#it was the only part that was easy to edit wHoops

[jinx-xxed]

Too Late (Almost)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Edited through this older piece since I still enjoy it :) also cuz I haven’t posted in forever hey guys

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; When presented with the choice of winning the battle or saving the one he loves, which path will Kylo Ren take?

Content; Angst, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander reader, original characters, Kylo POV and reader POV, Rey vs. Kylo, redoing that TFA fight basically, but now in the TROS timeline yay!, Force bonded to Kylo, Force visions, blood and injury, reader almost dies whoops, battle, Kylo saves you, murder, Kylo chooses you, whole bunch of conflicting emotions, longing, possible down bad behavior

Wc; 2.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Rey grunts against the force of his swing, her heels digging into and slipping against the snow covered ground beneath them. Red sparks against blue, creating a sort of purple mix of light that reflects off her face and his mask. It’s so reminiscent of their first conflict, of the fight in those snowy woods outside of Starkiller Base, where he had lost. Kylo won’t lose this time. He’s stronger, he’s better, he won’t be bested by his outlandish and fleeting desires to have someone who understood because he thought he had no one, to have someone to teach to prove to himself that this wasn’t for nothing.

It’s just them in this clearing, sparse, dying trees surrounding them, snow flying up around their legs and soaking into their clothing. Their hair is plastered to the edges of their cheeks, determination and fury burning in both of their eyes. Determination not to lose, determination to get out of this in one piece. Rey slashes at him, a downward swing that he blocks and jerks his lightsaber upwards, taking hers with it. She steps away to just narrowly avoid the middle swing he aims at her abdomen, going into the defensive again. She slips against the ground, her lightsaber unable to come up and protect her when he prepares another attack, leading her to resort to the strength of the Force. He feels an invisible power blocking his lightsaber, creating a weird effect with the plasma where it’s stuck in the air mid-swing, quivering beneath the Force. With her next breath, Rey rears up and tries an underhand slash, one which he dodges by darting backwards.

The dance is familiar, one Kylo’s practiced time and time again with different partners. It doesn’t scare him, doesn’t illicit the type of fear it does in Rey. She’s scared of losing, of what could happen to her if she does. She knows she’s at a natural disadvantage with him beating her out in almost every aspect, and yet it’s her courage that keeps her going. It’s something intangible that keeps her from bowing to his power—her defiance and spirit. He recognizes the spark in her eyes, because he’s seen it so many times in someone else’s. In someone who is so unbreakable it infuriated him, in someone who is his equal in every way, in someone who has been with him through just about everything.

Lightsabers burn gashes into trees, the wood smoking and burning orange, snow melts from the heat, only to be replaced by a flurry disturbed by the two of them. In the distance, there’s more fighting, more smoke, more blaster fire, more ship engines screaming. But here, it’s like they’re in their own isolated world away from it all. Rey misses a swing, her form falters, and he takes his chance. He uses the Force like the surge of a wave, overwhelming his opponent before she can react, slamming it against her body and sending her off balance. She yells, her back connecting violently with a tree, bringing her to her hands and knees in the white coldness of the snow. He advances with the easy, ruthless power of a predator as she struggles to get back to her feet. The opportunity is open before him, feeling like the sight of a clear sky after days of endless clouds, he only needs to-

Help.

The voice echoes through his mind, it makes his entire body freeze, like he’s unable to move even if he wanted to. It comes from far off in the trees, in a blood soaked clearing, where there’s only pain and anger and a desperate reach outwards. He heard her, her single word ringing louder than any other thought that may occupy his attention. His head turns ever so slightly, just a small tilt to the left, towards that direction. Rey is beginning to get up, she’s readying her saber, she’s prepared to fight again—but she’s studying him as well, curiosity sparking from the sudden change of his demeanor. She recognizes the way something has called him, something she couldn’t hear but could feel like a ripple across a still lake.

She’s alone, his Commander is alone, fighting to keep herself upright in a battle that’s quickly tipping in a direction that is not in her favor. He sees it in flashes across their bond, the imagery so vivid it’s like he’s there, living it through herself. There’s so many of them, all coming from between the trees with weapons brandished and with a determination to make this her resting ground. It was all planned out; get one of them alone, funnel them away from their soldiers and comrades so they can be overwhelmed and overrun, brought down by those they’d spent so long crushing beneath their heel. They knew he’d be too focused on Rey, blinded by his rage, so that left only one remaining. Her Fleet is nowhere to be found, instead fighting their own battles, working together in the skies with the methods they’d been taught. Her breath is forced from her lungs as she’s brought to the ground. He feels it, the way his chest is threatening to cave in on itself, the burning, phantom pain within his right arm and left side.

The scene disappears suddenly and is instead replaced by something else, something formed and created by the otherworldly powers of the Force. He recognizes the hazy look of a vision, a glimpse into one of many possible futures. He watches, powerless, as she’s pinned, grappling hopelessly against a woman with a blaster aimed right at her head. Kylo’s torn from the vision just as the blaster goes off, the sound of it echoing in his skull.

A sudden despair washes over him, a type he’s never felt before and isn’t sure what to do with. It has no weight behind it, being simply the tip of the iceberg of what’s to come depending on what decision he may make. But it’s enough to make him want to fall to his knees. He’s thrown back into his body, his feet feeling unsteady beneath him, the crackling of his lightsaber filling his ears instead of the screech of a blaster. His eyes lift to Rey, his mind reaches for the forest. Two choices, two paths, two outcomes. That’s what it always is, isn’t it? One or the other, he can’t have both.

His fists clench, the ridges of his lightsaber hilt bite into his palm, Rey’s expression hardens, her legs separating into a battle stance. There’s a voice in his head that hisses at him angrily, demanding he not make this choice, demanding that he do what he’s supposed to, what he’s meant to. Weak, useless, too much of your father in you. He listens to it for a moment, listens to its whispers that have plagued him for years.

But then that despair from before pierces him like a stake, yelling at him, grabbing onto him, begging him to listen just this once. There’s a dam that breaks, a cage that opens and frees the bird trapped inside, flying in a way it always dreamed of. He takes a stumbling step back, a final moment of hesitation, like giving himself a chance to reconsider. It’s futile; he made up his mind a long time ago.

And then Kylo runs. He runs in the opposite direction, he runs from Rey, he runs from his victory, he runs from every lesson beat into him, and he instead runs towards something else entirely. Towards his hope, his respite, his safety, his partner, his everything. He feels deep down in the most core parts of himself that he just crossed a line he’ll never be able to uncross—and he finds that he doesn’t want to. Snow tries to suck him down, decaying plants grab at the edges of his robes, that hissing voice inside his head screams, but he ignores it all. Nothing can stop him now. His breath burns in his lungs, icy and angry and desperate. He feels her so acutely, feels her pain and every emotion and thought within her head, and it’s this that makes him realize he doesn’t know what to do were that to suddenly disappear, snuffed out like a flame, leaving him feeling like he’s missing the second half of himself. He’s been too late for a lot of things; too late to make up for what he’s done, too late to make things different, too late to make the right choice.

Please don’t let him be too late for this.

» ☆ «

“I thought you were the good guys.”

The blaster readjusts in the hands holding it, the barrel shifting upwards like it wants to give you a better view of where your demise is going to come from. The woman behind it keeps one eye shut, the other glaring at you as she snarls at your words. “We are the good guys.”

The face of this girl you used to know is now foreign to you, aged by the terrors of war and the fight for survival just like yours is. You can’t even remember her name. Your hand shakes desperately against her wrist, as if it’ll do anything to keep back the inevitable. Blood drips down into your left eye, your breathing rasps past your lips. Your other hand lays limp in the snow, a blaster shot cutting clean through your forearm and rendering it useless. Your lightsaber is somewhere nearby, knocked from your grasp at the same moment an elbow had connected with your jaw.

“You say that, but you all stoop to the same levels you criticize us for.” You spit at her, bloody teeth bared. “What do you think this is? A game to see who can come out on top with more innocence? Don’t kid yourselves.”

The girl’s eyes flare with anger so acute you can see the sparks. She brings her heavy-booted foot down on the blaster wound in your arm, putting as much pressure as possible. You choke out a scream as pain eats you alive, nausea blooming in your stomach. Blood spurts beneath the sole of her shoe, trickling down your charred skin and onto the snow below. “Quit talking like you fucking know anything. You’re vile. You get off on killing us. You deserve whatever fate waits for you in hell.” She jerks your hand off her wrist, gripping it and twisting sharply. Bones crack, more agony. Your mouth merely hangs open, sound unable to come out as your vision flashes white.

You feel as though your body is not yours, your pain cutting the ropes that kept the second part of you inside, allowing it to linger nearby as if this is all happening to someone else. Maybe it’s because you’re empty of your abilities, your muscles and blood no longer able to harbor the power of the Force. You’d used it all up a while ago when you were fighting a different group of rebels. Now you’re left so depleted you can’t even call your lightsaber to you, nor can you seem to keep your soul inside your own body. You look again at the blaster in her hands, you look into the black pit of the barrel. Is that what it’ll feel like? Black nothingness? You think so.

There’s nobody nearby to hear you, to come help—save—you. The Fleet is off fighting their battles in the skies, Kylo is occupied with Rey, you can’t call for backup. This was the rebels plan, after all. They wanted you to separate so you weren’t as strong, so that you could be taken down easier. You’ll admit that they were smart in taking the risk, it clearly worked in their favor. You should’ve been smarter, you should’ve noticed the signs and known not to follow the bait. You should’ve kept your head clear rather than letting the idea of this victory cloud your thoughts. You should’ve known to check your surroundings through the Force so you didn’t get overwhelmed by the rebels. You were stupid in the heat of the moment and you’re going to pay for it. You deserve it. You left BB-12 back in your ship so he didn’t get injured—even if he is a droid. You hope he’ll be okay.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the action using too much strength that you don’t have. The cold of the snow is setting in, making your body numb. Your pain seems so far away when it’s like that. There’s a shift, the blaster clicking, and you know what’s going to happen. That’s fine. You couldn’t escape it forever.

You expect it to happen, for that shot of hot plasma to pierce through your heart and for all of this to come to an end. Your limbs relax in preparation—but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s an explosion of noises all at once. Your ears feel like they’re submerged in water but you can still hear the screams in fear and anger and confusion, the stomping of feet as people try to run, and the screech of an unstable lightsaber as it swings through the air and through human flesh. The weight of that girl on your chest is lifted so rapidly that breath finds its way back into your lungs in a heaving gasp that has your entire body burning in agony.

It takes less than a minute before silence settles over the clearing. The smell of fresh death hits your nose. You can barely manage to open your eyes again, merely squinting up at Kylo standing over you. His black uniform makes him cut such an intimidating shape against the white backdrop of the snow and watery sky, the silver lining on his helmet reflecting it. His breathing is coming out as ragged static through his modifier, chest heaving. His lightsaber clicks off and he attaches it to his belt, calling yours to him as he does and putting it right next to his own.

It feels like a dream that he’s actually here, that he picks you up and cradles you so carefully so he doesn’t irritate your wounds. When he lifts you, you see the carnage he left. Every rebel lays dead on the ground, their bodies getting buried under the snow that’s begun to fall. Kylo’s warmth under your cheek almost doesn’t feel real… you should be dead. You deserve to be dead. When you sent out that final plea through the Force, you never expected him to answer.

“I’m sorry.” You croak. “I messed it up. You lost them because of me. You should’ve left me-“

“Don’t.” Kylo snaps. Your body jostles with his movements as he walks. “Don’t say that.“

Even with your fading strength, you can still feel him through the bond you share. He was terrified, he was terrified of the possibility of losing you. He was terrified of how willing you were to give up; he could sense those final moments. He’s so angry at himself for nearly letting it happen, for letting the rebels get the upper hand like this.

“We will find them again,” he promises you. He pauses, the silence filled with the crunch of snow beneath his boots. “The same could not be said if I lost you.”

[russilton]

i know you've probably answered this a thousand times but what is it that makes gewis what it is to you? other than obviously the respect and a tad of idolisation sometimes i feel like they have the teammate dynamic that most is what it seems like from first glance. but i want to get it, because i want to savour their current dynamic before it's changed forever.

Alrighty firstly anon I apologise for making you wait like a week for this answer, it wasn’t one I wanted to rush so I sat on it for a second. (Edit: whoops I rambled for an hour straight, sorry dude, that’s Friday night stream of consciousness for you)

This is just my personal interpretation of Gewis as a dynamic and pairing, other people might not agree, but it’s why I’ve been here for just over two years now, and what I always end up coming back to with every interview, video or quote—

It’s about Respect

You can say a lot about George now, he’s really filled out as a person as he settled into the top end of the grid— he’s found his rhythm, he’s started to experiment with personal independence and brand — but from day one at Williams let alone day one at Mercedes, George has always respected and admired Lewis. He has never been quiet about that fact. In fact he goes above and beyond to be loud about it, not just as a regular expected teammate commitment, but as a true fan.

No one else with a foot on the grid has said the words “greatest of all time” about Lewis as much as George has. It’s not even close, and it came long before George was Lewis’ teammate- the posts of George whooping away in the Singapore 2018 pit lane with the team, or even sitting on Lewis’ side of the garage in 2016 in Abu Dhabi stand as a testament to that.

But beyond that George has also expanded on why he finds Lewis so important to the sport, George has talked about both lewis’ driving skill, his role in shaping British young drivers, and the part Lewis plays in supporting minorities and charities. George was there in 2020 kneeling with Lewis without a blink, he stood up and was one of the first of the drivers to call out the abuse Lewis was receiving from piquet as unacceptable, and what first endeared George to me— he was the only driver at the time to loudly and purposefully call AD21 utterly unacceptable from the second it happened, without waiting for what media would tell him was okay to say.

Then he got into the Mercedes car, and it never faltered. In early 2022 there were constant snips from interviewers asking George how he felt about going against Lewis, if he reveled in scoring more than him, and every time George shot them down, sometimes with a barely concealed eye roll, and proceeded to speak about how Lewis was never going to stay this way, because he’s Lewis Hamilton.

George is no saint, he and Lewis both had their faltering moments, where their races didn’t line up or one of them got the better of the other- but it never lasted. They’d shove each other on track and the next week we’d find out they’d been to dinner in a pub together to talk it out. Strategy would go terribly and the post race interviews would be icy, and then two weeks later they’re talking about sitting in each others laps to sky dive, or going free diving together as a bonding activity. Even when it was horrible like Qatar 2023 you had Lewis diving in front of a camera to apologise for the incident and George falling into his arms looking like he’d been through hell and back without a second of hesitation. They are both so deeply human about each other.

And that leads me to Lewis. We often focus on George because frankly he’s got his heart on his sleeve. It’s easy to know how George feels and thinks and loves. It’s not easy with Lewis- especially if you aren’t looking. But as someone who dedicated far too much of his free time to reading what Lewis says, and archiving the things Lewis says about George, Lewis has said a lot more than people think.

He was reserved at first, for someone who makes his mark with Change, Lewis also doesn’t love it, and it also took him a WHILE to really befriend Valtteri as fully as we now appreciate. That will always be special to Lewis because Val was the stitches on an open wound. George is the physio. He is the next stage of recovery where you push yourself. It’s no surprise to anyone that Lewis wanted to stick with Val a little longer at first. But then he got George—

And it’s not appreciated just how much Lewis evidently threw himself into making George feel at home and listened to. He took George on trips that they’ve both mentioned but kept private. He sat him down to dinner with the team. They shared data and worked hand in hand to try their best to improve some dog shit cars. Lewis has even spoken about sharing set up data with George and working together where he wouldn’t have with other teammates. At the end of 2021 Lewis mused that he’s been trying hard to become a better person, a better teammate, a process he started with Val and put into full force with George. He ignored old impulses and sat hip to hip with this new guy who he watched develop from an awkward gp3 rookie to his teammate. He spoke often about how George wasn’t really new, he was always part of the team, just learning to lead, and Lewis was there to make that as smooth as he could

He saw George as a future for the team, and as much as I avoid thinking about it Lewis has spoke about that, even when he decided to move, he called George a perfect fit for the future of a team he will always adore as his family. There’s no shortage of evidence that despite his best effort to seem detached and private from the grid, Lewis has cared about and supported George’s growth. From dorky Instagram stories of George after his first pole and win, congratulatory comments and hugs, telling anyone who asked that he wanted to be part of George’s growth and future wherever that took him. From big things like dragging George onto the pit fence after their first podium together in France 22 to present him to a crowd, to little things like crossing his fingers over his heart and ignoring an interviewer to chant “go on buddy” watching George qualify in vegas last year. Lewis has been there for it all.

