#running from banner is more so running from banner's judgements

[movedtodykedvonte]

what would’ve happened if any of the others did find spam back in the city, living on the streets

I like to think it depends who found him. Under cut cause it's a bit long.

If it was just Audi, I feel like he'd take Spam in and keep it between themselves. Audi was the most protective of Spam specifically and openly heartbroken about him being gone. He never recovered as I hc the mannequin is like its stand in cope doll. Audi would fear telling the other's would lead to them having another fight and Spamton running off again or worse them just fully refusing to talk to each other ever again in any capacity.

Audi acts like the two of them can just pretend it's the past and continue where they left off but Spam just isn't the same anymore. He's more paranoid, less trust and less loving than he was before, even when he was getting a swelled head as a big shot he was more caring. It would be nice for a while but it wouldn't last, Spamton wouldn't be able to get over the betryal and the belief it was gonna come crashing down again, especially cause Audi would possibly hide the fact that it just didn't tell the others about him. Maybe Spamton finds out, maybe it freaks him out as he begins to think Audi's part of it too, leaving suddenly and definitely leaving Audi more heartbroken than before. Though I feel like this time Audi mourns the loss better as he now knows Spam has the capacities to survive on his own...

If it was just Vidie I don't things would go so well. The thing with Vidie is it would still be her "Pop" era/persona. It isn't a different personality but a mindset based on bitterness and spite. The difference in the CDAP au is he's had time to cool off and replace that with guilt after the fountain closed and their success as adware didn't matter anymore to their continued existence. Vidie would be boastful and rude, terse in a way she couldn't have been previously as Spam was way out of her bracket as a Big Shot. Probs some inputs on how she's probably doing well enough to support the both of them with ease, a weird/insulting invitation to berate him more at his place and get Spam off the street.

Vidie still cares at this point but it's a bit clouded by envy, he wouldn't want him to suffer more than he clearly has been but she needs to feel like the roles are "fixed". After being insulted I doubt Spam would really want to be near her any longer, seeing his belief they don't care about him really as confirmed and probably mocking how she is still jealous of his past success before again disappearing into a crowd before Vidie could get another barb in. Vide would regret her lack of a filter.

If it was Banner it would go no where. No confrontation or interaction, to be honest, Banner would think they were halucenating. Banner's emotions towards the whole thing are/were very repressed, purposely avoiding thoughts about the fall out and Spam as much as they could despite how it weighed on them. Seeing Spamton, messed up and probably rooting in the garbage, would be seeing her worst fears for him actualized. If Spam saw her he'd possibly run, maybe just quickly get out of dodge as he would be too ashamed and angry to really talk.

Banner would want to follow but be unable to move, still debating if all this repression has finally drove them bonkers. By the time Banner would make a decision, Spamton would be long gone and Banner would pretend it was a guilt induced thing. She'd go outside less after it though...

If it was just Surv I really can't say how that would have gone. Of all the ads, Surv was the one actively looking for Spamton, determined to find him and probably the most worried in the CDAP au when he still wasn't found after the fountain closed. If he hadn't been found who knows how Surv's relationship with the other's would have faired, especially with Banner. Besides that, Surve finding him probably yeileds the best outcome. He's not letting Spamton go again, not so easily. If Spamton runs, he's gonna catch him, if he tries to argue his way out he's gonna listen and take any vitriol, they can work on it later. Surv wants him to be safe and secure and will do anything to have that feeling for Spamton actualized. This of course means it's Spamton's call in Surv's mind if he actually stays with Surv and Banner at all or long term.

I can't imagine at this point Spamton would agree to it, I can't imagine Surv forcing him to do anything but listen to the offer and his apology, whether he accepts either or not. He wouldn't and while Surv can't understand why he'd choose to stay on the street, he wouldn't push it, knowing it would just push Spam further away. He'd buy him a phone, make sure he's set for at least a bit with either supplies or whatever Spam wants and give him his number. Spamton would never pick up but at least it gives Surv hope he's still alive every time the phone calls go through, even if it's only the automated message at the end. Surv would spend more time at in the city and more importantly at home...

Any group combination would result in them forcibly taking him in and trying to figure out what in god's name happened to him and if they could fix it. It would be a lot harder for them to bond and rekindle what they had here than in the current fic because they can visibly see that Spamton has been through something terrible, and he's still actively going through it. He's still a broken little doll with a voice in his head damning his existence and free-will, every second of that is a reminder of how they left him to this fate alone... or at least how he had no one to fall back on when it happened. It's a lot more existential and I feel like they'd all be more at each other's throats for longer cause he's in pain, he blames them and won't/can't say much about it. Spam doesn't want to be there cause he no longer feels safe, loved or respected by them or anyone for that matter.

They can try all they want but it takes longer cause he has to figure out how to heal the way he is and they have to realize that they can't just coddle him to achieve that. It's realizing that things are way more different and having to take them as what they are before finding traces of what they were. Whether it ends with them asking Kris to do the fountain in the end or Spamton running off again really depends on if they can focus on him and not their own feelings for once unlike before. It would just need to play out in this scenario...

Truthfully, I doubt puppet Spamton would be easy to win over as he still is mainly focused on his neo plans. The static and otherworldly knowledge is still prevalent in his brain and it's a block that the other addisons wouldn't easily get through. To me, most healing needs to happen after neo or a case where neo is no longer an option and he is also forced to look for prior choices.

[morganas-pendragons]

And Yet, Flowers Grow | Elrond Peredhel

As promised, a fluffy Elrond fic. It’s a little shorter then my usual oneshots. I will fix the formatting on this when I get home. I don’t usually write from my phone but it is all I have today.

Enjoy! Prompt is flower crowns and a gala

@ladyoflindon @wild-typo-turtle @celebrimbormylove @pentaghasm

***

“You are simply thinking about this too hard, my dear friend,” Galadriel’s voice breaks the force of Elrond’s concentration as he kneels in front of his third bed of flowers among Lindon’s gardens. “You are as aware as I that anything you make will be dearly loved because it came from your hands.”

Galadriel had followed Elrond into the gardens after their meeting with the High King earlier that morning. Gil-Galad had informed them, his court, and his musicians of the gala taking place the next night to unite the different groups of Elves under a common banner.

And it was also to take away from the impending threat of war.

Elrond shakes his head and runs his fingers across the petals of a lily. “No,” He murmurs. “No. It has to be perfect. Even for something as simple as this. They are the focus of the music this evening.”

“So you wish for all eyes to be drawn to your beloved?”

“Well, when you put it that way-“

His eyes fall upon a hidden bed of flowers deeper in the garden that had been overlooked during his initial surveillance of the gardens as a whole.

The flowers he pulled were a perfect mix of red, orange, pink and yellow, identical to the outfit you would be wearing for the gala this evening.

Galadriel smiles as he turns to her with a fist full of flowers pressed carefully against his chest. She has her own in her hands, her own flowers she’s pulled as they remind her of Elrond’s eyes.

If you’re going to be wearing a crown, so is he.

Pacing was not helping.

You had not been acutely aware of the gala until earlier that morning when Gil-Galad had informed his court and his musicians of the intent behind holding this in Lindon. What you’d been less aware of was your own role as the head musician, which was an honor to be bestowed among the best but also would mean that all eyes and attention would be on you.

It should not have been as anxiety inducing as it felt. The pit in your stomach had only grown heavier since you’d returned to your chambers, and Elrond had been nowhere to be seen since the meeting this morning held in front of the Great Tree.

You were in over your head.

“Dear friend.. you two are perfect for each other.” You whip around and sigh in relief at the sight of Galadriel, who is lingering just inside the doorway to your chambers. “You both are chronic overthinkers. What troubles you?”

Galadriel had become a good friend since Elrond had introduced you to her. You found yourself confiding in her more times often then not, as she was older and wiser then yourself as well as having a much more extensive relationship and history with Elrond. You value her input, and you value her judgement.

“I worry about the gala. I-“ You swallow the knot in your throat and wring your hands harder, ignoring the ache in your fingers as you do so. “I do not care to be the center of attention. I much more prefer being in the background. There’s less chance of a mistake that way.”

“My friend,” Galadriel begins as she catches your hands to hold them in her own. You hadn’t realized how much you needed the stability of another persons touch - a role Elrond often fell into - until you felt the tension seep from your shoulders. “You are a treasure. Even though you are not directly involved in the war effort against Sauron, your influence holds great weight. That is crucial to morale for soldiers and artisans and crafters alike. Your influence also holds great weight with Elrond. He adores you. Any mistake you may make does not matter in the grand scheme of things. You plant yourself on that stage and remember who you play for.”

Remember who you play for.

Elrond had been one of the only people to nurture and encourage your passions aside from your few actions with Celebrimbor. Any time you played, it was for him.

“Remember who you play for,” You repeat. “Thank you. Would you be willing to help me prepare for this gala? It will do wonders for my nerves.”

Galadriel was a soldier, a commander, and a fierce fighter. It was not often she was able to embrace her femininity. It was not often she found herself having a friend who she could simply be herself with.

Not until you.

She smiles. Her smile, when it’s genuine, could rival the brightness of the stars themselves. You often wonder if the embodiment of Light of the Valar lives within her.

“I would be honored. However, before I do that,” She begins, reaching behind her to produce an intricately woven crown of flowers she’s somehow kept concealed since entering. Your eyes widen as you lean forward, curious, and run your fingers across the flowers. “This is for you.”

Elrond.

***

“Be at peace, my friend. Have a drink. This is not meant to be a punishment.”

Elrond has been searching the crowd gathered at Lindon’s gala for what feels like years, dark eyes desperate to seek you out as you join the other musicians on stage. Galadriel’s instructions had been specific: be in sight, and wear the crown.

He looked ridiculous. She had been the one to weave it, and intricate circular design of dark navy petals that went around the entirety of his head. Galadriel had claimed it would compliment his hair and eyes well.

Like she’d know.

“I apologize, High King-“ Elrond interjects. “I have not seen my beloved all day, and it was at the behest of Galadriel that I wore this ridiculous garb. I-“

His breath catches in his throat as you come into view and address the crowd with a smile that makes his knees weak. Galadriel had told him before disappearing into the crowd that she’d assisted in getting you ready for this gala, and it shows. Elrond is transfixed by you.

Gil-Galad smiles around the rim of his glass. “It seems that the Commander of the Northern Armies wanted to put you both at ease,” He muses lightly. “By showing others in attendance that you belong to each other.”

Across the gap, your eyes find Elrond’s and brighten as you recognize the crown of flowers sat neatly atop his curls. The crown he’d woven for you earlier that morning in the Garden sits proudly atop your own head. You are the picture of beauty as you regard the crowd with a breathtaking smile and lift your violin to press your chin against the instrument.

And then off you go, lost in the music as your bow eases back and forth across the strings. Elrond is transfixed by how easy it comes to you.

Remember who you play for.

Your eyes follow him for the rest of the gala. You and the harpist are awarded what feels like hours upon hours of applause, and it is only when you are about to begin your next song that the harpist - a younger elleth named Löriel - stands to address the crowd.

“If you’ll give our dearest violinist another round of applause, I feel as if they deserve a break,” She announces as applause echoes before The Great Tree. You seek Elrond out in the crowd again, smirking as you find him sulking in the darkness of the night just outside of the firelight that illuminates the gala. “I will be leading this next song so as to give our violinist the opportunity to dance. Please, grab your loved one. This will surely be one you want to partake in.”

Celebrimbor clears his throat from where he stands beside Elrond, who is continuing to look particularly sullen where he idly sips at his wine. He’s never quite adjusted to being the Herald of the King and desiring to attend gatherings such as these. “My dear friend,” Celebrimbor murmurs lowly. “I believe someone is coming this way.”

You grin and bow lowly as Elronds head snaps upward. “Lord Celebrimbor,” You greet. Elrond is too fixated on your outfit - perfect representation through color and fabric of the gardens, which seems to be your favorite place in Lindon - to recognize your greeting. “Herald. My eyes are up here.”

Dark eyes flicker up to meet your own.

“Meleth nin,” Elrond breathes, a soft and airy sound that sounds distinctly like awe. “You are a sight to behold. I quite enjoy the crown. It complements the outfit.”

You peer down at your outfit. “Well, I did pick it as a reminder to who I play for,” You tease softly as you extend your hand toward Elrond. “Come dance with me.”

Elrond’s split second hesitation causes Celebrimbor to nudge him hard enough in the back that he practically stumbles into your embrace. For someone who’s supposed to be the Herald of the King, the Half-Elven cares little for politics.

Your fingers lace with his own as you disappear into the crowd.

***

“Why are you smiling at me?”

Your question breaks through Elrond’s focus as his eyes shift down to your own, tightening his grip on your waist as you lazily play with his curls.

Elrond leans inward and presses his hand to the flat of your back, pulling you in until you can feel his hips pressed against your own and the warmth of his breath at your ear. “Because you’re mine,” He whispers lowly in your ear. “And all of those around us now know so.”

