#so many layers to sift through

[justafriend-ql]

scene analysis - "pengyou" (never let me go, ep. 2)

i have been metaphorically living in this scene all week so i thought it was about time to write down some of my thoughts about it. this scene is absolutely foundational for palm and nuengdiao's relationship and gives us a lot of insight into their conflicting ideological standpoints. most importantly, it is the first time we see the power dynamic between them subverted, a trend we should watch out for as the two become closer.

the scene opens with palm struggling to pronounce his chinese vocabulary. he is tucked away in a somewhat private corner of the house grounds. this is a rare instance of incompetence from palm, who has many skills, and he likely doesn't want anyone to see him practicing. when nuengdiao finds him, he is at first startled and then resigned, addressing him as "young master."

nuengdiao corrects his pronunciation and comes to stand before palm. here, nuengdiao occupies the dominant position of "teacher," but the following scene, when nuengdiao brings palm's fingers to his throat, instantly breaks this power dynamic. nuengdiao is permitting palm to touch a very vulnerable part of his body, to feel his pulse as well as the vibrations of his vocal chords. the blocking of the scene, with palm crouched on higher ground looking down at nuengdiao, underscores the vulnerability nuengdiao willingly presents here.

palm's reaction to this earnestness and physical contact is interesting. he is clearly surprised and flustered, but he also holds nuengdiao's gaze. when nuengdiao tells him to "remember this feeling," palm seems to be thinking about the feeling of holding nuengdiao's life in his hands and upholding his duty to protect him. i think this is where the reality of this enormous task sets in for palm.

of course, reminders of their respective statuses are inescapable, even when nuengdiao attempts to put them on more equal footing. in the close up shot of palm's fingers on nuengdiao's neck, we can see nuengdiao's "only one" necklace (a reminder of his wealth and pre-determined future) and palm's woven bracelet (a reminder of his humble origins).

at first, nuengdiao relies on the two tactics he knows best - manipulation and command - in attempt to get palm to call him by his name. he tries to trick palm into saying his name instead of the similar-ending "pengyou," and when that doesn't work, he orders palm not to call him "young master." of note here is that these strategies, which work on everybody else in nuengdiao's life, do not work on palm.

while nuengdiao has the privilege of choosing to ignore their status difference, palm does not. nuengdiao argues (somewhat idealistically) that friends are not about time, place, or status. but this cannot be true for palm, who reminds him that he is a servant at nuengdiao's home. He also explains that his father will punish him if he does not observe traditional formalities around nuengdiao.

in contrast to their first conversation by the pool at night in episode 1, when nuengdiao insisted palm call him nuengdiao despite palm's protests, here, nuengdiao is willing to compromise. again, their physical positions reflect who has the upperhand in the argument. even though nuengdiao technically has more power than palm, in this instance, it is nuengdiao who is begging for something from palm, not the other way around. accordingly, palm sits higher than nuengdiao and is able to look down at him as they argue.

it's really important that nuengdiao relents here. it shows that he understands where palm is coming from and is willing to give him a degree of agency in defining their relationship. the compromise of "mr. nueng" allows them to begin building a true friendship without overtly violating the social expectations that keep them apart. furthermore, this scene sets up an important landmark in their future relationship development: when palm finally calls nuengdiao by his full name, without any honorifics - as an equal, a partner, a friend, and a lover.

[solbaby7]

This Will Do

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: jealous!az, toxic relationships, swearing, sexual themes, descriptions of physical violence and abuse, idkkk it just sucks wanting what you know you shouldn’t have :(((

previous parts [ one ] [ two ]

—

Coming here was by far your worst idea yet.

Maybe, it wasn’t even a conscious decision since it seemed like your feet were moving without being told, pushing you to a destination that your brain hadn’t been made privy to. Not until your heart was thrashing in your chest and blood was pumping so fiercely through your veins that you could hear it in your ears.

You don’t even register where you are until you’re knocking on the door, swallowing thickly when it’s ripped open not even seconds later. “Azriel,” You breathe out in relief, too frazzled to properly appreciate the half-naked body before you.

The smell hits him before his eyes even catch that you’re absolutely covered in blood, hands stained and leathers soaked through. It’s instinctual the way he snatches you to him, past the front door and into the sitting room of his personal residence. A fires going, crackling softly to the left a few feet away from a Illyrian sized sofa. Still steaming tea siting on the table before that, its wood a shade so deep you wondered if it were made from the night sky itself. “What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?” His hands sift over you, shoving aside ruined fabric until he’s examined every inch of bare skin thoroughly.

“Not really, I just—“ Your eyes slide shut when you feel him go still. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Whose blood is this?”

You say absolutely nothing. Fingers fiddling in your lap, nails biting into skin and now that the adrenaline had subsided, every second seemed to lag—the weight heavy on your shoulders.

“Stay here,” Azriel mutters into your hair before disappearing down the hall. He’s gone no less than a few minutes, returning with an outstretched hand damp from steaming bathwater. “Let’s just get you cleaned up first.”

You're too numb to fight it—to fight him when in truth, his touch was the only thing keeping you sane.

Golden eyes barely hide the extent of his worry as each layer of clothing is peeled off of you and tossed aside, every move is cautious as if you were a stray animal that would scamper off at the slightest inkling of danger. Warm water draws out the anxiety, eyes fluttering closed when Azriel ran his fingers through your hair, working up a lather with shampoo that smelled like him. “We got in a fight,” You finally confess when you feel him tense near your cheek, a finger grazing over slightly raised skin. “Damien and I.”

“About?”

“About you.”

Intrigue forces his eyes to dart down to you in surprise, not bothering to look away when he notices that yours are closed. A brief pause, a silent evaluation of the newly cleaned skin and anger laces every single word when Az catches the imprint of a hand against your cheek. The bruise of fingers around your neck and arms. “Tell me what happened.”

Your jaw clenches, face shying away the longer he stared at the marks. “I was still a little heated after leaving the sparring ring so I just went back home. Damien—he wasn’t supposed to be back so early and I got an attitude because he kept asking so many questions. Kept demanding to know whose scent was all over me.” His hands move slow, memorizing every word, every bruise, every flinch and shake of your voice. Soap suds dance along your skin, washing away blood, sweat and tears until nothing was left but you and Az. “I walked past to go to the room and he yanked me back,” The ache of your scalp throbs at the reminder of Damien’s hand curling around the length of your ponytail.

Fingers graze against the blues and purples dotting at your back. “He threw you into the wall?”

Water trickles as you adjust, the warmth soothing stiff muscles and you can feel the grit of bath salts barely resolved against your feet. You nod once, refusing to elaborate further when Azriel’s shadows begin to stalk up the length of the walls, clawing their way up his spine and over his shoulders to report further damage. “He thought I was cheating on him—said I was using training as a ruse to cover up the fact that I was really just the spymasters whore.” Years of training and dedication; growth and back breaking labor reduced to nothing more than a piece of ass. Your fingers clench into fists subconsciously, the feeling too fresh; the rage too raw and willing to return at the very reminder. The brief moment where Damien’s words made you falter—made you question and forget yourself. Disgust coils in your belly at the fear that formed when his palm connected with your cheek. “I’d never seen him so upset,” You confess, allowing Azriel’s comforting touch even if you knew deep down you shouldn’t be here. “He didn’t even look like himself anymore; he just kept shoving me into the wall over and over and over. Kept promising that if I was so interested in—“ You choke over your words, teeth gritting and eyes filling with tears. “That if I was so interested in mangled flesh then I should have some for myself to match.”

Azriel’s hands freeze at your shoulders, the sopping wash rag dripping warm water down your spine. “Did you kill him?”

You swallow audibly, glancing at the pink tinge in the tub. “I’m not sure. I hurt him pretty badly though—bad enough that he’ll have no choice to explain what he did to deserve such an injury.”