From Sakhir to Singapore Lewis has stood George up after his most painful moments and pushed him to keep going. When all eyes were on George for crashing in Singapore, Lewis was speaking to anyone who would listen about how anyone could have done that including himself, and that he extended support to George without acting as if George wasn’t strong enough to handle it alone. Lewis has always approached George with Respect foremost, and support if he wanted it.

Lewis and George are such and intertwined concept that it’s like a Pandora’s box.

When you stare at the face value idea, they couldn’t seem more different. Cool, older, fashionable athlete with a record so long it would take years to break down, and an awkward younger team shirt wearing driver in his early prime who is only just starting to make a name for himself.

But you pry that lid up and you have an ever expanding web of similarities and dedication. Both of them from what the racing world would label as not well off families who faced and absolute mountain to get into f1, yes Lewis SIGNIFICANTLY more than George ever would, but George himself has marked Lewis as the example he could look to of a British driver like him who still made himself champion without a family connection or money to grease the wheels. I would put money down it was Lewis’ tales of how Ron Dennis supported him, that lead George to approach Toto for the same support when he was facing the end of his career. Lewis went to Mercedes, so that’s where George set his dreams on, because if it was good enough for Lewis and Michael it was what he wanted. You have George in Sakhir cramming bruised and bleeding feet into Lewis’ shoes to try and to fill them for even a second and cementing his future with Lewis’ blessing on his back.

It may seem harder to equalise the depth of George’s hero worship in Lewis— it’s why a lot of people don’t love the ship and I get that— but for me when you look at all Lewis went through in terms of teammates and the hellish experience of Alonso and Nico to the good but temperamental experiences of Jenson and Valtteri— Lewis’ time with George represents growth into something better, something he always said he wanted to be, the driver who supports others. George didn’t ever roll over and give Lewis what he wanted to please him, he pushed Lewis to the limit of his skills and by Lewis’ own admission, sparked a fire in him to keep going harder and higher. To Lewis, George is a jolt on a fire that had been cruelly starved of oxygen, a glimpse of a flame to follow, so different to himself but not different at all.

They are parralells as much as much as they are opposites. Lewis is the teammate George always prayed for, the one he wanted, and the only one he wanted, and for every second he had him George soaked that influence up like sponge. He changed his fashion to try to stick out a little more, he started picking charities he wanted to support because that’s what Lewis did, he decided to make his mark by joining Seb in the GPDA because it’s where he felt he could make the biggest change. George made Lewis his benchmark not as something to beat, but as a target to aspire to. If he was competing with Lewis, then he knew he’d worked hard enough and got it right.

In comparison George wasn’t necessarily what Lewis wanted, but he was what Lewis Needed. In the wake of the worst disrespect the sport could fathom, Lewis got a teammate that would support him at every turn off the grid, but fight him clean and fair on the grid. He got someone who respected him beyond anything, while also helping to put the energy back in him to race and fight and grab victory with his teeth. He got a test in the principals he wanted to become, a test that rewarded him with adoration.

George and Lewis are dawn and dusk, different, but ultimately bridges to each other. They love so fiercely, intensely, and with joy, that it just feels impossible to me not to look at them and fall into an endless fall of what ifs. They stand alone without need for each other- but they also make each other better

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale Seeking Godhood Part V/5 PATH 1

Oh boy. Well. I wanted to release all three paths simultaneously but that may take some time so I'll release the paths as they are completed. This will be the only part for Path 1.

Paths 2 & 3 may be 1-2 parts depending on my brain.

Summary: Continuation of Gale seeking the crown post elder brain, final chapter for Path 1.

Editing to say that I do tweak and edit as I read and re-read these pieces and this makes my heart ache every time I reach the end. Anyway, I'm not crying. Just some dust.

Path 1

You approach Shadowheart with a warm smile and embrace her - “Gods, it’s been to long,” you breathe out as she hugs you. She smells nice - fresh and you can’t help but to inhale the rosewater and lavender from her skin when you embrace. 

“Did you just sniff me?” 

“Sorry,” you blush, caught. “I guess I’m not used to everyone being so… clean? It’s nice, for the record,” You rub the back of your neck and feel redness simmer beneath your cheeks. 

Her melodic laugh echos in your ears as she says, “I suppose I should take the compliment. Although, sometimes I miss the smell of fresh mud on my skin,” she muses. 

“Don’t tell me you miss sleeping in the dirt too?” You raise your eyebrows and smile. 

She takes your hands in hers, “You know, I actually have found a spot that I frequent when I’m feeling nostalgic.” Giving your hand a gentle squeeze she says, “I’ve missed you. Now tell me, what have you been up to!” 

You feel the looming dread fill your belly and Shadowheart recognizes the look, graciously stepping in, “You don’t have to share, if you don’t want. I can’t imagine it has been easy… I can’t say I’m entirely surprised, although I had my hopes. Do you think…” her unfinished question lingers in the air between the two of you. 

Do you think he will come? 

You aren’t sure. You had tried not to think about it leading up to the party, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots when you received the invitation - from Wither’s, of all people - or unpeople? 

Shadowheart reads the look in your eyes and wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you against her as she leads you towards the rest of your companions. The air is full of merriment, music, and laughter - sounds that your soul has been desperately aching for. “I’ll let you wallow more later - for now, it’s time to celebrate, everyone has been expecting you.” And as she ushers you towards your companions you are filled with the sounds of their ‘whoops’ and ‘there they are!’ and fond slaps on the back, hugs, and the like. Astarion hands you a glass of something strong. 

“Here, you’ll need it - in case, well, you know.” He gives you a wink and brushes his shoulders off giving a little bow. “I am surprised - I thought out of any one of us I’d be the one most likely to go off the rails not - ugh - Gale.” Your cheeks burn and Astarion gestures as if to say ‘be serious’, “Oh come now. What use is being a 200 year old Vampire Spawn if I can’t have a bit of fun at others’ expense?”

You glower at him and his eyes twinkle playfully as he pulls you into a hug. “Oh! I have missed you, you know. Maybe you’ll let me have a nibble later? I do miss that taste.. like a strong, bittersweet brandy..” You see his mouth begin to water and you shimmy from his grasp. 

“We’ll see,” You smirk and he pouts as if hurt and goes to mingle elsewhere. 

“Hey you!” Karlach comes bounding over and gestures wildly, “I can’t believe the bastard did it! I’m here!” 

“It wouldn’t be a party without our liveliest companion!” Minsc bellows and shakes you by your shoulders from behind. “Good to see you, my friend.” 

Everyone’s attention shifts as soon as you hear a familiar and warm voice. 

He’s here. 

***

You feel trapped in the amber of the moment when you see him descend into the party. The familiar, tell-tale marking of the orb is no longer etched into his skin and his eyes dart around nervously as he brushes at his clothes. Tara moseys beside him. 

You step behind Minsc a bit as if to hide and try to distract yourself with the countless treats spread before you although you are anything but hungry. The moment you look up you see his eyes locked on you. You forget yourself as the rush of feeling seizes you, each emotion convoluted and overwhelming.

Two months. It was two months since you told him you never wanted to see him again. Now, as he stood not fifty feet looking ashamed and remorseful, you feel your heart wrench. He cautiously makes his way over to you, his hands mussing nervously in his hair.

“Hi.“ Gale says breathlessly. “Can I - Can we talk?” He shifts uncomfortably on his feet and gazes at you expectantly. 

“Lead the way,” you gesture and you feel your companions' watchful gaze as you and Gale begin to walk towards the water. 

***

As you sit on the embankment the sounds of the water lapping against the shore fills the cool night air. It smells like fresh grass and rain, the stars littering the sky with their wonder. 

“Thank you,” Gale begins, breaking the charged silence. “For taking the time to speak with me, I mean. I wasn’t sure if… well, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to do with me at all. I don’t deserve your kindness, nor your ear, and I am grateful for it all the same.” 

You sit silently and watch him. You feel a heaviness that stirs in your belly, the unconditional love you once felt melded into something else, it made your heart sick. As his brown eyes meet yours you can see the infinite possibilities of what could have been. You do not owe him this, not your time nor energy, but you give it generously. A part of you still longs for him. Gale reaches his hand out as if to brush your hair and recoils his hand, looking towards the water. 

“What happened?” You ask timidly. “That’s why you came, is it not?” 

“Well…” he pauses to look at you, “I needed to see you. I - I know that it’s selfish, especially after what you said.” He sighs and brushes his bottom lip with his thumb. You feel your heart pang, the nervous habit one you find endearing. “Where to begin?” He asks this sincerely and you see his the wheels of his mind churn as he struggles to find the words. 

“I suppose it came down to this: when you left, Tara took her leave shortly after.” He inhales and his voice trembles, “The loneliness… I could hardly bear it. I poured all my time, energy into deciphering the last words of the Netherese text in my isolation. At least that would give me purpose, I thought. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep. Godhood was… it was everything. Time seemed to hardly pass at all. Once I cracked the cipher to ascend I - ” he stops and rubs his temples with one hand. 

You and he sit in a stilled quiet for a moment before he is able to continue. The sounds of the party filter through the air to you as you wait with bated breath. 

“I met Mystra in the Astral Plane. I knew I could still surrender the crown to her, to rid the world of this wickedness. To at last be cured of the orb. I was so close…” The way Gale says this is almost regretful, as if a part of him still wishes he became a God. “I became the inheritor of Karsus’ power at last. When Mystra asked my intentions I was fully prepared to take the Weave from her. And then,“ He looks at you, his eyes pleading and he covers one of your hands with his. You shudder, surprised by how his touch still ignites you. “And then I thought of you. Of Tara. My mother. Of all I’d given up in pursuit of my own blind ambition, of everyone I had hurt in the process. I realized I was no better than Mystra, treating those around me like amusements to be eventually discarded. Oh… I was so ashamed. I still am.” Gale brings your hand to his lips and brushes the back of it. You feel heat spread through you, although it is tainted by sadness. “Mystra granted me renewed life - to become her chosen once more, to remove the blight in my chest. My life my own again at last.” 

He turns fully to face you, on his knees, taking both of your hands. “I’m so sorry, for everything. For what I put you through… I doubt I’ll ever forgive myself for it and know it is selfish to ask for yours. I am not deserving of it and I will not claim otherwise. Although it may be beyond a shadow of a hope - is there - would you ever consider us again?” His eyes flash with terror and anticipation. “I know I am hardly worthy of your love..” His last words hang in the air and you consider them thoughtfully. 

When you break the silence, you feel your hands become cold and sweaty within his, your heart thrumming wildly before you speak. “You were already worthy of it, Gale. You were worthy until you decided to put your ambition over the ones you claimed to love.” Your voice is somber and you avert your gaze as his eyes seem to sear into you. You feel Gale’s hands stiffen and you see his expression fall. You look at him then, the bittersweetness of your voice wrapping Gale in a cocoon. “Gods, I wish it were different. Sometimes… I like to imagine that it is, in a different space, in another time, where we end up happily, spending our mornings lazily and exploring one another… where you chose me.” You see the tears form in his eyes, unaware of the ones that begin to roll down your cheeks until you taste their saltiness on your lips. “But that life is not meant for us here. Not now. Not after everything.” 

“I see,” his voice quakes and you brush your fingers against Gale’s cheeks and turn his face to look at you. 

“I will always love you, even if we are not together. Sometimes, though, when something is lost, despite our best intentions… that chapter must close indefinitely.” 

Gale closes his eyes and brings your hands to his lips again, knowing this will be the last time he will taste your skin and experience the feeling of your bodies intimate in this way. You feel him try to drink every part of you in, committing this moment to memory. You sigh, relishing in the moment although your heart feels shattered and ruined beyond mending. His final words float through the chambers of your mind as you gaze into his eyes, “If I cannot spend eternity with you.. I’ll settle for this evening.” 

You allow the silence to settle over you then, enjoying Gale’s company for one last time. 

[cheshirecatuniverse]

Fight Back! (Rocky)

Rocky Mutsugi x Flag Girl! Reader

Song: Prince Charming - Willa Ford

Summary: To a lot of people, you're just a pretty piece of work. But tonight, you felt special.

WC: 1.8k

Notes: my works can be gorey, violent, and other mature themes! HIII IM BACK, school has been a pain in the ass but i have never stopped writing! this is my first oneshot to my high&low x fast&furious au, keep an eye out for more in the future. not edited.

Fast & Furious AU Masterlist

The streets were buzzing with people and cars in parallel lines. Giving space for the race "track" of the night.

The crowds of people overflowed the sidewalks and onto the street. Groups were flaunting their modified cars, some placing bets on the races, and others who took the opportunity to sell car parts.

Three white motorcycles sped past you, making you rub your arms at the sudden breeze. The bikes, or rather the drivers, caught the attention to everyone around you.

"Is it... a gang?" The girl beside you asked obliviously. Like you, another one of the boss's "showgirls" as he likes to call you.

Behind you, a voice intruded, "Girrll, do you even know who sponsored tonight?"

"Who?"

One of the belt loops of your shorts had the flag loosely tied around it. The custom logo on the black and white was known well on these streets.

"White Rascals," You answered, looking around. The men dressed fully in white had been patrolling even before you got here. Easy to spot in the crowd. The deal was that if the race was on their territory, then it would be in their control.

You told the girls around you, " 'm gonna go find Tej." Then split fast to go through the crowds of people. You couldn't start a race without Tej, everyone's favorite announcer.

"You look stunning, (Y/n)."

"Cute top!"

"Check out the flag girl."

You thanked the people you knew and smiled at the strangers who whistled and yelled. Something that happened everytime you walked into the crowded streets.

Once a week, you'd take the time out of your night to be a spectacle. The men who ran the races always needed women in short-shorts and skirts to get people's attention.

Which was fine by you. You got a fat check at the end of every night.

"(Y/n)," Tej jogged over you when he spotted you. Wearing a white jumpsuit with his garage's name on the corner. His gold watch and rings complementing his brown skin. "You gonna help me sell tonight?"

"As long as the money pours," You smile and nodded, walking back with him to the starting line.

"Mhm," He hummed and crossed his arms. "Though, you're probably not gonna get much from the boss tonight. You should help me sell a couple cars tomorrow, too."

"Wait, why?" You scoffed in disbelief.

"Boss has to split with Rocky. 55 to 45."

Rocky, you knew vaguely that he was the leader of White Rascals. He must have been a convincing man to get forty-five percent.

You pursed your lips, hiding your agitation. "Fine. Text me tomorrow then."

You found yourself back on the edge of the sidelines. The cars for this match already cruising down to line up, their supporters following beside them.

"Boss says 5 minutes 'til," One of the other showgirls called out.

"My cue," Tej popped out his collar and walked in the middle of the road.

Once Tej stepped away from the street, you came after. You tugged the flag from your shorts as you strutted to the center. Heels, hitting the black street with almost a bit of passion. But you wouldn't let your boss get your very best, no. Not with the pay you'll get tonight.

The whistles and whoops were all ignored. Only the loud and vibrant colored cars in front you had your attention. With a hand on your hip you watched, the racers revving the engine. The headlights made your earrings glimmer, made your lip gloss shine.

For a moment, it made you be the thing everyone was looking at. The only thing, something you ignore because it didn't really matter to you. The rush and the control, that was what you made you giddy. As you yelled for the racers to be prepared you raised the flag in your hand, you smiled at the way the cars and crowd grew louder.

Then, at your decision, you abruptly brought down the flag. The cars hurtled past you, and you turned back to watch them get smaller and faster in the distance. Still smiling, in your own world.

Back in the sidelines you handed the flag to the next girl for the next round. You could still feel the eyes on the crowd on you, which was good. When the matches were over you had to stand around and clean Tej's products.

Thirty minutes later you ended up at one of the public bathrooms. The buddy-system isn't something that is easily forgettable, the other girls employed by the boss made that clear. So when one of showgirls you were more friendly with had to go, you would be evil to say no.

"I'm right behind you," You gave her permission to leave the bathroom before you.

You took only one minute to fix the small flaws in your hair, adjusting your top even though it was fine as it was. But a minute was all it took for some guy to get all in her business.

Running heels was not the best idea, but the way the stranger was holding her arms slowly trying to drag her away made you panic.

No, nope.

So you slipped a heel off and threw it. You watched as the man stumbled at the impact to his head.