“Didn’t the crowns give it away?” You inquire.

You move your head as he tilts his own upward, catching his mouth in a kiss that makes your knees weak as you catch the moan lingering at the back of his throat. It’s good that it’s loud enough with the other elves and the music to hide the sound.

Both your cheeks are red when Elrond pulls away. You run your fingers gingerly along the petals of his crown, savoring the way he seeks out the warmth of your hand and pulls it downward to place a kiss upon your wrist.

“You were phenomenal tonight.” He says softly. “A true crafter of the arts. I consider myself privileged to be yours.”

“You’ve discovered my secret, Elrond Peredhel.”

He raises a brow in surprise. “Oh?”

Feeling daring, you stand on your tiptoes as the swell of the music echoes around you both and kiss him hard, grinning at the startled sound of surprises that goes unheard beneath the cellist and the harpist who have taken your spot. When you pull away, both of you are breathless, and you lean up to murmur lowly in his ear.

“When I play? I play for you.”

You laugh as he weaves through the crowd, hand in yours, ready to continue that kiss far from prying eyes. His cheeks are as red as the flowers in your hair.

***

Gil-Galad is not one who considers himself easily entertained, but it has been quite interesting watching his Herald court his Cellist.

Celebrimbor seems to have the same thought.

“How much time do you give them before they’re coming to you to ask for an officiant of a wedding ceremony?” Celebrimbor teases, smirking around the rim of his glass as they watch you and Elrond disappear in the direction of Lindon’s palace. “I give them a month.”

Gil-Galad smiles. “I give them less.”

Celebrimbor turns and extends a hand. “Should we shake on it?”

“We shall.”

The two Elves shake.

Now it is simply time to wait.

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 9)

Contains: fluff, possessiveness, mentions of arranged marriage, inappropriate relationship between uncle and niece

Wordcount: ~4.08k

Masterlist of this story

After you had finished your breakfast you went with Rhaenyra to help decorate the garden. You put flowers on the tables and in the trees and pulled up the Targaryen banners. A little later you found yourselves in the keep again and then at around noon the King, Rhaenyra and you entered the garden and the feast began.

There was music playing, the children excitedly running around and the table seemed to almost crash under the weight of the delicious food. You sat between Rhaenyra and to your opposite was Daemon who had crossed his legs relaxed. He looked around bored and watched the feast while holding a cup of wine in his hand.

Then noon passed, the congratulations had been spoken and your father, who sat next to Rhaenyra suddenly leaned forwards to look at you.

"Daughter. There is something I wish to discuss with you." His voice wasn’t very loud which told you that it wasn’t something for everyone’s ears. Only your sister, Daemon, the hand of the King, Laena, and a few other lord of the small council watched and listened to him.

"What is it, father?" He cleared his throat and looked joyful but a little nervous at the same time.

"Well. I… have news to you. It is… You know how your sister told you earlier that Lord Cordin Stark of Winterfell will attend the feast." His eyes wandered to a tall, strong man who sat at the other end of the table, deeply invested in a conversation with your greatuncle Jaerion. You nodded and Viserys eyes looked at you again.

"Well, he… He came here to discuss something with me as well. We spoke yesterday and… we decided to wed you to his eldest son Jorlan Stark. Heir to Winterfell."

You were speechless and you could only stare at your father. Everyone except the King’s Hand, Laena and Lord Barler, master of laws seemed to be surprised by these news and your sister’s jaw even dropped.

"What?", she asked with an open mouth.

"Rhaenyra, please.", your father spoke and smiled but he looked rather insecure.

"W-What?", you stuttered as well and Viserys took your hand.

"He’s a good match, daughter. A noble man from a noble house. It will be a good thing to finally unite the north and the crown by marriage. You will be the Lady of Winterfell someday, my dear."

Your eyes instinctively fluttered to Daemon and you could see that he looked more serious now. Dangerous, even and you could see that his jaw was tense. You quickly put your attention on your father again.

"B-But it’s so far away. I-I don’t know, I – "

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you didn’t want to marry a strange boy you had never seen before and move to the north, where you didn’t know anyone. The climate was uncommon to you, as well as the nature and the people of the north.

You looked at Daemon again. Just for a second. You wanted him to do something, say something. Tell your father no, you couldn’t marry him. It wouldn’t be a good match and you should remain in King’s Landing. With him.

Your hands were shaking and you could still feel the gaze of almost every person around you on you.

"Vhaela.", your father spoke softly. "You’ll understand soon that this is a good thing. Jorlan Stark is a honourable and kind man. He will protect you and keep you safe. If I didn’t know him to be a good man I wouldn’t agree to this betrothal."

You just sat there. Staring at the food on your plate while you could feel Rhaenyra caress your back. Your father came a little closer.

"I know the thought of leaving the city is hard and I assure you it is hard for me too but I don’t think there could be someone more suitable, Vhaela. Just wait until you have met him to make a judgement."

You heard his words even though they sounded a little muffled and his face was blurred before your eyes. You didn’t want to meet him. You didn’t want to find out if he was suitable for you. You wanted… Daemon perhaps? You didn’t even know what you wanted, you just knew your head was burning and the different smells of all this food made you feel sick.

"This might be a little much right now, daughter. You should sleep on it and in the morrow everything will seem different. Better, hopefully." Your father looked around and chuckled forcedly. "Let’s continue to eat now, Deston? Bring the cake please!"

It took you some time to get your gaze off the ice cream that was by now only a puddle. Rhaenyra still comforted you by stroking your back and hair and you just tried not to let the tears fall down. In the corner of your eye you could see Daemon watch the cup in his hand and then you but you couldn’t look at him now. It took all your power to get through the rest of the feast and the your sister brought you back to the keep.

The king had soothingly caressed your shoulder and assured you everything would be fine but you couldn’t believe it would. Not only didn’t you want to move in the north to Winterfell and leave your sister, your father, your uncle and all your other relatives behind and then… well there was Daemon. And, you hadn’t even thought about that yet, but you were not a maiden anymore. What if your husband would notice and question your virtue. You exhaled loudly and tried to calm your fastened heartbeat.

"Shh, sister.", Rhaenyra whispered while taking you all the stairs up to your chambers.

"What if he’s horrible?", you whimpered and your sister shook her head. "Father said he knows he’s a good man."

"But one can cover up his true nature. Perhaps he acted like a saint in front of father but in reality he – "

"Don’t, Vhaela.", Rhaenyra whispered and caressed the back of your hand. "This won’t bring you any good. Wait until you get to know him. If he turns out to be a monster… I’ll kill him for you." Even though you didn’t feel like it you couldn’t help but laugh at her words. Rhaenyra smirked and then you stood in front of the door to your chambers.

"Relax now, little sister. That was a lot to take so you need some time." You nodded with a big lump in your throat. "Thank you, Rhae." She smiled and then closed the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~

All afternoon you felt like you were rotting in your bed. At first you had laid on your back, trying to bring some order to your thoughts but that hadn’t worked. There was just too much scrambling your brain and so after some time you had given up and tried to get some sleep. But because it was still early in the evening you hadn’t been able to fall asleep so you watched the sun getting closer and closer to the earth.

At some point your eyes were hurting and so you had turned to your side to stare at your beside table. You had counted the annual rings in the woods and the seconds and minutes had passed slowly. You wanted, no needed Daemon in your presence. You needed to see him, talk to him, tell him that you didn’t want to marry Jorlan Stark and beg him to do something. You wanted to feel safe with him next to you and just for a moment think that everything would be fine and Daemon would find a solution to all of your problems. Where was he and why couldn’t he come and see you for a little while? You felt that you were a little unfair but you just craved seeing him even if it only was for a short time.

One time, it had knocked and you had jumped in your bed. The disappointment was immense when it had only been your handmaiden who had brought you a tea.

You now laid on your stomach with the side of your face pressed in the pillow. Maybe you should simply suffocate, you thought. You fingers pulled at some loose yarns of your big wool blanket that was way too warm for these temperatures but the blanket gave you some kind of comfort. Then there was a knock on your door and you mumbled.

"Come." Had they heard you? Yes, you heard the door open and someone approach you but you couldn’t see who it was because your face was turned away from the door and you were too lazy to lift your head. The steps stopped and you waited for a word.

"Byka atroksia." If you weren’t too powerless, you would’ve widened your eyes. Now you could only feel tears gathering in your eyes and you slowly turned so you laid on your back.

"Daemon.", you said weakly and the knowledge that he had come almost made all those tears roll down your face. But you didn’t allow them to because you didn’t want to cry now. Daemon looked fierce, cold almost but you didn’t know if his anger was actually your fault. Seeing him gave you new energy for some reason and suddenly you couldn’t lay in bed anymore.

You got off the bed, moved your hair behind your ears and stood in front of Daemon. For a moment you only looked at each other and then you started to speak.

"I don’t want to marry some Stark Prince and move to Winterfell, uncle." Your voice sounded a little thin but him being there made you feel like fire was flooding your veins. Daemon moved closer to you and his hands made contact with the sides of your face. He looked at you intensely and made sure your eyes were fixed on him.

"You.", he said quietly but very clearly. "Are mine, little owl. And I’m not going to let some weak Stark cunt take away from me what’s mine."

His fingers held you tigthly as if he wanted to support his words by it and you laid your hands on his wrists.

"And I don’t want to be taken away.", you whispered.

"I will not let him. I’d rather kill him and everyone that attempts to step in my way." You smiled softly but knew you had to keep a clear head now. As much as you liked to hear him say that he didn’t want this betrothal as well, it wasn’t a realistic or good solution to simply kill everyone who asked for your hand.

"But… What are we gonna do? If my father wants me to marry him, I can’t just refuse him and you know you can’t just kill him.", you chuckled desperately.

"Of course I can. Or do you think he’d defeat me in a fight?", Daemon whispered darkly and your hand reached out to touch his face.

"Daemon, please. I’ll have to marry some day. If Jorlan Stark turns out to magically drown somewhere or choke on something, my father would find me another match."

Your uncle didn’t answer you but just ran his thumb over your soft skin as if wanted to make sure you were actually there. You looked at him with sad eyes but then hopefully.

"But marriage is only a political arrangement. You told me this so often when I was young. Perhaps this doesn’t mean, that…. That I’ll never see you again."

You almost shrieked in surprise when Daemon suddenly forcefully grabbed your neck and pushed you against the wall. His hand wasn’t very tight around your throat and you could still breathe properly but he roughly pressed you against the wall and you felt fear creeping up on you. He towered over you and his face got close to yours. His eyes glowed with rage and he hissed his next words.

"I am NOT going to be your whore." You looked at him with big eyes and felt your hands shivering.

"I’m not gonna be your whore to warm your bed whenever your cunt of a husband is out hunting somewhere because he prefers to fuck wolves over you. Do you understand me?"

You quickly nodded and didn’t break eye contact with him.

"Yes. Yes, I understand." He suddenly let go of you and took a step back to walk around in your room thinking. You tried to collect yourself and inhaled deeply as you had just realized you had hold your breath the last seconds. You put your hand on your stomach feeling the air entering your body and then looked at Daemon again. He was still walking around and you just wanted him to hold you. Whisper comforting things against your hair. Your uncle didn’t look at you though but scratched his forehead, his eyes still spitting fire.

"Wed me, Daemon." He turned around suddenly and observed you with small eyes.

"What?" You walked towards him.

"Take me as your wife. It would solve all of our problems. I wouldn’t have to marry Jorlan Stark and be sent away to live at Winterfell. And no one could ever question my virtue and honor if I married you. And we wouldn’t have to keep a secret from Rhaenyra, my father and any other person here anymore."

"No.", Daemon plainly said and took a step back from you to aimlessly walk around the room again.

"Why not?", you asked chasing him in an attempt to make him look at you.

"Because I said so." You lifted your arms in despair. "Tell me, uncle. Give me a reason why this is not a good solution." Daemon shook his head.

"My brother wouldn’t accept it anyway." He chuckled. "He wouldn’t give his precious little girl to me."

"But we could try at least. Or do you have a better plan?" Daemon rolled his eyes angrily and then glared at you. "I’m NOT going to take you as my wife, Vhaela."

You felt anger rising in your chest and had changed your hands to fists. "Is it because the idea comes from me? Is it because you only view me as a child? Because you don’t take me seriously?", you said with a weak voice.

"Careful, little owl.", Daemon growled and came a little closer to you again.

"What? I’m speaking the truth.", you said with teary eyes. Daemon watched you disdainfully and he rested his right hand on your cheek.

"Shut it. I don’t see you as a little child and I take you seriously. I simply know that your 'plan' is not going to work.", he hissed.

"But we don’t have a better one." Daemon lifted your chin and raised his eyebrows.

"I’m going to talk to your father. Tell him that I don’t believe that this betrothal is a good idea. He might not always trust my judgement but perhaps I can at least give him something to think about."

You looked at him and just felt miserable. Your father wouldn’t listen to his brother and you knew that for a fact. He loved Daemon, yes, but he knew how repulsive he was. And yet you nodded and looked up to him with big eyes.

