#is the entire beginning of this just me projecting and could i easily cut it and have the fic be better? yes. but i don’t write to be good

[flowercrowngods]

in which eddie is semi-nonverbal and steve notices despite eddie’s best efforts. cuddles ensue | 1.8k

They’re hanging out at Eddie’s, just the two of them, when Steve notices it for the first time. He’s not known as the most perceptive guy ever, but he’s actually rather good at these things. And he’s starting to get good at getting a feel for Eddie, too, even though it’s made harder by his dramatics and his flourishes and all those exaggerated gestures, mimics and mood swings. Eddie is fluent in all things sarcasm and drama, both of which Steve had issues reading in the beginning but is now pretty good with.

After fighting an interdimensional monster wizard creep, nearly dying a few times and spending time together almost every day because we stick together now, Steve knows Eddie.

He’s not sure if they’re friends, exactly, but that doesn’t really stop him from knowing all of his tones, his moods, and even most of his music these days. Steve just watches. Listens. Remembers. He’s shit at talking about himself much around anyone but Robin, but he always makes a point of knowing as much as he can about his friends. And Eddie.

Which is why the sudden strain in Eddie’s voice catches him off guard. It’s not the I didn’t get any sleep last night because all I can think of is how I almost died kinda strain. Nor is it the It’s 5pm and I haven’t eaten yet and I don’t want you to find out kind. Steve still makes sure to make them sandwiches as he listens to Eddie rambling off about something or other.

And that’s the thing. Steve listens. He always does, but Eddie is rambling. And he sounds almost miserable about it. The words don’t make sense, they lack their usual enthusiasm when Eddie talks DnD or music — which, he’s doing both? There’s no connection. And when Steve turns around, sandwiches secondary to that fucking strain in Eddie’s voice, he sees that his eyes are dull. The smile forced. And he keeps talking even though his tone indicates that he’s done.

Steve frowns slightly and watches Eddie, who’s walking mindlessly, aimlessly, pacing and stopping every few seconds, looking a little lost every time he does.

The thing is, there is no reason for Eddie to talk. No point to his words. No calculation in his movement, no burning off of excess energy, no kick in his step, no stomp for emphasis.

Steve notices. He sees. He listens. And thinking back, Eddie’s reaction time to just about anything Steve said today was either close to nothing, or very delayed.

It dawns on him then, as he looks Eddie up and down, noticing the fidgeting hands, the tense shoulders, the stiff grimace of a smile. It dawns on him because he knows this look, this behaviour. Not exactly like this, but close.

He has a hunch and hopes that whatever they have built over the past weeks is strong enough for Eddie not to freak out on him over this.

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts him, and it shouldn’t be this easy. It wouldn’t be, normally, but today Eddie just shuts up immediately, mouth closed, eyes on Steve.

“Yeah?” Four seconds. That’s how long that word took.

Steve hopes the expression on his face is kind, not patronising. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Eddie blinks. Swallows. Two, three, four. “Do what, Steve?” And immediately he is defensive, taking on an act because maybe that’s makes this easier for him, but even his performance is strained.

“You don’t have to talk all the time,” he says, and only realises once the words have left his mouth that they sound wrong, like he’s annoyed with Eddie’s constant babbling and needs some silence. Which he doesn’t.

Eddie scoffs before he can take it back. He scoffs, spins in a circle and sighs deeply, expertly bridging the four seconds it takes him once again to open his mouth and speak.

“Oh, that’s new! That’s new, Harrington, I’ve never heard that one before. What’s next, you gonna call me a Freak? Maybe tell me the bands I listen to aren’t music? Really sorry, man, and I hate to break it to you, but if you wanna hang out with someone who doesn’t ‘have to talk all the time’, I’m not your man!”

Even the anger seems dull, the little speech far from what it could have been, like Eddie’s brain isn’t quite there, like it doesn’t work today, like the words just won’t come and decide to leave him hanging with his failed dramatics.

Still, Steve approaches him slowly, his hands raised in a placating motion. “That’s not what I meant, and I’m sorry it came out wrong, Eds. I don’t mind your talking, you gotta believe me. But…”

How does he say this next part, this next assumption, without accidentally insulting Eddie again? Without sounding like a complete and total jackass?

“You know El, right? The one with the superpowers?”

Eddie nods.

“Well, when she came to us, she could, like, barely talk. Her vocabulary wasn’t there yet, sure, but that’s not the only reason. And now she’s made wonderful progress and her vocabulary is pretty decent, but still she gets those days where she just… She can’t talk. Or won’t. Maybe both. Sometimes both, yeah. And on some days she will, like, force herself. But I can tell when she does because she’s miserable about it and it sounds like hard labour and she’s always on the verge of tears about it. And… I don’t know, Eds, but you kinda look a lot like her now, and even if you don’t, which is fine, sorry for bringing that up, but even if you don’t have days like that, just know that you don’t always have to talk, yeah? One way or another, there’s not a price you have to pay in stories or running commentary just to be part of the group. You could never talk ever again and we’d still stick together, yeah? That’s what I meant. Sorry if that’s a jackass kinda thing to say.”

Steve hates how he’s always out there fumbling for words and can never get them to sound right. Especially now, when he needs Eddie to understand. He always needs Eddie to understand. It’s a bit of an urge lately. He just wants him to feel safe.

It’s more than four seconds now, and Steve stops counting at ten, acutely aware of the silence this time. He lets Eddie have his silence, though, leaves him room inside it.

“That’s not a jackass kinda thing to say, Steve Harrington,” Eddie says, and Steve swears he has never heard his voice in such a quiet, vulnerable tone. The quiet always helps El, too. Make all those words she can’t say a little less loud and imposing, make it all a little more okay. Not so scary.

“Good,” Steve whispers, and maybe that’s one step too far, but Eddie sags a little bit and for a moment Steve fears that he’s about to sway forward. Not that he wouldn’t catch Eddie.

“What do… How. Do you help El through it?” Small, vulnerable, confused, and Steve heart breaks a little for him.

“I do,” he says, equally quiet, smile on his face. “We always lie down somewhere because you only have to talk when you sit or stand, right? Lying down, no one can make you talk. So we lie down, she’s usually resting on top of me, and either I talk to her about, well… Anything, really. Or I shut up. Sometimes there’s music. Really, there’s many ways to get through it, but the main two things are lying down and not talking on her part, y’know?”

And the way Eddie looks at him makes Steve think that maybe they are friends, because you don’t let just anyone see you this vulnerable. You don’t look at just anyone with your big brown doe eyes like they’re opening a whole new world for you.

“Sounds great,” he croaks and that tension is back in his shoulders, so obvious that Steve wants to reach out and massage it away.

He smiles and searches Eddie’s eyes, absolutely sure of the situation now, and maybe having a cure for it. “Eddie Munson, would you like to go lie down and not talk for a while?”

Eddie stares at him as though he’s calculating the risk, as though he’s weighing his options. He could still tell Steve to go and he’d be out of here in a heartbeat if being alone is what Eddie really needs. But then he nods.

“I think maybe I do, yeah.”

“With El, I only ask her yes or no questions. You can just nod or shake your head. Okay? Don’t know if that works for you but, well, we can find out I guess. Yeah?”

Eddie nods, and Steve smiles. He goes to the kitchen area to grab the sandwiches he made earlier and then lands back right before Eddie, smile still in place.

“Not to be weird or anything, but I think this might work best on your bed. Is that okay for you? If that’s not okay, we can just lie down on the couch.”

Eddie looks back to his room, then back at Steve. He nods.

“Your bed?” Steve asks again just to make sure, and Eddie nods again.

And this is how they find themselves lying on Eddie’s bed, Eddie’s head resting on Steve’s chest. His fingers find their way into the metalhead’s locks at some point and Eddie purrs, which makes Steve laugh for a moment. He doesn’t take his hand away, though.

Steve doesn’t talk like he does with El sometimes. With Eddie, he just basks in the silence and lets the other boy soak up as much of it as he needs. There’s a smile on his lips the whole time, and he didn’t think he could smile so much around Eddie Munson, especially on one of his bad days.

But he does.

They even fall asleep like that, Eddie lying on top of Steve, cuddling into him. Steve lets him. Even the next morning when they’re both awake but not willing to break the silence yet even though Eddie looks much better already, he doesn’t make any moves to get away from Steve. He stays there, head on his chest as they both just bask in the moment.

Bask in the company.

Bask on the threshold of something just to the right of friendship. Something more.

[andorology]

Sanguinity: Chapter 4 a rebelcaptain regency au

“The Andors are finally visiting today,” her father exclaimed. He said this while he squinted through the spectacles lightly perched on his nose, eyes intent on the contents of a quick note Mr. Andor seemed to have written himself and had sent out to their address.

“About time,” remarked her mother in earnest, despite not looking up from her embroidery project. “Their visit is long overdue.”

“Took them long enough, don’t you think?” replied her husband.

Jyn had been sitting by the window when she received this news. Under her breath she muttered, “Maybe he does not want to meet us.”

“What is that, Jyn?” her mother asked over at the sofa.

“Nothing,” Jyn quickly said.

____

Jyn begins to make her intentions known to Philip, and tensions rise between her and Cassian as he and his sister Kerri visit Vallt Park to get acquainted with the Erso family.

Read Chapter 4 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

During the previous weeks, the Ersos had enjoyed the total silence of not being called upon by anybody, but since the conclusion of the big Rook ball, where everybody was finally returning to their business as usual, it would seem that the people of the village were slowly pouring back into Vallt Park for visits of various intent. 

Of these visitors were the usual ones—the family’s lawyer, Mr. Longhorn, Mr. Baze and Mr. Îmwe, the tenants of Mr. Erso’s farms, and, much to Jyn’s surprise, Philip Krennic, who had been quick to honor his owed commitment, which he accomplished just two days after the ball. 

His visit took about an hour and a half, with Philip perhaps subconsciously prolonging his stay due to continuously inquiring about Mr. and Mrs. Erso’s welfare (to the pleasure of both), as well as Jyn’s own interests (an attempt at gallantry she was not depraved to even rebuff).

When the visit reached its conclusion, Philip, pulling Jyn aside as he waited for his horse to be fetched, made a show of his sincere regret in parting with her, as well as expressing his hope to see her again soon, and more often. 

“Miss Erso,” he said, “I confess that I have enjoyed spending time with you. I shall like to see you some more, if you will allow me.” 

Jyn, as she heard these words, thought there and then that this moment had just become a defining one, for the encouragement Philip was hoping to receive out of this felicitation, when she would give it, would finally lay down in the open her intentions of forming a relationship with him. 

To her surprise, she found herself finally open to giving it, for two reasons: first, she was positively assured of his manners during the entire visit, noting particularly the behavior he not only extended to her, but to her parents as well. Jyn did not find offense in him at all—and as to his mild tendency to dispose of himself too easily to her opinion, her mother had advised her to see it as an advantage rather than something to doubt, for “was it so bad to have a husband who would readily agree with his wife?”

The second reason, which Jyn had had some more resistance against before finally relinquishing to, was that she could no longer deny the convenience of the potential union with Philip. The stars seem to have aligned perfectly for the affair—he was agreeable, she knew him well enough, he was rich, and her parents seemed to like him. Resist it as she might, she could no longer find any sensible reason to not acquiesce to these favorable circumstances.

So she decided it was time to move things along. 

With a smile, she expressed, “Of course, Mr. Krennic, I shall be glad. We ought to get to know each other better now, do we not?” 

It was an endorsement that seemed to work on the gentleman to great effect. Animated by its hopeful promise, Philip then committed more visits in the near future, and even proposed a leisure trip to Bath: 

“I think it would do us good to breathe in some new air,” he reasoned. “And the scene is so lively there that people do not stop to rest from their merriment, even past nightfall.”

“I would have to think about it,” replied Jyn, though a part of her already obliged to the offer, for she was truly joyous at the idea of visiting the town, and maybe even dropping by the Duchess Mon Mothma, if time permitted it. 

When all this had finished, she and her mother stood by the window as Philip mounted his horse to ride back to his home, Lexrul House. She would remember the remark her mother had made during that moment as they watched him slowly disappear over the small hills: 

“You are doing well, Jyn.” 

While Philip’s visit had been enough to stir Jyn’s spirits to states of disarray, these feelings were still incomparable to the ones she now felt, a day later, given what was about to happen:

“The Andors are finally visiting today,” her father exclaimed. He said this while he squinted through the spectacles lightly perched on his nose, eyes intent on the contents of a quick note Mr. Andor seemed to have written himself and had sent out to their address. 

“About time,” remarked her mother in earnest, despite not looking up from her embroidery project. “Their visit is long overdue.”

“Took them long enough, don’t you think?” replied her husband. 

Jyn had been sitting by the window when she received this news. Under her breath she muttered, “Maybe he does not want to meet us.”

“What is that, Jyn?” her mother asked over at the sofa. 

“Nothing,” Jyn quickly said.

Mr. Erso clapped his hands. “Well, we better get ourselves ready—we shall give them a warm welcome.” 

Jyn wanted neither to get ready nor give the solicitor a warm welcome, especially since she had taken it upon herself to dislike him, after their meeting during Bodhi’s ball. She shuddered at the recollection. Why could he not fully commit to his impropriety by dropping the intention to call on them altogether? She would have preferred that. Instead he seemed to just vex her more with this attempt at courtesy. 

A few hours passed; Jyn had almost hoped they would not come, and was already even expecting it, when the Andors finally arrived during the afternoon, their dark carriage coming into view from her window, passing through Vallt Park’s fields like a low-hanging, dark cloud. 

In moments, she was called on to come down from her bedchamber. 

As she descended the stairs, Cassian had just stepped into the house from the other end of the entrance hall.

“Mr. Andor!” exclaimed Mr. Erso, extending a hand that Cassian took politely into his.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Andor,” soon followed Mrs. Erso, giving him a curtsy, which Cassian returned with a bow.

From where she was, now at the foot of the stairs, Jyn tried to gauge the solicitor’s current disposition, noting, with contempt, the air of upright dignity he carried himself with. Had she not known the depth of his incivility, she would have found some credit in it. 

As such, she did know, and so she did not. 

Her movement within his periphery caught his attention; he found himself instinctively honing in on her sight; and in that moment, their eyes met. Both of them seemed to hesitate on what to do about this contact, until Cassian finally said, reservedly, “Miss Erso.”

Jyn now reached where they all stood. “Mr. Andor,” she replied, fighting to maintain a blank expression.

Mr. Erso eyed them both back and forth and smiled. “Mr. Andor, Jyn tells me here that you two have met.”

Cassian’s face pulled down into a frown, searching Jyn’s face for some indication on the kind of anecdote she had given to her parents of their introduction. Uncertain, he replied, “Has she?”