He’s rising to his full height before you can even finish speaking, drying off his hands and opening the large closet doors connected to his bathing chambers. Your eyes follow his every move, tongue tracing your bottom lip when he begins to attach holsters with freshly sharped knives sliding into place. “Where was the last place you saw him? Your apartment?”

Azriel barely reacts when you climb out of the tub; movements almost mechanical until a hand rests delicately on his shoulder. “Please don’t go,” He doesn’t want to listen, that much is obvious by the array of lines that tug their way across his handsome face but there’s no denying his body’s reaction to the plea. Shifting closer, yearning for more as he basked in the first gentle touch you’d initiated since that night. “Just stay here with me.”

Just choose me.

Just one time, please stay with me.

The tension in his muscles slowly fades the longer golden irises stare into your own, falling victim to the warmth residing there—reserved just for him. It’s instinct to pull you closer, the bare shape of you melting into his own as if it were made for him. “You don’t want this,” Every syllable burns like acid on his tongue. Still, he doesn’t step away; refusing to let you go when he’d waited too long to have you this close again—even if it was just for tonight.

“You’ve never cared what I wanted before.” Brutal and yet still the words are dripped in honey. Azriel’s grip tightens on your waist as you ease the holders from their place. “All of that changes because some asshole roughed me up?”

“He hurt you,” He states sharply, knuckles ghosting over the bruises on your arms. “No one gets to hurt what’s mine and live.”

“Except you, of course. Right?” Your eyes roll on their own accord, lips twisting into a sneer as you pull away from him; suddenly too bare and entirely too exposed. “My mother always did say the handsome ones were the most selfish.” You make a point to avoid the plethora of fresh towels provided on the counter and snatch for Azriel’s hanging on the rack instead. “I’d hoped she was wrong.”

“Well, she wasn’t,” Azriel doesn’t allow the thick towel to cover even an inch of you, ripping it free and caging you to the wall behind you. This time, when your heart races in your chest—it’s not with fear. “I am a selfish male but only with a select few things.” He’s everywhere at once, assaulting ever sense and smothering you with a panty-dropping amount of affection. His nose teases against your own, eyes sliding over the planes of your face until they catch at your mouth. “And with you,” Azriel whispers your name, thumb sliding over the plush of your bottom lip. “—with you and I am the most selfish of all. You deserve better.”

Your hands slide up his arms and over his shoulders before hooking over his neck, nails scratching at the dark hair within reach. “Then, give me better. Just for tonight.”

Azriel contemplates for half a second before shaking away logic. If this was going to be the last time then he would savor every moment; would devour every moan and whimper. He’d survive off your touch and thrive off your love; memorizing the bite of your nails on his back and your teeth claiming at the skin of his shoulder.

It feels all too familiar, entirely too natural, devastatingly comfortable when the shadowsinger cups the back of your thighs and bares the brunt of your weight with little effort. He denies any distance, a large palm splayed along the middle of your back to press every inch of bare skin against his own. His kiss is unusually soft and you can’t fight your body’s need to lean into it; to indulge in the girlish fantasy you’d crafted of the life you could’ve lived. The one where you were Azriel’s first choice, foolishly in love and desperate for a moment alone to make out or franticly fuck in shadow cloaked corners like the world was ending.

“I missed this,” The rasp in his words sends goosebumps along your skin and your bare cunt clenched around nothing when he trails kisses down the length of your neck. “I miss you.”

“I hate you,” It’s a lie, one he doesn’t call you out on but you needed to say the words before your heart took the reins and forced three entirely different words out. Bare thighs constrict like a snake at his waist, urging him closer until you could feel the hard press of his cock through his sweatpants.

A groan pulls from his chest, mouth slotting over your own as his hands explored freely. Memorizing every dip and feminine curve until the reward of such thorough examination seeped through the fabric of his sweats. “You may hate me but you want me more.” It’s filthy; the sound of your arousal hitting your ears as you grind down harder, chasing a high that cleared away the fog of life and cloaked you in pleasure. “I know you do. I can feel it every time we touch.”

You refuse to respond, digging your heels into his waistband to shove the offending material away until the warm weight of his cock springs between you. “I want this,” Azriel’s eyes follow your every move, breathing growing heavy when you lick the palm of your hand and reach down to hold him in your grasp. A whine drags from your throat when you coat him in your slick, brows pinched and mouth parted as you allow the tip of him to prod at your entrance. “Give it to me, Az.”

“It’s yours. Take it.”

Your free hand curls behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss that forces him into silence. It’s cruel; the clashing of teeth and tongue, lips swollen as Azriel’s fingers tangle themselves in your hair. He takes a step closer, intent to keep you secure against the wall but all it does is give you exactly as you’d wanted—the delicious stretch of his cock filling you up.

Your name is like a swear on his tongue, spilling free harshly as he adjusts to the feel of you, the slippery wetness of your arousal dripping down his shaft but he doesn’t move. “Please, Az?”

“Say it.”

I love you.

“I hate you.” Patience wears thin and your hips rock to satiate the need burning low in your gut. “Hate how fucking good you feel.” You rip a page from Azriel’s book and you take. Taking more than you ever allowed yourself before. He buckles into your demands, guiding your motions and watching where he begins and you end until he doesn’t care to difrenciate it anymore. You squirm under the scrutiny, a faint blush fanning across the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears. You have to shake your head a little to slap yourself out of the stupor; nearly sinking into the love he was finally giving. “Hate me back,” You grip harder at his shoulders, chasing your release but Azriel wasn’t fucking you like he used to. “Give me what I want, Az.”

He’d replaced his rough touch and venomous bite. Instead, Az kissed every bruise, whispering sweet promises down the curve of your spine, knuckles grazing at your cheekbone as if you were the most precious flower with delicate petals. Azriel gives. Returning all the care and devotion with deliberate touches as soft praises are crooned in your ear. “I will if you say it. Just once—for me.”

Your vision goes blurry, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls back against the wall in defeat. “I want you.”

The friction you’d been itching for is finally granted and you’re too caught up up in the feel of him fucking into you to give a second thought towards your confession—not when he was finally giving you what you’d been craving. He fulfills every desire. Every want. Every need until you’re a mess of limbs and drawn out moans. You allow the marks he sucks into your neck, covering the ones done in anger. He doesn’t stop; not until your legs are shaking and your lungs were fighting for a full breath.

His forehead rests against yours, arms caging your head as he whispers ever so softly. “Please don’t go. I love you.” It takes everything to pull away. To grab your messy clothes and shove them on as quickly as possible. “I’m so sorry.”

Your hand is already on the doorknob, head bowed and heart screaming for you to stay. “I don’t forgive you.”

[melodic-haze]

Thinking about it now, yk who I'm most interested to see with reader who's Akivili's reincarnation but doesn't realise? Black Swan.

I can't help but keep thinking like. Imagine instead of the scene with Acheron, it's you who she wants to dance with. And why would you ever want to turn her down yk? She's beauty, she's grace, nobody would ever refuse her in your place.

It's clumsy at first, you never really knew that you'd be dancing in such a formal setting so you're kinda lost in this kind of situation. But don't worry, cuz Black Swan is here to guide you through every step until it all feels like a smooth wordless exchange between the two of you!!

She does find it slightly odd though, how everyone else seems to be looking at the two of you-- no, looking at you with curiosity and a want to be closer to you, with some of them even shuffling just a tad bit to dance nearby. It could be because you were one of the mysterious explorers of the cosmos......but for some reason she knew within her that that's not right

So she's undoubtedly curious, and you can see that glint in her eye as she pulls you in while you dance, and you hear her murmur "let me see you" before you feel a minor wave of something off briefly destabilising you before things go normal again. Well, not necessarily normal, considering how you feel more connected to your dance partner than ever and you feel this sense of foreboding unease from so far away......but beyond how you had to keep your guard up, it wasn't hurting you.