"Fine.", you whispered and suddenly felt very small in this world. Daemon moved a strand of hair out of your face and pressed a kiss on your hair.

"Iksan ivestragon ao bisa arlī, byka mēre. Ao sagon ñuhon. Daor se Stārke's. Ñuhon.  Kesan daor ivestragī zirȳ gūrogon ao qrīdrughagon." (I'm telling you this again, little one. You're mine. Not the Stark's. Mine. I will not let them take you away.)

You nodded and let him pull your head to his chest. His warmth felt good and you enjoyed his arms wrapped around you. He caressed the back of your head and then after a few moments ended the hug. You would’ve liked to stay like this a little longer but Daemon looked at you with a tilted head and a slight smirk.

"Sleep well, riña (girl)." He walked towards and you watched the back of his head. "Good night, Daemon."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hahaha.", Daemon heard, standing in front of the door. It was late, the hour of the owl but he didn’t care. He should probably wait until the morrow but if he had something important to do, he would do it immediately. Even if it meant interrupting the King at a late hour. Also, Daemon wasn’t tired yet. The adrenaline he had felt today had triggered his nerves and he felt as awake as if it was in the middle of the day.

The guard who was positioned in front of the door opened it and walked in. Daemon could only hear muted chatter and then the door was opened for him. He walked in, a serious look on his face and smirked slightly when he saw the King sitting on a chair in front of the fire place.

"Brother.", he spoke and Viserys turned to him, looking not as surprised as he had thought him to be.

"Daemon. Come and sit with me." He walked towards another chair and let himself sink on it. Then he crossed his legs and exhaled loudly.

"What brings you to me at such late hour, dear brother?"

Daemon chuckled and laid his arm on the armrest. "Do I really need an excuse to spend some time with my brother?" Viserys smiled but Daemon could see in his eyes that he looked at little tired and thought if it had been a good idea not to wait until the next day. Anyway, he would speak to him now.

"Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Aha.", Viserys made and lifted his eyebrows. "Speak then. I’m open to listen to the matters of the man who has won back the Stepstones for the crown." Daemon smirked, looking down but then lifted his head to look at his brother.

"It’s about Vhaela. And the betrothal with the Stark Prince." Daemon could sense how his expression faded a little and his eyes looked sad.

"What of it?"

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I don’t think it is a good idea."

Viserys rested his elbows on his legs and frowned at his brother. "Why? It is a good match for her." He looked at Daemon with small eyes and then threw his hands in the air.

"Now you’re coming to me about that as well, Daemon. You’re making this even harder for me or do you think it is easy for me to send my youngest daughter away to the North? Do you think it will be easy for me to marry her to a lord twice her age and simply trust that her husband and the people in Winterfell will treat her well?"

Daemon shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows. "Then don’t. Don’t wed her to him."

Viserys chuckled. "With what reasoning? From a strategic point of view it is the best we can do. And she has to marry soon anyway."

"Well, I think you can do better than that."

Viserys frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I think that you can make a better match for her than the Stark boy."

"Who are you talking about Daemon?"

He straightened up in his chair and exhaled. "The rebellion in Braavos, brother. I know that you don’t like to hear that but I agree with Lord Ellion. The whole situation has the potential to be a threat to the crown. And yes, Lord Hotorlan is negotiating with the crown at this moment and right now there are no signs that there will be a war, but the situation is tense. And we can’t risk letting it escalate. A war with the free cities would be a catastrophe. We should do our very best to avoid it at all costs."

Daemon looked at him insistent and Visery's frown intensed. "What are you suggesting, brother?"

"Don’t marry Vhaela to the Starks. Keep her in King’s Landing and wait. Lord Hotorlan has sons of his own, if the situation threatens to boil up you can send a marriage proposal and ask him to wed one of his sons to your daughter. It would be controversial, yes, but with this marriage we could avoid a war before it even starts."

There was silence in the room and Viserys stared at the rings on his hand. Daemon watched him for a reaction but it took several moments until Viserys started to speak again.

"Vhaela was a gift from the gods.", he said quietly with teary eyes. "After we had Rhaenyra, we were so happy, Aemma and I. And we thought it would be like this forever now. How could you think it will ever be any different when you have your child in your hands? But then, almost two years later, Aemma was haunted by demons. She wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t go outside even." Viserys looked at his brother and a single tears rolled down his cheek.

"She would just lay in bed all day without any motivation to get up. I don’t know if you remember it. She suffered. And so did I and Rhaenyra as well. A newborn who didn’t get any attention from her mother….But then she became pregnant again. At first I didn’t know what the condition would do to her. I thought the demons would take her child and consume it as they had done it with Aemma. But no. The child in her belly lit her up. Really, it was like a light shone through her. I remember being by her bed. She looked me in my eyes and told me that she hadn’t bled for two moons. That she had a babe inside her. A daughter. I waited. And then she smiled. I hadn’t seen her smile in months, Daemon. I had even forgotten what she looked like when she smiled. It was like someone returned to me that I hadn’t seen in months. She just smiled. Vhaela made her happy. I know carrying a child can be hard and painful, but still… My Aemma was happy again. And then she was in childbirth and afterwards she held her. Vhaela was so tiny and Aemma just couldn’t stop crying. Not because she was sad, no, because Vhaela had lit up her whole world. She had brought joy in Aemma’s life."

More tears had gathered in Viserys‘ eyes and one by one, they rolled down his face. He cried silently with his head lowered and Daemon just watched him with teary eyes as well.

"And then the demons took Aemma away from me, Daemon. And to this day, I don’t know why. I don’t know what the gods have punished me for." Viserys lifted his head again and intensely looked at his brother.

"I can’t lose my daughters, brother. I just can’t. I can’t let the gods take another person I love." He chuckled sadly. "And now you suggest to me to wed Vhaela to a Braavosi Prince who I don’t know and whose family are not loyal to us as the Starks. Sending her to Essos. I can’t do that."

"I’m not suggesting you wed her to him in the morrow, brother. It would only happen if the situation with Lord Hotorlan was to escalate. Which might not even happen. You simply need a reassurance. A plan. Refuse Lord Cordin’s offer, keep Vhaela in King’s Landing. She’s 16, she doesn’t necessarily need to be wed for another 2 years. If the crown will be able to hold Hotorlan under control for the next two or three years you can wed Vhaela to another highborn lord. Maybe even a Stark. But if not, she could be the key to uphold peace in the realm."

Viserys shook his head. "I don’t know, Daemon."

"What speaks against it?", Daemon asked with lifted eyebrows.

"Lord Cordin wouldn’t be delighted. And I don’t know if I could just send Vhaela to Braavos."

"Not giving her to the Starks wouldn’t automatically mean that you’ll send her to Braavos. It’s simply a second option, a insurance for our differences with Braavos.", Daemon said a little louder.

Viserys remained silent.

"You’ve changed, Daemon.", he then said and smiled softly. "It suits you."

[bun-parade]

[Banner by @/cafekitsune]

I feel like Enji would be so hesitant to be rough with you in bed. He knows how big and strong he is. He knows firsthand the physical and mental damage he's capable of if he's not careful. He treats you like fine china, like a beautiful porcelain doll. You're his treasure, his love. That being said, the man is whipped. He'd bring down the moon from the heavens if you asked him to in that sweet little voice with those puppy dog eyes.

So when you beg him to fuck you faster, harder, deeper, to use you like a whore, he can't help but give you what you want, even if it's against his better judgement.

Afterwards, you see the shock and self-loathing written on his face when he sees that he's given you a few bruises on your hips in the shape of his hands. Once again, he hurt something precious to him. As he's running you a bath, he's swearing to himself never again.

And then you tell him "I love it when you mark me, Enji. Makes me feel like I'm yours." He watches with confusion on his face as you lightly trace the fresh bruises, your voice taking on a reverent tone. "I'll look at these later and get all wet again remembering how I got them."

Your confession almost breaks him, turns him into a puddle on the floor of his master bathroom suite. Something hungry flares in his gut and threatens to consume him. "Careful, darling. Or I'll want to give you more..." He treads carefully, scared that this is some crazy dream.

The devilish smile you give him makes the large man sputter and his face heat up. "How about you give me some on my ass this time?"

[weewookinard]

A vision in a cone (spoilers season 8)

What if Christopher actually talked to his father the night of his birthday?

In which Tommy and Evan are hiding behind the sofa, waiting for Eddie to tell them to come say happy birthday to Chris, and end up forgetting about it all

spoilers from 8x01!

in which Tommy and Evan are idiots in love and Eddie is so fed up with them ❤️

You can read it on AO3! Please give kudos and feel free to comment ❤️

Chris's voice rises, much more cheerful than they'd expected, and for a moment Eddie forgets that behind the sofa his two friends are waiting for his cue. Seeing his son smile is too precious a gift to be broken off like that, and the man decides to be selfish for a moment, to keep the magical instant to himself.

It's not as if he is expected, anyway.

It all started so well. After preparing the balloons and banner, Tommy and Evan hid behind the sofa, a giddy smile on their faces. After putting on his cone hat, Evan turned to his boyfriend, admiring Tommy's beaming face, before playfully asking.

“I'm a- I'm sorry, you wanted the red one?”

This made Tommy smile, already imagining himself picking up the stupid hat with the sole aim of running a hand through the other man's blond curls. He held back, however, far too aware of what might happen if he started touching Evan.

“Has anyone ever told you... You're a vision in a cone?” All the seriousness of his face disappeared behind his crunchy nose smile, and Evan had no choice but to kiss him.

Eddie, of course, doesn't hear them, too busy checking in on his son, feeding off his digital presence.

At first, the kiss is gentle, an impulse guided by a feeling of love that Evan still doesn't dare express aloud. An impulse that elicits a sigh of contentment from Tommy as his hand instinctively comes to rest on the blond's thigh, which in turn moves to caress the older man's cheek, deepening the kiss.

They know they must let go, that now is not the time for desire. They know that Eddie needs them, that Christopher could hear the moans that escape when Evan's tongue passes the barrier of Tommy's lips, exploring that familiar mouth again and again.

They know this isn't the place to let the heat devour them. That Eddie might yell at them if he sees them like this, their hands not knowing where to rest but on the other man's body.

Eddie laughs on the sofa, his body jiggling against the backrest, and the two lovers part for a moment, the movement calling them to order. And then they lose themselves again when Tommy's eyes fall on Evan's pink lips. And then they fall on each other again, more crudely this time, Evan running his hands through Tommy's hair, knocking off the cone hat in the process. The sudden movement of one body attacking the other startles Tommy, who falls on his back, his hands gripping Evan's ass as he comes to sit on him, their mouths never for a moment parting.

For a brief second Tommy wonders how Eddie manages not to hear them, but the question disappears in a grunt of pleasure when the bulge in Evan's pants comes to meet his own. Evan gives him a falsely judgemental look, as if to tell him to be quiet, before coming to attack the tender skin of his neck.

The rubbing of their clothes is impossible to miss now, both bodies moving against each other in search of an obsene pleasure. If the older man has always suspected Evan of having an exhibisionist kink, he's now more certain than ever.

He wishes he had the strength to resist, to fend off his boyfriend's attacks. But a hand reaches under his white henley and the man loses himself.

His fingers grip a little more powerfully on Evan's ass, who whimpers under the pressure, and the mouths come to meet again, muting the panting of the two men as they continue to rub against each other-.

“Guys?”

Suddenly both men stop, caught in the action. Their eyes open and they look at each other, a mixture of panic and excitement bringing a blush to Evan's cheeks, while Tommy doesn't dare breathe for fear of making the slightest unseemly sound.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What's happening dad? Who's there with you?”

The teenager's voice is like an electric shock through the bodies of both lovers, like a lightning strike. Evan is on his feet in less time than it takes to say it, while Tommy remains on the ground, dazed, his hair a mess and his pants as tight as ever.

“Idiots, that who's here with me!” Is all Eddie replies to Christopher from where he's standing, his head resting on the back of the sofa. His voice is defeated, but the smile on his face is sincere. Because he's happy to see his two friends so happy together. Because he knows that this time, it's the one. That Evan has finally found his person.

Person who ends up smiling, sheepish face, taking the time to put his stupid hat back on before poking his head over the sofa, arm raised to wave towards the computer screen.

“Hi Chris, Happy Birthday!”

[voyagers-stone]

ashlyn banner hcs !! <3

Dips her french fries in milkshake/icecream

avid reader. specifically for high fantasy and thriller novels, she likes the world building and detailed monologue, which aiden is continuously confused about.

will NEVER speak about reading.

she thinks itd ruin her reputation as the responsible one.

the only reason aiden knows about it is because of the amount of times hes broken into her house.

knows a small amount of sign language and tried to speak with ben using it.

did not realize he was just mute and deaf, so he didn't know wtf she was doing.

embarrassed herself greatly with that last one.

took ben a couple of days of various frantic and concerned gestures to let her know that it was okay.

plays rhythm games on her phone when shes tired/can't access her ddr machine.

i think if anyone saw her playing, she'd tell them it's "just for the game play" but she knows somewhere deep, deep down shes there for the anime girls.

some of their stories are just so sad, okay? she can't help but want to keep reading a bit.