“She has,” answered Jyn herself, finding some small satisfaction in his confusion.

“She has,” confirmed her father, “but she has not really told us much about it. It perplexes me, for she has been bent on meeting you since I have told her about you—she could not stop asking about you.”

“Papa.” Jyn’s eyes threatened to fall out of their sockets. She dared not even risk a glance towards Cassian.

“Why?” asked her father. “I speak the truth.”

Jyn's face felt hot. “No you do not, Papa.”

“Well,” her father relented, though unconvinced, “I hope you had a good introduction nevertheless. I should like to hear that you two found each other well-suited for a new friendship, for I would very much like you two to be friends.” 

Neither Jyn nor Cassian responded to this hope. Their eyes met again, and this time neither of them maintained it; quickly they looked away from each other, with Jyn suddenly finding the statue by the door incredibly interesting. Was that a hint of the color copper in the marble?

The following silence that filled the hall resonated so profoundly that the faint sounds of the crickets outside seemed to come through. 

Mr. Erso’s brows furrowed. Doubtful, he asked again, “You two did get along well, did you not?”

Jyn’s mouth hung open, the response struggling to come out. “Er…” 

Her instinct was to tell her father the truth; that upon meeting each other, she and Cassian instantly detested each other. It would be as easy as saying “No, Papa, we did not.” However, for the same reason she hadn’t told him—and her mother, too—about their introduction then, she found herself unable to again at this moment, for she did not want to add one more worry, and such a petty one at that, to the ones they were already facing. 

So, with forced glee, and as though she could vomit the words, she finally said, “Of course we did, Papa. Our…our meeting was very pleasant. So pleasant that I was moved by it, even.” 

She quickly stole a glance at Cassian, who had been looking at her like she had just committed a pure atrocity. Jyn deepened her glare, not backing down. Disallowing him the opportunity to betray her to her father, she went ahead and said, “Mr. Andor agrees with me. Do you not, Mr. Andor?”

Cassian’s nostrils flared at this provocation, quickly realizing what he had been set up into. He deliberated how to go about this for a brief moment; he dared not put up a pretense for the benefit of Miss Erso, but in the interest of not appearing ungrateful to the Ersos (as much as he disliked their daughter) he finally made the decision to indulge her misrepresentation of their acquaintance; helplessly, he felt himself forced to agree. 

His eyes unpeeled from his adversary, he took a deep, sharp breath. “I do, yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “I found Miss Erso to be a truly amiable person of character, and I—” he cleared his throat “—I sometimes even wish that I would meet her again for the first time to experience how pleasant she is.” 

Jyn could almost sigh in relief, but stopped herself. 

Mr. Erso softened. He smiled. “Why, that is great to hear. I almost believed you two did not like each other.”

“Impossible,” Cassian and Jyn remarked at the same time, both feigning a smile.  

With that, Cassian made sure to express his displeasure at Jyn before he turned away from her entirely. Before he could even attempt to renew the conversation with her parents, a sound from outside caught everybody’s attention. Jyn soon discovered its source—there, through the door in the courtyard, was Kerri, who seemed to struggle to grab something from their carriage. 

“Er, is Miss Andor all right?” Mrs. Erso asked.

Cassian frowned. “Kerri?” he called out.

Once Kerri finally had, with an audible grunt, retrieved the object in question (which appeared to be a thick, large notebook), she finally skipped across the courtyard and fell in just beside her brother. 

“My apologies,” she said with an embarrassed chuckle. “I hope I did not miss anything?”

“No, not at all,” Cassian quickly supplied. He faced the Ersos. “Mr. Erso, Mrs. Erso, this is my sister, Kerri.”

“Hello,” Kerri greeted, her face beamed up. “Please excuse me from what happened just now—I was only grabbing this.” She held the notebook up in the air.

When it seemed to only puzzle her parents, Jyn took it upon herself to say, “Are those your drawings, Miss Andor?”

Kerri nodded, a grin on her face. “Yes. I brought them so I could show them to you, in fact.”

At this, all the Ersos’ expressions finally lit up, even Jyn, who, for all her current feelings of unrest towards the person who stood just beside Kerri, was polite enough to indulge her.

“I see we have an artist,” remarked Mrs. Erso, impressed.

The pleasantries of this official, monumental introduction between the Ersos and the Andors naturally progressed into the former giving the latter a tour of the house and its surrounding grounds. Jyn and Cassian hardly acknowledged each other throughout the expedition, except for the occasional repartee to stoke the fire of their faux friendship, which was, for both of them, quite difficult to do. 

By the time they had returned to their starting point, Mr. Erso finally said, “Who’s hungry? Let us have some tea, shall we?”

In the waiting room, Jyn sat down beside Kerri on the settee, directly facing her father, mother, and Cassian across the low table. Her current position paved the default of having the solicitor within her view; she had to actively turn on her seat to spare herself the sight of him. 

She was already on her second cup of tea when he raised the subject of Lah’mu’s lands. And though she invested great interest in her current conversation with Kerri about paint materials, she also found herself tuning in closely to the subject. 

“I was hoping to talk to you about this patch of dry land just along the estate’s border,” Cassian said. “The one by the woods.”

Mr. Erso nodded. “Ah, yes. I expected you to bring that up.”

Cassian’s expression took on a look of confusion. “It seems considerably large, yet I admit I do not know what to do with it.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Erso said, then taking a moment to think. 

Jyn, however, did not. Right away, she knew what could be done to the are, which she had passed by so many times she had already memorized its landscape. 

Mr. Erso spoke. “What if you—” 

“You can turn it into a home farm,” Jyn quickly interjected, hardly realizing the alacrity of her manner in doing so until after the fact. 

Both Cassian and Mr. Erso looked at her, somewhat blindsided by this insertion. While they did not seem offended by it, they did expect her to clarify herself. 

“Pardon, Jyn?” her father said.

Jyn swallowed. “You can turn it into a farm,” she repeated. “Or a garden. Though I feel a home farm would be more appropriate.” 

“A home farm?” Cassian asked, doubtful. “But it is dry dirt. The surrounding dead wood should attest to it.”

Jyn shook her head adamantly. “The patches of marigolds beg to differ.”

Cassian raised a brow. “Marigolds?”

Jyn frowned at the insinuation beneath this reply. “Yes, marigolds, Mr. Andor. They are a sure sign of soil fertility. They are everywhere on your property.”

Cassian instantly picked up on this antagonism. “I know what marigolds are, Miss Erso. But I do not remember seeing them there.”

“But I have.” Jyn shifted so that she faced him again now. Keeping the calm in her voice, she replied, “I hope you do not think I’m making a false claim.”

Cassian leaned forward in his seat. “I think I would know if I saw the marigolds, is all I am saying,” he answered, matching her tone. 

“I do not doubt that you would.” Jyn shrugged. “But perhaps you just haven’t looked well enough to see. Which leads me to somehow infer that you do not actually know what marigolds are.” 

Cassian grimaced. “Do you think I’m making a false claim, Miss Erso?” 

“Oh no, I do not,” Jyn replied nonchalantly. “I just think you do not know.” 

Cassian, clenching his jaw, did not reply.

“But do not be so hard on yourself, Mr. Andor,” Jyn continued, finding gratification from his non-response. “The marigolds are still very young, we’re very early into spring after all. Anyone can mistake them for grass.”

The air was growing palpably tense, but Mrs. Erso, insensible to the real animosity beneath this seemingly playful banter, only laughed. 

“Mr. Andor, don’t you find Jyn extraordinary?” she asked Cassian. “She has been studying botany, you see. She has grown rather very knowledgeable about the subject, among many other things.”

To this Cassian responded with a dry smile. “Yes,” he said, looking at Jyn. “She has ensured that I am aware of it when we first met.” 

Jyn rolled her eyes.

“Speaking of farms,” Mr. Erso brought forth, “now that you have your own estate, Mr. Andor, do you plan to step up further and purchase your own farm?”

Cassian contemplated this question. When he did not answer, Mr. Erso went on, “Because once you do, you may retire from being a solicitor, you know? Become a true member of the gentry. I hope that is something you’re considering.”

Cassian still did not reply.

“I imagine a lot of people would prefer you do it. They do not exactly like the idea of a working man earning his way to such status. I myself do not mind, but I cannot speak for others. The Krennics lean more towards the traditional—” he then shook his head “—but no, I do not think them capable of such prejudices.” 

The mention of the name seemed to stir Cassian to curiosity. “You’re close with the Krennics?” he asked, though in a tone that made the statement somewhat ambiguous, as though he was stating it as a charge rather than a question.

“I would say that’s a generous way of putting it,” replied Mr. Erso. “We are civil at best; we so rarely convene, unless permitted by big assemblies, or required by matters of business. It is Jyn here, in fact, who is more connected to them through her close friend, Philip. Have you met Philip?”

Cassian met Jyn’s eyes. “I have.” 

“But yes,” Mr. Erso continued, “I highly recommend you consider retirement, Mr. Andor. You ought to enjoy your comforts now that you’ve worked for it.”

“I…I shall think about it,” was all that Cassian said.

“Perhaps looking at some prospective farmlands might interest you.” Mr. Erso stood up and headed to a table by the shelves. Cassian soon followed after being beckoned; in no time, they were already poring through the paraphernalia while engaged in intent conversation. 

For a while, Jyn, her mother, and Kerri kept to themselves to talk about various topics, until Mrs. Erso requested to take leave in order to finish a very important letter to some of her friends in Scotland, which she was anxious to finish today. 

This left Jyn alone with Kerri. Their solitude seemed to instantly spark some excitement in her companion.

“Miss Erso,” she said, eager. “I must tell you something. I finally feel the liberty to do so, now it is just us two.” 

Intrigued, Jyn answered, “What is it? Do tell me, Miss Andor.”

“All right.” The sister took a deep breath, then with a tight-lipped smile, asked, “Do you know Mr. Donwell?”

“Mr. Donwell? James Donwell? Yes, I do. I have known him for a good time now. Why?”

“Well, after we parted ways at the ball, I met him.”

From the way Kerri’s face began to redden, Jyn had a sure feeling where this was going. So she said with encouragement, “And?”

“And,” Kerri said emphatically, smiling, “we went along very well. He is an incredibly pleasant and polite man. He asked me to dance not only once, but twice, Miss Erso. Twice!”

Jyn smiled. “He did?”

“Yes.” Kerri let out a breathy laugh. “And both dances were nice; he is such a good dancer, Miss Erso.”

“Miss Andor,” Jyn began, “might I be correct in inferring that you liked Mr. Donwell?”

Kerri blushed before she gave her an affirming nod. “I confess that I cannot stop thinking about him since.”

“You seem really struck.”

Kerri looked to Jyn. “You’re right, I am. I do like him. Tell me, Miss Erso, am I stupid for feeling this way?”

Jyn shook her head, grinning. “No, not at all. Your heart has served you well, Miss Andor, for it could not have chosen a better man to feel such affections for. Mr. Donwell is incredibly kind and gentle. I think that is because of the care Sir and Mrs. Donwell have given to him; they love him terribly, and he, them. I remember once, he rode back home from Cambridge on horseback alone, when he found out Mrs. Donwell came down with a terrible flu. He refused to leave her side until her recovery.”

Kerri sank back to the settee. “My, Miss Erso. I was hoping you would say something that should sway my feelings for him for good, but you have only nurtured them further with this recommendation.”

Jyn smiled. “I hope you forgive me for disappointing you.”

Kerri buried her face in her hands. “Goodness, I feel embarrassed.”

Jyn watched her new friend begin to descend into this endless rapture of feeling, which she, if she was being truthful, had never yet felt once in her life. She wondered what it must feel like. 

“Do not consider it a burden, Miss Andor,” she said. “It is a profound blessing to feel this way about someone you like. Do not attempt to push it away.”

On that note, Kerri found herself immediately consoled, if not encouraged. Then sitting back up, she said, “I’ve noticed that you and Mr. Krennic seemed really close.”

“Oh,” Jyn said, surprised. She looked down on the cup on her lap. “I suppose we are. We have been friends a long time.” 

Kerri seemed to debate with herself if she should say what she was about to say. “I hope you do not mind my asking, Miss Erso, but are you planning to marry at all?”

At this point Mr. Andor and Jyn’s father had stepped away from the table and towards a shelf, bringing them back closer to where Jyn and Kerri currently sat. The distance was still considerable, however, which made Jyn believe that they did not hear, so she continued. 

“Since you are so forward in your inquiry, Miss Andor,” she said, smiling, “I shall be as well in my answer.” She took a deep breath. “Yes, I do. I seek to get married.”

“And would it be with Mr. Krennic?” 

Jyn found no reason to conceal the truth; she nodded. “I do not see why not. He agrees with me, and if I’m being frank, there is a big advantage to marrying him. His father, Sir Krennic, is a baron, and he is the heir—he is to inherit his estate, along with 12,000 pounds a year.”

Kerri’s mouth hung open. “I did not know he was incredibly rich!”

Jyn nodded again. “He is. I really cannot see why I should not marry him. Whatever reason I could think of…” she felt her heart rattle in her chest “...they seem to be all naught and insufficient.”

“That amount of money should be more than enough to preserve your comforts, I imagine.”

“Yes,” Jyn replied, “and maybe even a bit more.”

Kerri smiled. “It seems that things are looking out really well for your future, Miss Erso. I am glad that you are able to secure it.”

“Yes.” Jyn laughed wistfully. “I suppose I have.”

For a while both women fell in silence, the inner feelings that they felt and reflected on, so opposite from one another. It struck Jyn odd, and maybe even fascinating, that while she and Miss Andor were alike in many ways, the lives they lived were equally different in extent. 

After some time, she cleared her throat. “But enough of all this talk. Your art, Miss Andor, I cannot overstate how astounding they are. The sketches you’ve shown hold so much promise to your skill.”

A rosy color surfaced to Kerri’s cheeks. 

“I wonder,” Jyn continued, “if it would be too much to ask you to occasionally join me on my walks? The thing is, I like to keep a visual record of all plants I encounter, but I admit I cannot do justice to all of them. Perhaps I could inquire for your help to do some of them for me?”

Kerri’s face lit up. “Miss Erso, I would absolutely be delighted!”

Jyn’s excitement rose. “You would?”

“I would draw your entire journal for you even, if at all possible.” She held back a sound of delight, to little success. “This excites me so, for this means we can see more of each other!”

Jyn cannot help but chuckle out her own feelings of excitement. “We shall, Miss Andor. It’s time we become friends.”

So they continued their discussions on art and botany for some time. After a while Cassian and Mr. Erso joined them again, which soon signified the end of the visit. 

Mrs. Erso was finally able to finish her letter-writing, just in time to bid the Andors adieu at the courtyard, where they now all stood, waiting for the carriage to arrive. 