Things were. NOT the same in Black Swan's case. She sees your life before you got to Penacony, before your time as a Nameless, before you even discovered a passion for exploting the great beyond!! But she sees that there is another layer—one so old and so fractured and so broken and so unbelievably incomprehensible.

Like an Aeon.

The Memokeeper, much too curious for her own good to back down now, pushes through despite all the warning signs not to. These memories from beyond your supposed time? All fractured, irreparable, corrupted all through hell and back. Some of the ones she CAN comprehend is time spent by.. you and people that you've most definitely never known, all at so many different times and seemingly eras and they all melt into amalgamations of things she is sure you've NEVER experienced so what's going on????

And when she sifts through them all, what waits for her is an empty void. A purely empty space, the stars practically refusing to decorate this scape unlike before she went deeper into your mind.

And she sees youTHEM

And THEYyou reach out to her and attempt to drag her with youHERheTHEM to have her witness the lonely death of--

She severes the connection with a yelp—snaps out of it more like—as you dip her on complete accident because you placed your foot wrong. You're so stupidly proud of the save before you look at Black Swan and she looks like she's just had the most HORRIBLE scare paralysis possible. THEN your smile drops

You ask her if she's okay just in case she's absolutely unimpressed you, and it is only now when you notice all the attention on you and you ONLY❗️❗️❗️ And you pointedly narrow your eyes at her when she shakes her head and grits her teeth the slightest bit before answering. But she doesn't relent so okay fine, you won't.

But when she looks back into your eyes again and see that fire that was supposed to be briefly extinguished all those many years ago, not only is she even more intrigued, but.. perhaps even a little scared for you too.

After all, what awaits you at the end of your journey: the line that you had reached so long ago, or a new ending that over writes that abyssal loneliness?

..She hopes for dear life it's not the former.

[fanaticsnail]

You Kissed the Clown? Part 15 (CONCLUSION)

It's over. It's finished: the one-shot that turned into a 15 part mini-series. I have enjoyed this journey so much with you all. Thank you for taking the time to read my work and give me pointers on navigating Tumblr formatting. It's been fun.

Part 14 here, Masterlist here.

Word Count: 4,671

Damp clothes clutched to every crevasse of your body as you lay on the warm sand beneath the rising sun. You continued to laugh at yourself as you caught your breath upon the shore; the waves lapping at your toes as the tide continued to fall away into the sea.

You hoisted yourself up onto your elbows, gazing into the retreating form of Nezumi’s mouse-like figure head as it continued to vanish into the open ocean. A sigh escaped your lips as you checked over your completely soaked clothes and begun to feel overwhelmed with the coastal breeze against the weight of the material.

“Clearly, I didn’t think this through very well,” you thought to yourself, chastising your actions as the consequences now cling against your skin and weigh you down, “where did I put my satchel? Which tree was it again?”

You rose to a sitting position before attempting to bring yourself to your feet, under the weighted material. Brushing your damp hair from your face, you rose to your feet and began to search for the tree you placed your equipment from the Going Merry against as you rigged the explosive on Nezumi’s ship. The material of your skirts slapped against your thighs and calves, beginning to fall slightly at your hips under the weight; your tinkering tool-belt only offering a small amount of support to keep it upright against your waist.

Huffing out a breath again at your prior actions, you hoisted the bottom of the skirt into your hands; picking up a sprint on the dampened sands below your feet. As your feet staggered against the forever moving grit of the beach, you stumbled a little as you continued on towards the tree you left your equipment against.

The tree swayed within the breeze as your bag lay secure and waiting for your return. You sighed in relief and began to shed the many damp layers from your body, remaining in your undergarments, and draping them against one of the horizontal branches protruding from the tree. Squinting your eyes, you looked towards the yellow, rising sun and nodded your head at the indication of the time.

You huffed out a breath to collect yourself while bracing your arms against your chest to warm your ribs, whispering to yourself; “where did I put that talc rock again?”

You heard a loud explosion as if a large building had been toppled inland, your eyes widening at the reverberations. Your gaze drifted back to the road leading towards the town where you sprinted down after docking the Going Merry.

“I hope they’re alright,” you uttered in a small voice, allowing your thoughts to trail off into what would’ve happened should you had remained with your crew. Continuing to trail your arms over your torso, you began to contemplate whether it would be a wise choice to redress yourself over your semi-damp clothes or allow them to dry naturally in the breeze.

Given the indication of the explosion inland, you began to sift through your bag for something loose and appropriate; unaware of the approaching presence behind you.

-

“Where are you, Baby?” Buggy murmured franticly to himself from the small pillar of sand as he reached the coast; the peer off to the left. As his eyes met with the ship docked against it, his eyes bulged at the sight. He clutched his chest to catch his breath up with the rest of him, overexerting his body in its sprint from Arlong Park to the coastline.

“Marines,” he hissed in shock, maneuvering his gaze around the dunes in search for any indication you were alive and close by. From the corner of his eye, he spots a small flutter of material draped against a tree. “Your skirt?”, he thought to himself, his body propelled forward by his will; not allowing him to fully catch his breath against the trees surrounding him.

“Don’t be dead. Please, don’t be dead,” he repeated in his mind over and over again. The look from the swordsman and the expression on the cook’s face had no indication on why you had separated from them, leaving him with very little to work with in his constant state of overthought.

Heavy footsteps trailed against the sand, the weight shifting the coarse substance beneath his feet, prompting him to stumble clumsily over in his stride. Using his hands, knees and feet to drive him forward, limbs continually succumbing under the unstable sand from the dunes below, he spies your body rising from a hunched position; a towel clutched in your grasp.

“There she is. There’s my girl,” he cooed in his mind; reminiscent of the time he finally confessed his affections for you with Cabaji. Cheeks flushed from exhaustion, he became overwhelmed with relief as he raked his eyes over your body in search of affliction or injury. He then realised how exposed you were, eyes bulging for the second time in the span of five minutes.

-

You began to dab at your face with the plush towel you found within your satchel, sighing as the sand managed to be rid from your body since locating and using the talc-powder you made for Buggy a few days prior. You wrung your hair out over your right shoulder and watched the droplets fall onto the sand as you felt something warm falling over your shoulders. Flinching at the unknown presence, you began to panic and shrug at the material; only to find two strong arms circle around your shoulders and hold you against a warm torso.

“Easy, sweets,” a voice whispered against your left ear as you felt lips kiss your upper helix, “just trying to get you warm.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your voice managing to whisper a soft; “Buggy?”

“Here in the flesh,” he chuckled against your wet hair, moving his lips against your hairline, “with all my parts accounted for.”

You turned around in his arms to face him, gaze trailing from his mustard-coloured cravat hanging loosely from his throat; noting no lines indicating a prior severance of his head from atop his shoulders. Your eyes trailed up to meet with the blue-green hues you had come to adore, laying half-lidded behind his large, red nose.

He placed his gloved hands atop your shoulders as he bore his gaze down against your own irises. Reaching his left hand up to your hair, he flicked the damp ends away from your face and righthand side of your neck to trail down the back of his camel-coloured jacket, away from your face.

“How long do we have?” he asked, flittering his gaze between your two eyes and triangulating his gaze down to meet with your parted lips, “I just want to hold you one last time before you go.”

You furrowed your brows and shook your head slightly; “Buggy-.”

“-I just want you-,” he cut you off, bringing his gloved right hand to smooth over the back of your redrying hair, “-for as long as I can before you go back to them.”

“Buggy-,” you said a little more firmly, hoping to break him away from his intrusive thoughts and dialogue to inform him of your choice. You were met with no such hope of explanation before he stooped his neck low to meet your face.

Without allowing you to complete your sentence, your lips were met with the red-tint of the clown you so adored, noting his eyes immediately closed upon impact with a subtle glisten of a whispering tear at the corner of his eyes as he held you in his arms.