It was not going be enough to stop him but it gave you enough time to take of your other heel. You ran to your friend's side, ignoring the way your foot got cut for stumbling into some broken glass.

"Mind your business," The man growled. More agitated at the fact that you were shielding your friend than that you threw your 5 inch heel at him.

"Or what, bitch? You gonna hit a girl?" You taunt. Behind you, your friend's face paled at your insane provoking response. She was ready to yank you out of there and run for her life.

"I will if I have-"

A hand on his shoulder, made the stranger turn around and get hit with a baton. Soon enough, you aware of your surroundings. Figures dressed in white, chic with their appearances.

"That will not happen." The man in white was composed, even had a casual smile but his eyes were burning.

You expected him to finish the job, but to your surprise he backed away. Letting a man behind him step forward.

The way this man carried himself, you have never met Rocky. But you knew you were in his presence even before he pulled his hands out his coat, revealing a pair of handcuffs hanging on his wrist. Even before he opened his mouth, revealing his silver grill.

When he took off his crimson tinted sunglasses, the aggravator before you cursed quietly.

Rocky didn't glare, he didn't need to.

He titled his head to the side, simply staring at the man. "What are you doing?"

The man laughed shaking his head and pointed at you, "I didn't do shit, if anything you need to care of this crazy lady."

The audacity this man had you and your friend stare at each other with disbelief. As if somehow he was going to make this all go away.

When Rocky walked closer, and it seemed like the man lost his mind.

"Hey! It's not my fucking fault. They're a bunch of whores who walk around starting problems."

Even before Rocky could swing a fist at the man, he stumbled to his knees. The man clutching his head in pain.

Rocky watched as you scowled, hand holding up a heel up above your head.

Koo and Kizzy let out audible sounds of suprise. Koo even took a small step back.

"Try touching one of my friends again," You warned. Then starting to yell, "Try it, you creep! I dare you!"

You started jam your heel in his head again and your friend squealed for you stop. Unfortunately, she tugged you far enough away so the man couldn't be hit again.

"Let the White Rascals deal with it," She pleaded.

"Like hell 'm not gonna do nothing," You scowled and loosened her grasp enough to kick your bloody foot to his back. It made the pathetic man crumble all the way to the ground.

"(Y/n)!"

"Oh please. His pathetic ass is fine."

One of the White Rascals walked up to his beaten up form. She crossed her arms, "Woww."

She looked to the man beside her, "What do you think, Koo? Do we dump him in the street or the dumpster."

You exhaled loudly at the sight of them dragging the guy away, stress beginning to subside in you. Another member of the White Rascals took your friend aside to consol her and offer her security.

Rocky quietly approached you, extending his hand, "Please, come with me."

"Why?" You asked. Despite your confusion, you put your hand into his much larger one. It felt as natural as gravity.

"You're injured," He looked down to your legs. Which made you realized how easily you forgotten your stinging cut. "Did he do this to you?

His warm eyes looked at you with concern. This complete stranger, who loomed over you with power. You tried not to look so taken back.

"No," You felt embarrassed, "I just.. didn't watch my step."

He nodded, leading you somewhere, "Okay, that's okay."

How you ended up on a bench with a leader of Sword kneeling before you, is honestly something you couldn't exactly explain. At first you refused to look at Rocky, looking at the cane he placed at the floor but then slowly ended up back to him.

The way he bandaged your foot was so gentle and kind, it made you feel a mix a things. Especially when he cleaned the cut on your foot with rubbing alcohol. He muttered apologies when he heard the hisses under your breath.

Rocky even went as far as slipping your heel back onto your foot. The rough pads on his finger grazing your skin in the process. It felt, comforting.

"I'll have one of my men take you home in a couple minutes," He rose up from the ground.

"I can't. Boss only pays if I'm here the whole night," You stood up too, lips pursing at the pain in your foot.

"Careful," Rocky's hands held your arms when you saw you struggling to stand. For a moment you looked up at him meekly. Again, the feeling of his hands on you.

"Don't worry about that," He shook his head, "I'll make sure you get your money."

"But," You tilted your head, "Why?"

It was foreign to have anyone around here do so much for you.

Rocly looked at you with clear eyes. He honestly answered, "I protect women."

You laughed, a smile suddenly appearing on your face. Then leaned up, pressing your lips to his cheek. He didn't have his sunglasses on to hide the way his eyes widened.

You smiled deviously. Happy with his frozen state. "You must get a lot of girls with that line."

© 2023 chesirecatuniverse all rights reserved.

[mellonyheart]

This is the most self projecting thing I've ever written because guess what my body gave me for Christmas? Yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy. Fuck my life. I still had to cook Christmas dinner too.

Mammon x Reader, first person pov, sfw, swearing because fuck is my favorite word today, slight angst, probably poorly edited. Edit: forgot to add 'reader is fem bodied. Whoops. Edit2: Actually gender is meaningless here and Reader could just as easily be suffering from menstrual cramps or a chronic disease/condition. So gn? The point is Reader has cramps. It's not specified what kind. Only that they hurt bad enough to not be able to enjoy going out.

Fuck.

This wasn't how I wanted to spend my Christmas.

I was supposed to greet the boys at breakfast. We'd eat and hold back our excitement (some better than others) about the coming festivities. I was going to help with Christmas dinner. I was going to bake a truckload of Christmas cookies! We were going to decorate them together. It was going to be a chaotic blast! It wasn't supposed to end up like this....

Owww....

My body seemed to have other ideas as I was now confined to my room by cramps. It's not fair! As if it wasn't bad enough I can't be in my (real) room but the boys were out spreading Christmas cheer for the rest of Devildom without me. And I was really looking forward to it!

It was hard to fight the tears as I remembered how Solomon left early to help out in my stead. I hope they can keep him away from the kitchen. That would be a disaster. Were the brothers missing me? They were right?

I missed them. I missed the present. I missed being a part of their wild world. I miss Mammon.

And now I really am crying. In no small part from the pain in my belly as much as my heart. My phone was suspiciously quiet too. Were they busy? Did something happen? Crap... you never know in the Devildom. Something is always coming up. I wanted to be a part of it. Why was fate so cruel?

I rolled over, still dwelling on my miserable thoughts. The pain killer was barely working. If I ever find this Nightbringer person (demon? Angel? Whatever...) I'm going to give them an earful. Not that my current situation was their fault but it makes me feel (infinitesimally) better to blame the entity that put me here.

Knock knock

Nope. Don't even think about it Solo. I'm asleep and I'm not eating your "soup".

Knock knock

I'm sleeping. Go away.

I could have sworn I heard a curse on the other side of my door but it was too quiet to make out. Weird. Solomon didn't usually curse.

Bzzt

?

I got a text message.

Hey.

You awake?

It's cool if you're not.

The Great Mammon just thought it'd be a good idea to check in on ya. You should be grateful I'm such a nice guy.

Fuck!

Anyway...

Just thought I'd say Merry Christmas.

"Wait!" I shouted as I threw open my door and there was Mammon halfway down the hall looking back at me with a startled expression.

...Just in time for another cramp. Ow.

"So ya were awake! Hang on... are ya okay?!" Mammon rushed to back to me, likely noticing my distress. He helped me back to bed and as he tried to take a step back I held his sleeve. Such soft fabric... if I wasn't miserable right now I would complement his santa outfit. It was perfectly... him.

"Thanks Mammon. But uh... what are you doing here?" I had to know. Why couldn't I let myself just be happy that he was here?

"Is that any way to greet someone who came all the way here to see ya?! And look at ya... fallin' over and stuff. Wait. Does that make me a hero?"

"Sure. My Christmas hero. Doesn't answer my question though." How is it that he can make me smile so easily? That has to be a super power. Maybe he is a hero.

"Do I really need a reason to see ya?! Gimme a break would ya?!" He huffed. I could guess what he was really doing here. His golden heart was always clear to me.

"I'm glad you came. Thank you. I was actually getting pretty lonely." Honesty was easy with Mammon. Even if he couldn't be honest himself. He was blushing and looking away from me. Damn he was cute.

"Y-yeah... well I figured you'd be lonely without me. I mean... well it just sucks ya got sick on Christmas. It ain't right." And by all things holy and unholy he looked at me like he meant it. He did mean it. Mammon really could be ridiculously sweet. Maybe too sweet because I can feel the tears coming back.

"H-hey! I didn't mean to... I wasn't tryin' to..." Poor Mammon. He was panicking. I really did try to explain that it wasn't that he said something wrong. It was just hormones going a bit overboard. But talking is hard when you're trying not to sob because the demon you love is too sweet for his own good. So I just hugged him. Hard. If he wasn't a demon, probably too hard but how else can I express that I love him so much I want us to meld into one person? I'm emotional. Don't hold it against me.

Mammon tried to calm me down. He hugged me back and kept saying anything he thought would be soothing in his own Mammon way.

"Hey. Ya good?" He asked as I finally calmed. My eyes hurt.

"Yeah. I'm sorry Mammon. This probably wasn't what you had in mind when you came over." My face felt puffy and I could really use a snack and some hydration.

"Don't worry about it. Are ya sure you're okay?" Anyone who says Mammon only cares about himself is an idiot.

"Yes. You're the best Mammon. I really need you to know that." I wiped my face and attempted a normal, definitely not wet, smile.

"Come on... don't get all sweet on me. Oh! I almost forgot!" Mammon suddenly dashed back into the hallway. After a moment he came back with a small festively colored bag and a thermos. "Here. I got this for ya. I uh... wanted to give it to ya before the others got here."

"Hold on... the others?" I asked, bewildered.

"Aw crap... that was supposed to be a surprise! Ya gotta pretend to be surprised when the others call ya down. I was supposed to check how ya were feeling so we can throw ya a party downstairs. Ya know, because you probably don't feel like walkin' to the House of Lamentation or the castle. And then Solomon said you didn't want to teleport so..."

I should have known. I love them. All of them. And they love me. Of course they would try to plan a surprise party so that I didn't feel left out. I feel like the luckiest human of all time. Dumb hormones can't stop me from having a good Christmas.

"Mammon?" I interrupted him from his rambling.

"Huh? What is it?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"H-huh?! H-hold on! You haven't even opened your present yet!" Fuck he's cute when he blushes.

"Can I kiss you after I open my present?"

"S-sure, whatever you want! Just open it already!" Mammon pressed the bag in my direction as to put as much distance between it and himself. He looked at me expectantly.

Inside the bag was... cookies. Clearly handmade. They certainly weren't made or decorated by Luke or Barbatos. One was a touch burned.

"You made me cookies?" I asked.

"Tis' the season right? Look! That one is you and that one is me. I threw in a couple Christmasy shapes too. Ya gotta try 'em though!" He looked nervous despite sounding so excited. I bet he brought these privately because his brothers made fun of his amateur baking skills. And he made mini us!

I took a bite of a Christmas tree.

"It's good."

"Yeah?! I mean I tried extra hard to get the shapes right and Luke had to help me with the decoratin' but they look good right?!" He smiled like the first sunrise in Devildom. So I kissed him.

Then as he got flustered and admonished me for the surprise attack I made cookie us kiss too.

Marry Christmas.

[runninggolden]

Certified ‘Pain In The Ass’ (part 1)

Leonard McCoy x female OC (can be read as x reader)

word count: 3530

a/n: Hello! I’m writing again! This is an old fic of mine that didn’t work out. But I liked it a lot so I decided to strip it down to its bare bones and write it all over again and now it works! I’m still editing part 2 but it should be up soon! I’m on AO3 as RunningGolden :)

This was originally an x reader fic but I accidentally gave the reader too much personality so I just made her an OC. Whoops. You can still imagine her as ‘reader’, I don’t describe her looks at all and I only gave her a surname. Her personality is very strong, though.

This is sort of enemies to friends to lovers. The enemies part is more of a backstory though.

summary: Her friendship with Leonard was a strange one. They’d banter a lot, she’d playfully joke with him and he’d roll his eyes and occasionally fail to fight a smile. He’d drag her to med-bay everytime she even got a papercut and she pretended to be inconvenienced by it. Oh, and she was deeply, embarrassingly, in love with him. (part 1 of 2) 

warnings: profanity, injuries, blood, aliens, danger, OC is a little shit lmao, they’re both idiots, literally children pulling each others pigtails, almost painful pining

___________________________________________________

When she met Leonard McCoy for the first time, she quickly discovered how easy it was to annoy him. One, admittedly dumb, comment and he whirled on her with a scowl that seemed to permanently reside on his face and frustration seeping out his pores as he snarled; “Damn it, I’m a doctor not a frog! The bio bed is stuck 5 meters up in the air and you suggest ‘jumping’?! Why does everyone insist on being a pain in my ass today?!” 

She laughed in his face.

That clearly wasn't the reaction the doctor expected if his look of disgruntled confusion was anything to go off. He looked her up and down, seemingly only then realizing that he did not recognize the person he just scolded.

"Hold on, who the hell are you?"

She smirked, his obvious bad mood dangling in front of her face like candy on a string. And boy, did she have a sweet tooth. "Oh, you haven't heard? I’m Chief Security Officer Flynn. They hired me to be a pain in your ass. Anyway, have you tried a trampoline?"

Despite her new job on the Enterprise keeping her quite busy, being Leonard McCoy's certified ‘pain in the ass’ was a role she took up enthusiastically. Annoying the notable doctor quickly became her favorite hobby. Bothering him in med-bay, crashing his drinking sessions with the Captain and proclaiming something dumb to get him to argue with her (much to the Captain's amusement), offering more useless comments for him to rant about. It was all a fun distraction from an otherwise stressful move to a new starship.

It was simple, really. A simple game, a simple back-and-forth, a simple source of entertainment.

But it didn’t take her very long to discover that there was absolutely nothing simple about Doctor Leonard McCoy.

There was just something special about him that kept her coming back for more. She couldn't stop seeking him out, bantering with him, learning things about him, trying to get him to laugh at her jokes. It didn't take very long for her to forget it was supposed to be simple.

He didn't make it easy, either. He claimed to absolutely loathe her and immediately seized any chance to argue with her, to complain about her, to glare at her. And of all the things she's learned about him, his god-awful (and overly dramatic) acting skills might just be her favorite. 

You didn't have to be a genius to tell that despite his colorful language, his words were never harsh. He scowled like he got paid for it but his expressions were never cold. And for someone who claimed that she was the unfunniest person in the universe, he sure covered up a lot of laughs with ill-placed coughs.

If you had asked anyone on the ship, they would’ve told you that he enjoyed their arguments even more than she did.

Perhaps she was also a distraction to him. Perhaps life in between all the action on the Enterprise was so dreadfully boring, that her antics kept him somewhat entertained. Perhaps underneath all the cynical theatrics, he liked having her around.

It took a year into the Enterprise's new mission for them to develop a strange sort of friendship. He begrudgingly made space for her in his life and she toned down her antics. From time to time he stopped acting like she was the bane of his existence and every now and then she opened the floor to friendly conversations. She’d playfully joke with him and he’d roll his eyes and occasionally fail to fight a smile. He’d drag her to med-bay everytime she even got a papercut and she pretended to be inconvenienced by it. They still bantered a lot, but it was softer, somehow.

And it took one moment for her to mess it all up.

She made him laugh, really laugh, and suddenly it all made sense. It was all building up to this, all the bad jokes, all the pitiful attempts, they all came to this moment. And god was it worth it. He let out a hearty, belly-aching laugh and his eyes crinkled at the corners and it was like the stars aligned and heavens opened up. She finally saw the light and was lit up by it from the inside, her heart engulfed in flame by a single sound. It lasted only a moment and she was immediately thirsting for more. Thirsting like she was sweltering in the desert and the only thing that could quench her thirst was hearing that goddamn laugh again. Preferably on her lips. Whilst wrapped in his embrace.

Of course, of course this is what it was about the entire goddamn time!

Oh. Oh, I am so screwed.

-

“Leonard! It’s your favorite patient!” Her call was followed by an exasperated sigh and the screech of a chair. The Med-Bay was quiet that day, only a handful of people littered about and the only notable sound that could be heard was the occasional cough.

“What did you do this ti-“ Leonard abruptly stopped mid-sentence as soon as he rounded the corner and spotted her standing in the doorway clutching her bloody hand. “My god, what the hell did you do?!” He ran up to her and gently took her hand to examine it. She smiled at him sheepishly.