“I hope you enjoyed your visit, Mr. Andor, Miss Andor,” she said warmly. 

“I did, Mrs. Erso,” replied Kerri. “You have a wonderful home.” 

“Thank you,” agreed Cassian, addressing the party as a whole.

The carriage finally came around the bend, then stopped just in front of them. 

Kerri turned to Jyn. “See you in a couple of days, Miss Erso?”

Jyn nodded enthusiastically. “You shall.”

The sister then gave everyone a curtsy before she finally ascended their transport. 

Cassian, after having extended his goodbyes to Jyn’s parents, then faced Jyn. She saw something new in his expression, one even much graver than before, and something not even their current pretense could conceal.

Jyn’s own expression darkened. She had a sinking feeling that something had changed for the worse—she just did not know what.

“Safe travels, Mr. Andor,” she said blankly. 

Cassian stared at her for a few seconds in silence before saying, “Miss Erso.” 

With that he stepped into the carriage, before it finally left. 

Later that night as she prepared for her slumber, Jyn finally found some answer to the question of how her relationships with both the Andors would become, given her wildly opposing sentiments for each. She had always thought it would be impossible to sustain one without forsaking the other, but she had found, during her time with Kerri, that it might be possible after all; she was beginning to understand that she did not have to get along with Cassian if she could help it, just so she could be friends with his sister.

But still, she thought about the look on Cassian’s face before they had left, which had left Jyn guessing, inquiring, pondering, more than she would care to admit.

The clarity she sought for would soon come to her, upon the arrival of an unexpected letter.

[starflungwaddledee]

answering a couple of strike-outs from my top 100 music asks in a batch! i highly recommend this first one especially, but the rest will go under the cut!

55- the shade by Metric (asked by @trainerbob23) a strikeout; this is actually for one of my original projects (currently on the backburner) but i love it so i listen to it a lot

HOWEVER... that project is also a sci-fi story about escaping into space on a boat, so i could make it about magicapple or starstruck dee quite easily.

With eternal love, the stars above, all there is and ever was I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, I want it all A blade of grass, a grain of sand, the moonlit sea, I'll hold your hand I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, I want it a l l

42- phenomenon by JVNA & LICK a semi strikeout. 🕰️ while this is technically on my clockwork heart playlist, it's for the vibes only. the lyrics don't really click for me

When every hope inside me dies You take my hand, show me the light With you I feel like finally living on You're one phenomenon

84- haven by Novo Amor strikeout. just a song from Life Is Strange 3, which we played at the beginning of the year and i was very emotional about and subsequently binged the entire album a lot!

I'll be late, but I could make it all up to you I'll count down the days, don't say that you wouldn't too 'Cause I heard the rain, as I felt you coming loose And I heard my name, it broke my head in two

99- once in a while (ft. alina renae) by Corticus (asked by @pick-a-number-star) cw: some swearing in this one, couple of f-bombs strikeout. technically this is a song for me myself to relate to, so i could try to put it onto starstruck dee, but... she doesn't have the same life experiences i do in the slightest, and i really feel it's about that 😂

Don't get me wrong, yeah, my head is spinning And sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind I love my life and everyone in it But sometimes I feel like they're missing these signs And I'm done doing this shit, I'm so over it

[unorcadox]

UNORCADOX

howdy, i'm mabel! it's the 3 year anniversary of unorcadox today, so i've prepared a decent bit of surprises. (and yes that means i started this blog in 2020, which is terrifying to think about.) i'll go into those new things under the cut, but first... check out the carrd linked in the header text of this post :3c

sooo soo so so so where on earth do i begin. uhh honestly let me just break down the new stuff first since i can talk about that more easily.

THE NEW LOOK! ok so like truth be told, i've been a faceless blog on purpose up until now. it wasn't until this summer where i actually liked how i looked or had any solid sense of my own aesthetic or what i wanted to look like. it also made it easier to protect against dysphoria and transphobes in the same breath, as no one could ever comment on any aspect of my appearance, or even the mere suggestion i even had one to begin with! but that all changes now, i'm going to actually have a presence on this blog, as it is MY blog and tbh i'm tired of being so faceless on here. that's why i've been doing more asks and non-edit posts recently, and those will increase in frequency. check out the carrd for more info, my sona's ref, and art credits for assets on here <3

mondays -> MUSIC MONDAYS! so it might come as a shock i'm actually a musician in addition to making stuff on here! i've promoted my music a couple of times by now, but nothing all that substantial. sooo, considering that, i'm going to be replacing monday oc posts with a music post! just a link to a song on my bandcamp and a little description about it. i don't really care if these perform particularly well, but i want to give people a chance to actually hear it without having to deep dive through my entire internet history to get it. i also will be releasing more soon-- whether via compilations of older work or new stuff altogether :3

MORE IN THE FUTURE! i have a couple other ideas up my sleeve, we'll see how they pan out but i wanna keep trying new possibilities on here. i think at this point i've proven my consistency, and it's about time i let myself have a little fun and explore my options. these will be announced individually but probably added here over time as this is the new pinned post lol.

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

ok so anyways, i do wanna have the mandatory sappy segment because of course i do. i want to say a couple of things but i'll split them into bullet points again bc yeah i do that.

this year has been really good for me and the blog, in most ways it's been the straight up best year of my life uncontested. not everything has gone perfectly, i had other plans that fell through, but hey that's just how life goes huh. at one point, i was easily projected to hit 20k by the end of the year, and now i'll be happy if i hit 17k lol. tumblr has not been that kind to my blog's growth this year and it's making me consider other options in the future, but everything's so scary rn i don't wanna commit to anything.

as for the blog itself, i've kinda been in a weird spot with it for a while. i've been scraping by on here intermittently for the entire year on and off, and i might have some ways to help keep me on top of the ball during the next year, but i also do wonder how long i can really keep doing this, and how long people will still like weirdcore and my work in particular. i've been considering branching out in terms of my presentation, or format, or style, but i feel incredibly weird about doing so.

in my personal life, this is the year i finally started transitioning and seeking treatment for my most pressing issues. i've finally started dating the love of my life, my best friend of 10 years, and despite some interpersonal turmoil all around me, i think i'm finally finding safe ground and knowing what i wanna do next. i don't really talk about it on here because i'm very private about it, but i've been kinda slowly becoming like a Real Adult Person this year. i didn't really have much of a chance to prior and i still am struggling a lot, but hey i know what i want now!

it's really silly to say but this blog still means a lot to me! it's seen me through the craziest times in my entire life, it's brought me so much perspective and knowledge and opportunities i wouldn't've had otherwise. i wake up every day and go on here and never stop feeling starstruck that people chose to follow me. i know tumblr success means nothing but to me it's the only community i've ever actually belonged to, so thank you all.

ok so like i really just don't have much else to say anymore, so i think i'll end it there! thank you all again, i can't wait for year 4 as it's going to definitely be a crazy one lol. let's hope it's a good one too!

[jadedandconfusedao3]

The Best Night of His Life

As soon as they were inside, he pushed her against the wooden door and claimed her lips again. She couldn’t help but feel intoxicated by it. Her hands frantically scrambled for purchase in his hair as his arms encased her. He was so strong. She didn’t know whether it was the Quidditch or something else, but over the course of the summer he’d put on muscle and now rivalled Ron for brawn.

This felt very different to the kiss they’d shared in the staff room. It was more frenetic with a looming implication that was making her stomach flutter. She’d said they didn’t have to do anything but with the way he was kissing her right now, his warm breath coasting over her skin as he laved underneath her jaw, was making her regret that choice of words entirely.

She wanted that anything so badly.

Before she knew what was happening, he picked her up, her clothes scrunching underneath his grip, as she wrapped her legs around his middle and he carried her to the bed. Her room was simple. A single canopy bed, a desk and a bookshelf packed full of books.

He navigated the short space quickly, his hands firmly grasping her arse. She could feel how hard he was against her, and she was both intensely excited and nervous all at once. Intellectually she knew what was supposed to happen between a man and a woman, but now that she was faced with that very real possibility, she was filled with doubt. Every bump against him made her want to moan.

Instead, she turned her mouth to the business of trying to make him moan instead. She could hardly feel self-conscious and awkward if she had verbal affirmation of his enjoyment. Hermione was brilliant at learning new things and was now determined to make Draco Malfoy her latest passion project. As she pulled his ear lobe between her lips he gasped breathily and almost knocked into the bed.

“Hermione,” he moaned as he steadied himself with one hand against the bedpost. “Do you want me to fucking –”

She cut his words off with a nip on his ear and he dropped her onto the mattress. Crawling backwards further into the bed she watched him stalk toward her. The bed was too small. That much was obvious. His legs would poke out of the end, which was unfortunate because she knew for a fact that Crookshanks was liable to nibble toes if they were uncovered. She fished out her wand from where she had stuffed it down the front of her pyjama top and transfigured the bed. By the time he reached her face it was roughly twice the size, easily accommodating his large frame.

He smirked at her. “For a minute there I thought you were going to say Engorgio and I was about to be mortally offended.”

The blush heated her cheeks as she batted at his shoulder. “Malfoy!”

He pulled up the blankets and snuck inside as she did the same.

“Miss Granger,” he scolded her as he lay on his side next to her, “I thought we were passed all this Malfoy business?”

He hauled her back into his arms as she breathily replied, “Are you trying to make me call you Sir again?”

“Fuck,” he huffed, his eyes going impossibly dark in the soft moonlight. “Yes, please.”

She chuckled lightly as she leaned into him and whispered in his ear. “Sir.”

He moaned, the sound low and gravely. “This fucking witch.”

His rough hands were travelling up her body. One anchored itself in her hair and the other rounded her shoulder before beginning to move back down and hesitating at her collarbone. Her whole body was trembling in anticipation. She and Ron had fooled around a bit over the summer before they’d broken up, but it had been so awkward. The mountain of interactions that had been their friendship had made the thought of intimacy more embarrassing than she could handle. His attempts to fondle her breasts had left them both red faced and stammering.

Now Malfoy was waiting, his hand hovering just above that very area.

“May I…?” his voice trailed off, but his implication was obvious.

She bit her lip as she nodded her head, once.

Read the rest on Ao3.

[icyfox17]

Okay here's the first irondad snipp I ever wrote (there is def some Tommy vibes since that was all I'd written before this BUT they are like the same person anyway so--)

"I think you should really reconsider your choices of joining a gang, and think of maybe joining a bathing club or something. Those exist right?"

The man doesn't even acknowledge Peter's attempt at a joke, instead swinging at him with another punch, that Peter easily dodges. His gun had been taken by Peter awhile ago, and his stamina was quite frankly depressing. He was panting hard, which meant Peter had to breathe in the stench of his breath, on top of the terrible body odor.

"Ugh, scratch that. You do know what a toothbrush is right? More than 80% of dentists reccomend Colgate. Maybe try that brand."

"I'm gonna," the man heaves, hands on his knees as he catches his breath, and okay this is getting a little sad, "rip your tongue out and feed it to my dog, so I can never hear you talk again."

"Yikesss, that's not nice for your dog. What kinda dog wants to eat human tongue?? Feels bad for your dog."

This time the man opts to scream as a response and charges Peter, who is honestly done with this at this point, so instead of dodging, he shoots him with his web and wraps the man up in it like a cocoon. He also takes care to web up his mouth because man, no one deserves to smell that breath.

Peter looks to the sky, and much to his dismay, it is still day. There isn't even the beginnings of orange tinging the sky to signify sunset, and man today is going to be a long day.

He guesses he could go and try to see what Ned is up to, but Peter's pretty sure he's working on a really important project, and he doesn't want to bother him with it.

Peter sighs heavily. "Karen, I don't know what to do."

The ai responds to him rather quite promptly, "You could always head back to the tower. I'm sure Mr. Stark would pause whatever he was doing to see you, if you wanted him to."

And yeah. That's what Peter normally does, when he's having a slow day. Today though, he's trying to avoid it, considering the fact that he shouldn't be patrolling at all, and he's sure that Mr. Stark would be onto him the minute he saw him. Peter isn't sure how he always seems to know. One time he even took a shower before going to see him, and he still knew. It was probably Karen's fault, though he made her swear not to tell him.

"I know Karen. It's just..." He trails off with a sigh, shooting a web and pulling himself up. He starts to swing through the city aimlessly, still unsure of where to go, but wanting to move away from the crime.

"I'm sure Mr. Stark would be happier to see you than not, even if you have done something against his wishes."

Peter cringes. "You didn't have to phrase it like that Karen."

"How else would I phrase it?"

"I dunno, just not that."

There's silence for a bit as Peter fights with himself. On the one hand, he really does want to see Mr. Stark. He hasn't seen him since right after the accident, and he quite frankly misses hanging out with him. On the other hand, he really does not want to hear a lecture about how he shouldn't be patrolling so soon after his injury.

Ring Ring Ring

Incoming Call From: Tony Stark

Uh oh.

Guess he doesn't have a say in the matter anyway.

"Uh, hi Mr. Stark!" answers Peter as cheerfully as he can, trying to find a decent roof to land on.

"Hey Pete, I was wondering if you--" Mr. Stark cuts himself off. "Is that wind I hear?"

"Uh yeah, it's just super windy where I am right now," Peter says, chuckling nervously. "It's honestly crazy how windy it is. There are definitely going to be some fallen trees tomorrow."

Mr. Stark is silent for a moment before, "You wouldn't... happen to be patrolling right now, would you?"

"Whaaaaat? Noooo," Peter winces as he hears a car blast it's horn, "that would be entirely irresponsible of me. I would never."

"You know I can look at your suit's cameras and see what you're seeing right now, right?"

"Obviously, but you're not because you trust me full heartedly and--"

"Peter."

Peter sighs. "Okay, so maybe I went on a five minute patrol. But it's super dead today! I was literally about to head to your place because of how bored I was. You can ask Karen!"

"That doesn't matter Pete. What matters is you just came out of a serious fight with several injuries. You shouldn't be throwing yourself back out there!"

"I know Mr. Stark."

"We agreed on two weeks. Two weeks! You know most people would need a whole month, but Pepper and Happy reminded me about your enhanced healing, and I said fine. Fine! Two weeks. And how long has it been?"

"...A week."

"A week! You know, I was going to call you and ask if you wanted to go to Ben and Jerry's with me, but now--"

"No, Mr. Stark please! I won't go again for the next week, I promise."

"And how good was your promise this time?"

"I double promise. Triple promise! C'mon Mr. Stark, please? I really wanted to see you today."

"Kid, you can still come over," he says, sounding a bit appalled at the idea that Peter couldn't. "You can always come over. You know that by now."

"...but can we get ice-cream?"

Peter tries his best to give puppy eyes, even though he's unsure if Mr. Stark could even see him.