His kiss was soft, loving: gentle. All of those things you were not anticipating as he laid his desires out to you a few days prior. You began slowly closing your eyes and relaxing in his arms, lacing your hands around his waist; dragging slightly from his ribs before they settled around his back. You felt his breath hitch as he melted into your touch, a soft whimper escaping his lips as you held him against yourself. Pressing open mouthed kisses against his lips, you began to sooth him by rubbing soft circles against his lower back with your hands in reassurance.

“Please,” he whispered against your lips as he trailed his gloved hand over your hair to rest on either side of your cheeks, “please stay with me.” He whimpered a small noise from between his lips as his grasps and kisses became desperate; trying to pull you against him with more force to brace his body with yours: “I can’t live without you.”

His voice was muffled against your lips, but you felt his sob all the same. You began to giggle at his words against his mouth, noting he stiffened against you at your reaction. He broke from your lips and bore a frown at you, his eyes glaring deeply into your own at your reaction.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he whispered, trailing his right hand down to grasp your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his, “I’m not going for comedy right now, honey.”

Although his ferocity was laced with subtle sarcasm, you couldn’t help but find his words humorous, another giggle erupting from within your chest and halting in your mouth. Your eyes softened, a broad smile appearing upon your freshly red-tinted lips under the earlier ministrations.

“Buggy-,” you began, unlacing your right, bandage-wrapped hand from his waist and bringing the semi-damp material up to rest on his cheek, “-I’m not going with the Straw-Hat crew. I’m going with you.”

You traced his stubble-adorned cheek with your hand, noting the way his expression moved from sorrowful, to enraged to settling on complete shock. Silence fell between the two of you, the genius jester’s jaw falling slack as he failed to grasp the threshold-concept of your confession within his mind. He dropped his hands from your chin and cheek to fall again to your shoulders as his eyes glazed over, bulging slightly at the sockets as he processed the words you had spoken. You took this moment to study him; his eyes having a small trail of fallen tears against his painted cheeks, partially dried in the sea air.

“W-what?” he stuttered out, his eyes then darting back from their overthinking lapse and falling back to your own. You giggled and brought your left hand up to his right cheek and soothed them with gentle movements to not disturb his paint, the navy stubble prickling the skin against your palms.

“You, Buggy,” you uttered, brushing your nose lightly against his own, affectionately; “I chose you.”

His eyes continued to flitter between yours as he attempted to pass through the threshold of understanding the words you were speaking, as if the concept and words coming from your lips were completely foreign to him. “Y-you what-?” he stuttered again, searching your eyes for any hint of dishonestly; to which he found none.

“-If you’ll have me, of course,” you giggled, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips before adding “I’m not sure what use a tinkerer would be in something as eccentric as a-.”

Your words were halted as the Clown-Captain laced his hands below your arms and hoisted you upwards, his lips once again finding your own as he spun you within the air, circling you as he laughed against your lips in pure joy. Lacing your own hands around his neck, you allowed yourself to be twirled within his arms. The smile he held against your lips was contagious, prompting a large smile to catch against your own lips.

The taste of the sea, the feel of his arms effortlessly lifting your body as he twirled you completely overwhelmed your heart as you experienced the bittersweet union with him, dampened only by the sorrow of removing yourself from the Straw-Hat crew. The sorrow was short lived as he brought his lips away from your own and triumphantly declared: “You chose me!” with a roar of infectious laughter following.

As he placed you down, he immediately cowered as a large, booming explosion resounded throughout the ocean. Your eyes both sprung to the sea to meet with a large, tan cloud; littered with golden glitter and a slightly red-hue. The profile of the Straw-Hat’s Jolly Roger thrust against the tan smoke, an indication of your prior loyalty within the skull-like reverberation of colour: a straw hat littering the top with gold glitter cascading down into the smoke.

“What the fuck was that?” Buggy uttered in shock, looking from the shroud back to meet with your semi-dressed body.

“Going out with a bang, sweetheart,” you teased him, pulling him into you by his cravat, “a fitting conclusion to end my prior loyalty.”

You again teased him with a small peck-like caress against his lips, breaking away only to reassure him: “my loyalty and my heart now belong to you.” You stroked his cheek once again, bringing his gaze back to settle on your own, reassuring him with a simple; “only you.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, sitting high in his chest as he was overwhelmed by a sense of pride at your declaration, choosing to relax into your touch with his eyes closed before unceremoniously dropping to the ground on his knees in front of you.

Placing his gloved hands around the backs of your thighs, he laced his bare arms within the large, camel-coloured cloak he had draped upon your shoulders; you felt the soft touch of his arm hair brush against your legs at this action. He pulled his face in to rest against your stomach and breathed in against your bare skin.

“Marry me,” he uttered into your stomach, pressing feather-light kisses against your skin as he smoothed his gloved hands against the back of your thighs. You laughed, bringing your left hand down to his chin to bring his gaze to look up at you. His eyes were wide and full of adoration as he gazed lovingly at you.

“Ask me properly one day when we’re not surrounded by death and destruction and fully safe,” you teetered off your laughter into a soft giggle, using your index finger to affectionately tap his red nose, “and I’ll think about it.”

“I mean it” he said, stuttering and falling over his words, “I really do, baby.”

He rose to his feet, removing his hands from your thighs and trailing his way up to lace his glove-clad hands within your own; “I want you to rule at my side as queen when I claim the One-Piece, ruling as King of the Pirates.”

You shook your head with a small smile, reminiscing in your mind about your prior oath to serve under Luffy as king, vowing to create a piece for him and him alone as ruler. You unlaced your left hand from his and caressed his cheek, prompting him to press a chaste kiss against your palm.

“Marry me,” he uttered against your left palm, “let me truly make you mine.” He removed his left hand from your right and circled it around your waist, beneath his great tanned cloak that he so thoughtfully lay upon your shoulders.

“Buggy,” you sighed, teetering a soft giggle at the end of his name, “can I at least get dressed first before you proposition me? I’m a tad bare, love.”

“Bare, clothed, completely naked,” he groaned as he pulled you flush against his torso, “I don’t care so long as you tell me you’re mine-.” His breath hitched in his throat at this declaration, as his eyes grew wide with inspiration; “-and I’ll be yours. Truly, completely, yours. All of me.”

He pulled away from your embrace, prompting you to furrow your brows at him. His foot leapt from its position against his calf as it lay down at you unclothed feet – severed from his body. It was then followed by the other foot, then his calves, knees and thighs joining alongside them laying down before you.

“All of me, baby,” he uttered before he completely fell apart and lay himself at your feet. You chuckled at his action and shook your head, reaching your arms down to reclaim his decapitated head from the pile of askew body parts.

“Oh, Buggy,” you chastised him, lifting his head from the pile to meet with your face, “pull yourself together, love.” He furrowed his brows at you before his body leapt to life once more, all of the pieces pulling together below him to form the completed body of the clown you had come to adore.

“You have my heart,” he said, bringing his hands to clutch at his chest; removing a portion of his torso and presenting it to you. You shrieked, noting the piece that became untethered from him to be the beating organ located between his lungs, behind his ribcage.

“Buggy! You put that back in your body right now!” you ordered him, a smile breaking onto your face at his foolishness as you chastised him

“But it belongs to you!” he whined, “please hold onto it for me and keep it safe-.”

You immediately shook your head and placed the object within your fingertips into his chest to be received within his cavity. He immediately reached out his gloved hands to grasp your wrists as you placed the organ within his chest once again.

“And if you fall into sea water?” you asked him, bringing your eyes back up to meet with his, noting his eyes were littered with sorrow, “what then? You can’t live without that organ in your chest.”

He thought on it for a moment, a whisper of clarity eclipsed his mind as he released your hands from his grasp. He reached down into his lefthand side and removed another internal organ and placed it into your hands close to his chest.

“What is this?” you asked him, furrowing your brows and looking slightly uneasy at another body part being thrust upon you. He chuckled and looked down at the small organ.

“My appendix,” he uttered, “something I can survive without if I call into the ocean, but equally a part of me as my heart is.”