“Challenged Sulu to a duel… again… we got a little carried off.” She chuckled and he gave her the look. His famous ‘I can’t believe I have to deal with this bullshit’ look that most people would whither from in shame. Not her though, no, she reveled in it. She wasn't sure if it was because of her persistent desire to annoy him or that she just liked being in the center of his attention. Perhaps a bit of both.

"Again?! Last time he almost cut you in half and you decided to have another go?!" His arms folded disapprovingly across his chest as he glared at her. Apparently her cut wasn't life-threatening enough to skip a lecture.

She scoffed. “Oh, relax, I was fine, he barely grazed me.”

“You were out of commission for a week!”

“Yeah, because you banned me from moving!” 

“You would’ve ripped your stitches out!”

"I would've been careful!" 

"You seriously expect me to believe that?"

Fair point. “Okay, fine. I promise to never again intentionally get into another sword fighting duel with potentially the greatest sword fighter in outer space.” She promised in a flat voice, fingers crossed behind her back, before grimacing and quickly adding; "Don't tell Sulu I said that."

“You’re a menace.” He grumbled with an eye roll as he led her to the nearest med-bed and started to clean the wound. A stray hair rebelled from his neatly combed hair and she couldn’t help but think how adorable he looked as he continued berating her, each comment decorated with increasingly creative insults.

“Oh, Dr. McCoy… I love it when you talk dirty to me.” She breathed and sent him with a sultry look, successfully stopping his rant short. She snickered as she felt his hands still on hers for a moment before he fixed her with a glare. He drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He shook his head with a sigh, and went back to treating her wound.

Huh, that was weird. Managing to fluster Bones was no easy feat, but shutting him up? That’s rare. She could proudly say she's done it twice before, but this one felt different. Feeling like she was on the verge of something awkward, she decided to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“Besides, next time… I’m finally going to beat Sulu at his own game.” She declared, breathing an inward sigh of relief as he immediately latched onto the distraction.

“What happened to ‘never getting into another sword fight’?” He narrowed his eyes.

“I crossed my fingers when I said that.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “I cannot fathom how someone would let you be the Chief Security Officer on this ship!” He exclaimed dramatically, not for the first time, but only earned a grin from her.

“Obviously someone saw how awesome I am.”

“Obviously!” He repeated sarcastically. She snorted and watched his hands work on the cut Sulu so graciously gave her, admiring the way his long fingers gently applied a healing ointment on her wound.  His hands were steady, precise, practiced in the art of taking care of someone. His fingernails were better manicured than hers could ever hope to be, cut with a surgeon's precision. He had a few scars, faint white lines decorating his skin, along with a few freckles. His touch was soft, so soft she barely felt it, and she wondered, not for the first time, how a man with such a strong personality could be so gentle. Be so kind.

Despite his sardonic wit, brusque demeanor and his immense hatred for stupidity, Leonard kept surprising her with just how big his heart was. He was compassionate and cared deeply about all living things. He could curse your entire bloodline whilst nursing you gently back to health. He could hate space with a burning passion but still follow you into a black hole to make sure you were alright. They could be in the middle of an argument about her clumsiness (or lack thereof, in her opinion) and he’d still grab her just as she was about to fall over, which would’ve won him the argument. She thought about that moment embarrassingly often.

One of his hands picked hers up and cradled it, warm and comforting, as the other picked up a dermal regenerator and let the soft glow illuminate her hand. She barely registered the warmth from the regenerator, the feel of Leonard’s hands was way too distracting. She tried not to think about the fact that he did not need to hold her like that, she’s seen him use the dermal regenerator a million times by now and he never touches someone during the process. It was unnecessary. Yet there he was…

Her heart was hammering in her chest. Silently cursing, she tried to regain control over her traitorous body before the doctor could notice. She was fighting the urge to shiver… and the instinct to grab his face and kiss him.

I’m gonna go insane. I’m gonna go insane because of Leonard’s McCoy’s hands.

“Did you remember to take your medicine this morning?” He suddenly asked, frowning at the report on his tricorder. She shook herself, realizing he had finished wrapping her hand whilst she had her private freak-out. He still gently held her hand with one of his, thumb stroking her palm as the screen distracted him. 

She fought the urge to scream and melt into a puddle, simultaneously. 

“Uh… yeah! Of course.” She lied. Crap. She totally forgot. He didn’t seem to believe her in the slightest.

“Oh, really?” He arched an eyebrow and stared her down. Usually she could stare back all day with the same stubborn attitude as him, but she was so distracted by the feel of his thumb - he's still doing it! - and silently cursed when she felt her face heat up. Looking away, she decided to just give in.

“Okay, I forgot.” She mumbled and he threw his hands in the air. Her shoulders subtly sagged as his hand left hers. Thank god, having a heart attack because of a thumb would've been embarrassing.

“I swear to god, do I need to physically come to your quarters and shove them down your throat so you’ll remember?” He shook his head at her and she would’ve thought he was furious if it wasn’t for the way he looked at her.

That look. God, she knew she had an unhealthy addiction for the man but he did not help when he looked at her like that. Like he was secretly loving this ridiculous thing between them, too. Like their bantering fueled him as much as it fueled her. She mentally begged her face to return to its original color and looked at him pointedly, with crossed arms, faking bravado. His eyebrows inched up as he mimicked her movements.

“I’d like to see you try.” She tried to sound intimidating but couldn‘t fight the smile growing on her face.

“Oh, I will.” He said, leaning forward, the corners of his mouth twitching. For a moment they simply stared at each other, competing in a wordless game, eyes locked in a heated battle, when the sudden clearing of a throat prompted them to look up at a grinning Jim.

“Okay, so whenever you guys are done flirting, I need you to go on a mission.” His grin grew wider as the two people in front of him blushed and Leonard took a step back, furrowing his brows and fiddling with his tricorder. She was about to retort when the latter part of Jim’s sentence registered and her heart stuttered for a different reason.

“A mission? I’m in.” She beamed and was about to jump off the bed when a hand stopped her.

“Oh ho, no, you’re not, you’re hurt.” Leonard kept his hand on her arm to hold her in place. Again with the touching! She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m fine, see?” She flexed her bandaged hand for them to see, it was still painful, but she wasn’t going to mention that.

“It could be challenging and considering you’re still healing, I’m not clearing you. You’re not going.” Leonard‘s tone indicated there was no room for arguments but unluckily for him, she could always argue.

“I’m going.” She whacked his hand away and jumped off the bed.

“You’re not going.” He tried to push her back on her bed but she wouldn’t budge.

“I’m going!” She said with determination. They started staring each other down again, ignoring Jim‘s chuckles beside them.

“Aw look at you two; you’re like an old married couple!” He cooed and successfully made them stop to glare at him.

“Shut up, Jim!” They said simultaneously, making Jim double over with laughter. She grimaced. He was definitely going to tease them about that. She just hoped it wouldn’t be in public, like the last time.

“Captain, permission to go on this mission?” She turned to Jim fully, ignoring Leonard‘s attempts to get her to sit down.

“Permission granted.” He nodded as he tried to catch his breath and she turned to Leonard with a triumphant smile.

“See? Captains’ orders.”

“Jim!“ He yelled at the Captain. „Well I say she can‘t, Doctor‘s orders.“

„Which one is more important?“ She stage-whispered to Jim and he opened his mouth to reply when Leonard cut him off.

„Mine.“ Fine, he wants to be stubborn? She‘ll just have to resort to desperate measures. Sighing dramatically, she melted away the tension in her body and took a step towards him.

„Len…" His eyebrow quirked at her quiet tone, but she ignored it and plowed through. "I really want to get outside, you know how uncomfortable I can get all cooped up in here. Remember the last time I skipped a mission? I almost went insane! It’s not like it’s my dominant hand, anyway...“ She gave him her best puppy dog eyes, hoping to god he‘ll just let her go. She was glad the Med-Bay was nearly empty at this point, her reputation would be in ruins at this pathetic display. 

Darn him and his ability to make her chuck away her own pride. 

He looked like he was about to argue, but she stopped him before he could by bringing out the big guns. "Please?"

She absolutely hated using that word and he knew it. She could tell he was going over her argument in his head and debating whether it was worth it. Glaring at her for a moment longer, he pinched his nose and let his shoulders drop.

„Fine, but I’m giving you a boost so your skin heals faster, even though I’m not supposed to, and you have to promise to stay close.” He relented and jabbed a finger at her. She jumped and beamed at him and he visibly softened. 

“Don’t I always?” She gave his arm a squeeze as a thank you. He shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Why do I even try?” He muttered. She just wiggled her eyebrows in response, already skipping away to get herself ready for the mission.

„Wait, that worked?“ Jim suddenly piped up, confused as to what just happened.

„Shut up, Jim.“

-

“-It’s a desert area, but there is a forest nearby that we can’t really get a reading on, we’ll just try to stay away from it for now, just in case.” Suited up and struggling with an armful of equipment, she listened to Jim drone on about the mission whilst the rest of the team gathered on the transportation pads. It was a simple run of sample collection but since it was mostly unknown territory, security was required to keep watch. The bright eyed new security recruit and her would have the exciting job of just standing there. But at least she's getting outside. Just the thought of the wind in her hair had her buzzing in excitement.

“Just in case?” Leonard froze and she chuckled.

“It’ll be fine, Len, like Jim said, we’ll only be a few hours.” She shot him a grin and he muttered curses under his breath and something that sounded like ‘fine, my ass’ but she couldn’t be sure as the feeling of transportation took over and her feet sunk in sand.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the sudden hot air. It was warm, almost overbearingly so, and there was a sickly sweet smell in the air. The air, god, there wasn't much wind but the subtle caress on her skin was enough to make her head tilt back and grin towards the sky. Her eyes opened to a captivating mix of pink and purple. Three yellow moons stretched across the atmosphere and she was overwhelmingly glad she got Leonard to stop arguing like a paranoid mule and let her join. She looked down to comment on it when something made her freeze.

She was alone.

Spinning around in confusion only gave her more questions than answers. The sand under her boots seemed to cover a rocky landscape which was dotted with strange cacti-like plants. They were tall, but not tall enough to be trees. Their thorns were larger than that of a cactus and made walking around them difficult. They cast dark shadows that stretched across the barren ground, only interrupted by a few pathetic looking bushes.

It was quiet. The kind of quiet that made you flinch at the sound of your own breath.

She fought the sudden surge of panic as she hastily searched for her comm, ready to ask what the hell was going on, when a voice suddenly piped up from it, making her jump.

“Landing party has successfully reached its destination.” Jim's voice sounded distorted. Was her comm broken?

“Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, Jim, but I think I’ve lost you.” She spoke into the comm as she started walking around, trying to catch sight of her team.

“What?” A pause. “Wait, where the hell are you Flynn?!”

“Ah, Captain, something ----- happened with the transport-----at caused Flynn to be transported els------.” Scotty's voice sounded even worse and he kept cutting out. She turned her comm around, assessing for damage. It seemed fine.

“What do you mean elsewhere? Where is she?” Jim was starting to sound as panicked as she felt. She had a bad feeling in her gut and she couldn’t shake it. She thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and swiveled only to be met with another blasted cactus. She raised the comm to her mouth again, eyes fixated on the plant.

“Jim, when you said forest, was it possibly a forest made of… uh, cacti-looking things?” She asked in a low voice and gripped the equipment in her arms tighter.

“She’s in the forest?! The ‘let’s stay clear of those, just in case’ forest?” Leonard’s voice both soothed her and panicked her even further with its words. Yep, something was definitely off. She looked around again, the back of her neck prickling with the feeling of being watched.

“Calm down, Len, I’m sure Scotty can beam me away…. Right, Scotty?” She tried to calm down enough to reassure them both. She would be fine, Scotty would sweep in any second and beam her up. She was met with silence. “Scotty?”

“Ah, eh, no, not exactly— can’t detect— there’s something in there—- disturbing the process.” He sounded apologetic, but she stopped listening halfway through. She saw movement again, this time right in front of her. Did that… no, did it?

“…any idea of what it is?” Jim asked. The movement happened again, this time enough to confirm her suspicions. Before she could react, the cactus in front of her literally started moving towards her.

“Holy shit!”

________________________________________________

sorry to end on a cliffhanger lmao >:) tell me what you think! part 2 should be up in the next couple of days! it will be longer ;)

[buttercream-princess]

The First Night In Rio (Oneshot)

Summary: Last year you had more losses than wins, so when the opportunity to go to Carnival in Brazil came along, it was the healing getaway you needed. Along the way, you meet a beautiful stranger at the club who provides you with the sexual healing you also needed.

**I’m terrible with summaries but you get the gist. 😉

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing, Peeping Tom Behaviour, Unprotected sex, SMUT, interactive, public sex, cheating

Word count: 7.7K

Paring: Alfred Enoch x Reader

(Only slightly edited | only proofread once!)

Thank heavens, the year was finally over. 2022 was filled with nothing but heartbreak, worrisome regrets, and waves of pain that kept you up every night, leaving puddles of tears on your childhood plushies that always knew how to soothe you. Without your plushies, your go-to sappy playlist on Spotify, and your favorite California red wine, you were sure the earth would've swallowed you whole.

In March, your fiancé of two years, Elijah, called off the engagement without explanation or closure. He left you standing there speechless, surrounded by the half-empty apartment the two of you shared, with just a brief goodbye and dirty dishes in the sink.

 "I think it's best this way. We were never gonna make it," he said bluntly.

As Elijah's belongings were already packed and out of sight, you were left to cancel the wedding invitations and hires alone. Elijah didn't even bother to help cancel the suppliers and planner, leaving all the nitty-gritty, heart-aching tasks to you. Your best friend of ten years, Iyana, was by your side the entire time, helping you tick everything off the wedding disaster checklist. That was the easy part.

Administrative tasks come naturally to you, but the hard part was the inevitable loneliness and continuous questioning of "Why?" when you slept on his side of the bed at night, smelling his cologne in the sheets and trying to hold onto what was and the remnants of his love that was no longer there.

The endless headaches from crying and lack of self-care due to the cold sting of depression left you in a mess.

In November, you finally received an answer to your "why" about Elijah. It was during a wine and movie night with your friends, and you were beginning to forget about him, even if only for the moment. That is until Iyalna asked you to call her phone because she thought she had left it in her car.

"Got you, girl. I'll call it now," you said, tapping open your phone and dialing her number.

"Thanks, lovely," Iyalna said as she headed out the door.

You could hear muffled buzzing coming from the kitchen. "Iy, I think it's here!" you called out, but there was no response. "Oh, she can't hear me. She must have gotten on the elevator already..." you thought, following the sound of her phone.

You peeled back a bag of chips that was hiding her phone and pressed down on the home button to turn off the vibration.

Elijah - 2 Messages

Wait, Elijah? Your Elijah? Why would he be texting her?

Two seconds hadn't gone by, and your curiosity got the best of you. You usually respected boundaries and were not a nosy person, but this called for investigation. You unlocked her phone. You didn't know what to expect, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

"Can't you just cancel on Y/N tonight? I swear she asks to see you almost every week. She's so needy, like a sad little puppy 🙁"

"I miss you. Come home soon."

"Also, I'm staying up for when you get back. I may or may not have bought you something that I want to use on you. 😏"

Hell broke loose when you confronted Iyalna with the texts. Extensions were pulled out, and blood was drawn that night. Your other girlfriends had to pull you off of her. 

It was a nasty sight but you felt no regrets. A good ass-whooping was all the closure you needed. In a way, you were grateful for the falling out. It answered all of your questions and remedied the painful nights you experienced daily. From that moment, you were completely done with fiances, dating, best friends, and overall letting people into your vulnerable and annoyingly soft heart. 

Although you were satisfied with the end result of the whole situation, you felt the burn of two heartbreaks double-time over. You painted on a happy face every day, but you were subconsciously in agony, mourning people who you thought were your soulmates.

Something as devastating as what you experienced called for a life cleanse. By December, you challenged yourself to enjoy life without dating or romance, and without allowing people to toy with or manipulate your heart behind your back. Your emotional wall was up like a barricade on a battlefield.

Sure, this choice of yours had some toxic holes, but it kept you safe. And that's exactly what you wanted: a sense of comfort and "peace".

The agreement you made with yourself did have its perks, you must admit. You learned the beauty of saying "No" to things you had no desire to participate in, whether romantically or platonically. But this boundary was bittersweet; friends started inviting you out less and less, and eventually, you forgot what it was like to be touched by someone with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level.