// im a hashtag "ashlyn as a normal teenage girl" kind of person okay. we saw her and her father outside of the hospital.

has a growing beanie collection, but only the soft ones so its not sensory hell.

listens to pink floyd, nirvana, michael jackson, red hot chili peppers, and the smiths (when shes sad)

fan of porcelain creechures. dogs, birds, cats. i like to think shes got a little showcase somewhere of them.

logan always gives her really big bouquets of flowers after ballet recitals.

she feels a bit guilty throwing old ones away so she dries them and uses them as book marks.

borrows books from the library that she sees logan reading.

this is something she thought of after taylor started to try and teach her how to talk to people.

she thought that if she wanted to start a conversation, she'd get logan to talk about recent books hes read.

taylor brings her out for slushies at the gas station often

practically begged taylor to come over to her house when her ddr machine broke.

she was absolutely distraught.

tyler witnessed her begging and wanted to make fun of her, but the pity he felt outweighed his need to be an ass so he shrunk back into his and taylors room.

taylor fixed it and she almost cried thanking her.

tyler and ashlyn are resident judgement and shit talkers.

eventually, taylor knows all of the gossip from the popular kids/sports kid so he's got to find someone else to talk to. his first person was obviously ben because hes a great listener, but he seemed too nice to laugh at others misfortune, so when him and ashlyn teamed up together to make fun of aiden eating shit on the sidewalk after he does something dumb....he found his new target.

i don't think its particularly mean gossip, but more like your average catch-up-on-events kind of thing.

dead silence "........you know who i really hate?" kind of talk

i also think tyler and ashlyn are gym buddies.

maybe it'd take her a while to get to the point to want to hang out with him somewhere like the gym, so they usually go on runs or bike rides together.

they make aidens scrawny ass play ddr with them. ill talk more about that in his headcanons though.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Good Graces

AN: Cos Seb's latest looks have us all in a chokehold, but I'm too old to imagine him as my dad's best friend - so ex's best friend it is!

Beta'd by @sgt-seabass

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard and banner by me

Relationship: Ex's best friend Bucky Barnes x MILF Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

CW: Flirting, Lust at first sight, Explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, jerking, unprotected PinV sex (reader is on BC)), Secret sex.

When Lee, your ex-husband, had asked if he could bring a new friend with him to the twins party you inwardly rolled your eyes. He said it was for moral support - he was worried about judgemental looks and remarks from all your (his) old friends - but part of you thought he just wanted to show off his latest barbie doll. 

He may have cheated on you with Layla from his office, but you’d heard through the grapevine that it hadn’t lasted one month past your divorce. No doubt he’d found someone new. Young. Skinny. No stretch marks and no fupa. Fuck him.

However, for the twin’s sake you decided to be the bigger person and had agreed that it would be fine. Hopefully, with all the other folk coming, adults and kids, you’d be able to avoid him and his ‘friend’.

You were still running around like a headless chicken when he arrived. The garden was decorated, the bouncy castle was inflated (which your kids were currently testing out with a few of their friends who’d arrived early), but you were still bringing all the food outside to the table. 

Your dad had offered to man the grill, and was currently prodding coals with more intensity than you thought it needed, but it was keeping him out your hair. You loved your dad, and he loved you, but sometimes he was hard work. Not as hard work as Lee.

The gate hinges squealed and then the wood banged against the gate post as the closer swung it shut.

“Hey, darlin’.”

Lee stood, looking slightly awkward and slightly sweaty, two badly wrapped gifts in his arms. Hopefully he’d bought something from the list you sent him, unlike at Christmas.

You put on your best ‘guest welcoming’ smile.

“Hi Lee. Glad you could make it. The twins will be glad to see you.” You turned toward the bouncy castle.

“Cassie, Isaac, your father’s here.”

Your kids shouted with joy and jumped off the inflatable, and ran towards Lee.

“Daddy!”

He knelt and managed to put the presents down before the two barrelled into him. In moments like this you found it hard to still be angry with him. He might have been a useless husband and not always the best father, but he did love his kids.

You looked around, realising you didn’t see a stranger’s face, and wondered where his friend was. You were about to ask him about his mysterious guest when the gate opened again.

The breath froze in your lungs as the man pulled off his sunglasses. Tall, lean, brunet, a slight scruffy beard going to grey in places, with aquamarine eyes and laughter lines at their corners. His hair was slightly on the long side, curling up at the nape of his neck. Navy pants, a navy t-shirt and a navy suit jacket. It should have looked over the top for a kids birthday party, but somehow it didn’t.

He walked towards you, a smile on his face, hand outstretched.

“Hey, you must be Mrs Bodecker. I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes. Lee’s friend.”

Your nose screwed up a bit as he spoke.

“Please don’t call me that. I’ve only kept the name so the kids don’t get confused.”

He chuckled, not offended by your response in the least.

“Understandable, but I thought it might be a bit…” he looked you up and down, “... presumptuous to call you by your first name straight off.”

Call me whatever you want… and I’ll do whatever you want…

You tried to get your dirty mind under control. It was your kids' party for god’s sake. You must be more touch starved than you thought. Sex had never been high on your agenda; it had never been the mind-blowing, toe-curling experience your romance novels had made it out to be. But you hadn’t been totally adverse to it with Lee, especially at the beginning of your relationship.

However, this friend of his, Bucky, looked like sin on legs; like one of the hero’s from the cover of said romance novels. Just looking at him you wanted to throw caution to the wind, get a bit wild and a bit selfish.

“So, Bucky introduced himself to ya, darlin’?”

For once you were actually grateful to Lee. His reappearance by your side pulled you out of your erotic daydream.

“Lee, please. I’m not your darlin’ anymore.”

He dropped his head, chagrined, and you tried to ignore the brief quirk of Bucky’s plump pink lips.

“Sorry, force o’ habit. What do you need me to do?”

“Can you and Bucky keep an eye on the bouncy castle? There’s a couple of chairs set up. Just make sure the kids don’t have shoes on, or loose jewellery, and no more than 10 at a time.”

Bucky smiled at you over Lee’s shoulder.

“I’m sure we can manage that, eh bud?”

You smiled back. “Thanks.”

You made a quick escape then, darting back inside to get more food and also get yourself a cold drink. You were just putting the now empty glass on the draining board when your friend, and neighbour, Gabi, came in through the French doors.

“Who the heck is that hot guy with Lee?”

“He’s called Bucky. Apparently he’s a new friend. Gotta say, not the type of friend I was expecting Lee to bring, but I’m not disappointed.”

Turning, you opened the fridge and pulled out a bag of grapes. Gabi was grinning at you as you pulled each one off the stem and placed them on a platter.

“I’ll say! He’s rather yummy looking.”

“Gabs, you’re married!”

She plucked a grape off the platter and popped it in her mouth.

“Yeah, but I’m not dead. I can window shop. No harm in it. You on the other hand…” She looked at you with a sly smile and waggled her eyebrows.

“No. One, it’s the twins’ party. Two, I only met the man five minutes ago, and three I don’t need a man.”

Gabi rolled her eyes as you counted off your reasons on your fingers.

“I’m not telling you to jump him under the piñata. But you could get his number. And I’m not saying to start a relationship with him. I’m just saying that he looks like he knows how to please a woman.” She looked out of your kitchen and across the garden to where Bucky and Lee were organising the kids on the bouncy castle. “Look at those fingers! And I’ve noticed already that his tongue keeps trying to escape his mouth. Just think what he could do with those!”

“Not helping!”

“Pssshh, I’m helping plenty. Woman to woman- do it! You need a good dicking down. You deserve a good dicking down.”

You glared at her and she grinned, before throwing up her hands.

“Okay, okay. I won’t say another word on the subject.” She mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key and you could help but laugh.

“Come on, you perv.” You nudged your shoulder against hers. “Let’s get the rest of this food outside so my dad can start his slow but steady pace on the grill. Hopefully the fruit kebabs will keep the kids happy until the hotdogs are cooked.”

For the most part you managed to get on with the party, pandering to all the kids present, and ignored your unexpected, and distracting guest. It was difficult though, because somehow your ears had honed in on Bucky’s deep, syrupy voice, and everytime his melodious laughter rang out across your garden you found yourself looking toward him. And to make matters worse, when you did, his gaze seemed to lock with yours. He’d smile at you, eyes sparkling with mischief, and something more intimate that you were trying to ignore. Which was hard when he tipped back his head to swig from his beer bottle and a drop somehow escaped his lips and ran down his jaw, then down the firm column of his neck to disappear into the opening of his shirt.  How you managed not to launch yourself across the grass and lick the errant rivulet up, you weren’t sure.

When it became time for the cake, you brought out the split MineCraft/Star Wars confection that your friend Jackie had made and placed it on the table in front of the excited children. It was then that you realised that you’d left your box of matches inside, but before you could turn around to get them, a lighter appeared in front of your eyes.

You met Bucky’s grin, and smiled back without thinking, before ducking your head down and away, returning your attention to the task at hand. Or at least trying to.

When the party wound down, you were glad that some of your close friends and family stayed back to help tidy up. Isaac and Cassie ran up to their rooms with some of the other remaining kids, intent on playing with their new toys and you tried not to think of the mess in their rooms you’d have to tidy up tomorrow. At your request Lee started to deflate the castle. He wasn’t a bad man overall, but you’d just not been right for each other.

Gabi was taking down the decorations and chatting to your dad, while he cleared up the grill paraphernalia, as you started to carry the empty and part-empty food platters inside. Taking a moment for yourself, you rested your hands on the counter top, letting it take your weight. Your eyes closed, and you let your head drop, taking in a few deep breaths.

“How are you doing? Need any help in here?”

You jumped and turned around at the sound of Bucky’s voice. Somehow he’d almost completely snuck up on you and now was breathtakingly close. “I…um… just having a breather. It’s been a pretty full-on day.”

He took a step forward, and you had to tilt your head up to continue looking at his face. His very handsome face. “Bet you have a lot of those, sweetheart. When did you last do anything for yourself? I really can’t believe that Lee cheated on you. If you were my wife I don’t think I could have kept my hands off you. He’s my friend, but he’s an idiot.”

You snorted and then covered your mouth with your hand. “I plead the fifth. And do you go around flirting with all your friend’s ex-wives?”

His eyes roamed over you, unashamed and blatant. “Only those that could be categorised as ‘MILFs’ and I’ve only met one of those…”

“Smooth, Mr Barnes.”

His tongue slipped out from between his lips and ran over the lower one, and you couldn’t draw your eyes away. “Is it working?”

“Is what working?” You shifted an inch closer, your hand resting on the blue suit jacket he was wearing, feeling the smoothness of the fabric.

“Me trying to get into your good graces?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“You could call it something else, if you want.” His head lowered, his intentions telegraphed, giving you time to move your own away. 

“I do want…”  Your voice was low and soft as you instead raised your head to meet his lips.

There was no finesse. There was just unashamed want, like a starving man facing his last meal. You fisted the lapels of his jacket as your mouth opened under his. You drank in his kiss and returned it with fervour. You were drunk on him, drunk on lust and could feel heat pooling in your abdomen, a feeling so strange to you, due to its previous rarity.

Part of your brain kicked in enough to realise that should anyone come up towards the house from the garden, or the kids come downstairs, you would be caught in a rather compromising situation. But you didn’t want to stop. 

Instead, you stepped away from the counter, using your body weight to gently steer Bucky backward toward your pantry. 

You released his lips and jacket long enough to open the door to the small walk in cupboard before stepping in and dragging Bucky after you. His lips fell back to your neck and you could feel his smile as he pulled the door shut behind himself. Your fingers tangled into his hair as he kissed your throat, the hair of his beard tickling you. Lee had never had facial hair, so it had been a very long time since you’d experienced the feeling.

All thoughts of Lee were pushed from your mind as your back was pressed up against the shelves, the cans and jars stored on them juddering slightly. Bucky’s hands roamed your body over your sensible dress. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples you gasped and arched your back. You heard Bucky chuckle, and then groan as your hips pressed up against his, his erection obvious through his pants.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, under his jacket and started to pull his shirt out of his pants. You needed to feel him, get your hands on his flesh. There were no words between you, just gasps and moans of pleasure as you pushed the soft cotton up to curl your fingers into his back as he unbuttoned the top half of your dress. 

Your hands returned to Bucky’s hair again as he ducked his head to suckle each breast in turn through the lace of your bra, the stiff fabric creating an almost painful friction against your peaked nipples as it was soaked by his tongue.

His hands, in contrast, were pulling up the hem of your dress, stroking over your bare thighs to cup at your sodden core. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so aroused. You were aware that you moaned his name as he’d touched you, because he sucked at your breast even harder. His deft fingers stroked you over panties until you were pleading breathily in his ear. When he finally pulled the damp cotton to the side and slid a finger inside you, you swear you had a small orgasm, from the way your body trembled and the breath was pulled from your lungs.