He hears Mr. Stark mumble some vague curses before, "Alright fine. But if you do this again, I swear to God--"

"I won't, I won't!"

"Okay, now get your butt over here."

Peter giggles a bit. "Okay. Bye Mr. Stark!"

"Bye kid."

There's a beep to signal the call ending, and Peter makes sure to swing by his backpack on the way to the tower.

All the while, Karen is strangely quiet but Peter has a sense she's feeling downright smug.

Peter ignores it though, in favour of focusing on his excitement for ice-cream.

[nakachuchu]

Rivalry | Kishibe + Eren Jaeger (nsfw)

SYNOPSIS: A rivalry between your professor and his teaching assistant gets in the way of your office hours meeting.

READER: (slight) bimbo! female

INCLUDES: Professor x student x teaching assistant, age gap, college, threesome, unprotected sex, blowjob, choking, throat fucking, office sex, masturbation, oral (f), nicknames, spit roast, facial, swallowing, seduction, creampie

WORDS: 1.8k

WRITTEN: 12/27/2022

NOTE: This is for @yakshasslut Opposites Collide event! Feel free to read the other amazing works on the event <3

The rivalry and hatred between your professor and his teaching assistant were well-known, but nothing was ever done because the two worked so well together and against each other.

They had written numerous research papers and done projects that went on to be recognized, just to spite the other.

Eren Yeager despised how intelligent Kishibe could be without even trying. The "old man" excelled at everything and was a panty-dropping slut of a professor.

Kishibe simply liked tormenting his younger teaching assistant, and the main reason why was because he liked the seething look on Eren's face as he won time and time again.

"You're just a dirty old man," Eren muttered under his breath as he stood next to Kishibe as their next class rolled in.

Kishibe chuckled. "You're a twerp who has no game."

You walked up to the desk, standing in front of the two. "Um — Professor, I had a question from our midterm study guide and I was wondering if you could offer some guidance after class?"

"Of course," said Kishibe, eyes obviously glued to your breasts that were spilled over your low-cut shirt. "Who's your TA?"

"Oh — " Your eyes darted to Eren who stood next to him. "It's Eren, but his slots are filled up, so I thought I'd come to you."

"You did the right thing. The professor is always better than the teaching assistants. Come to my office after class."

Eren's eye twitched at his professor's blatant insult.

"Yes, I'll be there! Thank you, Professor Kishibe," you said brightly as you scurried off to find a seat before his lecture started.

"I'm going to that meeting," said Eren. "I can answer her questions as easily as you."

"You're just my pupil," said Kishibe. "What do you know?"

Eren opened his mouth to retort, but Kishibe had already turned away and walked to the front of the class to begin his lecture.

Eren was seething the entire time, imagining various ways to murder his professor without it pointing to him. But he knew there was no way that would be possible because he'd be the number one prime suspect.

After Professor Kishibe's lecture ended, you made your way to his office, which wasn't too far from the lecture location. You wanted to get there before him to be polite.

"Thank you again for seeing me today, Professor Kishibe," you said as you straightened your skirt before sitting down.

"Of course," he said as he sat on the edge of his desk in front of you. "What was your question?"

"Oh! Sorry, let me get out my binder," you hurriedly said as you opened your bag and pulled it out, spilling a bundle of pens onto the floor in the process. "I'm so sorry! I'm a mess."

"No worries."

You got onto your knees and began picking up your pens that were scattered along the floor. As you leaned forward to grab a glittery pink pen, Eren's and Kishibe's eyes simultaneously widened at the sight of your pussy which was covered by a pair of tight pink panties. The two glanced at each other briefly before looking away.

"Sorry about that," you said as you sat back down and placed your pens away. "Anyways, I had a few questions but question seven is the main one because if I did this one wrong, then I definitely did the others wrong which I thought I got all right."

Kishibe walked around to stand behind you as you explained how you got that answer. He hummed in response to your babbling as placed a gentle hand on your left shoulder and pointed to a number, asking how you got that one.

All Eren could think of was how perverted this old man could be. It was so obvious that Kishibe was seducing his student. There was no space between them.

But the last straw for him was a sly smirk Kishibe sent him from the side.

"Y/N, I think you should do the problem on the whiteboard. It'll be easier to see and work out," said Eren.

"Oh, that makes more sense," you said as you got up from your seat to walk to the whiteboard.

"Two can play at this game, grandpa," muttered Eren.

"I didn't realize we were playing a game, B-Minus."

"I deserved that A-minus on that paper, you fucking geezer," snapped Eren.

Kishibe grinned. "If you can outplay me at my own game, I'll give you that A."

"You're on."

Eren walked up to you, placing his hands on your hips as he stood right behind you to watch the whiteboard.

"I see where you went wrong," said Eren. "You're not supposed to divide this. You only multiply it and then put it under Y."

"Really? I think I did the same thing for another problem, but I don't think I had trouble with that one," you muttered.

He hummed, pressing his body against yours and rubbing against your ass. "Kishibe must have explained it horribly during the lecture."

"Well, let's not get too hasty," Kishibe said as he approached you. "Y/N was probably distracted during the lecture that day. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

His hand rubbed your thigh softly, sliding up and pushing your skirt up. You tensed, suddenly aware of Eren's body pressed up against you from behind and Kishibe's hand pulling the edge of your panties.

"P-Professor, I — "

"See, she wasn't distracted," said Eren as his hand began to grope your ass. "You're just dumb."

"You shouldn't cut off a woman," chastised Kishibe. "It's rude. Isn't it, Y/N?"

"Uh — Y-Yes."

You couldn't tell if you were dreaming or not. Both Professor Kishibe and Eren were extremely attractive. You often masturbated to thoughts of them late at night, dreaming of Eren's tongue flicking your clit and Kishibe teasing your mouth with his cock.

Eren rolled his eyes. "You're putting words into her mouth."

Kishibe smirked. "I can put something else in her mouth — with your permission, of course, Y/N."

"My mouth?" you repeated.

"Don't listen to him," said Eren. "Mine's bigger."

"What'll it be, Y/N? Mine or the twerp's?" Kishibe questioned.

"Both," you blurted out.

The two men froze in surprise for a moment.

"Both, huh?" Kishibe questioned. "All right, princess."

He grabbed you by the waist and lifted you, placing you on top of his desk and spreading your legs in the process.

"You seem eager. Been thinkin' of us lately?" Kishibe asked.

When you said nothing and looked away, he knew he was right. He grinned in response, knowing you were going to be a good time. He pressed two fingers to your pussy, rubbing through the cloth of your panties before moving them to the side to slide his fingers between your folds.

Eren could only watch, stunned at how hot and easy you were. You were gasping softly, moving your hips against your professor's fingers. Kishibe leaned forward to kiss you, tongue sliding into your mouth.

Eren moved behind you to the other side of the desk and began taking off your top and bra. His fingers trailed your back before brushing against your nipples. You sighed into Kishibe's mouth, content with where you currently were.

"I got an idea, princess," he murmured against your lips. "Why don't you take Eren's dick?"

Eren brightened up at that, painfully aware of how tight his jeans currently were. Strands of his hair were falling onto his face and sticking because of sweat.

"Lay down and be good," ordered Kishibe as he lightly nudged you down.

You aid flat on the desk, hanging your head off the edge. You could hear Kishibe unbuckling his pants and you could see Eren unbuckling his pants in front of you.

Your eyes widened when his cock sprung out. It wasn't too fat, but slender and long.

"Tongue out, Y/N," Eren commanded.

Your tongue automatically stuck out and Eren tapped the head of his cock onto it, sliding back and forth to get the underside wet. He groaned in pleasure before sliding his cock into your mouth. Tiny tears welled up in your eyes as he moved his hips back and forth. He leaned forward, playing with your nipples as his cock invaded your throat.

Kishibe kissed your clit, causing you to jolt in surprise. He chuckled, and you could feel the air from his nose. He straightened up and rubbed your clit with his thumb, while his other hand pumped his cock.

"What a pretty pussy," he cooed.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his fat cock stretched out your pussy, filling you to the brim. You let out a shrill moan from the back of your throat as your walls tightened around his cock.

"Cum already, princess?"

He leaned forward and a glob of saliva dropped down from his mouth to your clit. He started rubbing your clit with his thumb as he gave lazy strokes, while Eren throat fucked you. The combination of soft and slow, and hard and rough drove you crazy.

"Fuck," Eren grunted.

"Already?" Kishibe questioned.

"Shut up, old man. Look at how slow you're going," he retorted.

Kishibe ignored him and picked up the pace. His free hand grabbed your thigh, pushing it to the side. His fingers dug into your flesh, creating imprints. Similarly, your arms were bent at an angle so you could grip Eren's hips.

At his age, Kishibe knew he wasn't going to last, but he still knew how to please a woman. You had cum and spasmed around his cock twice now, and your body was twitching.

"Swallow it, baby," grunted Eren. "I'm gonna give you a fat load. God, you're so fucking hot."

Your brain shut off for a moment at his compliments and a wave of hot semen shooting down your throat and filling your mouth. You swallowed what you could, but knew it would be too much for you. Thankfully, he pulled out from your mouth and shot the rest of his load onto your face and chest.

Your walls tightened around Kishibe's cock, suffocating him and forcing his load to shoot out.

"Fuck, shit," he groaned as he looked down at his load spilling out.

Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead as he pulled out and tapped his cock against your clit before taking a breather.

"Eren, grab some napkins."

Eren rolled his eyes but obeyed him. "I'm not the only one who got the soul sucked out of him."

"What a shame," retorted Kishibe. "Princess, you on birth control?"

"Mhm," you weakly answered, fucked out of your mind to even comprehend anything that was being said between your professor and teaching assitant.

"Don't worry about the midterm, princess. You get an A-plus," said Kishibe with a lazy smirk. "I need a smoke now."

[astrxlfinale]

Knowing a partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier.

Repost it up. No reblogging.

--------

NAME: Jace

PRONOUNS : He/Him

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : Tbh DMs and Discord are the best way to go. If I'm ever calling you up in 4k, we've probably know each other for a hella long while at this point in this hobby. lol

NAME OF MUSE(s) : Caelus (Honkai Star Rail)

BEST EXPERIENCE : In particular it was a RP in my manga days of RP with my Oga Tatsumi muse. Me and a bunch of Nintendo related muses (After playing the hilarious spectacle of Shut up and Jam Gaiden, proceeded to do a shounen-esque RP of basketball that went into comical perfection. Rosalina Nintendo did indeed nuke everyone at the end with her Cosmic, universal shattering dunk.

It was GLORIOUS.

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS :

:| So uh, there may be a bit to this.

Trauma/Stress Dumping: The #1 that will have me done at the drop of a hat. Since I even began rp'ing it's always been this thing, people seeking other folks/people who offer up solid chill times to just go and vent the entire world and then some onto them. Mind you a lot of these interactions being with strangers likely known for a week at most.

This literally has no changed a lick since middle school. Unless I've known you for a considerable amount of time, this is the easiest way to proceed breaking all contact with me.

Not to have this confused with venting on your own blog/space. I accept and always respect that boundary. Just do not use talking as an opportunity to lean into such subject matter. It's one of the central reasons I'm really careful in joining group chats to begin with. There is a difference in telling me that a day was rough/bullshit, AND letting me know of particular territory to be watchful for in discussion, then just using me as an outlet. Especially in what I take for a hobby.

Socializing =/= Writing time: While I enjoy the social aspect of RP in it's nature. I never want to be in a position where the hangout time I spend with you creates the curve of interaction. That easily exhausts me and takes the fun from things once I'm clued in. Honestly speaking, someone could never talk to me outside sparse words, and we just run around with our muses writing up all sorts of scenarios and it'd work perfectly. This is what I use the website for!

Plotting does not fall under this umbrella. If people need an angle to make their magic work, I'm all for cooperating with you, this again just leans into xyz activities outside the hobby. Stretching yourself too thin in this regard can genuinely screw people over in other long time hang outs too, I've learned that the hard way.

Reference of Son/Daughter talk in mention to the muse in question: While I've first seen it on this website, in the same vein it's made me incredibly goddamn tired as it reels directly into the conversation involving the infantalization of muses. This likely strikes the highs for me into terms of 'Fandom Curses' alongside 'One character quality defines the whole character in question.'. Let's not even get started into fandom habits shaping the perception of a character OUTSIDE of canon content. Having muses that had to deal with the primary talk point here, I've just said to hell with giving many things or people a chance.

It just comes off as a really weird practice to me. It leans off heavily into the realm of character disrespect on top of that, as these idealized fandom notions. (For Example: Kingdom Heart's Aqua being relegated to 'Momqua'.) It gets too 'family' oriented in a sense where these accomplished characters can't really explore the depth of both their struggles, triumphs and lows. So if you seen me avoid that like the plague, that's exactly why.

'Comfort Character' Projection: It aligns a smidgen with the above. But no, have no expectation that I'll ever be a source to live out these particulars with you if I happen to play that very muse. I've again not hesitated to cut off connections at all when people attempt to wire these expectations onto me. My iteration of the muse is exactly what you signed up for by following me, respect that, just as I respect your boundaries.

MUSE PREFERENCES: If we're talking about the TYPE of muse I enjoy? Delinquent muses take the penultimate crown. I love those rowdy but firm hearted types.

PLOTS OR MEMES : Throw both at me. Now days I've gotten particularly more experienced into the plotting department. In the same vein I can't have it entirely streamlined either. I gotta let the muses breathe their breaths and exercise their own voice and actions.

That said? Memes are eternal, just throw those in anyday of the week, even if they're in the old logs of my blog. I never mind that. Just the prompts and scenarios alone can spark forth some vivid ideas/adventures that do lead into plotting. So hell, both sides win.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : Either is good. Though, a forewarning that I CAN wind up getting wordy. This never has to be matched as I'm just a sucker for details.

BEST TIME TO WRITE : For me, it's normally times outside the midday. It's usually when I'm available, as you'd come to see me around mornings or nights. (Also it's the best focus time.)

I say normally however, there's also plenty of times I'd just be hanging around on/off periodically.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : Outside of some brazen qualities. Not really no!

Tagged by: Not a soul! Yoinked it up myself.

Tagging: If you feel like lettin' the world know, then by all means!

[androgynousblackbox]

Can't Remember To Forget You. 4 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

Chapter 4: Once upon a dream

Alastor had just put Artemis down on their crib when he heard the voice coming from behind.

"Babe."

He knew that voice. Of course he did, like he knew the touch of his own hand. He barely had the chance to turn around before Lucifer reached his face, his wings extended at the sides in order to elevate himself to be at his height.