January was kicking off with a bang. You had taken all your energy and put it into your job at Beleza Do Mar, the most prestigious beauty and wellness company in North and South America. As a social media marketing manager, you spent day and night pushing out magnificent results that exceeded expectations. So much so that work had become your crutch, a rewarding replacement for any kind of relationship.

In fact, you were working so hard that your boss took note and became both pleased and worried. You were working from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m., beyond the usual hours. Psyched up on caffeine and adderall, you sometimes even forgot to clock out and return home. But your presence and dedication were definitely noticed.

One afternoon, after another sleepless night at the office, your boss, Maya, called you into her office.

"So, Y/K, your performance has been phenomenal," she said.

"Thank you. I just want to make sure everything is perfect," you replied, your finger jittering with the hem of your skirt due to the five black coffees you've already downed that morning.

"Yes. Everyone appreciates all the work you've been doing. You've raised our sales numbers just from your insight." A thin-lipped smile formed on her lips. "But..." she lingered, her smile slowly fading into a stern gaze.

"Yes?" You knit your eyebrows together in confusion.

"But at Beleza Do Mar, we can't possibly - or legally - allow you to work more than 38 hours a week. I looked at your clock card online, and you've been working 45 hours per week."

"I don't see the issue. I've been acing every project that's come my way, plus handling the extra tasks of everyone in my team and picking up slack in Communications."

"That's the problem. You're working seven hours beyond our full-time employee bandwidth, and that's not even including the wellness seminars and out-of-office engagements that have been assigned to you." She showed a downward smile as her brows narrowed together. It was as if it was painful to present you with this news.

"So...am I...fired? Please don't tell me I'm fired." Your stomach churned. "This job is all I have left." you say, feeling a teensy bit pathetic, but you couldn’t help being so transparent, it was the truth. This job was your be-all and end-all at the moment.

Your boss quickly jumped to your relief. "Y/N, I know you've had a difficult year. I share my sympathy with you. I know things haven't been easy for you. Beleza Do Mar is a wellness company, and we don't find pleasure or joy in overworking our staff..."

You stared at her, eyes wide open and heart racing, waiting for her to continue.

"We are giving you an all-expenses-paid holiday in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, with three extra invitations for guests of your choosing. It's a yearly trip that the higher-ups go to for Carnival. One of the vice presidents called in sick and couldn't go, so it's been passed down. I figured, out of everyone, you would benefit from the trip the most." She paused, breathing in, and a fixed grin grew on her face. "This is off the record, but my love, you need a break. You've been working yourself to the bone. This would be an enlightening time to go to Rio, smell the flowers, and connect your feet to the welcoming soil of the mother..." She smiled with a glint almost shining off her holy teeth, "Mother Earth, that is."

Of course, she would say that. She's a homeopathic vegan doula turned executive president for a company that was in Forbes' "The Global 200" list. This was something that you could never quite get your head around. She's a product of the company, you guessed.

"I understand...and am extremely grateful. I just can't up and leave my job. I have bills to pay," you said, mumbling the last bit.

"No need to worry about that, flower child. We are covering all the days you are on holiday. You'll be paid for every workday, limitless room service, plus per diems that are quite gracious, if you ask me."

Your posture relaxed in your chair as you heard this. This sounded like a dream. Almost too good to be true.

"What about my projects?"

"Not your problem while on holiday. I'll have Jennie in Socials take care of everything. All you have to worry about is what you're wearing for Carnival and lathering up on Beleza Do Mar 50+ sunscreen while you're there. The South American sun takes no prisoners, trust me." She cheerfully informed you.

You let out a sigh of relief while pondering over your options. Though you had arising work questions and tried to fix made-up dilemmas to protest about, you took a minute to sit on the idea of a holiday. You looked back up to Maya, who had her computer screen turned around to show you the five-star resort you'd be staying at.

A plunge pool and limitless room service didn't sound too bad. You hesitated to respond, quickly gathering your thoughts.

"I mean...I have nothing to lose. Why not..." A thought of consolation eased into your mind as you eyed the kind luxurious bed shown in the photos on the laptop.

You couldn't help the goofy smile as you gave your answer. "Okay, I'll take the holiday."

Maya let out a high-spirited "Fabulous!" followed by reassuring elements about the trip that were sure to put your anxiety-driven mind at bay.

Carnival in Brazil? That was an event you'd always wanted to go to. Once you put your over-eager girl-boss demeanor aside, you were shyly beaming with joy.

What were the odds of this trip falling into your lap? If you needed a sign from God that you deserved some sense of calm after the storm, this was it.

_________________________________________

"Okay, and are you wearing the skin-toned sheer tights I bought you with your carnival outfit?" your mom blissfully asks.

"No, Mom. My legs look fine just as they are," you say.

"Sweetie, I told you your cellulite looks like a striped Bengal tiger. It's beautiful, I just love it! Nature, gorgeous. But don't you think you'll catch more bees if your honey is hidden? Or however that saying goes," she blurts out, not even thinking once to mince her words.

"Mom!"

"What? I'm only saying what I think is right. Plus, it's your father's fault you have that backside. Those Y/L/N genes are too potent."

"Oh my god, I'm not speaking about this right now," you blatantly state while shaking your head as the bellboy at the luxurious hotel you're staying at packs your bags onto the luggage carrier, guiding your group into the entrance of the accommodation.

February whined around, and eventually, you found yourself in Rio, ready to get blind drunk, dance until your hips go numb, and practice the Portuguese that you've been learning on Duolingo for the past month. Unfortunately, with the price of unbreakable boundaries, you've burned more bridges than you could count on your fingers, so those three extra tickets you were given were going to waste until you mentioned the trip to your family in a group Facetime. By the time you accidentally mentioned that you didn't have anyone to attend Carnival with, your little sister and mother already volunteered themselves to fill the spot, along with your mother's best friend, Tamara. There was no turning back when they decided they were coming, plus you could use the familiar company. You've been lonely in the city for what felt like centuries.

You near the front desk, tapping the bell as no one is around to attend to you.

Your little sister, Nia, already has her phone out, capturing every second to post on her Instagram story.

"Nia, delete that. Now."

"What? No way. This is funny as fuck. It's only going on my close friends."

"We just landed like 30 minutes ago, and you're already airing out my business? You are unbelievable." You aim to take her phone, but her hand slaps your movement out of the way, and suddenly, the two of you were squabbling over her phone, making a scene in front of everyone watching.

Embarrassment was an understatement, but you were more embarrassed at the thought of her friends in your hometown reporting to their older siblings that your whole derriere was up for shits and gigs.

"Girls stop, you're being ridiculous," your mother says as she takes selfies with Aunt Tamara, already basking in the vacation vibes.

Who would have thought you and your 20-year-old sister would already be bickering over Instagram posts at 7 PM in the afternoon of the beautiful paradise that is Brazil? You were grown but not too grown to put your little sister in her place.

From an earshot, you hear the concierge clear their throat and speak out loudly.

"Boa tarde senhorita (Good Afternoon, miss), how may I help you?"

You instantly end the debacle and give your attention to the front desk, straightening out your clothes and readjusting your hair.

You force a toothy smile as you respond, "Hi, I'd like to check in. We are under Y/L/N. There are four of us."

"Si, let me just check…alright, we have you in our presidential suite. I'll just have to grab identification, and I can get the keys for you."

Presidential suite? Maya wasn't lying when she said this was 5-star, damn!

The handover happened swiftly, and soon you and your family were unlocking the door to the suite.

All you could hear were gasps as you stepped into the room. Soaking in the rich greenery and smell of sea salt water, you run to the deck outside and take in the beautiful scenery. Your heart welled with lovely goodness; this is exactly what you need.

You were a 10-minute stroll from the beach, the sun was setting in a pink-hued orange bake, and the sound of early festive parties for Carnival was all happening on the beach. You were speechless, just in complete awe.

"This is better than I expected. I'll give it to you. This is amazing," Nia says as she comes up from behind you, joining you at the rail of the suite.

She was right; this is beyond amazing.

"Thanks. I'm just happy we're here." You childishly raise a brow and look over at Nia, not being able to hide your giddiness; a smile creeps up on your lips.

"What? Not mad anymore?" She asks.

"How could I be? Do you see this? I'm just…grateful." A single tear escapes your eyes, exhaling out all the stress, worry, and heartache that you carried with you to Brazil, in complete gratitude.

"Aweeee, look at my big baby. It's okay, let it out." Nia wraps her arms around you, embracing you in a tight squeeze as the two of you look out to waves crashing on the shore.

Feelings stirred and brewed in you; you didn't know what it was, but everything coming into place just made you emotional.

"Y'know, even though you're a bitch sometimes, I'm happy you're here. And I love you," you mumble into her hair, hugging her back.

"I know."

"And I know we might both be jet-lagged, but how does 'First night in Rio, getting fucked up off some shots and funk carioca' before Mom and Aunt Tamara crash our night sound to you?"

"I don't know what funk carioca is, but I heard shots, so I'm in." Nia laughs, resting her head on your chest. "And it's better we fuck off before they start getting into the bar. I don't wanna hear Mom singing any Prince to us tonight."

You and Nia giggle to yourselves at the memory of your mom doing karaoke whenever she gets drunk.

"Let's unpack and take showers. Tonight we get fucking scattered." She exclaimed and cheekily smacks Nia's bottom before heading inside to the suite.

—------------------------------------------------

Thanks to Nia's research on the best nightclubs in Rio for young people from Tiktok, the two of you were able to find a hidden gem that played tasteful R&B tunes and served delicious cocktails. As most tourists did not know about this club, the Y/L/N girls were able to stand out, and locals were dancing with and buying drinks for you all night.

After three margaritas and three shots, you were feeling your skin and your confidence was skyrocketing in the outfit Nia picked out for you. She suggested ditching the heels for some flats, as this is something true Brazilians would wear to the club. Thank god you listened to her, as all the girls sported sneakers or sandals.

A local boy who had been buying you drinks all night asked if you wanted to dance, but you declined, saying you were taking a break and feeling tired. He nodded and went to dance with his friends. Although he was cute, he was young, and you would pass him off to your sister. Meanwhile, Nia was preoccupied with a girl with sun-beached curls pressed against the wall of the club, trying to lay some game despite not speaking an ounce of Portuguese. You chuckled to yourself, watching the interaction like quality comedy television.

After a few songs the girl leaves and you mindlessly watch Nia approach the bar, crossing your legs as you waited for her to get you both a drink. A man with a fine muscular build stood next to Nia. He was tall, rocking a bleached platinum blonde buzz cut, wearing green cargo pants and a fitted singlet with a singular necklace hanging off his neck. He was fine.

He said something in Nia's ear, and she laughed. It seemed that this girl was on a roll, as she had almost every good-looking person at the club trying to make a pass at her. Nia listened to him with a look of confusion on her face, turned, and pointed to you, replying back to the man. He nodded and glanced over at you, a sly smirk on his face. You felt heat rise on your cheeks, wondering what they were talking about.

You awkwardly look down at your phone and press away at random apps, distracting yourself from the handsome strangers gaze. Moments later all you hear is rows of drinks being placed on the table in front of you. They looked like nice fancy cocktails, not the cheap stuff. It turned out that the tall guy Nia met at the bar, who was now sitting in VIP, had ordered every cocktail on the menu for you and Nia. He asked Nia what drink you liked, and she told him cocktails so now you were getting a taste of everyone. You were flattered by the gesture.

Looking up at the sexy stranger, you caught him staring you down with a smug smirk on his lips. It was like he knew his attention had you feeling a type of way. You smile and raise one of the drinks up to him, chucking him a thumbs up as if to gesture that it was a good choice. He licked his lips and nodded his head, not sparing you from his effortless sensual gaze.

You clench your thighs together, already feeling your bud starting to buzz. You glance up at him again, but he was no longer sitting at his table. You look around the club, trying to spot his platinum cut, but you couldn't see through the crowd of people. A sigh escapes your lips. "Well, that was nice. For the short time it lasted," you thought.

"I gotta pee, can you mind the drinks?" You ask Nia.

"Of course!" She says, sipping away on a blue cocktail.

You get up from your seat and head to the restrooms, only to find a long line outside the ladies bathroom. You’ve had too many drinks to wait for 20 minutes; you’re just about ready to make a puddle in the club right now.

You decide to make your way to the male bathroom and barge in, throwing the men in the quarters off guard. 

"I’ve seen it all before, there’s nothing you have that could shock me. Eu eu? Eu só tenho que fazer xixi! (Me me? Me just have to pee)" You exclaim as you walk in. You were 100% sure what you said didn’t make sense, but that was the least of your worries.

The male clubgoers in the bathroom remark sentences to you in Portuguese that you couldn’t make out, but they clearly weren’t pleased, apart from the flirty foreign catcalls and whistles in the mix.

Most of the men clear the room when you entered and you lean against the wall next to a urinal, waiting for a free stall. Out of the corner of your eye, you can just make out the frame of a tall somebody.

You dare to look, finding that tall somebody to be the sexy stranger who bought you the row of cocktails. "Oh…my…god. Fuck." You think, as he lines himself up with the urinal right next to you.

You knew he was attractive but didn’t know he was this fine. It was almost criminal how beautiful he was up close. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your core starts setting off fireworks. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to snap yourself back to reality, but your eyes remained on his beauty.

He lifts his shirt, revealing his marbled abs. He was cut to perfection. A body so heavenly sculpted, it would put Michelangelo’s work to shame. Your eyes fall to his curled snail trail as he unbuttons his belt, peeling the hem of his boxers down. 

He stands completely oblivious to you gawking, as if you blended in with the neon lights and concrete restroom wall. A breeze of his vanilla musk cologne sucks you right back in, and that’s all it takes for you to go feral. Your eyes shamelessly flock down to his manhood, catching a glimpse of just how much wood he was packing.

A low gasp leaves your mouth. You couldn’t hold it back. His member was a shocking 9 inches of lust and astonishing girth. Even on soft, he had a weapon that could demolish your walls, which were already flooded with your slick. Your heartbeat begins racing, matching the beat of your pulsing clit, which had become its own entity at this point, yearning to be fiddled with and sucked on by him.

You look away to hold on to whatever was left of your dignity. Yet when you look ahead, you automatically glue to his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his back muscles flexing as he takes care of his business.

You tightly press your thighs together, trying to put a damper on waves of juices drenching your thong. He chuckles, a sly smirk on his lips. You quickly look away, knowing damn well he caught you out. Heat flushes your cheeks as you throw your hand over your face in embarrassment.

“Shit.” you murmur.

"Eu te mostro o meu se você me mostrar o seu. ('ll show you mine if you show me yours.)"

His voice was deep and warm, inviting even. You didn’t understand what he was saying, but whatever it was, you liked it. 

“Oh- I…shit. I’m sorry!” You apologize, not able to find words for your behavior.

He tilts his head and finally looks at you, smug written all over his face while putting his goods away and zipping up.

“I didn’t mean to look.”

You definitely did.

“I’m just waiting to use the toilet. The line for the women's toilet was packed. I, ah… eu preciso urinar? (I need to use the toilet.)”

He shakes his head, laughing at your attempt to speak his language. He walks over to the sink, not saying a word nor responding to your dramatics. Judging by his silence, you can only assume there was a language barrier.

Going off the fact that he or anyone else in the restroom wasn’t processing a single english word you were saying, you thought, “Fuck it. No one's listening anyways,” then went on to babble your train of thoughts out loud.

“Why? Why do these things happen to me? Why couldn’t I just mind my business? No, I had to be nosy.” 

He watches you in the reflection of the mirror while washing his hands with a pleased look plastered on his face. You want to run away and hide, but his gaze is pouring unholy thoughts into your mind and you like all the nasty things he was making you think.

You just want him to take you to an alley behind the club, pull your skirt up and put all his 9 inches inside you. You know it would hurt, he's too big, he’d leave you creamed with rug burns for days - you're sure of it.

You snap back to reality when a door to one of the toilers opens, and a man exits. Still thinking out loud, you drunkenly narrate to yourself, burping out giggles here and there as you enter the stall.

You relieve your bladder and wipe multiple times, having to thoroughly clean up the vat of slick on your slit. The disgustingly horny effect he had on your body was evident. You were a mess. Drenched panties, swollen clit, and stained inner thighs from your juices. Even your asshole was lubed up enough to pop a plug in.

“What the fuck? I must be ovulating because how did he make me this wet?…There’s so much, so much…”

After using a week's worth of toilet paper, you flush and head out. The nameless sex god was still present, adjusting his chain in the mirror.