Bucky pumped his digit into you a few times before returning his lips to yours. You wondered why, but then he pressed a second finger into you and you cried out into his mouth and he swallowed the noise. You tugged the hair at the nape of his neck and he growled before pumping his wrist harder and curling his fingers inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you can give it to me. I just know you're gonna cum so beautifully. You fucking deserve it. That’s it, baby, that’s it.”

He muttered against your lips and cheek as you kissed and nipped his beard, but when he felt your legs tremble, and heard your breath hitch, he kissed you deeply again as you came. Later, you were glad that he had. 

You heard the noises you made in your own ears, squeaks and mewls, as your body surrendered to a little known pleasure. Your head spun as you drew in breath through your nose and your grip on his hair tightened even further. Bucky’s fingers continued to stroke you, albeit more softly as he guided you through the aftershocks, and you felt the world come back to you, although your legs felt like jelly and your mind felt all floaty and light.

Slowly, Bucky withdrew his fingers from the clutch of your body, leaving your aching and empty. You whimpered, but Bucky shushed you gently, rubbing his nose against yours. 

He then leant back and, in the crack of light coming from under the door, you saw him raise his fingers to his mouth and slowly suck on them in turn. When he moaned you felt your pussy clench, imagining that he was making that noise tasting your essence from the source. And, despite the fact that you’d just had the most mind-numbing orgasm you could remember, you wanted more from him. 

You wanted everything.

You practically yanked his fingers from his mouth, bringing them to your own and licking up them, before smashing your lips to his in another feral, needy kiss. Bucky pressed you harder against the shelves, but you ignored the discomfort as the wood dug into your spine; you were more intent on reaching your goal. Your hands went to the fly of his pants as Bucky pulled your dress right up with one hand and massaged one of your breasts with the other.

Your right hand slid into his briefs, a smug sensation filling you when you felt the wetness of his precum on the waistband. The feeling was short lived though, overtaken by a combination of shock and some trepidation when you felt how big he was. Your fingers didn’t meet around his girth, but it didn’t deter you. You stroked up his length, wanting to give him back at least a portion of the pleasure he had given to you.

You touched and devoured each other, but eventually you both became impatient. Bucky lifted your right leg and hitched it over his hip, taking his cock from your hand and pressing towards you. You shuddered with pleasure when he slid his tip through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. 

Winding your arms around his neck you braced yourself as he slid home, rocking into you with more care than you’d anticipated. Your eyes rolled back and your eyelids fluttered as you gave yourself over to feeling. Feeling him stretch you wide. Feeling him fill you like you’d never felt before. A gasp left you as he got as close as he could, and then stilled. You could hear his breath in your ear, breaths that let you know he was collecting himself.

“You feel more amazing than I thought. Fuck. Gripping me so tight, I don’t know how I haven’t cum yet.”

You clenched at his words and he groaned at the sensation.

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart? I fucking need it, and I think you do to. I wanna fuck you until you see stars, until all you can say is my name. I want to swallow your cries again, and again.”

You couldn’t speak, just nodded your head against his neck and bit down on your lower lip as he canted his hips back, dragging his cock through your spasming walls before firmly thrusting back in. You sucked in a deep breath through your nose, trying to hold on to your sanity as Bucky fucked into you again. But your sanity slipped away moment by moment as he upped his pace. 

When his hands came round you and under your ass to lift you up properly, so you could wrap both legs around his waist, your brain was a puddle. 

Now he’d lifted you Bucky had more leverage, thrusting into you harder and faster. Jars clinked against each other, packets of seasoning fell over and a can jumped off the shelf and rolled across the floor. You ignored it. 

In fact, you barely noticed it, nearly all of your focus on the way Bucky was making you feel.

The way your skin tingled all over. The way he kept swapping between kissing you with ferocity and burying his face in your neck. The way his fingers gripped your ass, no doubt leaving bruises. And the way his cock was moving in you just right. Touching all the right spots. The spots you hadn’t thought you had.

There was a gradual tightening within you, an incremental build up, and you knew, just knew, that this impending orgasm would make the one you’d had only minutes ago seem pathetic in comparison. Bucky thrust into you like a man possessed and you swapped one hand to grip the shelf above your head for stability, rocking your hips against his in a wild dance.

Your body froze when you came, every tendon and muscle stretched out tight as electricity danced across all your nerve endings. Your blood was rushing in your ears and stars danced on the backs of your eyelids; you’d never felt anything like this.

“Sweetheart, oh god, I’m so close. Where should I cum?” 

You forced your brain to tune in enough to answer him, despite the delicious aftershocks shooting through your body.

“‘M on the pill…”

You’d barely finished answering before Bucky burrowed his head into your neck to muffle his shouts of ecstasy as he pumped you full of his cum. You clung onto him, coming down from your high as he recovered from his own. All was silent for a few minutes, other than the sounds of your combined breathing. Slowly he lowered your legs to the floor, and you moaned as he slipped from you and you felt his cum trickle down your thigh. You reached behind you, pulling a few sheets from the paper towel roll and used it to clean yourself up a bit, before neatening your dishevelled appearance. You weren’t sure what to say to Bucky, now that reality was creeping back in, but he picked up on your reticence.

“Hey.” He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to face him. The low light threw shadows over his face, but you could still make out his questioning expression. “Are you okay? Please don’t say you regret that, because I don’t. Not one bit.” 

“No. It’s just… um… well I don’t really do this. Like ever.”

“Do you mean two orgasms back to back, or having sex with a virtual stranger in your pantry?” 

You giggled at the absurdity of it all. “Both!”

Bucky shifted closer again, pulling you against him. “Well next time, maybe we can try a bed and I can try for three. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect. But first we gotta sneak outta here first without the kids, or Lee, noticing.”

“That’s second. First, I gotta kiss you again.”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @poppunksnowwhite

[jiunngs]

GO BIG OR GO HOME ✶ PARK SUNGHOON

ft. male!reader x park sunghoon. warnings: nothing except for swearing?? just sunghoon being an absolute disaster LOL. wc 1.8k

desc ★ after his numerous failed attempts at confessing, sunghoon finally (albeit reluctantly) turns to his friends for help.

it was only after they had all sat down, crammed into a booth at the local café, that sunghoon revealed the reason he'd asked them all for a get-together (or an 'emergency meeting,' as he'd called it over text).

"i need help."

three pairs of eyes stared back at him, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. when he didn't, sunoo made the move for him, gesturing with one hand as he swirled his drink — a milky, foamy concoction with what looked like a whole bottle of caramel drizzled all over the top of it — in the other.

"with..?"

taking a deep breath, he spat the whole sentence out in one go and hoped they heard it first try, seeing as he didn't know if he could muster through the embarrassment of repeating it. "confessing to (y/n)."

the whole table (read: sunoo and jake) erupted into groans, while heeseung only gave him a look that wasn't quite pity, but wasn't far off it either.

pulling at the strands of his red hair, sunoo was the first to complain. "you're still not over that? it's been, like, two years!"

he felt the urge to correct him, and did. "a year and a half, actually. and three weeks. and 6 days."

when he felt eyes on him again, this time in a considerably more judgemental way, he pushed on. "but i didn't call you guys here to judge me! i want advice! nothing i've done's worked!"

they seemed to lay off on the digs after that, and then the suggestions started to pour in.

"you could write him a song!" came jake's excited suggestion, paired with his usual sunny smile.

"ask him out for dinner?" was heeseung's more sensible suggestion, the eldest of the four leaning back into the plush material behind him.

"rent a plane banner! or spell it out in sand on the beach at sunset or something!" the youngest seemed proud of his suggestions and, when faced with incredulous looks from all around, jumped to defend them with an affronted expression on his face. "what? i'd be all over it if it was for me."

"it isn't for you, though." sunghoon whined, slumping back into his head-in-hands position. "this is never gonna work!"

"have you tried just.. telling him outright?" the oldest asked, head tilted and encouraging smile on his face.

sunghoon nodded so hard his head almost started to hurt from his position lying half over the table. "loads of times! but he just brushes it off!"

jake piped up then, making a noise through his drink and then swallowing it to articulate his thoughts. "brushed them off? (y/n) doesn't seem like the type of guy to do that. how'd they go?"

sunoo nodded in agreement to the former's question, poking around his cup with the straw idly. "if you tell us how they went, it'd probably be easier to figure out what's going wrong."

sighing and slowly pushing himself upright, the brunette chewed on his lip as he thought back to all the confessions he'd given the (h/c) — and, really, there were so many instances he didn't understand how he hadn't gotten it by now.

"well, the first time.."

일

the first was a few months ago, a quiet night at home. the two in question were relaxing in the quiet, (y/n) scrolling through his phone and sunghoon staring blankly at his lap while trying to figure out how to finally come clean about his feelings.

he had just about managed to build up the courage to simply blurt it out and make a run for it, and looked up with determination.

"(y/n), i like yo-"

"sunghoonie! me and (celebrity name) share a birthday!"

silence stretched on between them, the (h/c)'s phone still halfway in the process of being shoved closer to sunghoon's face so the brunette could see which famous face shared a birthday with him. in a (futile) attempt to regain some of his dignity, sunghoon stood from the sofa as gracefully as he could, and then made a dash for his bedroom, covering his ears so he could try and block out the calls of "sunghoon? did you say something?" from the confused (y/n) still on the sofa.

이

the second was a good while after that, the brunette taking the failure of his first try as a sign it wasn't going to go any better if he tried anytime soon. so he waited for another quiet night, one where they were playing video games together (or rather, (y/n) was playing and sunghoon was cheering from the sidelines, having given up half an hour ago after suffering one too many losses than his pride could handle).

"i think i really like you."

onscreen, the commentator yelled "goal!" as the (h/c)'s chosen player scored, but instead of celebrating he turned to look at sunghoon with an utterly bewildered look in his eyes. he was already out of the room by the time (y/n) had gathered his thoughts enough to respond.

삼

the third and final.. was the one that confused him the most. it was the most straightforward he'd ever been, and yet the (h/c) had breezed right past it.

"i love you."

(y/n) stared at him, hair still wet from his shower and sweatpants slung low on his hips, used towel tossed over one shoulder. he stared blankly at sunghoon for a few moments more, then lifted a hand to stifle a wide yawn. he rubbed at his eye absentmindedly and then walked straight past him, idly patting his brown locks as he did so.

"that's nice. takeout tonight?"

he was only left to stand and stare, the question gone completely unheard after the shock of the reaction hit him fully; mouth hung open and eyes wide. faintly he could register the sound of the older pattering around the kitchen in search of the menu from the fast-food place they frequented, but he made no move to join him. his only thoughts were a constant stream of 'what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck' playing over and over, as he desperately made an effort to figure out what had just happened.

sunghoon decided to put the whole confessing shtick on hold indefinitely after that. it was clearly time he asked for help in that department.

"i've figured out the issue." was the first thing sunoo came out with, when he'd finally finished pouring his heart out to his best friends. "your timing is fucking awful."

sunghoon, who had leaned forward in anticipation to find out what was making all of his valiant (in his opinion) attempts go wrong, threw himself back into his chair and glared at the redhead before turning to the other two present for solace — only to find none.

jake wasn't trying to hide his laughter in the slightest, doubled over with a hand over his mouth. heeseung had the grace to not burst into a relentless fit of mirth at his sob story, but the look from earlier had returned and it was now most definitely one of pity, like one you would give to a wet puppy left out on the street.

despite all the odds seeming to be stacked against him, the brunette tried to defend himself, a weak "they weren't that bad!" sending the three into silence momentarily, before it all started up again.

jaeyun, who had just recovered, cracked up all over again, shoulders shaking as he tried to speak through his giggles.

"t-they were that bad! imagine- imagine someone confessing to you after you've just won a fucking game of fifa!"

he was practically in tears by this point, and there were more than a few looks from the people sitting at other tables because of the noise. sunghoon, at his last resort, turned to heeseung — hoping he'd at least stand up for him in the faces of jake and sunoo.

unfortunately, he only smiled and shrugged, patting the second-youngest on the head. "sorry, hoonie, but i think i'd take someone telling me they love me over dinner rather than when i'm fresh out the shower."

huffing to himself, sunghoon tried to find the words to express what he was feeling at that moment, and simply gestured in short frantic movements when he couldn't find them. "well— help me, then!"

a pause, in which he peered up at his three closest friends with the most innocent look he could manage, and then uttered a small plead of "..please?" afterwards.

sunoo finished his drink in one long mouthful and slammed the cup back down on the table, brushing his bangs out of his eyes and sitting up straighter in his seat.

"well, i guess we could help you out a little. if we really have to."

jake nodded, albeit looking reluctant to do so, and heeseung stifled a laugh before rightening his own posture and painting a serious look on his face.

"of course. first things first, lets sort out your timing issues.."

사 .