“Buggy,” you warned him after inhaling a deep breath, “I want all of you. All of you. With everything as intact as you are now.” You reached the organ down into his lefthand side and allowed his stomach to detach slightly to reclaim the object.

“Is that a yes?” he whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on your hands, watching as they soothed over the skin beneath his waistcoat.

“A yes to what, love?” you asked him, bringing your own gaze from the flesh on his side up to look into his eyes.

“Marry me,” he again demanded, bringing his gaze up to your own, his lips parted a little as he shakily inhaled and exhaled his breath, “I’ve got it bad, sweetheart. You have no idea.” You shook your head at him before trailing in to nuzzle your nose against his own.

“Again,” you reiterated, “ask me properly one day and I’ll truly think about it.”

He growled a little, playfully and with a smile, as he brought your left hand up to his cheek again and nipped his teeth at your palm.

“Fine,” he relinquished his line of questioning in a low tone, “but when I ask you properly, I expect a serious answer.”

“And you shall have it, my love,” you smiled at him, reaching your lips up to press a small kiss against his cheek, “now I have a question for you.”

“Name it, my queen, and I shall bring the world on its knees before you,” he growled, eyes narrowing in both seriousness and complete playfulness.

“That’s not necessary right now, love,” you chuckled at him warmly. You looked about the peer, noting only the large marine ship be docked against it; the Going Merry on the other side of the Conomi Islands, “what is; is a way off this island.”

“You know,” Buggy broke from his intense gaze held against you and began scratching his chin in thought, “that’s a good point. Any ideas?”

You laughed whole heartedly before flinging yourself into the arms of your love, seeking his lips out with your own and claiming them as yours for a long, drawn out kiss. He chuckled against your lips, trailing his gloved hands over your body; accidentally removing his large coat from your shoulders in the process. He clutched you against himself as he groaned against your lips, your hands pulling at the flesh beneath his waistcoat, taking his hips within them and pulling them into your own body.

Finding a way off Conomi Island was secondary to your needs right now, and what you needed was your Captain, cradled against you and whimpering into your lips as you held him within your arms.

-

Walking over to the wall, Buggy withdrew a large sheet of parchment paper that lay pinned against it and moved to take a seat against a solitary dining table; chuckling sinisterly as he read over the words.

“30,000,000?” he uttered in between giggles before all humour fled from his face as he shook the paper straight and growled darkly, “I’ll kill the little shit myself.”

“If you don’t, I will,” a woman with dark hair spoke from the other side of the room, raising her tankard upwards as to solidify her words spoken. Buggy turned, an unnerving smile finding itself upon his face in response.

“You will,” you commanded the two other occupants in the small tavern, raising your chin up into the air as you held two goblets of wine within your index and middle fingers, “do no such thing.”

You made your way over to the side table where Buggy was sitting at, placing the parchment down on the table in front of you. Placing the wine down on the table in front of him before raising one of the goblets to your lips and claimed the paper within your fingertips.

“You don’t owe him any more loyalty, my queen,” your beloved captain sighed, allowing a softness to befall over his eyes while his tone remained harsh. Your gaze softened as you looked at the ‘Wanted’ poster of your former captain, brushing over the figure of his smiling face with fondness.

“That may be true, my love,” you smiled at him, returning your gaze to him reaching your freshly healed right hand up to his cheek and caressing it after releasing the wanted poster from your grasp, “but he remains my friend and I will cherish him always.”

Buggy growled against your palm, placing a chaste kiss against it before reaching his gloved left hand up to grasp your right and maneuvered your knuckles to lay before his freshly painted lips.

“The things I do, or don’t do, for you, sweetheart,” he whispered his warm breath against your knuckles, pressing a long kiss against them before trailing his lips upwards over your wrist and atop your forearm, littering the skin with small kisses along the way. Your eyes became half-lidded as you watched his lips trail upwards your arm with passion and vigour. The only cause for pause of this affection being the other occupant of the small tavern.

“And what’s stopping me from killing him, sweetheart?” the woman asked in a jesting tone, an eyebrow arched at your public actions. You softened your eyes as you broke them away from your love, gazing into her dark irises and moved to speak; only to have your words halt as Buggy spoke for you.

“Bribery,” you uttered playfully, continuing your gaze to remain unmoving from Buggy’s as he gazed hungrily into your own eyes, “anything you desire-.”

“-Careful,” Buggy playfully warned; speaking over your charm, breaking away from littering your arm with kisses to address the dark-haired woman, “This one goes in lips first.”

You snapped your eyes into a grimace scowling at him, watching how his eyes glinted a charming playfulness behind them.

“For fucks sake, not you too,” you groaned, attempting to withdraw your hand from within his grasp only to have it firmly remain within his clutches; chuckling as he placed more kisses against your skin to satiate your fury.

“Yes, me too,” he chuckled at you in teasing, picking up his wine and draining the contents within with haste, “now drink up, we set sail in ten.”

“Where to, Captain?” you asked him, raising the goblet to your lips and taking a small sip, smirking while maintaining eye contact.

“We’ve got a crew, we’ve got a ship,” he listed, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he continued to watch you slowly drink the contents of your goblet, “wherever the wind, and gold, takes us.”

You finished the contents within your goblet and placed the object down against the tabletop, reclaiming the wanted poster from the surface and folded it up, placing it in your tinkerers bag. Your captain stood before you, reaching his gloved left hand down to reach for your own to aid you to your feet.

“Where are you taking that?” he murmured to you, nodding down to the ‘Wanted’ poster in your satchel.

“I’ll be writing to my brother to settle an account,” you nodded your head, smiling at your Captain as you spoke, “he’ll need to know who will be coming to him.”

Buggy thought on this for a moment before speaking, “why don’t we go there? To your brother, I mean.”

“Why would you want to do that?” you asked him, furrowing your brows in curiosity with a small smile propping up your lips.

“I want to meet them all, baby,” he cooed at you, “the fourteen, your Dad; everyone.”

You shook your head at him before adding; “that sounds wonderful, my love. They’re going to adore you. Maybe you could bring your show into town? Put on a performance, charge a bit at the gate?”

He sighed in complete adoration; “and this is why I love you.”

You laughed at him as he brought your cheek up to his lips and placed a warm, wet kiss against it while grasping your chin to keep you steady.

“Is that all?” you giggled.

“That,” he uttered against your ear, “and I am dying to know what sounds will be so absolutely illicit, my crew would need to seek exorcism to rid their souls from the memories and images conjured to them every time they close their eyes.”

A warm tinge rose to your cheeks at this comment, starting at your chest and climbing its way up to your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

“I also,” he continued, kissing your cheek once more before releasing you from his grasp, “want you to see your former crew again. Catch up for old times sake; especially the swordsman: Cabaji permitting.”

The warmth of his prior words calmed themselves to rest in a pink, love-struck tinge across your cheeks as you smiled at his intentions.

“And that,” you whispered to him, stroking his cheek fondly, “is why I chose you.”

He sighed into your hand before shaking himself free and looking to the other occupant in the tavern.

“You coming, Alvida?” he asked her over his shoulder, “we set sail immediately.”

“Aye, Captain,” she smirked, placing down her schooner atop the table once she drained it, “although I fear I’ll regret that choice.”

You chuckled lightly at her comment, lacing your right arm with Buggy’s left and allowing him to lead you on to set sail on his ship toward the familiar coast of your home; from there, who knows? Adventure awaits, and you’re more than happy to tinker alongside your captain to create objects of fantastical nature with precious metals, shimmering stones and intricate cog pieces: a gift to present as prize to the king of the pirates once they claimed the One-Piece.

Your King: Buggy D. Clown; with you ruling with your heart as Queen by his side.