You sigh in frustration, walking towards the sink furthest away from him. You can’t help but feel the nasty sting of regret from your sloppiness. He was by far the most attractive person you’ve seen in your entire life. You're sure any chance with him is out of the picture, all because of your cocktail-fueled actions. You're gutted. Although, it doesn’t hurt to look at him. Shit, if anything, it feels good to look at him, you thought.

Pressing the dispenser for soap, his reflection in the mirror is all you can focus on. Your mindless narration isn’t done; you still have thoughts that need to be spoken out loud.

“I just know that dick is crazy. I would’ve fucked the breaks off him.”

You hear the beautiful stranger snort.

"For what it’s worth, I’d rate your Portuguese pretty good for a foreigner." He says, this time in clear English, looking back at you in the mirror.

Your muscles tense up, and your breathing comes to a hitch. God, no…he understood English the entire time? What the fuck.

You can’t believe it. The possibility of him listening to every crazy thought you word vomited out was too much to process.

“And,” he walks over to you, nearing so close you were engulfed in his cologne and could feel heat radiating off his body, “I’d fuck the breaks off you too.”

An English accent drips off his words like honey. You're just about filled to the brim with surprises, but you’d let him fill you even more if it meant hearing that sexy accent moan your name.

“I didn’t mean to say that. I thought you didn’t speak English.”

He places his hand on the wall behind you and leans his face down to yours.

“I beg to differ. I think you did mean it.”

“It was an accident.”

“Right. I think I recall hearing, “How’d he get me so wet?” Was that also an accident?”

You swallow hard, feeling the pulse in your core pick back up.

“Acci-Yes. Accident.” You stutter.

His eyes wander down to your nether region.

“Well, I’d love to taste this accident.”

Fuck, he was smooth.

He retracts his hand from behind you with a fist of paper towels and dries his hands.

You're speechless. So much happened in a matter of seconds that you were lost for words, your mouth fell open but not a single word came out.

He laughs and leaves for the door, leaving you there standing in a state of shock. Your gaze shifts back to the mirror, your face was red and you were almost shaking of pure embarrassment. Before you could debrief and gather yourself, you hear his voice again.

“So, you coming or what?” He leans against the door with an awaiting look on his face.

You look around the bathroom to see who else he would be talking to. There was no one else in view, only you. He wanted you and he was making it obviously clear. You point towards your chest and mouth, “Me?”

“Who else, a namorada? (Sweetheart)”

Goddamnit. That's all you needed to hear.

You take no time to jump to the opportunity and follow the stranger out of the bathroom. He takes your hand which was twice the size of yours and leads you through the cramped crowd of the club. You didn’t bother to ask where he was taking you, you’d follow this man anywhere, anyday.

He guides you to a red VIP queue barrier and nods to the security guard.

“She’s with me. Also another girl.”

He scans the crowd behind you and points out Nia in the crowd to which the guard nods and heads in amongst the dancing bodies towards Nia’s direction.

He whispers in your ear, “Your sister, right?”

You smile. How sweet of him to remember Nia, you like that kind of consideration in a man.

“Sim (Yes), little sister. Thanks for inviting her too.”

His hand was still clasped with yours, he gently squeezed it and flashes you a wink.

You wave at Nia who was now following the guard towards the VIP area you were in, she waves back at you and starts giggling once she sees you with the sexy stranger from the bar. She knows your type, so she knows you’ll be glued to him all night.

You bring you attention back to him and he continue walking down a hall behind the section, and guides you to a room. It was empty besides the aisle of liquor on the wall and couches and seats. You let go of his hand and walked in the room, it was much more fancy and well decorated compared to the rest of the club.

“So what’s this room used for?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“Is this a part of the package for the section you were in?”

“No.” He clicks the door locked.

You walk to the bar, eyeing down your drink of choice.

“So we’re stealing rooms tonight, are we?”

“My best mate owns the club. We can go to any room of your choosing. I just thought a pretty lady like yourself deserved the best one.”

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at his words. He was charming, but there was something genuine about the way he spoke to you that made you feel special…and seen.

"Well, I appreciate the gesture. So what do you recommend we do in this fancy room of yours?"

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs.

Before you could grab yourself a glass, you feel his body near behind you. You were stuck between him and the bar and it felt amazing to be against his body.

Your heart races as he leans in closer. He clearly wanted you right now but you weren’t gonna give it up that easily, you already made it too well known how eager you were in the bathroom, it’s time to slow down this burn. His breath is hot against your ear.

"But first, let's have a drink. What can I get for you?"

He grabs the glass you were going for and digs into the ice bucket in the sink with it.

“Tequila. And let’s start with the basics...names. We don’t even know eachothers names.”

“I mean I was fine with callin’ you a minha rapariga.”

He grabs the bottle of 1800 on the top shelf.

“And that means?”

“My girl. But I’d love to put a name to your beautiful face”

You snort.

“Good one. It’s Y/K.”

“Y/K? Oh Y/K. I like the way that feels on my lips.”

He pours the 1800 into the glass, no mixer.

“And yours?”

He rotates your hips so you were now facing him, a smirk on his face.

“Alfie, my mates call me Al.”

He moves closer to you, his hand resting on the bar beside yours. "You know, I've been watching you all night," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And I have to say, I've never had anyone steal my attention like you."

Alfie pulls your hips closer to his and lifts the drink up to your lips to which you swallow. He doesn't pull away, he continues feeding you the alcohol until it was finished. You shiver at the sensation, feeling a rush of desire wash over you. 

“All, all, all of it. Good girl.”

The alcohol burned your throat but you didn’t wince, there was something about him talking you through it that gave you all the motivation to stomach the tequila.

Alfie places the glass on the counter and leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours.

You feel his breath on your skin and your heart races in anticipation.

"Can I kiss you, Y/K?" he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod your head, unable to find your voice as your eyes lock onto his. With a gentle touch, he cups your face in his hands and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is fiery, sending a jolt of desire through your body as his tongue traces your lips, seeking entrance. You open your mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss as he pulls you closer to him.

His hands roam over your body, tracing the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts through your clothes. You moan softly into his mouth as he pulls away, his eyes dark with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do this all night to you" he murmurs, his hands trailing down your body to the hem of your dress. With a swift motion, he pulls it up and over your head, leaving you standing there in your underwear.

You blush at his intense gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of him. But his eyes soften as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze tracing every curve and dip of your body.

"Perfect," he says, his voice filled with admiration.

He steps forward, his hands tracing the outline of your body as he presses his lips to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You let out a soft moan, arching your back as he moves lower, his hands trailing down your sides to your hips.

He hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls them down, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. You feel a rush of heat between your legs as he dips his head down, his tongue flicking over your clit, overwhelming you in waves of ecstasy.

Your back spans against the bar as you let out a cry of pleasure, your fingers going over his buzz cut hair while he continues to pleasure you, his tongue and fingers working in perfect unison, slurping on your clit and tugging on your g-spot in perfect movement. You feel your body start to tense, your orgasm building as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Alfie," you moan, your hips bucking against his mouth as you finally fall over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure.

He stands up, a satisfied grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you, sated and blissed out.

"Ready for round two, Bebê (Baby)?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You nod, unable to resist the allure of this gorgeous stranger as he picks you up from the bench and places you on one of the couches, eager to explore every inch of your body.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his ear, "I want you to make me cream," you whisper.

He grins, "I can do that," he replies before capturing your lips in a kiss.

You can feel his hands sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every curve and dip. You moan into the kiss as his fingers, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands continue to explore your body. You feel his teeth graze against your skin and you let out a whimper, your body already tingling with pleasure.

He pulls back, a wicked grin on his face. "You like that, don't you?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

You can only nod, lost in a haze of desire and lust.

He leans in, his hot breath caressing your inner thigh before his tongue makes contact with your core. You gasp, your hands gripping onto the cushions as he begins to work his magic.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building inside of you. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he stops.

You open your eyes, looking down at him with a pleading expression.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I'm just getting started."

He stands up, his eyes locked on yours as he starts to undress. Slowly, he removes his shirt, revealing a toned chest and abs that make your mouth water, the way he’s built he definitely had to be an athlete, his arms were chiseled to perfection. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him, feeling a delicious anticipation building inside of you.

He climbs onto the couch, positioning himself above you as he leans in for another kiss. This time it's deeper, more urgent, and you can feel his need for you as his tongue takes over your mouth.

His hands roam over your body, teasing and caressing as he works his way down to your pussy, before positioning himself at your entrance.

He enters you slowly, his body pressing against yours as he begins to move in a steady rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can feel yourself building towards an explosive orgasm already.

“I’m already cumming!” You moan.

“I know baby, I know.” He groans while his eyes are closed shut, lost in the pure pleasure of your sex.

He picks up the pace, his movements becoming faster and more intense as you both reach the brink of release. And when you finally come undone, he's there to catch you, holding you tightly as you ride the waves of ecstasy, grinding against each other's bodies together.

When it's over, you lay there, panting and spent, wrapped in his arms. You look up at him, feeling a deep sense of connection and satisfaction that words could never fully describe. He leans back and looks down between you two, at the mess you made on his dick

"Look at that. That’s all for me, huh?" He says, a smirk spreading across his face.

You look away smiling, feeling vulnerable and whisper, “Yeah, only you.”

He chuckles, his hand stroking your hair. "I aim to please," he replies, a contented look on his face.

Just as Alfie leans back into your slit for round 2, there’s an abrupt knock at the door.

“Fuck!” you mutter under your breath, reaching for your panties and dress which was scattered across the floor.

Alfie stands up and fixes his pants which had a sight of hard pulsating wood. He quickly fixes it so it was tamed down before checking in with you.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yes, who’s at the door?” You say fixing up your shoulder straps.

Alfie walks to the door, unlocking it to find a security guard waiting.

“Estamos fechando quartos. Só verificando os quartos. Tudo bem Al? (We're closing rooms. Just checking. You all good Al?)” The security asks.

“Sim, estávamos prestes a sair. (Yeah, we was just about to leave.)” Alfie responds while motioning for you to come over to him.

You follow Alfie out the room back to the open space of the club to the VIP area which was filled with Alfie’s friends and Nia, who was busy chatting up with a boy on the couches. This girl was on fire! Well, who are you to be judging, you just got your cat demolished out by a man you just met.

As you walk towards the VIP area, you sit yourself down next to Nia.

“Girl, I know you didn’t just do what I think you did.” Nia says in your ear.

“What are you talking about? We just talked and drank.”

“Oh really?”

Nia catches your eye and gives you a knowing smile, “Babe. Your dress is on inside out.”

You feel a little embarrassed, but more so exhilarated at the thought of people knowing he gave you probably the best dick of your life.

“Oh my god. Okay you got me there!” You laugh off the awkwardness. Nia rubs your back, laughing too.

“It’s okay, we’ve all been there before.”

Alfie makes his way back over to you and introduces you to his friends, who all seem friendly and welcoming. They offer you drinks and chat with you about Carnival and asked questions about America. Most of them spoke English along with Portuguese which made it easy to connect with them, they were lovely and easy to get along with. But your mind keeps drifting back to the intense chemistry you shared with Alfie just a few moments ago.

As the night wears on, you find yourself getting more comfortable around Alfie's friends. They share stories and jokes, and you can't help but laugh and enjoy yourself. But every time Alfie touches you or leans in to whisper something in your ear, you feel a jolt of electricity course through your body.

Eventually, it's time for the club to close. Alfie offers to walk you out, and you gladly accept. As you exit the club, It was almost sun up outside and the nearby cafes and business’s were beginning to open for the day. He takes your hand and pulls you close. "I had a great time tonight," he says, looking deep into your eyes, “I hope to do this with you again sometime, a minha rapariga (My girl)”

"Me too," you reply, feeling your heart rate increase.

Alfie leans in and kisses you, and for a moment, it feels like the world fades away. It's just you and him, lost in each other's embrace amongst the rest of the noise. And as you break the kiss, Nia calls your name.

“Y/K, our ubers here!”

You pull to let go but he hesitates to release his grasp, squeezing your waist tight.

“I have to go…” You shyly say, pulling from his arms. Feeling giddy, you run to the car Nia hopped in and get in the back seat

“Get home safe.” He says, waving you down before throwing his hands in the air and yelling, “Wait, I didn’t even get your number! What’s your instagram?!”

You stick your head outside the window, “It’s Y/KsWorld!”, hoping he heard you. By the smile on his face, it seemed he did because he quickly pulls out his phone and tapped away. Not even 2 seconds later you felt a buzz on your lap and there was a notification: LewisAl88 followed you.

You fall back into the seat, smiling to yourself. You was exhausted and it wasn’t just from the jet-lag, he blew your back out into another time-zone himself. Sure it was just a hook up at the club, which is something you’ve never done before in your life, but you couldn’t deny the tension between the two of you. 

You feel another buzz from your phone.

LewisAl88 sent you a message

When am I gonna see you next? 

You laugh to yourself, here you thought you were the thirsty one yet he was just as keen to be all over you. Ahhh, that feels like balance to me, you thought.

“What’s got you smiling so hard?” Nia asks.

You show her the notifications on your phone screen, she covers her mouth and joins you in laughter.

“Oh he wants you…bad!”

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile that creeps onto your face. "I don't know," you say, "I just met him. But there was definitely something there."

Nia nods, understanding. "Well, whatever happens, just be safe and have fun," she says, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze.

You nod, grateful for her words of encouragement. As the car drives away from the club, you lean back in your seat and close your eyes, replaying the night's events in your mind.

[tea-earl-grey]

Get to Know Me!

tagged by @lostyesterday (thanks for the tag <333)

Last song: based on my phone – Everything's Here And Nothing's Lost by Snow Patrol but technically my last song is about two lines from Intros & Narrators by Bastille which i've been listening to on repeat for a few days while editing my Janeway fanvid.

Favorite color: purple!

Currently watching: just finished watching Only Murders in the Building which i enjoyed more than i thought i would since i'm not a huge fan of murder mysteries but it's fun! also the musical numbers in s3 slapped and i'm looking forward to the rest of s4.

Last movie: i genuinely have no idea, i haven't been watching a lot of movies lately so it might be Star Trek 2009??? which i rewatched over a month ago i think.

Sweet/spicy/savory: currently sweet because i'm currently eating some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies :)

Relationship status: single and happy.

Current obsessions: (glances around) i mean you're on this blog so i think you can put two and two together here. aside from Star Trek & Doctor Who, i've been getting back into cross stitching which hopefully won't absolutely fuck up my hands this time (i mean... they will, i'm just trying to be better about only doing it for an hour a day and wearing my elbow brace & compression gloves)

Last thing I googled: "best toasters" ok. so earlier today i fucked up my toaster beyond belief and i do need to tell the story now because it's still absolutely baffling to me. (under the cut because uh. it got long.)

tagging: any of my mutuals! sorry i'm so bad at tag games.

toaster story:

i was having a late lunch (toast with some leftovers) and sliced my bread a bit too thin (not a big deal, happens all the time, right? right?) i popped the toast up a little early because i didn't want it to get burnt but it got stuck. not a problem. i'll get some (non metal) tongs. whoops! it fell out of the little toast cage because of how thin it is and now it's more stuck. okay well i'll unplug the toaster and just turn it upside down. nope. it somehow falls to the bottom where the crumb tray is. ok well i'll just flip it back around, take out the crumb tray and it's fine, right? i flip it around and the toast is simply not visible anymore. "well that's weird," i say, "surely if i shake it some more, it'll come out, right?" it did not. i start to question whether the bread is even in there anymore because where could it go???? before spotting it with my flashlight and seeing that it somehow migrated to the wall between the food/toaster part of the toaster and the circuitry part of the toaster. i have no idea how it happened but it should be easy to free it if i just undo the screws that attach the bottom panel of the toaster and i can do a good deep clean of everything. i take five screws out, no problem and it's starting to pry off. i get to the last screw and... it's completely stripped. i have a pretty comprehensive toolbox with one of those multi-piece screwdrivers that has like 50 different heads. usually with stripped screws, you can find something that sorta works well enough to get it out but nope. nothing even close to fitting. at this point i decide to text my mom the situation because surely i was missing something obvious. my mom comes over laughing a bit at me because i'm known for overlooking easy solutions and surely it's not possible to fuck up making toast this much. it was. another hour passes and we definitely can't get out the screw without destroying the toaster and we haven't been able to shake the toast out. any sane person would probably just think that maybe the $30 toaster had served its purpose and is a lost cause. but a new strategy emerged! we managed to shake the bread to the unscrewed side of the toaster and could pry it open about three quarters of an inch. the bread somehow managed to get behind a circuit board so we just needed to be able to navigate it around and theoretically pull it out. after a few attempts, i finally managed to grab hold of the bread (that was somehow still entirely intact?) with my weirdly skinny fingers and i pulled it out victorious! however we did completely bend the plastic base that we were prying up and during a brief test to see if the toaster still worked it definitely started to smell like burning electronics so. rip. but we got the bread out just to prove we could!! and frankly i think i would have had too much of a grudge against that toaster to keep using it even if it did work.

so yeah. therefore googling "best toasters".