From the black hands holding him ever so gently, but firmly, to the touch of his husband's lips there was barely a second. The same second that took to move from the nursery made especially for their baby to their room, although there was no portal in the way. His back instantly fell into the mattress. Lucifer was still on top of him, kissing him like he could never have enough of his mouth, and Alastor was incapable of not corresponding with the same intensity. More doable would have been to ask him to ignore a wounded prey right in front of his nose. The pull from the center of his being was just as inescapable.

But the moment Lucifer's lips left him to move to his neck, undoing his bowtie, ripping through the buttons of his shirt and the harness around his chest like they were nothing as he let his black finger scrap just over his grey skin, a single spark of clarity came back to Alastor.

"What about Artemis?" asked.

He let out a moan when Lucifer kissed him again. He pursed his lips against him and opened up easily for the snake like tongue of his husband. It was so warm like the spread across his face and the rest of his body. His body had been covered in gasoline the entire time and only needed one match to light up.

"They have two sisters for a reason. I left them with a clone to help, it's fine" Lucifer lifted on top of him, his wings finally retracting to his back as he caressed his cheek. His red eyes were also flamming, but even with that, they were shinning with an adoration that could cut his breath away. "How could I ever forget about you? I don't understand how that happened."

"It doesn't matter now" Alastor lifted himself up to kiss him again. He couldn't understand either how he could live without doing that, without that option, without hearing the little sigh of Lucifer that belonged only to him. His tentacles ripped apart the vest by pulling on the sides and his own claws destroyed the white shirt. Anything to get his hands over the perfect body of his husband, recognizing every muscle distensing and relaxing as the king chuckled softly. "It doesn't matter. Nothing but this does. Just don't stop"

"Desperate, aren't we?" teased Lucifer, coming to find his mouth as he pushed him back on the bed. Without breaking the kiss, Lucifer lifted his hands over his head and extended his fingers. Alastor barely looked up the golden energy restraining his wrist together, pulled towards the headboard of their bed, like a lamb dragged to the slaughter. "It's okay, baby" Lucifer's smiled followed him as he went down his body, nibbling on the skin on top of his clavicle until the breathing of Alastor hitched. "I am not planning to let you go out of my sight ever again. You are mine, only mine."

His body was pulsating all over. He couldn't help but to arch his back when Lucifer got to his nipples, mercilessly sucking on them. On some level Alastor thought he should probably protest, that was for their baby, but couldn't even begin to hide the effect this had as he trembled helplessly underneath his husband.

"So sweet, babe" Lucifer licked his lips, milk dripping from his chin. The drop that was about to fall, however, he caught it with his tongue with a grin. "Who knew the radio demon could be so sweet? What other flavors you have for me?"

"All the ones you want" Alastor's whole existence was burning and his only relief were the hands of Lucifer going all over him, his mouth going down, kissing the scar across his stomach. The water and the fuel at the same time, combined, Alastor could not be without either. "Please" said when Lucifer started to pull out his belt, so slowly, so methodically, that it was driving him insane. "Darling, please."

"You know I love it when you beg" Lucifer pulled out the belt finally and throw it to a side.

With a flick of his wrist, a golden chain manifested on top of his hand and Alastor breathed in deeply, gratefully, when he could feel the pressure of his shackle around his neck.

As if he had been drowning for months and finally was able to come out the surface. Tight, so he could never forget it was there, not as Lucifer was finally pulling his pants out of the way. His underwear was no longer an issue either as the mouth of the king opened up, devouring the prey that he had found, the one he had all the rights to devour, streak of black smoke escaping the corner of his lips.

Alastor opened up his mouth and no sound came out, choking on his shackle the more Lucifer pulled, a silent scream as the first violent spasm pushed him over the edge towards his own obliteration.

That is when he woke up.

Alastor could still feel the beating of his heart as he opened up his eyes. Back in the cold lonely darkness of his own room. The one next to the nursery, not up in the apple tower. He turned in his bed as the chimney in a corner lit up instantly, illuminating the place with a soft green glow. With it, he could see Artemis still sleeping on their crib, small pleasant noises escaping them. His shadow floated above them just to confirm that, indeed, they were fine and completely unaware of the absolute embarrassment their father just went through.

Alastor exhaled deeply as he rubbed his still hot face. What was he, a teenager in his highschool years? The fact that this was actually the first time that ever happened to him, in all of his years of life, just added to his irritation. He reached over to grab his pocket watch to see the hour and groaned because he only had two hours of actual sleep before that happened. Two hours was already a lot for him on most nights, and it had been completely ruined now by that one experience. There was no way for him to sleep again. As he put the watch away, his hand ended up grabbing the handkerchief neatly folded at the side and bringing it over to his face.

He breathen in deeply, letting the faint smell of Lucifer calm him down again. Except it wasn't calming him down as he hoped for. Instead was reviving all the images his brain just conjured up. The taste of Lucifer's on his tongue, the tact, even the scrap of his teeth right where his body was the most sensitive. He had grabbed the thing from Lucifer's room hoping it could be a little innocent memento, just something to hold onto until they could make the deal, but instead looked like he had just signed for an unwanted curse.

In the past, Lucifer was the one who woked up with those desires gripping to his skin. He either used his shadow or whatever part of Alastor he didn't mind being used to find a quick relief before they just went back to sleep, as if nothing happened. Sometimes his own hand to make it even quicker, stifling any noise he could make, until he was free to go warm up the back of Alastor unbothered. Both of them satisfied and relaxed once again. That was a normal part of their dynamic, one that Alastor was more than okay with. It was never a thing for Alastor to be woken up in that way. On the rare occasions he wanted to initiate, it was only when they were fully awake, and all he needed to do was tell Lucifer so his husband could take care of it.

Clearly, he was losing his damn mind already.

Groaning to himself, Alastor pulled out his shirt and went to the bathroom, leaving his shadow to look after Artemis's sleeping form. A cold shower was in order.

When he came out, he found the handkerchief had fallen from the bed. He bends over to grab it and breathed in again, closing his eyes. If Lucifer knew about this, he would have the biggest laugh right before asking him every detail about it. And then Alastor would give them to him, only for both of them to marvel at how unbelievable tame it was.

After almost a century together, trying everything they could, breaking bones and skin in the process, the thing to do him in his sleep was just Lucifer going down on him. Maybe the king would laugh at that too. So much for Alastor insisting he didn't need that much in real life only for a secret bastard in his head to insert the knife on his back when the least he expected it.

The worst part was how real it was. How he actually believed, for one second, that his husband was back. How painfully aware he was now that it wasn't the case. Shaking his head, Alastor folded the handkerchief again and put it back on his drawer. Nobody else ever was meant to touch it or else its smell could be contaminated. Until Lucifer shook his hand or accepted him in some other way, that was going to be his point of connection. That and whatever sneak of him he could get through his shadows.

For now, though, he needed a distraction. Already he had no mind to be reading and wasn't going to be able to enjoy any music in that condition, so there was only one option.

One late broadcast never did him wrong.

Very carefully, Alastor lifted Artemis with his tentacles to get them into their carrier. He could transmit from anywhere at any time with his staff, but nothing beat the nostalgic comfort of seating in front of a control panel in his own dedicated studio. That was his place, his dominion, over which he could rule with absolute and total impunity, where the reality was as his mouth ordered it.

As he came out the elevator to his tower, Alastor looked to the rest of the hallway.

The idea of sneaking inside of Lucifer's room to hear him breathe in his sleep did cross his mind. For his husband it wouldn't even be the first time that he woke up to find Alastor staring at him in the dark from the side of their bed, unmoving and silent. Sometimes he just liked to relish on the fact that he could do that, to see at his king at his seemingly most vulnerable, knowing full well that made no real difference when it came to Lucifer's defenses, his porcelain beautiful face looking less than graceful as he drooled on the pillow or let out soft snores. A vision that nobody else in Hell would ever get to enjoy as long as he existed. Lucifer would say he was being creepy again, but not to stop, because he knew that was a wasted effort, before he either woke up to start the day or went back to sleep right there. It had been ages since he managed to make his husband jump, but Alastor rarely missed it. The familiarity was also nice, the comfort of mutual trust that they had built together, brick by brick.

The man at the end of the hallway was not his husband, though. That man would jump and cuss him out and be confused why the hotelier of his daughter's Hotel was being creepy for the first time. That man could even try to kick him out and that alone was an unbearable thought, whether he succeeded or not. Those red eyes missing the entire library of their secret language, never willing to let down their guard again in front of him, distrustful, was something he already had seen one time through the Lucifer of another dimension and didn't want to repeat it.

It was slightly better now because at least this Lucifer didn't already have any immediate negative associations about him. But that could change so easily.

He sighed as he came inside his studio. After putting Artemis in the ground next to his panel, he lifted a barrier around his baby. That way he didn't have to worry about them being woken up by the sound. As he sat on his chair, he allowed a moment to close his eyes and get on the right mental space.

This was all just temporary. He could fix it, he knew how already. He had survived Heaven twice by now. He could tolerate a few more nights on a single bed. Grabbing his mic to put closer to him, Alastor turned on the machine and let his smile spread further in his face.

“Good night to all of our lovely listeners. I know this is a bit of an unorthodox time to find us together again, but you should know already that the best things always come by surprise. You can't plan for true perfection, you just let it come to you when it strikes. I can see that a few of you had a similar idea, to let the silence of everyone's slumber be replaced with a lovely voice, and what right choice you all made by choosing this one. I have no idea how long I will be here, dear listeners, but while I am, may I tempt you to get in the mood with a few of my favorite selection? We are just getting started, stay tuned.”

He pressed some buttons near his hand. From the speaker atop his head came a muffled version of his music. There were only a few people turning their radios on that night, but that was fine by him. If he cared about being popular and nothing else, he would be working with Vox right now and that was not what he was about. Even if it was just one wretched soul coming in to find him at the turn of a dial, then that was more than enough. Even if they were just passing by as a close radio suddenly came to life, even if they just wanted some noise in the background as they tried to sleep, Alastor would be there. That moment of communion in which they decided to connect with each other, over all the noise and chaos of Hell. That was exactly what he needed to ground himself again.

As he kept talking, a handful more listeners joined in. He recognized most of them, saw the portions of their lives that they were having in front of their radios. Only two were new. The last one to came in, though, was both familiar and new. The radio that received the transmission was new, not the window it was perched on, nor the desk with half painted duckies right underneath.

“Well, well, well, lovely listeners, it's time for another break. I am so glad that we found each other on this night that no doubt is filled with violence and nightmare made flesh for someone else. Not us though. The only nightmare you have to be afraid of has put a selection just for you. Enjoy” He put on the music, just at the same time his other hand moved. A dial somewhere else turned for the surprise of a king who stared at his radio with a frown. “Not resting either, your Majesty?” asked through his staff, knowing that little trick was going to be a surprise for him. His ears flickered momentarily, fully tuning into that device. Lucifer's hair was a disaster all around his head and the eyebags looked heavier than ever. It wasn't fair than even like that, that man was still the finest creation of Heaven. “Oh, do not worry, sir. This is a private channel. Nobody else can hear us here anymore than anyone else can see that spot of pink paint that you forgot to clean off your face. Not a bad color for you, I have to say.”

He didn't contain his chuckle as he saw Lucifer scrambling to rub his face. Apparently too sleep deprived or too tired to remember he could just snap it out away.

“The other side, your Majesty” helped out and positively giggled when Lucifer was rubbing everywhere, except the pink spot.

“Done?” came the Lucifer through his staff now. Alastor pressed his lips gently on top of the glowing red eye, wishing he could do it to the stupidly beautiful face of that stupid man.

“No” said, opening a portal in the middle of his panel of control to extend his hand in. Lucifer straightened up, surprised but not scared when Alastor's arm came out from his radio and used one claw to point the offending stain. “There.”

Lucifer's hand followed the same point. Alastor retracted his before they could make any contact.

“Now it's done” confirmed when Lucifer finally cleaned it up.

Lucifer sighed, rubbing his face.

“I couldn't sleep” commented through to the radio, so Alastor saw a reflection of his half lid eyes on his staff. “Do you usually broadcast at this hour? I just saw the light coming from your tower and turned the thing on out of curiosity.”

“I broadcast whenever I want, your Majesty” said, since that wasn't untrue. “Perks of being an independent medium with my own studio. I have no fixed schedule to follow. There is always someone somewhere that is willing to listen.”

“If you say so” Lucifer sighed, brushing his hair back. He looked at the duckie he was working on with less than enthusiastic desire for picking his utencils again. It was a ballerina duckie, dressed up as if to interpret the white swan. Charlie would have loved it as a child.

“Well?” insisted Alastor after a moment of silence. “How has your Majesty found my show until now? I hope at least it's a better company than that huge spot of paint you just left across your blonde hair right now.”

“What?!” Lucifer patted his head everywhere, trying to feel anything, but finally caught on when Alastor laughed without shame. “Oh. Ha ha ha, very funny.”

“Indeed it is. I could keep going or you could give my review. I don't mind either.”

Lucifer yawned through the mic. Alastor saw his jaw unhinging until his large pointy teeth revealed, the thin long tongue curling against the air before Lucifer closed his lips again, letting the slitted tip hang freely for a few seconds. If he saw that with his husband, he would carry Lucifer back to bed, by tentacles or hands, to try to convince him to sleep already. His husband could spend a lot more time than most creatures without ever closing his eyes. For him to be so blatantly, so obviously tired, it could only be a sign that Lucifer had been without rest for longer than most creatures would survive in.

He knew why it was too. It was hard to let go when one's head both insisted that something was fundamentally wrong and also refused to elaborate on what. A condition against which you couldn't argue, there was no logic to refute. That wasn't no longer the case for Alastor, though. He knew now very well the cause and reason of his unrest. Although that didn't make it any better.

“I mean, I like your voice” said Lucifer finally, supporting his chin in one hand. “Were you on the radio in Heaven too?”

Alastor now was the one who had to pull back a little. The sound of static coming through made Lucifer frown.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you perfectly” Alastor cleared his throat as subtly as he could. “I am afraid my time in Heaven was… too brief for me to take on any trade. I got accidentally redeemed during Extermination and then kicked out when it turned out Heaven wasn't a good fit for me. Charlie and Emily are both aware of my history too. We think it is better not to advertise it as to avoid generating fake expectations among sinners. I don't know why I was there, so that is hardly useful for anyone. But before any of that boring nonsense” added before Lucifer could say something else, “I was a human, like all sinners. I worked in radio while I was alive, so you weren't that far off with your assumption.”

“Oh” Lucifer's eyes looked around, unsure of how to take all that new information. “I am… sorry it didn't work out for you?” tried after a while of hesitation.

“I would rather you didn't, sir” Alastor relaxed again on his seat. “I never lamented getting out of there. Hell is where I belong. Everything that matters to me is down here. I wouldn't want to be in any other place.”

“Mmm” Lucifer exhaled, turning his head. “Still, though, it has to be hard. Raising a kid on your own and all down here. That is really cool of you.”