The End

Tag List:

@thesadvampire @a-phan-of-youtube @multifandombtch @plan3t-plut0 @tiredemomama @tfamidoingwithmylife @bimboshaggy @plan3t-plut0 @vixnicknacks @tesha-i-guess@glitteryblizzardsalad @hellbaby237 @shuujin @nevaeh-jasso @hellbaby237 @gingernut1314 @sl00tty-v @redpool @lostfirefly @knightsfavoriteprincess @valen-yamyam16 @potatodaddy @luckyprincesswasteland @str4wberrydreams @misadventures0fdes @sordidmusings

(thank you for investing so much to be added to the tag list. It's been wonderful writing for both myself and you all)

[tteokdoroki]

✩࿐ TRACK 04: UNDERSTAND. shoto todoroki (1K)

about. until he met you, shoto todoroki wasn’t really sure what being loved felt like. now that he knows, he’s sure that he wants love with you - for the all his days.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact!, sfw, fluff, happy ending, established relationship, sunday snuggles, proposals, afab!reader, pro hero!todoroki.

things to note. eee i was meant to post shoto’s last saturday but i got rlly busy! i hope you enjoy the double update today, sero later <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / series playlist ✩

todoroki never knew what love truly felt like. 

to be held like tomorrow has not been promised is something he hardly remembers from his childhood — sometimes if he closes his eyes and tries hard enough, he can catch whiffs of his mother’s shampoo and the feeling of her cashmere sweater against his chubby cheeks. 

but it’s always fleeting, never fully present. never really telling of what love feels like.

you were the one who taught shoto that love shouldn’t be something that he has to try and grasp for. that it should be unconditional, that it’s an experience that he deserves.

the half and half hero never thought that he would find someone who cares as much for him as you do — even from the very moment you met. you chose to befriend him despite how callous and cold his exterior was at the time. willingly, you spent years chipping away at the cool layer of frost that prickled on the surface of todoroki’s skin like a sculpture working with the perfect block of ice, desperate to see the real him. not the mould his father had carved him out to be. 

you did not seek to change todoroki, to shape him into something new — you simply wanted to see the real him, the warmth in him you knew already existed. it just needed a little coaxing out. you’d told him that on night, your hand sifting through soft peppermint swirl hair. moving as if you couldn’t feel shoto’s heavy heterochromatic gaze on you.  

“i like you the way you are, not the way you think you ought to be.”

shoto’s heart had flipped at your confession — like it had done so many times over the years. but being raised in a place where love was replaced by fear, he’d no idea that he was slowly, albeit, surely falling in love with you. oftentimes, you would remind shoto that you found  his obliviousness to your feelings for him endearing and adorable. your romance was somewhat of a slow burner, melting like a frozen over fireplace during the winter season. where lingering touches were over analysed and where your cheeks burned hot whenever you stared at one another for too long.

reciprocating your feelings had been a learning curve for the half hot, half cold hero but he had learned from his friends that there is a point to trying (if watching kaminari and his endless attempts at bagging his girlfriend from high school to present day wasn’t motivation enough, todoroki isn’t sure what is). after a patrol through the bustling city some years back, early on into his career as a pro — shoto had held your hands close to his chest, warming you up through the sleet and snow and asked. 

“maybe we could try, if you let me?” 

he’d not expected you to understand his simple words or burst into tears, nor to say yes and leap up to his height for a delicate chaste kiss. “it’s about damn time, shoto.” you’d replied, beaming so bright he was sure to see galaxies.

he had no idea that the one person he would want to be with for all his life was so close to him, nestled between the milestones and the memories. but now that todoroki has you — he can’t see himself spending a single second away from you. and you, the same with him.

today is no different to how it’s always been since dating todoroki. you lie in his sheets, your bare limbs intertwined and your fingers locked as if you’re never going to let go. todoroki, though lost in his thoughts, worries that you might be able to hear the rapid thump of his heart hitting the inside of his rib cage. if you do notice, you ignore it in favour of drawing shapes along the ridge form of shoto’s naked body, listening out for the sound of his breathing. 

he’s scared, truth be told. he worries that despite all this time together — being accustomed to one another’s quips and squicks, that you might leave or abandon him. love is freighting, even if it is supposed to be unconditional. “darling,” the man coos gently, brushing a knuckle over the apple of your cheek. 

“hmm?” you sound so dreamy and relaxed, curled up with him like this — you don’t have a care in the world, completely unaware that you make up shoto’s entire world. “yes, my love?”

the wisps of a smile catch on the corners of his mouth, dragging them upwards at the sight of you nuzzling into his warm palm. “i have a question to ask,” todoroki lets out a shaky exhale and shifts to sit against the headboard with you still tucked into his side. he watches as you glance up at him through long lashes, worry dancing amongst the flecks in your eyes.

you nod and take his hand to reassure him that you’re listening. 

he decides then, that you’re worth the risk.

“this may seem spontaneous,” todoroki starts slowly, making sure to keep his voice even as though not to spook you. as if you’re a deer in the woods and he’s a hunter on the prowl. “i can assure you that it’s not. i’ve thought about this more times than you could count, but first. you’re aware that i love you. right?” the press of your lips against his sensitive collarbones is enough for todoroki to assume that your answer is yes — he appreciates you giving him the space to talk too. “not a moment of my time goes by where i’m not longing for you, even when you’re right here next to me.” 

shoto takes a moment to pause, pushing the question he wants to ask around on his tongue — he wonders how to frame it, how you’ll take it but with one look into your gleaming pretty eyes (he should have known you would get teary from his speech), he knows exactly what to say. “you’ve…shown me a lot of things, a love that shouldn’t be granted. a life that i deserved to lead and so,” he grasps at your fingers with his colder hand, giving them a gentle squeeze before thumbing over your ring finger. “i think it’s about time that i asked you to be mine.” 

he wants you, forever and always. for all of his days — if you’ll stay, that is. 

drawing your body up so that you can kneel before him, you squeeze todoroki’s hand back and bring it up towards your lips to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “sho,” you sigh, the words warmly coasting over his cool skin contrastingly. “are you—?” 

“i’m asking you to marry me. that’s if you’ll have me, darling.” the hero feels a little shy at how tenderly you treat him, a rose coloured blush blooming on his milky skin at his cheeks and the tops of his ears. 

“i’ll have you in every single lifetime,” you say urgently, throwing your arms around todoroki’s   broad, shoulders in a tight hug. “i can promise you that.”

like always, you take todoroki’s hand and he lets you lead him down the path — changing his future, soothing his past. because of course, you’re the only one who truly understands.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[feyburner]

im the sponge cake/baking amateur anon and omg thank you so much for your words and recipes!!! i will definitely start making little things and try not to freak out and instead embrace this new hobby with all its fluctuations…i will definitely keep coming back here for questions and recipes if you don’t mind 🫡🫡🫡

Of course, anytime. Don’t worry, just start with the basics and build from there. It gets easier and more intuitive every time you do it—and there are SO many types of things you can bake, you’ll never get bored. Don’t like baking cookies? Pivot to cake, pastry, pies, bread. Think about what flavors you like and find recipes that highlight those flavors.

Oh a couple more pieces of advice:

1. ALWAYS read through the ENTIRE recipe at least 2x before starting.

2. Mise en place! Gather all the ingredients together before you begin—so you don’t get halfway through only to realize you’re out of baking powder.

Here’s my recipe for Chocolate Velvet Cake. It’s a deep, dark, rich chocolate cake. Pictured here with Whipped Cream Cream Cheese Frosting, one of the only frostings I have ever liked.

CHOCOLATE VELVET CAKE

makes 2 x 8-9” cake layers

INGREDIENTS

2 cups (240g) AP flour

1 cup (200g) white sugar

1 cup (200g) dark brown sugar, packed

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp kosher salt

1 cup (227g) buttermilk* or sour cream

1 Tbsp white vinegar

1 cup (200g) neutral oil

2 eggs

1 Tbsp vanilla

1 cup (240g) freshly brewed steaming hot coffee (or 1 cup boiling water + 1 Tbsp instant coffee/espresso powder)

3/4 cup (60g) Dutch-process cocoa powder

*To make buttermilk: 1 cup milk + 1 Tbsp white vinegar or lemon juice. Stir together and let sit 10 min to curdle and thicken.