[charmac]

whoops! not meant to be a leading question. i only ask because i’ve been writing a multi part story that i haven’t published yet and i feel like i’m constantly going back to make little tweaks to old sections. i find the writing process fascinating and i’m genuinely impressed that you haven’t ever wanted to change anything! (also btw loving the fic!)

Ohh, gotcha, haha. That makes sense!

It definitely happens to me when I'm writing chapters (right now for Chapter 11 I've changed a ton of scenes that I found weren't working for where I wanted to land), but once I publish a chapter it's basically as if I'm finalizing a portion of the story as canon.

I honestly find that publishing before I've finished writing the whole thing is more helpful that way, because it's slowly cementing what is actually real and canon, and what's still floating/undecided, and then I can use what the readers know as canon to further develop and build to the climax.

I have a hard time looking at my writing as always in flux, always editable, because I feel like I'll never settle properly if I do that. There has to be established, uneditable plots, scenes, and dialogue for me to move forward and build off of. I basically go into each chapter with one clear goal, and as long as I've met that goal then it's solid.

(I'll also say, something very nice about writing from 3rd person limited POV (or 1st, obviously) is if there's ever an omission or a continuity mistake, or something you write later just doesn't perfectly line up with what you've already established, it's very easy to explain it as the character's misinterpretation/forgetfulness/stupidity)

[darsynia]

Find the Word Tag!

Tagged by @residentdormouse and I sure am delighted! My words are: Playful, Energy/Energized, Exhausted, Delight/Delightful, Sorrow, and I'm putting the first one second because it's smutty :) It was HARD to find 'sorrow' in my stories! Edit: and somehow no Steve! Whoops. Tag me again :P

I'd like to tag: @ronearoundblindly @themaradaniels @peyton--warren @baba-fett @sobeautifullyobsessed @bakerstreethound and @deepbatched (spreading around the fandoms/characters hehe! I hereby state that if you don't have many WiPs to use stories you already have published!)

Your words are: Tear/Tearing, False, Blanket, Sweet, Ground (any form)

From 'Joined By the Waters of Time,' Anthony Bridgerton/OC | ENERGY

“I beg pardon, Lady Bridgerton, I did not see you,” Cara said hastily, rushing to stand so she could dip into a greeting curtsey.

“Do not be concerned,” Lady Violet said with a brisk head shake. “I was pleased to see you awake and looking well, but you seemed contemplative, and I did not wish to disturb you.”

“I have bad experiences with thunderstorms,” Cara explained.

“Meanwhile, my brother loves them,” Daphne laughed. “He will probably jest that your dislike of them is part of your ‘involuntary resistance.’”

“What is this?” Lady Violet asked, setting her sewing aside and walking over.

Daphne looked disconcerted. “His remarks were made in frustration, of course, with an eye toward explaining his lack of success, but…” she paused, brows furrowing. Cara imagined she was searching for a diplomatic way to explain their conflict.

“Until recently, I was engaged in a campaign to match your son with my cousin. As such, I exerted my energy in redirecting his attentions away from myself whenever possible.”

She had to congratulate herself on her forthrightness, which would hopefully take any pressure off of Edwina if there was still any question of their match. What she hadn’t expected was Lady Violet’s surprise. It hinted at the idea that their invitation had always been centered around herself, and not a choice between cousins.

“So is there voluntary resistance, as well, then?” Lady Violet’s voice was amused, and she broke out into a wide smile when she saw Cara’s attempt to prevaricate. “Poor Anthony.”

From 'Iron Helix,' Tony Stark/OC | PLAYFUL

“A judicious retreat. People respect a decisive leader, but not one that clings to a losing position. Give in.”

He was definitely moving incrementally nearer. She yearned to close the distance, but his words were weighted. The only thing that would be worse than being rejected, Evie realized, would be to have been rejected after she got to have this. That’s why she followed Tony’s example and grabbed a handful of the blanket on the bed beside her and looked him right in the eyes.

“Which option are you asking for?” she said, feeling like she had a responsibility to signal her certainty that he’d reject her. 

Tony’s nose brushed her cheek, and his breath danced across her lips.  “The one where you trust me,” he whispered, hoarsely. “Yield, Hyacinth. It’s easy, watch--”

--and with that, his lips met hers, one hand tearing away the bunched-up blanket at her hips to drag her underneath him. Tony went from teasing to beguiling, putting all his sensual powers of persuasion to bear on her. 

Evie was on board, raising her bare leg and angling her foot across his backside, locking him in place. He ran the flat of his hand from her hip, across her chest, and along her arm, linking their fingers together and slamming them into the mattress.

She loved kissing, and it was obvious Tony did too. He was really good at it, dominant but not domineering, playful, not afraid to show her he was affected and enjoying himself. And if she’d thought his ability to wreck her without using his hands was heady enough, she was completely seduced by him now. Their combined hands were a proxy of the push and pull of their bodies; Evie rolled her hips in response to the drag of his lips and tongue, and he ground against her, pressing his hardness right where she wanted it.

From 'Trust Fall,' Tony Stark/OC | EXHAUSTED

It’s not long after takeoff when a flight attendant comes over and asks Emory if she’s the person pictured in the article on her phone. She’s already shell-shocked and exhausted after telling her friend and colleague that the organization he’s been risking his life for is infiltrated by literal bad guys. She’d told Clint while still hanging underneath the helicopter, but once they were inside, the atmosphere was too tense to tell anyone else. Agent Rumlow and his team had lost two guys and a few more were wounded. They’d all been furious and demoralized, and that was without knowing the secret about HYDRA’s infiltration.

“Miss?”

“I’m sorry, it was a long day,” Emory says. She feels stretched, like keeping a secret this impactful can multiply in a person’s system until the infection takes them down from within. “Yes, that’s me, but what--”

“You were the one in the cave with Tony Stark?” The young woman’s excitement dampens as she frowns at her phone. “He-- he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No!” Emory says, deeply confused. “What--”

She grabs the phone, and it’s a testament to what she sees written there that the flight attendant doesn’t protest.

From 'Diminished Seventh,' Stephen Strange/OC | DELIGHTED

“Surgeon. You did say that.” Amy let her legs slide down from where she’d drawn them up against her chest. “Why aren’t you anymore? Were you looking for a way to cheat death?”

The question was fraught, but the words had already left her lips. Explaining why she wanted to retract them would be more painful than pushing through.

“No,” Stephen said. The word bore more weight than it ought to, she noticed. “I was injured. My hands.” He didn’t hold them up, instead toying with the tubes of the stethoscope absently. He shrugged, and again, she sensed weight there, a great loss bandaged up in shrugs and sarcasm. “I lost that job, needed another one.” 

His hidden sadness made Amy again yearn to see what he looked like pleased, contented, happy, joyful, delighted. She wanted to collect his emotions, mix and match them, be able to conjure them on demand. The strength of it shook her.

While she was reckoning with that, Stephen leaned over and pressed the stethoscope to her chest. Amy seized up, too vulnerable to want him quite so near, not with those thoughts only a breath away.

“I thought you said you were feeling bet--” He cut himself off, pulling his hand and the medical device away. “You are afraid of me.”

“I don’t know how to feel,” Amy said defensively. It was the honest truth, and as such, felt too revealing by half.

From 'A Solution More Beautiful,' Remus Lupin/OC/Sirius Black | SORROW

“Soup would be a great dinner idea,” Remus said, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “Even though Sirius detests soup. It’s almost as if his mother trained him to be some sort of anti-soup crusader.”

“Which actually means she fed him soup every day while yelling at his technique, more like,” Elodie said, laughing.

Remus looked at her with a curious expression on his face. “Sirius talked to you about his mother?” he asked, clearly very surprised.

Elodie’s heart sank. She’d slipped up with her unnatural knowledge again. She decided to deflect with the truth. “No, he didn’t,” she said. “I just remember the subject of his mother came up, once, and his reaction was so negative I just extrapolated from there.”

Remus made a wry face and looked down at where his hand was playing with a fraying thread from the couch. “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up there, but he’s got a lot of baggage from his parents, and it would be a powerful thing if he felt he could unload some of it.” He looked up at her, and she could see the depth of his caring for his friend reflected in the sorrow in his eyes. “He had a warped view of family dynamics even before Azkaban.”

“We’re his family now,” Elodie said. She had tried to say it with firm conviction, but she yawned halfway through. “Damnit. I meant to sound more badass there. Like a final line before a commercial break.”

“The funny thing here is I can’t tell which is a typical Elodieism and which is a product of pain medicine and sleep deprivation,” Remus chuckled.

Trust Fall and Diminished Seventh are here on Tumblr!

[infin-8-morphosis]

Monthly not-dead progress post here we go

Still working on my model. Theres too many little bits to say what I have and havent done (sooo much redoing) but umm in brief,

Oh this isnt brief whoops lets put a cut, tldr model good still wip, new map with Peirce Quinuncial projection, more website work, lots and lots of little half done things as usual

Functional eyes and eyelids, actual mesh is more or less 100% done, and partially unwrapped, but havent skinned it properly.

Partially rigged, but rigging will neeeveeer be finished. Thankfully my twisted setup with multiple rigs and multiple rigs inside those rigs actually seems to work...?

A brief rundown is:

The rig is made of 3 sets of identical bones: the scaler, poser, and deformer. The poser handles, most posing, shocking, and is more or less the 'crown' rig. The scaler doesnt move but scales, and said scale is copied to the poser. The deformer is the only set that deforms the mesh, it copies the location of the poser. So, Scaler scales the poser, poser moves the deformer. You should never need to view anything except the poser BUT and its a cool but, since the deformer is isolated from the poser, it also acts as a sort of pseudo FK rig, allowing fine adjustment of the posers IK positions. VERY handy!

There are other rigs, like an eye rig for just the eyes, a character-specific rig for the face (just not possible to use the same rig even with my scaling trick, and i dont want to have to worry about breaking the most important part of the mesh) and soon i will begin the harrowing task of a hair rig... for each hair. Fear and suffering ahead, but also funny hairdos.

Thankfully my trick to use geo nodes to fuse the meshes together seamlessly seems to work, but it seems to mess with uv's so still a roadblock. I nedd to really knuckle down on understanding geo nodes, and also get more fmailiar with uvs in the technical sense...

Also making an effort to completely ditch shape keys (FUCK shape keys) by using lattices instead. This is... unfortunately janky. But, useable. I dont care if it isnt perfect anyway, I just hate shape keys. The main trouble is how dogshit lattices are... They work so odd. And very destructively, so if I screw up a pose, tough shit...

Yet to step into the scary world of 'so will we actually model our characters with this' since at any point I can break things and will need to redo things... but also the sooner i start the sooner I catch things that dont work or need fixing...

Non-model wise I'm making pretty good progress on the map. As you probably dont know I have yet fucking again started from near scratch, but this time with the sexy as hell Peirce-Quincuncial map projection (go look it up its very good). This means a less warped map and also more sensible views of the poles, which were always a bit hacky on an equirectangular map since my planets 'poles' are on the equator. ie imagine a globe rotated 90° so the bottom and top are at the sides. Im feeling much better with how it fits together (even 'simulated' the plate tectonics a little to get them more accurate. Surpisingly my eyeballing it was about 80% correct!) but yet again the main headache is the actual height. Very, very hard to keep heights consistent and proportional.

Today I worked on my website! I had not checked on it in quite some time. Refamiliarised myself with its inner workings (loooove css. Very fun. Oddly fun battling wordpress to change things from its defaults that are often quite odd. For example, drop shadows only go to the bottom right. You cant alter it in the editor. Why??? So i just... edited the default shadow's css. Easy peasy. The hardest part was tracking down where exactly wordpress defined shadows. However there is some good to this since i dont need to add a class to things to give them my own shadow~) and have got it looking very smooth. Almost everything from my original website has been re-added, code wise. All that remains is the actual articles, and well, lots and lots more tweaking and new things. Still no mobile menu, that'll be a doozy... ah, also reimplemented tooltips properly. Verrry nice. Just not sure how the plugin manages colours... i will crack it open and study it...

Hmmm what else. I guess ive begun to organise my notes on everything, but i have attmepted this many times and it is a total mess... hoping this one sticks since i moved to using obsidian instead of google docs, so maybe i wont fuss over organisation and style as much and actually work on things.

Story wise eeerrrr. I mean. The problem i had is now, reversed, in that i used to have an end and no way of starting the plot, and now ive come up with a great hook that no longer works with the old ending... hrmm...

[enniewritesathing]

replies

under the cut bc it's long, all from @pink-chevalier

“Went from DSL to 5G internet (which me being in the sticks, being surrounded by 3 towers = all the speed).” Dude, I didn’t know you had internet like that! I gotta connect the damn internet cable whatever that bitch is called just to play siege. (Give me a second I’m copying and pasting my notes)

yuppp. It's the main reason why there's a bunch of gifs now. would NOT have been able to do anything with the internet i used to have. I'm still running speed tests just to see the meter be on the right side, lol

I've been on the struggle bus for SO long 😭😭😭

“Hey. Charles? He may be unhinged. Just a little bit.” Only a tiny bit? Him and Daniel remind me of the scientists that tend to go too far or lose whatever was left of their morality to play God. It’s crazy how easy they can develop some sort of God complex when dealing with things they don’t understand or believe that whatever they are experimenting on is not the same as them. Sometimes I think those kinds of scientists are one step away from diving into the pool of of becoming serial killers.

it makes you wonder and maybe this raises a huge question for all of them -- just how the fuck did they get here in the first place? And you figure, they're getting away with a lot of shit because they're in such a trusted position in trying to help John. (and I truly say in the loosest sense possible.) When -- definitely not a matter of if -- it goes down, their excuse can be like "oh, unfortunately circumstances blah blah blah" when it was really "whoops we tortured him a bit too much our bad.

Charles definitely has a God complex and... well. I shan't say. Daniel is more relunctant but he still does it anyway. Dunno if that's a sunk cost fallacy with him or if he's just spineless.

“That said… you think The Werewolf might be holding back on that? Do you think it’s actually messier than that?” Something tells me that it has to be a lot messier. Because even though it is a lot of blood and yeah it looks like shit hit the fan, you can’t tell me that it was so neat. Even real life murders can become ten times more messier with blood in the ceiling. (Really reminding me of Patrick Bateman from American psycho when he got his raincoat on)

it does look way too clean 🤔but part of that is not me having enough blood splatter CC at the time. There's a little more (and also I may just do some editing). I know it's niche but anyone who does horror cc in any way, please make some more blood related things please and thank.

But I have good authority that The Werewolf's holding back.

I don’t know I feel like there was more but the werewolf is trying not to traumatize John or the audience which I can respect.

I like to think that The Werewolf said that basing off of the knife memory and John's reaction to it -- which was very understandable as it was very explicit (the other half of it that wasn't shown to us/the audience). Even then, he still gives plenty of chances for John (and to some extension us/the audience) to bail out. He's mindful, I'll give him that.

The file name I gave John during the conversation was "go king, give us nothing.blend”. Not us having the same damn braincell.

I try to name my files something silly every once in a while :)

It’s good to see that the werewolf was able to make a door in the first place! It shows a lot of how far he’s come and that he can do that at least. The handle can come much later when he’s ready to open it or close it since he should be taking baby steps. There is no need to rush all of this and the werewolf should focus on what it means to him making that handle happen. Like is he ready to open it to relive what happen, to truly expose himself or does he want to leave it close and ignore that part of himself. Both of them are okay to do because as humans we need time to open or close a door, no matter how fast we want to do that there’s no point in stumbling out or in something.

Yes! He's able to make doors but his main issue is keeping it there or if it is there, the knob's not working. That door in the memory was summoned out of survival and he thought of the most simplest type (which means that he's seen it at least once. 🤔). The knob was more or less that John still had overall control of it which is why he opened it.