"(y/n)."

sunghoon took a deep breath, steadying himself. this was the perfect timing, he was absolutely sure of it this time. he'd asked the (h/c) out for a late-night walk, and they'd ended up on a bridge under the stars, nothing but the sound of the odd car driving past or faint laughter from drunk college students to disturb them. the brunette hoped nobody would walk past, or if they needed to would at least have the decency to wait until he'd properly gone through with his confession (which would be "straight out of a drama," as sunoo had so excitedly put it).

"i've said this three times now, but i think i could've timed them better. i.. i think i really like you. really really like you. love you, probably. you make me feel all.. weird. and shaky. but in a good way! and if this isn't the right time either then i'm sorry, but you should really blame sunoo, because this was all his id-"

(y/n) caught him off guard with a wide smile, the expression lighting up his face as he stepped forward; right into sunghoon's space. he took his hands from the pockets of his fleece to cup the brunette's cheeks and laughed softly, breath ghosting over the younger's skin.

"finally. i've been waiting for you to get it right."

then he pushed forward just a little more, and then they were kissing. (y/n). kissing sunghoon. on the lips, without a care in the world. he was surprised his knees didn't give out from under him, and he thanked the heavens above that he had enough common sense to pull himself together and kiss back, despite the fact he didn't really know what he was doing. he only knew that it felt really, really nice. perhaps sunoo was right, this was his drama moment.

"hey, what the hell? pda, man!"

or perhaps, maybe not.

✿ HELP i think enha was kind of. a jump. a misjudged one maybe. idk. i'll see how it goes?? if i get yelled at because this is so not-sunghoon then.. i was hacked and the demons made me do it (REAL!!!!!!)

[laurenairay]

All I’ve Tried to Hide - A. Svechnikov

This is my entry for the winter fic exchange 2k23, run by the wonderful @antoineroussel​.

I received @hoesforthecanes​ as a giftee, so I really hope you enjoy this Anna!

I had a lot of fun incorporating the ‘forbidden love’ trope that you had a preference for, and with writing a full fic for Andrei Svechnikov for the first time! I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 🥰 definitely finished this quicker than I expected, but I was so inspired, so here we go!

All photos in the header banner are not mine; found across pinterest. Title from Dirty Little Secret, by All American Rejects.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: light angst, implied sexual moments, a little fluff

Summary: Hooking up with Andrei Svechnikov was all fun and games, as long as your brother didn’t find out…

We can’t choose who we fall in love with.

That’s what you told yourself, over and over again, every time you saw him. Every time you felt his molten gaze brushing over your body. Every time his smirk sent shivers down your spine. Every time he walked across the bar to you with that intense stare, your body filling with eager anticipation.

Because no-one knew.

That’s right, no-one knew that you and Andrei Svechnikov had been sleeping together for nearly six months now – and that’s the way it needed to stay. Why? Because your brother hated the idea of you being with an athlete. A few horrifically failed relationships in high school and college, all with athletes of various kinds, had left you broken in pieces on your older brother’s doorstep every single time, and now that you’d wound up living with him after your last failed relationship – as well as working in his bar – you were dependent on his charity. So if he said no more athletes, then it was no more athletes…at least until you could get on your own two feet again.

What? You had a type, as much as it shamed you – and Andrei fit your type to a tee.

You could remember the first time you saw him. A big loud group of bigger louder guys had filled your brother’s bar, instantly attracting attention from most the patrons, and as a few of them pushed a couple of tables together, he had walked up to the bar where you were working. You could remember the soft smile on his lips as he leant over the bar top to place his order, the gentle rumble of his lilting accent intriguing you, and you knew the moment that he set up a limitless tab with a confident wink that you were in trouble. It had only taken a couple more visits before he was slipping through the staff door, the two of you connecting in a heated make-out in a secluded corner of the storage room out back, his lips, tongue, and hands sending you wild like no-one ever had before.

And it continued, over and over again, escalating to the two of you hooking up at Andrei’s place whenever he was in town, somehow managing to avoid your brother’s judgement, keeping your risqué relationship away from the bar and under wraps.

Everything had been perfect, until the passing of your birthday last week. Andrei had been on a roadtrip on the day itself, and you’d only just about managed to convince him not to send you a bouquet of flowers to the bar (which was out of character in itself), but now that he was back he’d insisted on celebrating properly with you, so you’d come over to his place for the evening. He’d hired a private chef to cook the most amazing three course meal, the two of you sipping on the most delicious wine you’d ever tasted throughout, and as soon as the chef left, he’d whisked you off to his bedroom, bringing you to dizzying heights over and over again, until you were wailing his name out for the entire city to hear.

It was only when he presented you with a diamond necklace, your skin still gleaming and your breathing still ragged, that you realised you weren’t just falling in love with him – you had fallen, head over heels, hook line and sinker. And you also realised that you needed to end things now, before you fell in too deep to recover.

“Andrei, what is this?”

“Your birthday gift?” he said, frowning softly in confusion, “Is it too much? Do you not like it?”

“It’s beautiful…but it isn’t what we do?” you said, wincing.

His frown sunk into a deeper confused expression, so you sat upright, clutching the bedsheets to your bare chest.

“We just – this is just hooking up, Andrei. You shouldn’t be buying me expensive gifts like this. Even hiring a chef to cook for us feels crazy,” you said softly, hating the words as they spilled from your lips.

You watched as his face shuttered, his broad shoulders drawing in on himself, hating yourself for making such a big guy look so small. What was wrong with you? Why were you doing this to him when it felt so wrong? But then he seemed to steel himself, posture straightening and broad chest filling out once more – and he looked you dead in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“You are saying this because of your brother?”

His blunt statement made you wince – it was hardly a secret how your brother felt – the anger in his words feeling like a sharp stab, mostly because he was right.

“Andrei, I-”

“I don’t want to keep lying,” he said, interrupting, “lying to myself, to you, to the world. I don’t care that your brother doesn’t want you with an athlete. I know you like me and I like you, and I want you to be mine without all the stupid lying. Why can’t you understand that?”

His words rushed through your body like burning fire, his accent getting thicker as he spoke, showing you exactly how genuine his passion was. But it didn’t change that fact that nothing could change. Even though he was confessing everything you were desperate to hear, matching your own feelings for him, because it was also everything you were trying to repress for your own good.

“It isn’t that easy,” you murmured, averting your eyes.

“So, what, I will be your dirty little secret forever? And you will do whatever your brother says, forever?”

“My brother is just trying to protect me because he loves me,” you shot back, glaring over at him.

Because this wasn’t about you being ashamed of him, or that your brother was a cruel person. You’d just messed up your love life one too many times for your brother to not want to be involved. It wasn’t that complicated.

“He loves you? Great! Well I love you too!”

Even with the anger that Andrei snapped those words at you, your whole body froze, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. And when Andrei realised what he said, he froze too, eyes wide as well as although his were wide in fear rather than in shock, as if he’d let slip something he never intended on saying.

“I didn’t…I mean, I-”

“You love me?” you managed to ask, voice soft in disbelief.

Andrei sighed but nodded, face crumpling in defeat, hanging his head to avoid looking at you.

“Andrei, I…”

You trailed off, running a hand through your unkempt hair, head swirling at his admission as all the fight drained from your body. Because how were you supposed to process this? This was everything you’d been trying to avoid, on every single level. This relationship you had with Andrei was just supposed to be a fun, fiery fling, free from any strings or expectations. And now he’d admitted his love for you, in the moment that you’d realised exactly how deep your love for him was?

What was any sane person supposed to do here?

The soft touch of Andrei’s hand resting on top of yours broke you out of your inner turmoil, and you looked over at him to see the saddest smile on his face, so unnatural in comparison to his usual happy expressions.

“I understand if you do not love me. I am sorry for putting pressure on you like that,” he said softly, smile weak, “we can pretend I didn’t say anything.”

What?

“And you’d just be happy to go back to how things were before, even with both of us knowing that it isn’t enough for you?” you asked, a little incredulous.

“If the other option is losing you entirely, then I can’t do that. I would rather have the smallest part of you, than nothing at all,” he shrugged, sad smile now reflecting the self-deprecation clearly fuelling his actions.

No, no this wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fair, not to him…and not to you. Here was a guy putting his heart and feelings on the line, believing that you were going to reject him anyway because of a few stupid mistakes you’d made in your past? A guy that treated you like no-one ever had before, brought you crashing waves of pleasure like no-one ever had before, and who cared for you like no-one ever had before? And who you cared for more than you ever had for anyone else? You were going to give up that chance of happiness, all because of a few worthless guys?

No, no way.

“I don’t want to go back to how things were before,” you said softly.

Hurt immediately flashed across his face before he quickly composed himself. “Right, okay. I’m sorry.”

It took you a few moments to realise what he meant, but when you finally did, you promptly shook your head.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I…”

You drew your bottom lip into your mouth as you struggled to choose the right words to say, Andrei just watching you with a hesitant expression that ever-so-slowly filled with confidence.

“You don’t want to be just a hook up?” he asked hopefully.

You shook your head, staying silent.

“You maybe want to be more?” he prompted again, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You bit your bottom lip before releasing it from your mouth, nodding shyly, earning a broad grin from the man sitting next to you.

“I need to hear you say it. Please, say it,” he pleaded softly, brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Inhaling shakily, you nodded again, looking down at your lap briefly to compose yourself before looking back at him, the hope in his eyes not having faded at all.

“I don’t know how we’re going to make it work. I don’t know how I’m going to convince my brother that this is going to work, that I’m not making another mistake. But I want to try, with you,” you said softly.

Once the words were past your lips, it felt like your blood was surging, the emotions of your confession all but overwhelming you, the hand that Andrei placed on your sheet-covered thigh the only thing that anchored you.

“You won’t regret this, I promise. I’m going to make you so happy, solnyshko,” Andrei said happily, the wide smile on his face sending butterflies soaring in your stomach.

Of that you had no doubt. No matter what happened, however your brother reacted, you knew in your heart that Andrei would be by your side, and that was enough to give you hope. His broad smile turned a little shy all of a sudden, piquing your interest as he rummaged in the sheets, clearly looking for something. And then your breath hitched in your throat as he drew out the box from earlier, delicately holding that beautiful diamond necklace.

“So if you’re mine and I’m yours, will you wear this?” he asked.

What a rush it was to hear those words.

“Right now?” you asked, confused.

He smiled sweetly, nodding, so you just nodded in return. Andrei smiled even wider, taking the necklace out of its box and unclasping it, leaning intimately closer to you as he fastened it around your neck. The cool stones sent a shiver across your heated skin, a different shiver zapping down your spine as Andrei’s finger lightly traced the edge of it, trailing across your collarbone to finish.

Unfair.

“How does it look?” you breathed.

You dropped the sheet you’d been holding to your chest the whole time you’d been sitting upright, revealing your bare body to him once more, the diamonds around your neck the only item you now wore. Andrei’s eyes darkened slightly, making your heart beat that little bit faster with the promise they held.

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he murmured.

When that familiar smirk crept across his lips, finally, you knew you were done for. He slowly crawled over to you, gently lowering your body back to the bed as he covered you with his own broad torso, eyes and hands and lips trailing over you in a tease that sent your blood swirling, and it was all you could do to lose yourself in his embrace.

No more secrets. No more hiding. Andrei Svechnikov was yours, and now the world was going to know.

[ink-flavored]

Heaven and Angels

BTS Series: ⬅ Table of Contents - Hell and Demons➡ Also available on Neocities! P&J Taglist (Check out my Google form to get added): @elegant-paper-collection @auroblaze@zeenimf @vacantgodling @foxys-fantasy-tales Banner art by @auroblaze

For any story that contains magic, it’s important to have a good idea of how it works and what its limitations are, even if the mechanics of the magic are never explored in the story. I like to have a full idea of what magic can and cannot do in my work, so that it doesn’t feel like a cheap cop-out.

In Pride & Justice, both angels and demons have similar but conflicting magic powers. In this post, I’ll be discussing the angels, and how Heaven functions!

The Structure of Heaven

The Kingdom of Heaven is not a castle in the clouds. It’s not a castle at all, nor any sort of physical place someone might be able to reach. Heaven is one patch in a marvelous quilt of creation, stitched by the One and Only God. Like that same quilt folded into halves, Heaven rests over Earth, a dimension far beyond the stretch of outer space.

Humans, once called back to God after their deaths, can never return to Earth, merely able to peek over the edge and glimpse the world they left. Intentionally so—they were never meant to grasp the power that Heaven might grant, built for Earth and Earth alone. Angels, however, are created in Heaven and able to make use of their higher position, They can slip easily through the gaps in the stitching, hopping from one quilt-square to another. Most of the time, however, angels are working in Heaven, carrying out tasks they’re given by the Almighty to keep Heaven running.

Where the humans stay and where the angels work are separate. Paradise is a walled garden—while there may not be a castle, the gates are decidedly real. Those worthy of Heaven are escorted to the innermost sanctum of Heaven to begin their eternal rest, and on the way, they might pass thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of God’s soldiers. Angels defend Heaven tirelessly, ensuring that worthy souls can enjoy their well-earned peace.