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat oven to 350°. Grease 2 x 8-9” cake pans and line with parchment paper rounds.

2. Bloom cocoa: Measure cocoa into a large liquid measuring cup (for easy pouring later). Add 1 cup (pre-measured or by weight) hot coffee in increments, whisking in between, until mixture is smooth. **If you add coffee all at once you’ll get lumps. Add a little, whisk to a smooth paste, then add rest.

3. Mix dry ingredients: Sift flour, sugars, baking soda, baking powder, and salt into a large bowl (or bowl of stand mixer). Whisk thoroughly to combine. **Sifting really matters here. The final batter is very thin and if you don’t sift you will get lumps of flour.

4. In a separate bowl, whisk together buttermilk, vinegar, oil, eggs, and vanilla until smooth. While whisking, pour in coffee-cocoa mixture. Whisk until smooth.

5. Pour wet ingredients into dry and mix with a rubber spatula until just combined, scraping bottom and sides of bowl as needed to catch any dry pockets. Do not overmix. Batter will be thin.

6. Divide batter evenly between cake pans. Bake 30-40 minutes until a paring knife inserted in the center comes out moist but clean. Start checking at 30 minutes to avoid overbaking.

7. Cool in pans 15 minutes (no longer), then turn onto a wire rack to finish cooling. Let cool completely (1-2 hours) before frosting.

NOTES

- Cocoa: Dutch-process cocoa powder = the ultimate dark-as-night chocolate cake, but natural (regular) cocoa powder works just as well.

- Usually you can sub greek yogurt for buttermilk/sour cream, but not here. It doesn’t have enough fat.

- Buttermilk/sour cream + a little added vinegar react with the baking soda and cocoa powder to make a fluffy but velvety soft crumb. (Think baking soda volcano, but cake.) You cannot taste the vinegar at all.

[dovesdreaming]

Echoes in the void

Summary: you allow Cassandra nova to look into your memories of Charles in the hopes she learns something.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The Void stretched endlessly, an infinite expanse of nothingness that could drive most to madness. Yet here, in this unending emptiness, a strange meeting was taking place. The air crackled with energy, as if the Void itself was holding its breath, waiting for what was to come. You stood at the center of this nowhere, feeling an odd calm. You had been here before many times. Cassandra nova had requested you specifically. The mere thought of her made most mutants shiver, a nightmare made flesh, a shadow of Professor Charles Xavier’s darker side. Yet, here she was, hovering just before you, a spectral presence that felt like it could dissolve at any moment, though you knew she wouldn’t.

Cassandra's gaze was sharp, penetrating, like she could see through to the deepest parts of your soul without even trying. Her lips curled into a faint smile, more curious than menacing, but with her, you could never be certain. The memories of Charles had told you all you needed to know about her capabilities. “You’re an interesting one” Cassandra said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to echo in the vastness. “Allowing me into your mind, knowing what I am… and yet, you set conditions. Fascinating”. You crossed your arms, meeting her gaze without flinching. “You want to see what Charles sees in me, and in return, I want your word that you won’t try anything. No digging where you’re not invited, no twisting memories to suit your fancy. Just… look, and behave”. Cassandra tilted her head slightly, considering. “You think I can be trusted?” There was no malice in her question, just genuine curiosity.

“I think you’re capable of understanding the value of trust” you replied evenly. “Charles might have been naive about you in the past, but I’m not. I know what you’re capable of, but I also know you’re smart enough to know the benefits of playing nice, at least for now”. The Void seemed to ripple around you, as if the very fabric of this place reacted to the tension between you both. But then, Cassandra’s smile softened, the dangerous edge fading slightly. “Very well” she agreed, surprisingly gentle. “I’ll behave”.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Alright, then. Let’s get this over with”. Closing your eyes, you opened your mind to her, letting the barriers you’d placed fall away, one by one. There was a moment of cold, an icy prickle at the back of your neck as she slipped into your thoughts, but it was followed by warmth, a gentle touch that surprised you. Cassandra was being careful, more careful than you expected. Images flashed through your mind, moments of your life with Charles. The laughter, the long conversations about hopes and dreams, the quiet moments of reflection. She saw the trust you had in him, the way he had shaped your worldview, not as a leader or a teacher, but as a friend. You could feel her sifting through these memories, analyzing them, but there was no malice, no attempt to alter anything. She was true to her word.

For a moment, you felt her hesitation, a flicker of something almost like… envy? But it was quickly buried under layers of cold logic. She moved on, delving deeper, yet still restrained. You weren’t sure how long the process took, time had no meaning in the Void, but eventually, you felt Cassandra begin to withdraw, the coldness receding as she slowly pulled away. You opened your eyes to find her standing before you, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You care for him a great deal,” she remarked, her tone neutral, almost contemplative. “More than he perhaps deserves”. You didn’t argue, just nodded. “He’s my friend”.

Cassandra was silent for a moment, her gaze distant. “I see now why he values you… why he trusts you so implicitly. There’s strength in that trust, something I hadn’t fully understood until now”. You studied her carefully, trying to gauge the sincerity in her words. “And you? What do you see?”. She looked at you, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of something almost human in her eyes. “I see potential… and perhaps, a reason to reconsider some of my more destructive tendencies”. There was a pause, a weighty silence that hung between you, before Cassandra gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Thank you, for showing me this. I will keep my word. You have nothing to fear from me… for now”.

With that, she began to retreat back into her lair. You watched as she disappeared from sight, not knowing when or if you will next see her but holding a small amount of hope that you will. Hoping she will need your help again sometime in the future soon. You had faced Cassandra Nova and emerged unscathed. More than that, you had glimpsed a side of her few had ever seen, and lived to tell the tale. And perhaps, just perhaps, you had planted a seed of something in her a seed of trust, of understanding, that might one day bear fruit.

But for now, you would leave her lair, knowing that for once, the darkness had not won.

[batbirdies]

I just feel the need to remind people that when you’re getting upset about bad rep of your blorbos in fic please remember that 90% of fic is just badly written. Almost ALL of the common complaints I see about fanfic are because most unprofessional writers just aren’t very good at it. I promise you that the people writing two dimensional versions of your blorbo aren’t doing it on purpose. They just literally aren’t good at this.

If they totally misrepresented your fav in order to prop up their own fav it’s probably because they couldn’t think up a more balanced way to represent what they wanted to showcase because that would be complicated and multi layered and difficult and this other way is simpler and straight forward and doesn’t require the same level of skill or comprehension, dedication or effort.

Like… I don’t like to bring this up much because telling people “yeah I mean most fic is just bad” can be discouraging to people who already worry that their writing isn’t very good. But that’s just not the point.

Fanfiction isn’t published. There are no rules and its purpose is to be fun! For the writer just as much as the reader (if not more) and readers can just go away if they don’t like the thing. They don’t have to read it!

I just see so many posts complaining about how fandom does so many things wrong and it’s like… yeah this is like complaining that hobbyist artists work lacks depth and imagination and being disgusted by how bad the perspective and shading and color choices are. Like?? They’re not a professional and they are out here doing this for fun. MOST PEOPLE ARE BAD AT ART.

I just want people to stop and think sometimes before they jump on certain fans or fandom tropes as the root of all evil in their fandom. Like is it the trope or is it that the trope is being written clumsily and without skill?

In which case… does it make sense to complain that hobbyists just aren’t as good as you wish they were? That their free content is obnoxious to sift through on the hunt for something good?

Maybe you don’t think they should be allowed to have a fun time if they aren’t good at the thing.

Maybe you should think about what that says about you.

I’m not saying never complain about stuff you hate seeing, you’re still allowed to hate it. But the vitriol directed towards the writers is where I get confused and caution people to think about how much sense it makes to get mad at people for not being good at their hobby.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

*deep breath* This, folks, is EXACTLY why I am writing The Everyday Naturalist. Because it's not enough to have an app. You HAVE to know how to use multiple identification tools and have keen observational skills if you are going to safely forage or otherwise identify things in nature.

