacy and who she is.

And like you said, Zuko is silent when Katara makes her choice. He might have disagreed with her, or not. The only indication we get of his feelings is the look of hatred he throws Yon Rah behind Katara's back as they are leaving, but that could mean a lot of things. It could mean that Zuko has accepted that this man who he clearly despises has to live with the fact that the person he was sent to kill not only lived, but became more powerful than he could have imagined, and that he is pathetic in comparison. One could argue that this is a punishment worse than death. And that actually is probably enough for Zuko, because what he wanted was the confrontation. Remember when he tells the new captain to look Katara in the eyes and remember? I've said before that that mirrors Zuko confronting his father and demanding the truth, a confrontation which he also chose to walk away from without killing. What Zuko wants is for these men to be confronted with their crimes, and in neither case is that accomplished through killing.

And not only is Zuko silent during, but after the fact, he expresses no judgement on what Katara did, not even when she herself says she is uncertain. He tells Aang he was right, even though Aang again is the one to make assumptions and immediately says he's "proud" of Katara for "choosing forgiveness," which Katara immediately shoots down. Despite how much this episode wants to tell us that Aang is wise and understanding, it is Katara and Zuko who demonstrate understanding of the situation, Katara who makes the right decision in the end and is wise enough to be accepting of the ambiguity of her feelings, Zuko who is able to extend understanding to both sides when Aang and Katara continue to disagree. Zuko also never makes an attempt to define the situation. We do not see Zuko and Katara's initial conversation beyond Zuko telling Katara he knows where to find Yon Rah, which implies that Katara's decision to go after him is a foregone conclusion with no need of convincing by Zuko. Another thing we never see is what Zuko told the rest of the gaang after the fact, when Katara was not there. Aang tells Katara that Zuko told him what happened, and makes his own assumptions about what happened, assumptions which Katara says are wrong. But we never hear Zuko's interpretation of the facts, because it's not for him to define what happened. The episode is very careful to NOT have Zuko define or influence things. Which is why it's funny when people try to argue that he did. It also makes it more noticeable that Aang is the one who attempts to define things before listening to Katara, which is why he comes across negatively in this episode, and why it negatively affects an audience view of his relationship with Katara.

[creature-wizard]

Hello! If this is something that makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free to ignore this!

DISCLAIMER: This is nothing against Christians! I have no problem with your religion!

Anyways. So I grew up extremely evangelical Christian and now I’m agnostic, I’ve been doing pretty good with dismantling certain ideologies that I was brought up believing, etc, but there’s one thing that I cannot get rid of and that is “rapture anxiety”.

Basically, the way Christianity was/is taught to me and the people of my church is very fear-based. “Be afraid of the devil and going to hell, but also be afraid of God and what’s going to happen to you if you don’t obey his orders” type shit.

And while I don’t usually even regress back to how I was when I was religious, when the Israel/Palestine conflict escalated this week, a bunch of the people in my community and in my family started spreading a shit ton of messages about how “the rapture is coming” and how “modern Israel is the the Nation of Israel in the Bible and the Palestinians are the Canaanites that God is destroying before the rapture”, etc.

And somehow all of this just took me back to my childhood in which I literally couldn’t sleep because I thought God was coming at any time because “no one knows the day or the hour of his coming” and I was going to go to hell if I wasn’t ready and all that anxiety just kept flooding back. Gosh, just typing this sounds so self centred, I feel like I’m making a literal genocide about me.

Have you ever experienced this? It’s so fucking debilitating, I hate that evangelical Christianity is so fear based. Sorry for venting and writing a whole book in your asks.

Hey anon, you're always entitled to talk about and seek support for your religious trauma from appropriate channels. Have you ever heard of ring theory? Ring theory essentially states that the important thing is to seek comfort from those further away from the crisis, and give support to those closer to it. Since I'm not more affected by this crisis than you, you aren't doing anything wrong here.

I haven't personally experienced rapture anxiety since the rapture wasn't part of my parents' belief system, but I know it's extremely common. I'm sorry you have to go through this.

I was, however, brought up with apocalyptic beliefs, and more than once I definitely found myself triggered when the topic - or even adjacent topics - came up. It took years of work to get past that.

If it helps, try to remember that much about this whole situation was actually engineered by Evangelical Christians. They literally want this conflict to happen because they think it'll catalyze the End Times and bring about the Second Coming. I can't imagine that the god who supposedly said that nobody knows the day or the hour of Jesus's second coming would be very amused by people being arrogant enough to think that they can actually set the End Times into motion themselves.