And, as always, preparing for Judgement Day with a hand on their swords.

Angels

The soldiers and servants of God, created by Him to serve the interests of Heaven. They are made to be righteous, born with all capacity for good, compelled to aid humanity, and serve God wherever they go. They operate on a strict hierarchy, like any army should, and prioritize following orders to the letter.

After all, what could be more righteous than carrying out God’s Word?

Nameless

When angels are born, they have no names, nor a solid form. The flaming wheels, hundreds of eyes, dozens of wings, animal heads, and so on are a manifestation of their raw power, beautiful in its own way, but unfocused. Instead of being given a domain to watch over explicitly, God gives them a hidden purpose, a virtue to follow, and the free will to discover it for themselves.

The Nameless angels might take centuries to discover what they were made for. In that time they study under their fellow angels, contemplate God’s Word, and get sent to Earth to work miracles and observe humanity outside of paradise.

Once the Nameless discover the purpose God gave them, they are celebrated, named, and become Realized.

Realized

A Realized angel is one who has embodied their virtue so completely that it reshapes them. This can be any virtue in God’s Kingdom—there are angels of honesty, passion, charity, justice, faith, and so on. Each of the Realized are named for their given virtue and are permitted to choose a secondary form: a form resembling humanity, built in God’s own image.

Angels can choose the ins and outs of their new forms, down to the very minuscule details. Some even choose to keep some of their Nameless features—multiple heads, sets of wings, limbs, and so on. Importantly, though, once an angel has chosen their Realized form, their state is permanent. Realizing the purpose God created them for can only happen once, obviously, and the resulting change is a blessing. Not to be questioned or challenged. In times of great need, they can revert to their Nameless forms for a less concentrated but extremely powerful blast of holy energy.

Once Realized, angels are given more concrete tasks to perform around Heaven. Many are still sent to Earth, and studying under God and each other is an eternal practice, but now they can be equipped as the soldiers they were born to be.

Virtues like justice, diligence, and fortitude join the ranks as Heaven’s army. For organization, honesty, prudence, and temperance maintain the structure of Heaven and keep God’s Word at the forefront. The gentler virtues, like kindness, charity, hope, and faith remain steadfast protectors of humanity and help keep the hardened soldiers in check. The remainder—virtues like patience, humility, love, and passion—are the main force that fly down to Earth to bless humanity, though they play a role in Heaven too. Even their fellow angels need occasional reminders of what they’re fighting for.

Archangels

If all of Heaven is an army, the Archangels are its generals, bringing orders from God down to the ordinary rank-and-file. They rarely go to Earth, and even their fellow angels don’t see much of them. They’re hardly seen outside the few moments when orders are delivered, only carrying out the highest caliber of tasks themselves. All of them sit very close to the Throne of God, a place no other angel is permitted to tread… anymore.

Lately, the orders from the archangels, supposedly the Word of God Himself, have grown erratic and contradicting. Some might even call them paranoid, trying to fix problems that don’t exist, or that would cause a great deal more of them. Since the change, the Archangels have ordered on God’s behalf to tighten ranks, monitor the gates, scrutinize every last soul seeking refuge in the Kingdom of Heaven. Having no choice, the Kingdom of Heaven agreed.

Things are tense among the ordinary angels. God hasn’t been seen outside His throne room for centuries. The Archangels don’t seem to understand the orders they’re giving either. To quell the confusion, they insist that everyone trust in God’s Word and carry out His mission. When the Day of Judgement comes, they’ll all be thankful they did.

Power

In Heaven, an angel’s power is negligible. They serve God, they live eternally, they protect Heaven, but they’re only as powerful as each other. The laws of their realm are not easily persuaded by any but God Himself. It’s when they travel to Earth that their power becomes awesome indeed, able to bend and warp reality almost by mistake.

An angel at their full capacity for power will be able to perform miracles, grant blessings, and heal any wound they touch, but it’s unsustainable to all but the most powerful archangels to remain at their full capacity for long. Without a regular connection to Heaven—the dimension that is the source of their power—an angel’s abilities will begin to wane and become less potent. Eventually, their inherent gifts might drain so far that they become stuck on Earth, trapped as a human with no way to return.

Most rank-and-file angels visiting Earth for short periods use almost all their power in one burst to perform a single miracle, and then immediately retreat to avoid this fate. As all angels can feel the emotional and physical pain of the humans nearest to them, with a very wide range, this makes it easy to find places where miracles are needed. This is especially true of the Nameless, who find it difficult to maintain a presence on Earth for very long anyway. Once Realized, they’re able to focus their miracles to the pain that would best be served by their virtue, aiding humanity in more specific ways.

A minority of Realized angels wander with their powers hidden from the world around them, existing as perfectly average humans until they find an opportunity that suits them best. This is something taken up by angels that have existed for centuries upon centuries, who know their limits well, and have spent time among humans in paradise and on Earth enough to know how to blend in. Although, blending in isn’t always necessary.

When an angel spreads their wings on Earth, usually in preparation to use their power, humans stop seeing them. A being that exists between planes of existence is incalculable for the human brain to process, so their vision is simply edited not to see them. The only ones that perceive the angel are the ones that the angel directs their power to. Once the angel is gone, however, the memory is quickly edited again. Some are left wondering if what they saw was real, some forget it entirely. Either way, a miracle occurs.

So! That was the world-building I have set up so far. What do you think? I hope I got across the domino cascade that leads to the story, and why it starts as soon as Justice breaks the rules—or at least part of it. Because next time, we’re talking about Hell!

Thanks for your generous support, as always!

— Annika

[artsyriv]

TAZ NC Day 6- Problem

This is a silly, lighthearted piece for @taznovembercelebration about having to find Lucretia a birthday present. It's Stolen Century era and I hope you enjoy!

Magnus woke up to Merle staring at him inches from his face. 

"We have a problem." Merle stated simply. Magnus nearly slapped the cleric across the room but managed to temper his reflexes in time. 

"And what would that be?" Magnus asked once he had caught his breath. 

"Lucretia's birthday is tomorrow." The dwarf explained. "We haven't gotten Lucretia a gift!"

"So?" Magnus wrestled on a shirt. "We rarely get each other gifts anymore. The-" He gestured broadly around him, "-everything is enough to focus on."

A knock at the door quickly led to Taako joining the other two in the already crowded room. "Guys, it's Lucretia's 69th birthday tomorrow."

Magnus sighed and rubbed his forehead but he was still smiling. "All of this is because of the funny sex number?"

"The funny sex number that our friend is turning, yes." 

"Pan Almighty. Fine. Let's find a suitable gift for Lucretia then." Magnus pulled on his armor and they were off. 

This world had a thriving marketplace where it seemed like anything was stocked. Over the course of this year, they had stocked up on rice and coffee, Merle's weird mushroom tea, and various other sundries. The only problem was navigating the market. 

Magnus, for all his hesitance earlier was running from stall to stall, examining anything that seemed remotely interesting or shiny. Merle was taking his time, meandering behind Magnus and chatting with the people they met. Taako was about ready to put the two of them on kid leashes just to keep track of them. 

Taako wasn't super close to Lucretia. Like, don't get him wrong, he cared about her as a crewmate and a friend, but it is more difficult to be friends with someone who doesn't seem to want to talk. He understood her, could read her almost better than Barold, but that didn't mean they were the closest on the crew. 

Magnus on the other hand, was ready to give the world to Lucretia. As the two youngest of the crew, they had bonded over various things that were frankly out of the demographic of the remaining crew. Stuff like books and trading cards were passed between the two of them frequently, so Taako trusted Magnus' judgement on this matter the best out of anyone. 

And Merle? Well, Merle appeared to be trying to seduce a houseplant, so Taako wasn't letting him decide by any means.

But since it was such a big event, Taako decided he should probably try and find something too. Besides the card that he and Lup had made anyways (it was his greatest creation in his mind). 

In the end, it took the whole afternoon to settle upon gifts, and in Taako's case, haggle into a lower price, but they emerged victorious. 

"Happy Birthday!" The entirety of the crew had been waiting for Lucretia to come to dinner, and as predicted, she was just a couple minutes late. Lucretia's hands flew to her mouth and then she smiled. 

"Why does the banner say 'Birfday'?" 

"They spell it weird here." Lup explained, grinning. She handed Lucretia the accompanying card and Lucretia laughed. The card said "Happy Graduation" with an ellipse put in by the twins alongside the handwritten note of "To age 69!"

Taako had made Lucretia's favorite pasta dish, and Lup had prepared dessert. Lucretia opened present after present until it was just the Tres Horny Bois left. 

Merle handed Lucretia a plant-shaped wrapped present. Even the leaves were wrapped. Lucretia unwrapped it carefully, and smiled at the pink princess philodendron. "It's beautiful, Merle."

Magnus went next, handing Lucretia a small box. She opened it and made a small "oh" of appreciation. Inside was a small travel watercolor set. "Thank you, Magnus."

Taako went last and resisted the urge to just shove the present towards her, presenting it instead with a flourish. The wrapping was neat, natch, and Lucretia let out a gasp. Inside was a beautiful blue journal with gold trim. It was perfect for her, but of course it was, Taako had picked it. She looked up at him and took his hand. "Thank you, Taako."

Taako's mask slipped slightly and he smiled, squeezing her hand gently. "Of course. That's what family is for, right?"

[blue-corvid]

Tumblr Live Hot(?) Takes

The thing that really kills me about Tumblr Live is honestly that it could have been fine -- useful even!

I already follow streamers on Tumblr! I follow artists, comedians, video game let's-players, tabletop gaming nerds, all of whom stream somewhere that isn't Tumblr! If I could watch them stream on Tumblr, I would absolutely do that!

But Tumblr. My beloved. You fucked it up so bad. You immediately made it as sketchy and annoying as possible, and now... by the point that “everybody hates it” is the thing most people know about it, i can’t imagine it would be easy to save.

So this is my open letter to Tumblr (I don't know who to direct it at -- @staff? I hope that's okay) -- here’s where I think you went wrong, and how you could fix it (if it is, in fact, fixable.)

Tumblr Live appeared silently with no warning.

When it first showed up, the only thing I heard about it was “what the fuck is this?” I Googled it and found basically nothing, and then when I looked it up in Tumblr’s support pages, it wasn’t super clear what Tumblr Live was or what it was for. Streaming platform was only my best guess.

Most of the article was about how you could make money off it. Tumblr, I can’t make money off of it if I don’t know what it is, how to use it, or how to explain it to anyone.

This isn't the case anymore, but it was a serious problem early on.

(Seemingly) no effort to make it look appealing or useful.

It looks and acts like an ad. It’s positioned like an ad at the top of the dashboard. Like an ad, it doesn’t have any connection to what I do or care about on Tumblr.

It looks to be a bunch of still shots from the live chats that it’s promoting and this is just such an unbelievably bad idea.

See, here's the thing: Tumblr has a running problem with porn bots, most of which can be quickly identified by their avatars, which are almost always (stolen) pictures of attractive women, often in revealing clothing.

Guess what every single image I can see on the Tumblr Live ad banner is? Did you guess pictures of attractive women, often in revealing clothing? See the problem? Regardless of my feelings on or desire to interact with cam girls (which are, for the record: I’m not interested personally but I wish you good vibes and good luck and respectful clients), my gut reaction upon seeing the Tumblr Live banner is, “That looks like a bunch of porn bots.”

When you add this to how hard it was to find information about Tumblr Live, how poorly its terms of service were explained, and the state of the internet right now (with every social media site gunning to get its teeth into its uses' throats to vampire as much sensitive personal data from them as possible), Tumblr Live looks dangerous.

When Tumblr users got annoyed with it, there was (seemingly) no effort to fix any of the problems.

Instead of explaining clearly what Live is and how it works and making it inherently less intrusive, Tumblr made excuses about how they had to try to make it profitable and doubled down on making it as annoying as possible with its stupid “snooze” feature.

Every time this stupid porn-bot-looking ad banner popped up on someone’s dash after a week of being lulled into a false sense of security, they hated it a little more.

Tumblr basically hand-crafted a sitewide campaign to yell about how bad this feature is once a week.

How could it have been better?

It’s all well and good to sit here and pass judgement, but was it not just doomed from the start? Could Tumblr really have done any better?

Yes. Absolutely yes.

Here’s how you fix Tumblr Live:

Get rid of the ad-banner-style preview placement.

Instead, mimic what people are doing for their Twitch streams already. Send out a notification on my dashboard when a blog I follow goes live. Respect the rules for normal Tumblr posts when it comes to visibility: let people blaze and reblog them and don’t push them out to people who wouldn’t normally see posts from that blog except according to users’ dashboard preferences.

For persistent notifications (since streams aren’t one-and-done like posts), put a list of blogs I follow that are currently live in the sidebar.

Because these features are no longer intrusive, you no longer need an option in the settings to toggle them off, and people who initially wrote off Live can explore it if it ever becomes valuable to them instead of making it disappear forever.