Alastor closed a fist under the table. He shouldn't have to do it on his own. He didn't want to do it on his own or be cool. He wanted Artemis to have their father and sisters, the family that they were entitled to be adored and loved by, the one he knew for a fact already did. Maybe he didn't deserve to have that, but his baby did, his daughters did, more than anyone else ever could deserve something good in Hell.

As the sound of static increased, Alastor took a deep breath and let it go. He couldn't even begin to explain or talk about any of that with Lucifer, not in the state he was in.

“Thank you” forced himself to say. He opened up his hand when the dripping of golden blood was starting to reach the floor. He licked it up for a moment as he threw a glance to the forcefield shielding Artemis. It was an meager comfort that only reminded him how better was the blood of his husband, more powerful and more flavorful than his ever could. Through his shadow he knew, Artemis was still as calm as before. To them, there was nothing keeping them awake, no sense that they were missing something vital and important from their life. Alastor hoped it remained like that. “Your Majesty, tomorrow I will making a visit to a friend. Would you perhaps like to watch after Artemis? If not, I can just…"

"Yes!" Lucifer perked up before he could finish his sentence. Alastor smiled to himself even bigger than before. At least he could still count with that. "I don't have anything important tomorrow! I will love to take care of them!"

"They will love it too. Maybe too much" Alastor faked an irritated note he didn't feel at all. "I am starting to think they prefer to be with you than with their own father, your Majesty."

"Oh, don't say that!" Lucifer's smile didn't hide his pleasure at hearing that at all. Alastor wouldn't want him to do it either. The man deserved to know that Artemis had a connection to him too, even if he himself didn't know why. He wanted him to be glad to be loved by their baby, as it should be. "I like the little rascal, but nothing ever is going to beat their actual dad. I am sure that someday they are going to get sick of me and go running to get to daddy. Just give it some time."

Alastor exaggerated a huff for the staff.

"Until that day arrives, I guess I am left with no choice but to keep counting with your services in the near future, sir. Surely you understand that it's purely for Artemis's wellbeing. Perhaps we can speed up the getting sick of your presence too while we are at it."

Lucifer giggled, delighted by the prospect. It was a blessing that the king couldn't see him like Alastor could, because there was no way for him to disimulate the way his chest warmed at the sound.

"Well, everything to help another single father! Charlie and Emily are really getting a kick out of spending more time with them too. If any of them ever wants to have their own kid, you know, in the far, far, far away future…"

"Of course" Alastor shook his head slightly. Did he even remember that Emily was thousands of years older than Charlie or it made no difference for him?

"Then this works perfectly to get more experience too! Everybody wins!"

"Indeed" Alastor wanted to reach over again and caress the cheek of Lucifer. Or touch anything really. "For now, I have to return to the regular broadcasting. Maybe you can follow along from your actual bed instead of the desk, your Majesty? It could probably be more comfortable too."

"Mmm?" Lucifer grabbed his phone on a side and looked at the time. "Oh, fuck, I didn't realize it was this late. I guess I should actually try to go to bed now" When the king grabbed the radio, he put it on his nightstand and stared at it for a few seconds. Then he made appear a blanket and put it on top. "Can you still watch me?"

Alastor's huff now was sincere. The worst he could do was watch the king while he slept. What was so wrong about that? As if he could actually harm him anyway.

"No, sir. I'm effectively blind now. Can you hear me still?"

"Yeah, no problem" Alastor's ear moved as he could still percieve Lucifer snapping his fingers again, probably changing into his pajama and then the ruffling of the bed sheets as Lucifer laid on top. "Can you… turn off the watching through the radio thing? It's kinda creepy if I can't see you too."

"I can, if I just deviate my attention somewhere else" Alastor didn't say he didn't want to pay attention to anything else. "During regular broadcast, there is too many radios to keep track off" A little white lie couldn't harm anyone, right? If that made Lucifer feel more at ease, then it had to be okay.

"Good."

When Alastor grabbed his regular mic and started talking for the rest of his audience, Lucifer pulled out the blanket from the radio. It was true that he could just decide to not look. But why would he ever turn his eyes away from that vision as Lucifer followed each word, head nodding off over his pillow until his eyelids were down all the way and his breathing started to relax? Alastor send his shadow to pull up the blanket over his shoulders instead of turning away.

He had done that so many times before and Lucifer never remembered it the next morning, just accepting that at some point he must have done it while about to sleep and just forgot about it. But he did have to pull his shadow back when it wanted to kiss Lucifer's forehead. If the king happened to wake up from the touch, however soft, that could be an awkward conversation to have.

In the afternoon, after leaving a joyous Artemis in the arms of an expectant king, Alastor disappeared from the Hotel. He had barely looked at the king the entire day, pieces of his annoying dream coming to haunt him.

The hand of Lucifer holding his mug was the hand that closed around his neck and hold his legs up. The mouth that laughed and talked casually with everyone else at the Hotel was the same mouth that marked him. The smell around the monarch, his sweet, corrupted fallen essence, wasn't in his dreams, but that made little difference when having it close still dragged a bunch of memories from where he was doing his best to keep them under wraps back to the front of his mind, testing his tolerance. The night after his falling when he felt it for the first time, the night before Charlie’s birthday when they accidentally both wished at the same time for Artemis without knowing, the morning when he woke up in another dimension with his husband and everything lived with his shadow came back to him as if he had lived it.

It was too much to then sit around and have Lucifer not look at him more than necessary, not reach out, continuing about his day as always.

His daughters had said that only in the last month he had been as calm as that. The weeks after he came from Heaven he was a nervous wreck of energy that he tried to spend every way he could. The Hotel had never been cleaner, never had so many details changed to fix a new aesthetic. Lucifer's manic eyes looked desperately around him. His laugh was a high pitch noise that unnerved them. They had done their best to scrubb Alastor's presence from the hotel, as grandma had told them it was for the best, but Lucifer was still incapable of remaining quiet.

They consulted with Belphegor about it, and the best she could tell them is to give it some time. At that point Lucifer's mind was like one of those toys with holes for kids to slide in the right shapes inside. Everyone would be anxious about all that empty space. But eventually his mind was going to create its own pieces to connect what was separated, make up its own version of what was missing and supply it easily. Minds were great at adapting after all. She was right, of course, and Lucifer's energy did wear off. Leaving a more or less normal version of their father that they could recognize. One that didn't spare his affection, but still spent most of his time away unless called for.

Alastor could recognize that none of that must have been easier for any of them. In a way, he could be proud that they handled it as well as they did, just for the sake of their father and preserve whatever sense of normalcy they could grasp at. But that still wasn't enough for him. He didn't just want Lucifer, he wanted his husband back.

When he asked Emily to call one of the limousines and one royal driver for him, she didn't try to stop him from going to the Goetias. She did say that she had already tried every venue she could, she consulted all the books possible, but there was so little information as it was about spells with a heavenly origin and anything she could do could be so much worse. She also knew that Alastor was not going to back down until he himself had exhausted every possibility, until his face slammed against that wall. With a sigh and a squeeze to his hand, a block away from the Hotel where Lucifer could not see it if he happened to be near a window, Emily wished him good luck.

—

Lucifer moved his finger. More sparkles came out accompanying the triumph dance of Duckmeo and Quaketa. After all the twists and turns that were in the way of their love, they had finally beaten all odds and confessed their love for each other with a glorious kiss that had the sky exploding in fireworks and music coming out of nowhere. Their two families, seeing their union, couldn't keep hating each other and joined with their own dances around the happy couple.

Artemis laughed, enchanted by the whole display, trying to reach out to the moving duckies from Lucifer's bed. Lucifer played a little bit keeping them out of reach and then twirling in the air. When he finally let Artemis’s little fingers to close around one, Duckmeo, he wasn't surprised when the first impulse of the baby was to take it to their mouth to nom on the handsome duck face.

“Ah, I knew that was your favorite of the two” commented Lucifer, playing with the little hooves in his hands. Everytime he hold them, he felt like squealing inside. Charlie one time was just as tiny too. “It was the dancing, wasn't it? Damn, that duck could really move it. Quaketa was more the voice of the cast, not so much the dancer, let's face it. But who is going to hold it against her with that face, right?” Artemis gave him a happy smile through the duckie, drooling at the side of their mouth. Their tiny ears moved slightly, following the sound of notification on his phone. The one he had left on his desk. “It's probably stupid royal nonsense” said with a shrug, inclining himself to kiss the forehead of the baby. Then another one because he could and it made the baby giggle again. “Just going to take care of that and then we can have an adventure with Captain Quaker next. Ringmaster Quaklity can come too! Oh, we can find new talents across the seven ponds! Wouldn't that be fun?”

He left the duckies dancing in the air as he turned to pick up his phone. It was just a message to remind him about a meeting with the Sins next week. In the best case scenario, it was a total bore while they reaffirmed their limits to each other. In the worst, it turned into a screaming match in which it didn't even matter the initial issue and nothing got solved. He groaned just thinking about it.

“Don't ever tell you being a king is all fun and games, little rascal” said, returning to his bed and let his phone slip to the floor.

The onesie of Artemis was still there, flattened, without nobody filling in, while Duckmeo laid on its side.

Naturally, his mind immediately conjured up the worst possible explanation possible. Someone had tried to kill him with an annihilation spell and got the baby by mistake, eliminating their presence forever. He somehow had killed the baby with his own hands. Someone had kidnapped them and they were going to hold them hostage until fully paid, sending off pieces and bits of the baby everyday as motivation.

He started to hyperventilate, pulling on his hair. The baby was gone. Gone forever. How was he ever supposed to explain that to Alastor? After the guy trusted him with his only kid! And how was he supposed to ever face his daughters ever again? How did Charlie ever survive having such a useless father that got an innocent baby killed in one afternoon? That poor radio demon was going to be devastated and it was all his fault, his fault, he knew better than to lose sight of a baby in his care for a second and still did it, what was wrong with him…

Just as his vision started to blurry, he heard something that brought him back. A little squeaky sound. Still with the feeling of his heart pounding in his ears, Lucifer lifted his eyes to catch movement under his pillow before a small duckie came out. Well, it wasn't a duckie exactly. This one was moving on their own and squeaking without anyone squishing it. But the thing that finally reminded him to close his mouth, as the small thing rolled on his bed, clumsy and enthusiastic, were the small lifted ears on top and the black eyes with red pupils that looked up to him with a new litany of squeaky sounds.

“Artemis?” questioned, incredulous.

The duckie opened up their tiny wings and let out a very familiar giggle. They were trying to dance with the other duckies around them. Lucifer very carefully picked them up in his hand to look at them closely. They weighted light like any other duckie, but the skin was warm, covered in a short yellow fur.

“Holy shit” said.

A happy squeak answered him.

—

After his visit to the only Goetias that did something during the whole origin stone disaster, Alastor was not in a good mood. Both of them have been completely useless. A total waste of his time. To make matters worse, it wasn't the lovely face of the king that received him back at the hotel to return Artemis to him. It was Charlie instead, softly cradling Artemis while they bite their gums in a new duckie that took him a second to recognize. Duckmeo.

“Sorry, dad, but papa said that he had been called on an emergency and couldn't take them with him” Charlie shrugged slightly, reaching over for Alastor to take her baby sibling back. Artemis made small cooing noises at seeing him and that did placate him more than a little bit. It was impossible to stay mad while looking at that small trusting face. “He didn't want to, but he had to go. He looked very anxious so hopefully it got solved already. Did you find anything?”

“Not yet, little fawn” admitted, kissing gently the forehead of Artemis and then Charlie, which made her chuckle a little. “For now, our safest bet is still a deal with your father. How were things here? I hope our little Artemis knew to contain their thirst for destruction on a small scale today. I would hate to miss the big ones.”

“They were the cutest little cutie ever!” cooed Charlie, kissing the cheek of Artemis and taking one of their hands. “We played games and we sang songs and danced a little, didn't we? Of course they didn't move much, but they got extra points for enthusiasm and adorableness! Yes, you did, you little patootie! Papa said they loved his play, so now they have a new favorite too!”

“Until the next one arrives” Alastor was already counting three past favorites Artemis loved to hear about, all slowly filling their crib. Such was the nature of fawns. “Did your father mention when he was coming back?” asked, hoping to at least entice him to spend some time together before the day was over.

He didn't had any concrete plan either. They could play some cards or just talk. Anything was fine by him.

"Not really" Charlie rubbed his arm, sensing or assuming his dissapointment. She wasn't wrong either way, although Alastor wasn't about to show it. "Don't worry, dad. He said it wasn't anything bad, but was something he had to look into as quick as possible. Maybe tomorrow we can do some activity all together?" suggested, bumping him with her elbow as she raised her eyebrows. "Something fun and bonding and cute for all of us to do together as family?"

"Sure" Alastor was never very enthusiastic about the bonding experiences that his daughter planned for the residents of the Hotel, but maybe it wasn't a bad idea to try something together. Who knows, the opportunity for a deal could present itself there. "No trust falls" said when Charlie eyes's sparkled, immediately turning into a pout. "And no treasure hunts either" added when she perked up again. "The last time everyone spend a week searching, dear. You are too good hiding things. You obviously took it from me, but not the most relaxing activity to do as the searcher."

"Fine!" Charlie pulled her inferior lip as she crossed her arms. "I will think of something else then."

"I know you will" Alastor patted her head, between her antlers. That had the immediate effect of making her bleat, relaxing again, and he chuckled. "Perhaps certain manager would like to decorate some cookies with me? We haven't done that in a long while, haven't we?" He grinned when Charlie's face lit up, nodding a lot. "Then bring your sister over. Maybe when we are done your father will be back already."

--

Lucifer was not back when they finished their cookies. Alastor had his shadow checking the room of the king for a good while before he accepted the abscence. At least he did got to spend some time with their daughters and everyone said the cookies were amazing, so he had to believe their words. Charlie saved a few in a bag for Lucifer. After a calm dinner togehter, Alastor went up to his room, gave Artemis a quick bath, fed them, put them to rest and laid on his bed staring at the ceiling for three hours before resigned himself to another sleepless night.

Lucifer was back on his own tower, he had that confirmed already through the darkness, although he wasn't doing anything else but pace around from side to another of his room. The radio he had used was still on the nighstand, not turning in, but still present. Alastor went to his studio, carrying a sleeping Artemis on their chair, and prepared another broadcast.

It didn't take long for that specific listener to turn the dial. He saw the face of Lucifer drenched in darkness as he sat down on the edge of his bed, staring back.

"Well, my lovely listeners, it's time to hear some tunes to accompany us on this hellish night. Stay tuned" said, activating a new selection of music and he brushed his hair back, inhaling deeply before letting it go slowly. With his heart still thumping, but decided to ignore it entirely, he reached for his staff and spoke to it. "Your Majesty, what a unexpected surprise" said with a light chuckle, crossing his legs to kick a hoof into the air. "Another night in which rest keeps avoiding you?"