There's a few more things that are door-involved though... but you're right. There's a reason why you can open/close them. 👀

(oh shit, I just thought of something that happens in a previous story omggg)

“First the hospital bed surrounded by flowers, and now the exam table (?)… what’s with that?” Simpler times? A way to make the whole thing look rather peaceful then the living hell the werewolf and John went through. It could mean a lot of things from daydreaming of being in a better place with his lover, and having his hair played with by said lover. There is a lot of meaning behind the flowers and the exam table. Exam table could mean a lot of things such as…. self-criticism, a need for healing, feeling so exposed but against your will.

🤔...

And what’s up with John…? Does he remember more than he lets on? Or is he hiding under the guise of medicinal amnesia? It’s like he could be in denial or something. I feel like John remembers bits and pieces. The reason why I believe this is because some people that tend to go through intense trauma will forget some things or believe other things happen, which isn’t a bad thing it’s your brains way of trying to protect you from what happened…..

Oh, don't I know the feeling on that part... (🙃) And of course the parts he does remember, John probably downplayed it. It wasn't that bad; I survived years of this shit, I'm fine!"

(Narrator: "It's much worse than he thought.")

There may be another angle to this that I'm not quite ready to drop yet but I guess I can wonder out loud -- what if The Werewolf was protecting John this whole time and he's starting to crack because of it? Why now? Much to think about.

This might be random or sort of funny, but when the Silent Hill PT demo came out a long time ago, I watched it and I talked about it with my friend but I completely forgot about the talking fetus baby in it. My brain completely blocked that part out for no reason at all, I guess I was scare and didn’t know at the time. But it can happen to John, I think he wants and is trying to remember, but his head is blocking him out to protect him from what happened.

man... PT would've been the scariest game of all time, hands down. I'm a huge weenie when it comes to horror games in general... the fact that bitch was behind you THE WHOLE TIME? I think the fuck not. but NOOOOO, Konami did the fumble of the fucking millenium.

Anyway... there is another element of John's memory lapse that obviously involves The Werewolf and perhaps, it's Vin's way of confronting John's part in all of this too. But that's not for a minute.

[yesistolethisurl]

WIP Wednesday

EDIT: just saw that I got tagged by @rowanisawriter for wip wednesday right as I was posting this, whoops!

hey there! we're back at it again for another wip wednesday. "Beachside Introductions" is still trucking along (just passed 2k words and i may have finally settled on a solid direction for it), but I wanted to share a completely different piece that I've tentatively title "Feint."

The premise I'm working with right now is that Gale decides to challenge Wyll to a game of chess to take his mind off not being able to find his dad even after infiltrating Moonrise Towers, and gets much more than he bargained for.

(not tagging anyone this time, but if you're dealing with burnout, dear reader, i'm sorry, and I sincerely wish you a good and long rest in the near future 🧡)

Gale still maintained that he knew enough of the alchemical arts to be dangerous, but ultimately decided to yield to Master Wroot's expertise in the matter. Or, as he had put it, “any damned fool with enough pot ash and charcoal knew enough to be ‘dangerous.’” Point taken, Gale consigned himself to being more an observer than an assistant. Every once in a while, he could see Wroot's gaze flicker over towards the main room before refocusing on his sublimates and salts.

Just as well. Work and busy hands did not a cure for rejection make, but it was a tempting balm.

He turned the board towards the flickering hearth, jostling some of the still standing pieces in the process. An original 1362 edition from Auroras Emporium, if the stamp was to believed. It was unlikely that all of the pieces were originals, having to survive rowdy patrons since that time, then the effects the shadow curse had had upon the greater valley surrounding Reithwin.

The ironic thing, perhaps, was that the curse likely contributed to how well preserved the set was. No rain to impart humidity, no sunlight to blanch and strip the color from the board and pieces. Entombed and preserved not out of care, but through the emptiness and disinterest by the surrounding monstrous denizens of this place.

A part of him that couldn’t help but feel nostalgic at the feel of a pawn between his fingertips, though. It all felt worlds away in this grim swathe, to be setting up the board for him and Tara, or his mother, when time allowed. His first cautious attempts at shuffling pawns about, looking to his tressym companion for approval after making a move, only for the pieces to be swept away by the spectral blue of her mage hand. She’d never been so cruel to pounce immediately, but that didn’t mean she went easy on him.

Clattering wood and wax brought him back to the present as a piece dropped to the floor. The Mystra and Cyric pieces toppled over one another, the Elminster the only piece left standing. All of the others, knight, priest, tower, and pawn alike, scattered about. A Time of Troubles recreated in miniature.

He gathered them up, much to his knees consternation, and reset the board, each piece in their place, awaiting his hand.

[trashvinnie]

Thank you as well!! I only really started this whole thing because I was inspired by your art, enough to start moving my ass to actually get to it. I’m used to having my head in the clouds and writing a lot of wips, but this is the first time that I was actually able to finish one of the longer works I had. I’m just really thankful to you for that? Like, your art was so striking and it painted the picture so strongly in my mind. Or, well. Imprinted the idea?

On the rapper thing, I actually have a hard time imagining any of them as rappers, and then envisioned both Ace and Luffy as dance focused and having mixed street dance styles. It felt like an eenie meenie (Chungha, 2024) miny moe moment of who will do more rapping. In the end, the actual wips have them doing an equal mix of both in songs with all three. Makes sense though putting it that way, that he’d get to use his wordplay more often if he focused on rapping(it’s why i put bobby as his rap inspo, actually)

Unfortunately in the solo songs part in the concert fic I uh. Ended up giving Ace songs with just vocals (since I imagined him having one of those loud fight for your life msgs, and Ace having the entire crowd yell FUCK THIS MODERN LIFE stuck in my head).

Meanwhile Luffy’s has mostly fun/melodic raps, with lil singing. Just vibes and fun, really. Mostly because I have now realized I don’t have any songs based on fun vibes that focuses on singing. I need to dig deeper in the kpop archives probably, but now that the actual concert fic is over, I can pretend either way works and that he’s actually not rap focused. I see him more as bouncy guy great at making choreo, but it’s a challenge to actually make him *stick* to it. I think I’ll just make it flexible at this point,?

Sabo I just have in a little bubble of pop/rnb/jazz singing. Funky sexy bar singer vibes. On the idols that inspire their characters, I change the details every now and then? Ex. Luffy’s vocal inspo includes taeyong for fun singing times despite how different he sounds from Woosung. I think I added it the day after i made this post. Whoops pt2?

The notes in general in regards to them as characters: I didn’t want to make it too long or complex in the pics, but I do edit them A Lot. Add some more inspirations and whatnot. Something I want to note on more is the fashion aspect, but even if I’m a fan of Key’s work (shinee) or what idols like atz or skz wear, im not good at picturing things in my head, so imagining asl in certain clothes doesn’t really… work for me? Also I’d think that asl would rather wear things that would be easy to dance/move in, and would only think about fashion only if it were for fashion’s sake.

(except Sabo, he tries going for good looking but mobile. I imagine they get busier as time goes though and he leans more still on musical aspect than the clothes, so the fashion is come and go for him)

I am also absolutely losing my mind on the art? The dyed hair looks so funky, Luffy with red bangs, Sabo with the tips and Ace with the half-half… I’m . Yelling? Im gonna eat your Deuce

Hard agree on taking away the melanin part. This is fictional and I will bend the rules of reality to fit for these boys. ‘Indie kpop groups don’t make it that big bc —‘ yes well now they do, more expensive promotional rights or not. That stuff doesn’t exist here. Their melanin is celebrated.

Also the additional notes on Deuce and Koala… would you mind if I just,,, permanently added that to my character notes for them hahaha,,, I really like those ideas omg,,, Deuce truly just that guy who Ace became friends with one day and then one year later he’s employed as a manager.

I already finished the first fic (their first stadium concert) of the series, but now I have to figure out how to write everything else. I’m usually not that confident but your art helps a lot (even the ones not related to the au like wittb also inspires me, your facial expressions makes my heart go boom, to keep it short) in keeping my brain inspired.

Whether or not you do add art to this au, you really did help me create the train and then keep it going, no matter what. Many thanks for that, and for these amazing drawings as well! Im also going to eat the Law you drew

Also misc fic inspo:

Thank you for taking your time to make those drawings, and hope you’re doing ok despite any real life happenings!

inspired by @where-does-the-heart-lie and given courage by @wolf-eared-fangirl and their own wonderful rendition of the asl kpop au.

i got inspired a whole lot by the notes and artworks from whery but also tried to make it my own by making it increasingly impossible realistically. one of those it’s a fanfic and i can make anything possible vibes.

all of these are just concept notes and ideas i was able to keep down for the past what? two months or so? there are a lot more wips and ideas, and i wanted to see if there was anyone who wanted to bump brains with me or was willing to indulge seeing my messy thoughts/notes.

i made law important because i am obsessed with not only asl but him too. no escape from the brain worms, really. even if he doesn’t really pop up in a lot of my current wips for this au…

i should make storyboards but my brain has latched to grps like exo or atz for like. clothes inspo. i have multiple concert wips that needed me to make an entire fake asl concert setlist so that was fun, considering how i ended up adding eng and jp songs… i cannot contain myself and have been repeatedly editing everything I have on this for months ,,,

[menzosarres]

please help make #underdavis real.

Okay. Yes. I’m going to give being Back another shot and I’m 99.999% positive we’ve moved past the point where anyone would have actually read this but for what it’s worth… I dumped the first half on AO3. 

It’s… a mess. I kept writing fragments of thoughts about the two of them because I adore them but I never put any of it together into anything concrete, so we’re going to graciously call what resulted… experimental. 

I’ll make a real post (title, length, summary, blah) in the morning if I remember.  

[highqueenofelfhame]

i know, i know. em is getting involved in fandom discourse, what?! but this is my blog and i'm allowed to share my opinions. if you don't like them you are more than welcome to unfollow me! that's the beauty of social media, if you don't like something, you don't have to follow the creator you disagree with. and that's perfectly okay. i also don't have to talk about or involve myself in fandom discourse, but again, this is my blog and i want to share my opinions.

today's topic is going to be sam and aelin's relationship. this one is super controversial. i really only know a small group of people that really agree with me about any of this and that's fine. but i see a lot of things on my feed that i just like... cannot get behind. and i want to share why. this might get a little jumbled and might jump around a lot, so bear with me.

i've talked about this a lot with @westofmoon, and this is like our opinions combined and what we've talked about ever since we became friends, so i want to give credit where credit is due if she wants it. if not, whoops. i'll edit this out of the post lolol.

LET'S JUMP INTO IT!

the very first point that i want to make is that celaena and aelin are the same person. point blank, period. she is one and the same. celaena was merely a mask born out of a lifetime of trauma. she isn't two separate people, or two separate entities in one body. she's always been aelin. her story was about her embracing every part of herself and her destiny, and that included dropping the mask of celaena and just being herself. she has only ever been aelin, hiding behind a name to run from her past and her future.

i want to also make it clear that i don't hate sam. i don't necessarily like him either, but i don't hate him. this isn't like an i hate sam!!! post and rant. it's just what i've gathered from reading the text. he was always just lukewarm to me. which brings me to my next point.

sam deserved more than what he got. he didn't deserve that death, he didn't deserve all the abuse he suffered through his life. he deserved more. he died a young and insanely tragic death, and never had the chance to grow into himself and better his life like he wanted to. it's sad. and i think his death gets romanticized because of what he meant to aelin at the time, but i think a lot of her reaction had to do with guilt. it was entirely genuine, and i think she did have love for him to some degree, but i think a lot of it came from guilt.

their love for each other came out of convenience. i think it was important to both of them, especially for aelin learning and growing as a young woman. but it was incredibly short lived, the time they had together. but neither of them really had options, and i think this gets overlooked quite a bit. who else was aelin going to go for? arobynn? tern? archer? it is very easy to have feelings for someone when they're the only semi-decent person around. aelin was starved for affection. after her parents died, she only knew abuse. sam only knew abuse. and the naturally gravitated toward each other because of that. sam could have had lysandra, sure, but sam and aelin were with each other all the time so they would naturally lean into the other.

from the beginning, they wanted different things. and that was pretty clear. i think aelin says sam would have been a good king out of guilt and grief. sam wouldn't have been a good king. maybe he could have been, of course. but from what we saw, not much really indicated that he would have been fit to help her rule.

i don't think aelin's truth would have gone over well with sam. i mean, he couldn't even handle her being arobynn's favorite without so much resentment. he couldn't stand that arobynn preferred aelin. she also, at any point, could have told him her truth. but she didn't. she didn't feel comfortable or safe enough, and that is the biggest sign to me that they weren't any sort of mates. i'll get into that whole thing in a little bit, but the fact that she could never tell him her truth says so much. and it gets overlooked.

realistically, i don't think their relationship would have ever lasted. they wanted different things and i think over the course of even a year together, they probably would have grown apart and gone separate ways. or they would have stayed in the relationship out of familiarity and it wouldn't have blossomed into a true, burning love.

the mate thing. y'all, i just can't with this one. mates are said to be equals. and celaena was always aelin. you can't separate the two. it isn't like a night and day transformation, save her getting more mature and learning to use her magic and embracing her destiny. sam was never her equal. ever. he is no match for aelin, and even when she didn't have magic, still no. this one really gets to me because there is a lot of separation of aelin from celaena in this argument. she never belonged to sam, she never belonged to dorian. aelin has only ever belonged to herself, and rowan as her equal understands and loves that. and if you want to further make the argument that sam was celeana's mate, aelin admits that she fell in love with rowan while she was still hiding behind celaena's mask. she knew they were mates and carranam in heir of fire. she literally says that. it's black and white in the text.

aelin's love for rowan dwarfs her love for sam by tenfold. more than that, even. aelin has said numerous times that her feelings for rowan were far beyond anything she'd ever felt for anyone else. if sam were aelin's mate, it would have been an acknowledgement of the love being equal. it's just like how rowan didn't feel for lyria how he feels for aelin. that whole relationship was manipulated to break rowan to break aelin. if sam was ever aelin's mate, maeve would have used that to manipulate her even further. maeve was twisting the fate of aelin's life centuries before she was born. what happened to sam was merely a tragedy because arobynn is a petty fuck and used that to hurt aelin, but it isn't quite the same as everything that maeve did. aelin literally shot herself through multiple universes to get back to rowan. sadly, i just don't think she would have ever done the same for sam.

i think people feel so strongly over sam's death because sam was an important person to her life. i personally felt sad about it out of empathy for aelin, but not because of sam, really. yes, it was tragic. yes, he deserved more. but for me, and most of the people that agree with me on this, we feel for aelin because of her loss.

aelin suffered survivor's guilt like a bitch. her parents, sam, nehemia, even what she imagined happened to aedion. her musings at the grave were a result of that. she saw him through rose colored lenses when she thought back on their memories. in tab, i feel like it's pretty clear that he was kind of a jerk. he had his moments, sure, but we saw more of them arguing and him being angry and resentful than we did any tender moments between them. she didn't even know he liked her until he was screaming it at her. and that says a lot. none of his actions leading up to that moment showed or told her that he had any feelings for her beyond toleration. speaking from personal experiences, when people die it's easier to look back on the good moments you shared with them, or the good parts of them, because you feel shitty and awful and gross otherwise. again, i'm not saying sam was an awful person, because he wasn't. but i don't think he was the pure little cinnamon roll half the fandom makes him out to be. when i read tab, i was excited to see more of their relationship because of what i saw other people say about sam and how aelin remembered him. but reading it, i was like, hey, he was kind of a jerk. and that's okay. a lot of it can be attributed to him being young, naive, and a dumb teenage boy. but based off of what people say and how aelin remembers him, you'd think he was the be all end all and just the sweetest little sweetheart to ever walk the earth, but he wasn't. i think her survivor's guilt had a lot to do with that. she wasn't remembering the bad things, the arguments, the fights. she was remembering the good things and seeing what could have been their future through rose colored lenses but i don't think it would have turned out well either way. i don't see them working long term. i think in a lot of ways he was similar to chaol, and i think she started to fall for chaol in the first place because he reminded her of sam, but that's something else entirely. but again, she's remembering all the good and not thinking so much of the bad. why would she? her life has been actual hell for years and years.

i could probably keep going, but i've been working on this for over an hour and there are other things i want to do tonight. but these are my thoughts! again, if you don't like it, or me, you don't have to follow me. you can even block me, and that's okay.

if there are any other hot takes you want my opinion on, let me know! i hope y'all have a good night/day wherever you are, complete with the sweetest of dreams.