Get the stream previews off users' screens as soon as humanly possible.

Tumblr has a porn bot problem. Because people's (especially women's and especially cam girls') pictures get scraped for porn bot avatars, Tumblr users are gonna associate pictures of real live non-celebrity people (especially women) with internet scams. Forget this "keep it clean" shit -- whether it looks "clean" matters less than whether it looks like someone wants to steal my credit card information. (And on the other side of that, please understand that sex worker positivity doesn't help sex workers if a feature they use gets shut down because your average Tumblr user thinks it looks so sketchy that they won't touch it with a ten-foot pole.)

Replace the stream preview with the streamer's avatar and the stream title and/or a streamer-selected cover image.

Get help from actual streamers.

Go find Tumblr users who regularly make posts announcing Twitch streams and introduce them to Tumblr Live. For people who already use Tumblr, already stream stuff, and already use Tumblr to tell their audience that they're streaming, having a streaming platform attached to Tumblr could be a real convenience. If you have premium streaming features, find some popular streamers who use Tumblr and give them free access to those features for a while. Even better, maybe ask them for feedback on those features.

Most importantly, get people who stream a variety of different things. Even if Tumblr users don't hate Tumblr Live, if they're under the impression that it's only for one thing and that one thing is something they're not into, they're never gonna use it.

...That's it, that's all I've got. I know this post is a monster, but if anyone reads it: thanks. Good luck in to all in this new era of Tumblr.

[ashesandhackles]

Tension

Written for @harrypocter Winter Sun fest Week 4 prompt: Cho Chang Summary: Cho meets Ginny Weasley, two years after the Battle of Hogwarts at an unusual place.

The Leaky Cauldron was unrecognisable, decked with Holyhead Harpies banners. The plain wooden tables were draped in velvet green tablecloths fringed with golden tassels.  The players were still in their Quidditch uniforms, thronged by supporters and admirers. 

Cho steeled herself to battle through the throng to get her drinks. Her work at St. Mungos had been dissatisfying of late, and she wanted to drink the edge off her anxiety. She took a deep breath and approached the crowd, when she felt an arm fall around her shoulders.

“Cho!” Gwenog Jones boomed. “So glad you could make it!”

“Free drinks?” Cho grinned up at her. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“Uh oh, bad time at work?” Gwenog asked.

“Well, you lot haven’t been visiting,” Cho pouted. 

“We’re injury-free at the moment,” Gwenog nodded. “All thanks to you. Maybe you should just be a Quidditch player instead.”

“If the Tutshill Tornadoes have a spot, I will consider it.”

“Traitor,” Gwenog accused. “Ginny was loyal to the Cannons too, but she saw sense.”

“She was loyal to the Cannons?” Cho raised her eyebrows.

“I can feel your judgement, Chang,” Ginny’s dry voice came from behind her. 

Cho turned around to find herself face to face with Ginny Weasley. It had been two years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the last time she saw the girl was at the castle - running past her, throwing jinxes, grieving among the rubble. She was then immortalised on the tabloids as her ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend and later on, as the new Chaser for Holyhead Harpies. 

Cho smiled. “Well, you can’t blame me - it’s the Chudley Cannons.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I only supported them because I wanted my brother to think I was cool.”

“Did it work?” Gwenog raised an eyebrow.

 “I don’t know. He kept ditching me, so I betrayed his team,” Ginny shrugged, and then winced. 

“Is there a problem?” Cho asked, concerned.

“Oh it’s her throwing arm,” Gwenog told her before Ginny could answer. “She has been having trouble with it lately. Nothing a good rest after the seaso-”

“Gwen!” Ginny hissed, her face reddening. “I’m fine!”

“It’s just Cho,” Gwenog said, completely unbothered. “It’s what she does. Maybe she can have a look at your arm.”

Both the girls gaped at Gwenog, who took a swig from her drink.  She wiped her mouth and continued, “I personally think it’s just the toll of the season, and her throwing arm is overused. I’ve told her to train her left for Chasing- but she's a stubborn one.”

Ginny’s face was so red that it matched her hair. Cho was under the impression that Ginny would have fought if it wasn’t a captain of the team she just became a part of. 

“Do you mind if I take a look at it?” Cho asked gently. 

Ginny looked thrown. “I’m fine!” she insisted. 

“Let Cho take a look or you start training your left arm for the rest of the season,” Gwenog said. 

Ginny growled. “This is supposed to be a party!”

“I’ll get us drinks,” Cho said, as a peace offering. Cho sidled away, letting the tension roll between Ginny and her captain. 

When she handed Ginny a bottle of Butterbeer after ten minutes of struggle at the counter, she noticed Ginny looked sheepish.  Gwenog had long been swallowed by a crowd of admirers and was signing autographs at a table.

They clinked their bottles together, and Ginny sighed after a sip, “Would you mind taking a look at my arm?”

“Of course.” Cho placed the bottle on the table beside them, and wrapped her fingers around Ginny’s elbow.  Her fingers ran up Ginny’s forearm, to her fingers, and then she shook Ginny’s arm. Ginny drew a sharp breath. 

“There is no injury - not yet,” Cho looked at her, her eyes searching Ginny’s face. “But a lot of tension is being held here - it’s your throwing arm, so that’s to be expected, but you need to take care of it a lot more. Do you stretch after each match?”

“I do,” Ginny said. 

“Alright,” Cho tilted her head. “Maybe it’s stress then. Or something else you are holding onto.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked quietly.

“It means that something is bothering you - and because you are bottling up whatever it is, it is showing up in your body,” Cho said softly. She picked up her bottle, and looked ahead, away from Ginny. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cho ventured into the long silence that followed. 

“Not really,” Ginny sighed. “The person I really want to talk to is working himself to death.”

Cho smiled sympathetically. “Off saving the world? Tailing another Death Eater?”

Ginny gave a sad laugh. “Something like that.”

They drank in silence. As they placed their empty bottles on the bar counter, Ginny asked, “Is there anything else I can do about this?”

“I can give you a breathing pattern that can help with the muscular tension,” Cho offered.

“You are not going to ask me to talk about it?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, her voice effusive with feeling.

“But you should talk about it,” Cho said firmly.  “To your friends. To him, if you can.”

“When I get to see him,” Ginny smiled ruefully.

“You can always get by with a good cry until then,” Cho grinned. 

“Cheers to that.” Ginny handed her another Butterbeer. AO3 here.

My final drabble for the fest, and I have had so much fun coming up with stories for each character <3

[threewaysdivided]

[Banner credit: @purpleyin's WIP Wednesday Series]

For this WIP Wednesday I have realised that I am likely going to have to kill a darling from one of the later chapters about one of the darlings I have killed in Deathly Weapons.

This was one of the earliest (2016-era) future segments I drafted for DW and while the core of the idea will likely stay I am sad to see the words go, so I shall immortalize them here.

Under the cut for people who wish to completely blind-read:

They’d seen each other at their best and at their worst.  The beauty, the ugly... and somehow they’d still liked each other.  Cried and laughed, shouted, made up, played pranks, butted heads constantly, stolen each other’s homework and saved the world.  A friendship that was so much more than a friendship.  That went beyond goofing off and hanging out at the Nasty Burger - that became secrets and loyalty and trust, picking each other up, patching each other up, blood, sweat and tears and family in everything except DNA.  Just like Tucker.  But with Sam there were times when there was something more again. Times when the light would catch her hair, or she’d laugh, say something ridiculously snarky and, despite being the most proudly dark person he knew, make everything so much lighter somehow.  The way she’d turn up with some stupid, harebrained activist agenda and a scheme that would go horribly awry and cause him all kinds of headaches and frustration – ghost-related or not – and he’d promise himself that it was the absolute last time he’d ever let her talk him into this... and then she’d show up the next week with something equally crazy and he’d somehow end up agreeing again.  The way she seemed to just know when things were bad or he was getting down and would come at him and not buy any of his fake smiles or excuses and just keep going and going until he was moving too.  How she could be so judgemental and so accepting, so harsh and so gentle at the same time.  The tiny little quirks he’d never noticed until they were on the run and practically living in each other’s pockets.  That night, a few days after the incident, when she’d though he was asleep – how she’d come and sat on the edge of the bed and her hand had been on his knee and her expression had been so incredibly soft and warm and scared.  And then, of course, the way she’d blushed the second she realised he was awake and threatened to kick his hide if he didn’t wake up in time to help make breakfast.  And how he’d been too afraid to say anything because she was his best friend and what he had with her was already so amazing and if it was just him and he tried something and it pushed her away or made things angry or awkward he wouldn’t be able to stand it. 

[collymore]

The detrimental posturing of fanatical self-entitlement!

By Stanley Collymore Rationally there shouldn't be anything really to actually fear from people who in essence literally hold different opinions from one's own, quite simply as long as those opinions are discernibly rational and quite thoroughly, sensibly worked out; and obviously in no way, coercive, or just evidently superficially plausible or quite irrationally, convincing. Since the difference of such actually overtly, well informed opinions, can distinctly really bring individuality and interest naturally into our personal lives. And very significantly and intelligently so! Since several wars have undoubtedly, clearly been started as well as simply protractedly fought because basically one set of people rather arbitrarily as well as arrogantly see nothing wrong in barbarically forcing, their actually evidently self-entitled and invariably prejudicial views: simply deceitfully, and very ostensibly clearly distorted assumptions and undeniably utterly biased views, passed off as salient judgements are simply then utilized to actually, threateningly push them down the throats of others; but who decisively, and rather justifiably too, sensibly and likewise commendably also, justly and rather courageously refuse to adhere to such infuriating diktats or actually, assimilate them!

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 3 October 2024.

Author's Remarks: Crucially and highly significantly also much blame is pertinently laid at the feet of those who own, run and benefit substantially too from what's rather generally referred to as the Military Industrial Complex, and whose sole purpose is to make money through any means possible; so with them and their sort morals never come into the equation.

But just as bad and perhaps even far more evilly so are the absolutely quite discernibly intellectually challenged, clearly thoroughly gullible and invariably brainwashed and as well discernibly braindead morons who are so easily used to push the agenda of all those intimately associated with the clearly odious Military Industrial Complex .

And in Britain they're a disparate group of Empire loyalists, monarchical sycophants, failed UKIP aspirants and their discernibly Brexit equivalents and now the equally very Karen and likeminded Gammon distinctively racist, xenophobic and distinctly paedophile supporting; inebriate; quite unquestionably and characteristically too prolifically bastard producing; unmistakably discernibly, rather workshy and thus profusely, distinctively the principal beneficiaries of the dole and other social security benefits; individually as well as collective a massive dross to the positive, progressive and evidently beneficial welfare of the United Kingdom, and very predictably all under the cunningly, duplicitous banner of a wily hoodwinking, proverbial snake oil charmer, profitably for his own acquisitive purposes, reprehensibly using a personally registered company: REFORM as a political party.

[hunting-songs]

Disney Songs: PART 2! Reblog and BOLD all that apply to your muse. Feel free to change pronouns as needed ! You'll bring honor to us all / Help me not to make a fool of me / Can it be I'm not meant to play this part / If I were truly to be myself, I would break my family's heart / Why is my reflection someone I don't know? / Somehow, I cannot hide who I am… though I've tried / When will my reflection show who I am inside? / Tranquil as a forest but on fire within / You must be swift as a coursing river / With all the strength of a raging fire / Mysterious as the dark side of the moon / Heed my every order and you might survive / You're unsuited for the rage of war / A girl worth fighting for / How 'bout a girl who's got a brain, who always speaks her mind? / I have often dreamed of a far off place / A hero's welcome would be waiting for me / I will find my way if I can be strong / Though that road may wander, it will lead me to you / It might take a lifetime, but somehow I'll see it through / Zero to hero, just like that / If there's a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I've already won that / I thought my heart had learned its lesson / Get a grip, girl… unless you're dying to cry your heart out / There must be more than this provincial life / He's not whole without a soul to wait upon / There's something sweet, and almost kind / But then she's never looked at me that way before / There may be something there that wasn't there before / Barely even friends, then somebody bends unexpectedly / Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change / I was the one who had it all. I was the master of my fate / I let her steal into my melancholy heart / It's a nightmare, but it's one exciting ride / Hearts ablaze, banners high, we go marching into battle / There's more to see than can ever be seen / Everywhere you look I'm standing in the spotlight / Oh, I just can't wait to be king / you'll be rewarded when, at last, I am given my dues / Be prepared for the murkiest scam / It means no worries for the rest of your days / With all this romantic atmosphere, disaster's in the air / The world, for once, in perfect harmony / Make her see the truth about my past? Impossible / And he saw corruption everywhere except within / But, you never can run from nor hide what you've done / Who is the monster and who is the man? / The world is cruel. The world is wicked / Show them the mercy they don't find on Earth / I ask for nothing, I can get by. But, I know so man less lucky than I / This burning desire is turning me to sin / Be mine or you will burn