Lucifer sighed, looking to a side. He could see his eyes shinning with the very small portion of light that came from the window, but couldn't quite read his expression.

"Alastor, can we talk when you are done?"

"Aren't we doing that already?" said Alastor, hiding his own surprise by keeping it light.

"Face to face I mean. I… really think is that kind of conversation."

Alastor had two immediate impulses struggling inside of him. One was to end the broadcast right there and then, invent whatever excuse possible and just go to find Lucifer right that instant. Another one was to question him about what could be so important they couldn't just use the radio like before. In the end, after some deliberation, he decided he needed to calm down first. It was going to do no good for anyone if he went as he was right now, concerned about whatever could do his silly little king to ever to try to be serious. If it wasn't because he remembered, because he knew who he was again, then he needed some time to apply some distance and prepare himself for that hit.

"Very well" said, cheering up his voice. "After this broadcast is done, I will come to find you, your Majesty."

"Is Artemis with you?"

"Of course" said, turning to see the forcefield around their baby. "Unless they are with someone I trust, they are always with me."

"Okay" Lucifer sighed deeply. "Bring them over too."

Before Alastor could think what to reply, the king had already turned the dial off. Alastor could change that if he wanted, easily so, but retained himself. He put his staff to a side while trying to ignore the tremble in his hand.

[gallifreyshawkeye]

HA! Finished Chapter 4 of Reclaimed! I even had to cut out what would have been half because it got way away from me, oops

Chapter 4

Summary:

Satan finds out Beelzebub is no longer the Prince of Hell, and although Hell might take the brunt of Satan's vented anger upon this discovery, Crowley pays the calculated price. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Crowley had to stop his jaw from actually dropping. How was it possible Satan didn’t know? No one in the entire otherworldly large room dared speak up. And really, Crowley didn’t blame them. What were they supposed to say? - Sorry, m’Lord, Beelzebub has buggered off to go be in love with Heaven’s ex-Archangel on another star system, they’re not around anymore. Yeah, that’d go over real well. “WHERE. IS. BEELZEBUB?!” Satan bellowed, the space reverberating with his voice as his question remained unanswered. And Crowley did what he had always found he had a talent for: cause trouble.

Excerpt:

Satan let the silence stretch out longer and longer and Crowley, despite his situation not having become any less precarious or his future filled with less pain, couldn’t help but become more amused with the level of discomfort that kept increasing amongst the mass of demons in front of them. He supposed he should be feeling increasingly scared as well, but figured his level of terrified was already so high that it had already maxed out, so why not be entertained by the rest of Hell’s disquiet instead.

“Where,” Satan finally bellowed into the silence, “Is the Prince of Hell?! AND THE REST OF THE MISERABLY USELESS DARK COUNCIL?!”

Crowley almost rolled his eyes as the quick, short clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick of Shax’s shoes sounded out while Dagon, Bael, Asmoday, and Bathin shouldered their way forward as well. Crowley wasn’t sure why the way Shax walked and her shoes irritated him so much, they just did.

Shax dropped to one knee in front of Satan and the rest of the Dark Council did the same behind her. “My Lord,” she said.

Satan looked down at her in puzzlement and disdain. “You’re not Beelzebub,” he said, disgust dripping from his voice at the simpering look on Shax’s face, “Where is Beelzebub?” he asked.

Crowley had to stop his jaw from actually dropping. How was it possible Satan didn’t know?

No one in the entire otherworldly large room dared speak up. And really, Crowley didn’t blame them. What were they supposed to say? Sorry, m’Lord, Beelzebub has buggered off to go be in love with Heaven’s ex-Archangel on another star system, they’re not around anymore. Yeah, that’d go over real well.

“WHERE. IS. BEELZEBUB?!” Satan bellowed, the space reverberating with his voice as his question remained unanswered.

And Crowley did what he had always found he had a talent for: cause trouble.

“M’Lord,” he said smoothly, and without changing the direction of the slow, broad sweep of his gaze across the host of assembled demons, “Beelzebub’s no longer the Prince.”

If the silence had been complete before, it was now so tangible it could have had its own address. 

The subsequent smile Crowley sent out over the horde of Hell, made every demon stop wondering how Crowley had managed to do and get away with what he had done since the beginning of time. Every single demon decided, on the spot, that getting on the bad side of the demon Crowley, whether or not Satan happened to be mad at him, was a very bad idea .

Satan slowly looked down in renewed disgust at Shax. He spoke to Crowley without looking up or turning his head, “Is this the new Prince of Hell?”

“It is, m’Lord,” Crowley replied as evenly and dismissively as if he were answering a question about a dessert menu. 

Out in the assembled mass, Furfur had never been so glad to still be just another face in the crowd.

Satan let go of Crowley who stayed right where he was, standing easily and securely while Satan let the moment stretch out for a strategic beat, his face growing darker, before screaming at the entirety of the Dark Council, “CAN ANY OF YOU TELL ME WHY WHEN I COME BACK TO HELL I FIND IT RUN BY SILENT INCOMPETENT IMBECILES WHO HAVE LET HEAVEN GET THE UPPER HAND SO COMPLETELY THAT HELL’S SUPPOSED GREATEST TRAITOR HAS DONE MORE TO SUBVERT HEAVEN’S PLANS THAN ANY OF YOU! AND I BETTER GET ANSWERS OR I’M TURNING YOU ALL OVER TO AMON UNTIL HE’S BORED! ”

That struck fear into the heart of even Asmoday. The thing with Amon that separated him from Hastur, and even Dagon to a certain extent, was that Amon was calm. Amon was methodical, never seeming to get flustered or angry. In fact, Crowley had had the thought more than once that if Amon had been almost any other demon with any other job, Crowley would have been tempted to quite get along with him. But something had seemed to have died in Amon, and whatever made him calm and unflustered, made him so clinical at his job as to be nearly otherworldly, and absolutely terrifying. The idea that Amon could even be bored was one that Crowley wasn’t sure was even a thing, which was clearly Satan’s intended message.

“And you,” Satan said, addressing Shax specifically, “If you are the Prince, start acting like it before I show you how, myself. Now, WHERE. IS. BEELZEBUB?!!!!!”

Shax pursed her lips and replied with the bluntest and worst answer that was possible to give. “They defected to be with the ex-Supreme Archangel Gabriel who also defected.”

There was a long, long pause where not a single, solitary sound was dared to be made while Satan remained staring at Shax, absorbing the entirety of the information and all its implications.

And then Hell came to Hell, or rather, Satan properly returned to Hell in all his fury, and Hell remembered why he was Satan. Destruction reigned down. And through it all Crowley remained where he was, unmoving, shoulders back, face neutral and carefully blank even though on the inside he was screaming to be anywhere, absolutely anywhere else. Except there was nowhere else, and if he wanted to survive, this was how he did it. And then, through the chaos, he randomly caught Amon’s eye. Amon, who he hadn’t seen in going on two centuries and who had managed to tuck himself into a convenient, unnoticed side corner and who also carried an implacably blank expression on his face as he watched everything unfold. Amon calmly held his eye for a long moment before nodding once and going back to surveying the carnage being wreaked with that unreadable gaze of his.

[a-scaly-troublemaker]

Adventures in Bad Copium: An Outsider's Look on Starlo and Ceroba

The following post is a long opinion; you can take it or leave it. It also involves a lot of projection, because that is how I process my trauma. Disclaimer: I have not played UTY.

With that out of the way, let's begin.

Giant text walls under the cut. I apologize. It is also rambly and a bit disorganized, but I hope I get my points across.

Starlo and Ceroba's friendship is a mess, but with my headcanons, this is both of their faults. When I look at them, I see two different people going through turmoil and handling it in different ways, though I see one thing that they share...

They are both using masking techniques, trying to pretend everything is okay when it's not. Ceroba's emotional masking techniques are much less effective than Starlo's. For obvious reasons; she is feeling an overwhelming amount of pain, and Starlo is a good actor. His act as the North Star has changed his personality to an extent, for better and for worse. He grew into a person he wanted to be, a person he would love more than his younger self.

Starlo doesn't strike me as naive; he strikes me as an unshakeable optimist, to the point it can come off as naivete and have similar consequences. Starlo's optimism paints a rosy picture of the world around him, which can get him into danger and lead him to put too much faith in his abilities as an entertainer. Personal headcanon dictates that he did not ask Ceroba what she needed from him, what would make her feel better, partly because he didn't feel like he was allowed to. Ceroba wound up becoming distant, shell-shocked from her grief and how poorly she was processing it. She slipped into alcohol abuse while Starlo slipped deeper into escapism, leading them to isolate themselves from each other, though not so severely as to ruin their friendship. It created enough distance that they will need years to repair their bond.

The end of the Wild East episode feels to me like someone with ADHD/ADD who's just come crashing down from being fully emotionally spooled about something, from being too excited. But the way Starlo handles this isn't through shutting down and letting himself cry, no, because he knows that he will self-destruct if he allows himself to turn his anger inwards. He still has enough self-loathing buried deep to know that his feelings could put him in more danger if he doesn't turn them outwards, hence how he snaps at the Feisty Four and how he goes after Clover. He is desperate for someone to blame other than himself, and when Ceroba calms him down after his fight, he has cooled off just enough to avoid self-destructing and to confront his faults with the Feisty Four.

One of the hardest things to admit is when you're wrong, when you've fucked up.

Ceroba finds admitting her faults a little easier compared to Starlo, but accountability is another matter entirely, a place where both she and Starlo struggle in different flavors. Ceroba doesn't feel deserving of keeping her life, so wracked with grief and with guilt that she begs Clover to kill her in the pacifist route. She may also feel undeserving of Starlo's friendship, which may cause her to isolate herself from him more. She longs for her family, for a connection she treasured and feels like she took for granted. She is oblivious to Starlo's loyalty, but more tragically, the pain and self loathing he has been hiding from her. Starlo is Ceroba's one blind spot due to how he wears his heart on his sleeve. He masks his worries with a bright, cheerful front that is easy to maintain when he's eyeball deep in his poison of choice, unhealthy escapism via roleplaying, via acting, singing, performing.

Neither of them are coping well with their pain, and because neither of them are willing to be honest about it, it damages their bond, causing enough damage that it will easily take years for them to repair it. It is for all of this that I am iffy about Staroba. I see it best as a QPR or a ride-or-die, and a ship that can only healthily sail if it happens several years after UTY, better yet, after the barrier breaks, because both monsters need to be given room to grow and mature, as well as repair the bond they had. The emotional baggage between them, though, will absolutely make any romance between them a difficult, delicate thing that will demand more openness and honesty from them both.

But this is just my two cents.

Thanks to @profounddefendorcrusade-blog for encouraging me to write posts like this in our recent DM.

[naruthandir]

I think the reason I like Melkor so much is because out of all the characters in Tolkien's world it's of the ones I connect to the most, that I have the most sympathy for.

(long post under the cut. nothing triggering I don't think, just a lot of words and pseudo-phylosophic rambling about order and chaos and nature and such)

From the beginning, I saw something of myself on the way he rebelled against Eru, who is pretty much a parental to him. He was not malicious in his attempts to create a melody of his own, and yet Ilúvatar ruthlessly shut him down, which in turn made Melkor bitter and contrarian. This was something I struggled with a lot growing up as an autistic child with ADHD: impulsiveness, clumsyness and lack of social awareness were severely punished, for reasons that were never explained to me. There was much talk about the importance of "respect", but I when I asked for a definition of that word no one was able to give it to me. I ended up believing that "respect" was synonymous with "compliance", and I grew to resent pretty much all authority figures around me as a result.

To me, Melkor represents the resentment one develops after trying the very best to be good and yet failing, time and time again, until you just lean into your role as a villain. "If evil the only thing I'm good at then why even try to be good? If everything I do is wrong why try to make things right?" And then you become a ball of pure hatred, towards the world and towards yourself, towards those who hurt you and those who love you.

Like. I just feel like Melkor is terribly unhappy. There is not one bit on joy in his life, the closest he gets is that rush of superiority you get from winning a fight, from bullying and tearing things apart and just the general gratification of being an asshole. But that isn't happiness. That's an unhealthy coping mechanism that leaves you feeling miserable every time.

Melkor is evil. I am not implying that he is not. But he is evil in that way Tolkien villains are so often evil: in a pathetic, genuinely pitiful way. And for me, also in an oddly relatable way. The actions of Melkor are by no way justified, they wouldn't be justified if he had the saddest backstory ever. That's not how it works. But I do think they were necessary, in a very strange way. Allow me to explain myself:

Nothing is perfect. We know this, that is just the way of things. Trying to change that, while understandable and oftentimes done with noble intent, is another sort of evil entirely (see: Mairon). And I think Melkor is just as much a part of the natural world as the rest of the Valar are. Eru created Melkor, after all, out of his own though, and it is said none of the Ainur can truly escape or contradict his will. That's entropy, baby: the universal constant that will kill the stars and that allows life all at the same time.

(note: entropy is often defined as a "tendency towards chaos", however this is a gross simplification of what it actually is. You could just as easily call it a "tendency towards equilibrium" and it'd be just as accurate, if not more. Truth is, this is a very complex concept physicist are still working to understand. And I am not a physicist. So don't ask any more questions.)

What I mean to say is that decay is a part of nature, and that seems to be a very relevant theme in Tolkien. And if a perfect God contains all possible attributes (we talked about this in phylosophy class) they must contain in their perfection evil and well. Flaws. And if the Ainur are just manifestations of different, often contradicting attributes of Eru, that means Melkor must be too.

I don't know exactly where I am going with this. Perhaps is just that I am a little annoyed, that people would call Morgoth (Or Sauron, for that matter) "plain villains", because thematically speaking they are very interesting, at least to me. I acknowledge there's a good bit of projection going on here, but really that's the only way I know of engaging with fiction and if Tolkien's words are worth anything, I do find this interpretation "applicable".

[lovelykhaleesiii]

shdhdbsjebh- I loved the modern!fuck boy! Aegon a.u sm!! It just scratches my brain fr 🤭 and bc I can and nonnie said I can, I think I WILL do a blurb so I hope I do it justice!

Aegon Targaryen the second. How do you even begin to explain Aegon Targaryen the second?

Man child? Yes.

Trust fund baby? Yes.

Totally obnoxious? Yes.

And the total bane of your entire existence? Yes.

You've known him since middle school when he dropped into your school when his insanely rich C.E.O father - and his very young, almost too young - wife moved to the big city of New York. You normally weren't the one to judge as you also came from an insanely wealthy family but even then, there was something off about him. The way he would smirk at you if you so much as stuttered a single word durning an important presentation. Or got just one mark down from his on a test, quiz, or even a simple homework assignment. Not that he even would try, he much rather cut school to smoke week or ditch homework and sneak out to clubs where he could easily get in when he was underaged. And you still feel the same about him years later.

"I can't believe your dad actually let you open a speak easy," you say. You and him had unfortunately been paired up for an almost months long project worth eighty percent of your grade and he had somehow managed to drag you from your house to his club he had opened to apparently show his father he could be responsible.

"What?" He says, faking shock. "I do know responsibility. I am going to be the heir someday."

"Oh? Is that so?"

"You know it."

You sit in silence as you begin to watch men and women go on the stage and do basically strip teases. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, come on," Aegon says, nudging you, "you can't tell me you are this uptight that going up there and dancing isn't fun!"

"It looks fun," you admit, "but this project is worth a lot and I don't particularly like you-"

He cuts you off. "I don't particularly like you either, little miss perfect. But I like fun!"

You sigh. " you know...I have moves."

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

Aegon takes your drink and before you can argue, he says, "show me then." But you can tell he is only joking.

"You don't actually think i'd go up there, do you?"

He shakes his head. "Not a chance."

Of course.

"Fine. Guard my drink."

As you dance, you miss Aegon getting up and his eyes following you as you do a dance.

"Who's that girl?" A person asks, just as hypnotized as Aegon was.

He stares you in shock and awe. "I have no idea."

A few hours later, you were now semi-carrying a very drunk Aegon back to your place. Why were you carrying your long time drunk enemy back to your place instead of his own? Well, as fate would have it, your New York pent house was just six minutes walking distance from Aegon's club. Much easier and quicker to get to. You sit him on the bed in your guest room you had set up.

The next morning, as you cook breakfast, you decide to text Aegon and tell him to get the hell out of your house.

You: morning, loser! Now, get out of my house! :)

Aegon: my head hurts.

You: didn't ask plus I don't care. Now. Get out of my house!

Aegon: are you cooking bacon?

You: For me.

Aegon: what? I don't get anything? You wound me.

You: awe, beat my still bleeding heart. The only thing you're going to get is a splash of bleach if you don't get your smelly ass out of my bed and leave!

Aegon: jesus, alright, alright. I'm going. Where is your shower?

You: down the hall to the right. You can't miss it.

Aegon couldn't help it. After his shower, he came out to the kitchen, grabbing a plate. Sure enough, you had enough for two. He smirked as an idea formed in his head. You were currently "burning" the guest room sheets after he had slept in them so you would be gone for at least four minutes....

Just as you placed the truly disgusting sheets into the washer, your phone dings. When you take it out, it's a notification from twitter. @therealaegont has tagged you in (1) post. You roll your eyes as you press on the notification.

It takes you to a post with a picture. A picture of the food he was eating. The food you had cooked. He had tagged your username and put the caption as love it when my wife makes me breakfast :)

You make a disgusted face before going to reply.

Not your wife, fuck face :)

A couple moments after you press send, you hear faint laughing from the other room.

This was going to be a long project.

OMG NONNIE I LOVE THIS !!!! gahhhhd this was so good, is it wrong that I want more ?! that slow burn romance is real & making me feral 😫🥵🥵🥵

[merge-conflict]

word search tag game

Tagged by @wanderingaldecaldo Couldn't resist turning this one around quickly - I love doing these because I get to search not one but two badly organized scrivener projects and then try to remember what the hell I was working on and how long ago.

Anyway, content warning for some suggestive/sexual content under the cut, but nothing explicit.

privacy (I used to carry you home)

For two weeks [V] had been waiting for this moment, and it took a considerable amount of self control not to bare her teeth in the elevator and unsettle the other occupants any more than they already were. There was a gentle warning pulsing in her notifications, advising her to avoid unnecessary stress. She practiced her box breathing until the car slid to a stop on her floor and she exited into a cloud of frantic misery so thick it made her teeth itch. Oh how she had missed this!

Everything was falling into place at once, her limbs strong and steady, her head clear, and anticipation fluttering in her lungs. Johnny would have hated the bold clean lines of the architecture, the cramped conference rooms, the cubicles that gave not a single pretext of privacy– but she was so glad to see it she could have cried. There were plenty of threats here, to be sure, but she knew the shape of all of them, and if she was going to cheat death she wanted to do it somewhere climate-controlled. She cut through the atrium like a blade through water, drawing attention in her wake without turning to see it.

claim (old WIP)

Let Abernathy watch as V took him, played with him, staked her claim. Perhaps it would finally wipe the superior smile from her face as V interlaced her fingers with his, responding to his warning with vigor that would take him right over the edge. Surely she could not contain herself when he pulled V into his lap, kissed her deeply, submitted himself to her good-natured teasing–

“Takemura?”

Abernathy was looking at him now, one eyebrow raised. Someone must have asked him a question, and he wasn’t entirely sure who it had been. He avoided looking at V.

“Forgive me, Director,” he said, unhurriedly. “My attention was on another matter.”

It was embarrassing in the extreme, to have been caught out in a childish daydream, and unforgivably rude to have lost focus during a meeting he was nominally a part of. But his colleagues seemed ready to believe he had been fielding some important request, and he saw no reason to correct the assumption.

suspicion (old WIP)

The meeting started late, as it usually did, as it followed some other weekly meeting for the operational managers which was held three floors away. [Goro] had a suspicion Abernathy had planned it that way on purpose, so that most of her reports were left scrambling, entering a meeting with their department head left waiting. Sometimes she liked to single them out as they came in, throwing them directly into the spotlight to begin.

But it had been a quiet week, and Abernathy seemed to be in a good mood. There was plenty of old business to discuss, none of it requiring his direct attention. His presence, like the increased security within all levels of the tower, was as much a reminder to keep in line, as it was anything else. CounterIntel had one of the lowest turnover rates of any local department, but as Hanako-sama had reminded him, that was not necessarily an indication of loyalty. The skills they used to foil and track Arasaka’s enemies could just as easily be turned against the company.

V spoke very little in the meeting, except to prompt for clarification, a talent she sometimes wielded brutally– backing reluctant execs into a corner until they admitted their failures. Less frequently she would call attention to an idea, unfolding it to be put on display, giving praise without ever uttering a compliment. She was, as she had told him, Abernathy’s right hand– a role which seemed to primarily consist of controlling the flow of the meeting, as Abernathy herself remained distant until her judgment or direction was required. It was a far cry from their internal meetings, where the two fought as often as they agreed, and V had pitched most of the plans that Abernathy spoke about as if they were her own.

flush (when her edges soften)

There was an intermission before the next pair came out, and V got up without speaking to [Johnny], leaving only her jacket as a thin sort of reassurance that she’d be back. He drained his drink and wondered whether he should be concerned about whatever shit she had planned. All he could think about was her chasing down his sloppy seconds. Fuck. He’d just start to think he’d let her make the next move, and then she’d say something like that. If whatever fucked mind game she was playing wasn’t the most fun he’d had in ages he might have taken a swing at her himself to start.

“You keep drinking like that, you're going to go soft.” V pulled her chair out, so that it was no longer flush with his own, leaving half his right leg hanging over the edge.

chords/chord

none!

There's a lot of folks tagged in this already, so I don't want to overwhelm anyone- although rest assured I love to read people's writing so if you wanna use these words or just share your work and tag me please do. :3 (Pls rec your own work honestly I have some uninterruptible reading time coming up and I need to start downloading all y'all's fics off ao3)

[curestardust]

Dust Watched: Eureka Seven Hi-Evolution 3: Eureka

Genres: Mecha, Sci-fi, Drama // 1 movie (2h) // Orig (x) M1 (x) M2 (x)

So, umm... this was definitely a movie.

✧  story  ✧

I’m just going to cut to the chase, I’ve no fucking idea what happened in this trilogy. The first movie was to set-up this new timeline, the second one was to establish the new Anemone’s character and show us what Eureka has been doing and this one is uuuuuhhhhh... 

????????

So there are 2 halves to this movie. The first one is a road trip with Eureka and Iris, who is a baby EUREKA so she can’t control her powers yet. They’re being chased by Dewey who can uhhhh astral project to anywhere in the world? I guess? And yeah, that’s pretty much it. I don’t know what to say. They are just driving, getting attacked, survive, then drive again and this goes on til the 2nd arc begins.

I also have no idea what’s going on in the 2nd arc however. Dewey reveals that his grand plan for kidnapping Iris was to make her use her power to... erase reality or something? Because they’re from one of Eureka’s alternate realities, so they are not “real”, so they want to die???

Listen, I’m not gonna lie, I don’t remember much from the original E7, nor was I the biggest fan of it. So I can’t really tell what’s just blatant bad writing and what is something that is just being referenced and I just don’t remember it. But even then, as a movie, it’s just not particularly interesting to watch.

I starts off with a cool ass mecha fight, then it goes into a slow pace character building section, then it goes into an absolute “????” with events that make no sense and then it’s over. 

To me, one of the most telling factors of a show being unsure of itself, is when they have someone narrate what we could easily deduce from visual cues. And that’s the entire movie. To mention one example. after Dewey’s first astral projection, when he comes back, one of his 6 earrings turns into dust. An obvious visual cue that his earrings serve as a countdown for how many times he can do this again. But instead of leaving it at that, one of the characters is made to explain this to the viewer out loud. Infuriating.

✧  characters  ✧

I don’t think the writer really understands why people love the characters of the original anime so much. It’s not just “Eureka” who they love; it’s all the hardship they went through alongside her in the original series that made people feel so much for the character. And it’s true for all of them; Renton, Anemone, Holland... 

This is an alternative universe. You can push as many of the original characters into my face but I won’t feel anything for THESE characters. What I feel is simply nostalgia from the original. These are people who I don’t know, simply walking around with the faces and names of people I know from somewhere else. 

There were only 2 times I felt something and one of them was heartache for Eureka in one scene where she reveals her scars. The other was absolute befuddlement turned into rage. <Spoilers> This movie brings back Holland, gives him the dream life and then fucking kills him. And for what? Why, How, Who? None of it made sense! His pals from the Gekko join him on this mission and then they let him sacrifice himself (for something that doesn’t even work!!!) at the end DESPITE knowing that his wife is pregnant! When he goes off, the rest of the crew is floating on something and just waving at him?? What are you doing?? Fight him, punch him, shoot him in the fucking arm, and do it yourselves! Are you seriously telling me that his friends just let him kill himself like that? Just like that? OOOOOHHH my god wtf.<Spoilers>

✧  art  ✧

Oh my good lord, do I not like the character designs?? Like, none of them. Anemone gets offended for being called an “Oba-sama” but who can blame the kid? She looks 40! And Eureka looks like she hasn’t been to a hairdresser in 10 years and has just been cutting it for herself which... actually, that would fit her character in the movie. Still looks ugly though. 

I also deeply dislike the colours. It’s so washed out. It just looks lifeless. The only thing I can commend the staff for is the background designs and the animation. The BGs and set-designs look gorgeous and are insanely detailed. The animation is fluid, although it suffers a drop in quality alongside the actual art itself in the latter half of the movie.

✧  sound ✧

Honestly, all BONES projects I’ve watched had fantastic music and this one is no exception.

✧  overview ✧

All in all, I’ve no idea what the purpose of these movies were. None of them were particularly good tbh. Maybe the Anemone one is worth watching just for how much of a fever dream it is.

My Rating: 4/10

[adultswim2021]

Space Ghost Week

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #60: “Lawsuit” | August 21, 1998 | S05E03

Yet another unique opening; this is meant to look like a more staid network program; I get an 80s primetime soap vibe, such as Dynasty or Falcon Crest. Honestly, I’m not sure what the actual reference is, if anything. Snard describes the theme as Mork-and-Mindy-esque. The final credit says it was created by the Arlington Sisters. 

This is an Evan Dorkin Sarah Dyer episode, and it’s a pretty good one. I had my suspicions when the characters referenced “Harvey”, referring to Birdman. Man, those two really should’ve gotten a piece of that Harvey Birdman.

This one is rather scripted; a huge chunk of the episode is comprised of animated characters talking to one another. Dr. Nightmare, a villain from the 1960s iteration of Space Ghost, shows up in Tad’s monitor on behalf of Jan, Jace, and Blip; Space Ghost’s old teen and primate sidekicks. He’s now Dr. Nightmare, Attorney at Law (Jesus, just cut those two a check already). Another way you can tell it’s a Dorkin/Dyer script: they actually care about the 1960s lore of Space Ghost and you can tell they get a lot of joy out of including old characters in their episodes.

Jan and Jace are suing for back wages, trauma, and accuse Space Ghost of preventing them from enrolling in school. Eventually Greta Van Sustren shows up to talk to Space Ghost about representing him in the upcoming case. She’s wearing a cool jacket. 

In addition to the references to the 60s show, we also get several references to past episodes; Cameron Diaz, Flip Orley, Sean Medlock, The Hoover Dam, and Paris France are all in talks to sue Space Ghost. Flip Orley was the magician that was on the Late Night episode, and Sean Medlock, hilariously, was the aggrieved Space Ghost fan who got on the show via a haiku contest and was disgruntled because he was lead to believe that he’d be the focus of the entire episode. He now has a substack under the pseudonym Jim Treacher, and is reportedly a massive wad.

Among the funny moments are: Brak, the little fella who shows up “from time to time” as Dennis Miller put it, shows up briefly to pointlessly reference I’m not Rappaport. The beginning of the episode actually has a lot of the show’s funniest jokes: Space Ghost’s spit-take, his invoking the name “Jack Lord”, and accusing Dr. Nightmare of stealing fizzy lifting drinks all tickle me. I need to confess that I stole the fizzy lifting drinks line in high school for an unfunny sketch I wrote. I also love the bit where Space Ghost meets Greta Van Sustren and then blinks, using Zorak’s blinking sound-effect. Zorak gets pissed. 

Shout out to Matt Harrigan and Isabel Gonzalez who play Jace and Jan respectively. Isabel is the insanely beautiful woman who portrayed Fran Drescher in “Woody Allen’s Fall Project”. Dave Willis also has a brief turn as Jace’s post-puberty voice.

MAIL BAG

from peopletellmeilooklikehansolo:

Space Ghost's dialogue at the start of Terminal is lifted from Terms of Endearment. When I saw the movie a few years ago I was smiling inappropriately as soon as I recognized the words coming out of Debra Winger's mouth. (she's speaking to her sons while dying "in hospital")

THANK YOU! I can’t believe I missed that. I’ve seen the movie and somehow didn’t make the connection! It was a somewhat recent watch, even, and I easily could have connected the two. My main takeaway from that movie was the cool photo of Jack Nicholson in the astronaut outfit, which is shockingly hard to google. Where is that prop?