Here's the deal. Apps are a tool. They are not infallible, and they should never, ever, EVER be your only tool for identifying mushrooms and other organisms. This goes even moreso for when you're trying to determine whether something is edible or not. I go into more detail about why apps should never be used by themselves in this article that I wrote a few months back, but let's explore a bit more about how an app works.

Any identification app has access to a particular database of pictures and other information for various species. In the case of my favorite app, iNaturalist, it draws from the over 156 million (and growing) observations of animals, plants, fungi, and other living beings that have been uploaded to it over the years.

When you upload a photo to an app, your phone usually inputs the date, time, and GPS location automatically, though these can be updated manually if need be. Then the app's algorithms sift through the database looking for species that are found in the same location at the same time of year, and which have similar photos.

Notice that I said SIMILAR, not identical. Many organisms, to include many fungi, have varying appearances based on subspecies, life stage, and other factors. And there are a lot of species that have close lookalikes, whether we're talking birds, wildflowers, mushrooms, etc.

So the algorithms then use their search results to give you their suggestion(s) of what most closely resembles the organism you are trying to identify. Some give you one answer; others, like iNaturalist, offer you a list to choose from, and may also qualify their response with "We're not sure, but these were found nearby" or something similar. The first one on the list is NOT always going to be the correct answer. However, the app doesn't have reasoning skills, and all it can do is play match-up and then produce suggestions based on that. (Yes, other iNaturalist users can come along and comment on your observations once you've uploaded and saved them, but you always want to carefully assess their claims, too.)

There are several toxic mushrooms that are implicated in poisonings on a regular basis; among them are what I call the "deadly Amanitas": the death cap (Amanita phalloides) and the destroying angels (A. bisporigera, A. ocreata, and A. verna.) In addition to these species' respective native ranges in Europe and North America, some have managed to make their way to other parts of the world. This includes in Australia, where there is a current investigation underway over a woman who fed several family members deadly Amanitas, three of whom have died.

These poisonous mushrooms have several edible lookalikes. As one example, while matsutakes (Tricholoma matsutake) are often brown, they may sometimes appear white, especially if the brown layer has peeled off. And field mushrooms (Agaricus spp, especially A. bisporus and A. campestris) are also large white mushrooms, though their gills and spores tend to be brown rather than the white of Amanita species.

Still, someone taking a picture of a large white mushroom--especially if they neglect to take another picture of the gills (the more pictures you take, the better)--could easily end up with an app telling them an Amanita is an Agaricus. Or they might read that some people think it's safe to eat Amanita muscaria if you parboil it long enough, and assume that other Amanita species are the same way (one of MANY reasons I do not advocate for treating A. muscaria as an edible.)

So--again--DO NOT USE APPS AS YOUR ONLY ID TOOL. Use them in conjunction with multiple field guides, websites, other foragers, etc. Practice using these tools and developing a critical eye before you go out foraging. Be super cautious, and when in doubt, throw it out.

And my inbox is ALWAYS open, as is my email (rebeccathenaturalist(at)gmail(dot)com.) You can ALWAYS email me with questions about field guides, apps, and other resources, and I am also happy to look at pictures of mushrooms (and other living beings) you're trying to identify, whether edible or not. You might need to give me a few days to reply, but I will get back to you. Don't use ME as your only source, either; I'm just one person. But I can point you to online groups that are also good resources.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Scenic Globes (Jade x GN!Reader)

“And this is for you.” 

Placed in your waiting hands was a small glass globe no bigger than a softball. There was an opening at the top, within it a thin layer of sand. You smiled and nodded as you said, “Thank you.” 

Jade smiled in return, his own globe held delicately in his palm. His fingers were longer than yours, the tips brushing the opening of the glass. Inside was its own thin layer of sand: the foundation of the beach terrarium you both would soon create. You were honestly surprised Jade wanted you of all people to spend this time with him. However, you doubted Floyd would be interested in such things; Azul might be, but he was currently busy trying to strike up business in town. Trey was another possibility, but you knew that man always had his hands full aiding Riddle with Heartslabyul’s student management. There weren’t many other options for company, you realized. 

Even so, you couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you want me to make a terrarium with you? I thought you liked to spend time alone when it comes to nature?” 

“I often do, yes,” Jade replied. Those heterochromic orbs eyed you fondly as he added, “However, it has been quite a while since we’ve spent some quality time together. As we are both free this morning, I’d say that opportunity has finally come.” 

“Yeah, fair enough,” you said. You gave Jade a nervous smile and pointed out, “I actually have never made a terrarium before - you’ll have to guide me through it.” 

“I suspected as much.” He placed his empty hand over his heart, “It would be my pleasure to teach you.” 

Usually one would be nervous to go off with Jade alone, but unlike other people you’d come to like Jade’s eccentric attitude. Sure, he could be real ominous at times, with that smile that may or may not intend your doom - and yet, at least when it came to you, you never felt the danger. Floyd did point out to you once that Jade seemed a bit less menacing in your presence…you guessed that was a good sign. So, you threw caution to the wind and let Jade lead you away from the beach and into the lush green brush beyond. 

***

The moment you stepped into that greenery, dusted with golden grains of sand, you both set to work. You crouched down on the ground and sifted through the flora to try and find something of interest to put in your globe. When you glanced back to see what Jade was doing, you saw his terrarium was already in progress. You felt a little frustrated at your lack of progress. “What exactly am I looking for?” you asked. “Like, what do I put in here?” 

“Anything you want,” Jade answered simply. 

Well, that certainly helped you. You watched Jade pluck some rocks from the ground and carefully place them into the glass. Every placement of every object and plant was perfectly calculated; he was constructing a scene before your very eyes. And yet, still, your own globe laid barren. You decided to voice another question, “How do you usually make yours?” 

“Mm…” Jade thought it over for a moment, then said, “I often do one of two things: I will either have a mental vision of how I want the terrarium to appear, or I will simply let the inspiration come to me as I work.” 

Yeah, that made sense. Unfortunately for you, nothing came to mind. You stared down at the small glass orb; the sand sloshed back and forth as you turned it from side to side, careful not to spill the grains. Your eyes scanned the area around you for a moment, then turned back to your globe. For once, you lacked any sort of creativity. You didn’t even notice Jade had come to kneel at your side until his voice was right next to your ear. 

“If I may,” he offered you a pretty flower he held between his fingers, “I think this would be a fine start to your scene.” 

So, he did notice your struggle. Ever the observant one, this eel. No wonder Azul chose him to be his vice housewarden…although, it was obvious why his brother was not picked instead. What a chaotic scenario that would have been. Your eyes took in the flower presented to you: it was small, barring four blush pink petals. You smiled as you took the flower delicately by the stem, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ as you placed it in your globe. The flower now lay prettily on the sand in the corner of the glass, almost like an umbrella. 

“Is anything coming to mind?” Jade queried. 

“I…I think so.” You had a general idea - not a grand one, though. “Do I have to fill the entire thing?” 

“Not at all.” Jade held up his own globe for you to see, his index finger pointing at the space two inches from its opening. “It is actually recommended for you to leave some space, so the space does not become too crowded. I would say the limit for the length of any plant or object that be placed within this globe should stretch no further than here.” 

You nodded as you took in his words, then asked, “Can I leave a space in the middle? Not an empty one, I mean - just one that doesn’t have much stuff in it?” 

He glanced down at you and gave a small shake of his head. “If that is what you wish.” 

Now an idea was placed in your head. It wouldn’t be much, but you think it’d look nice. After another uttered ‘thank you’, you set to work once again. You scoured the ground for what you needed for your vision: tiny rocks and pebbles and seashells, flowers, sprigs of green foliage, and one palm leaf. Jade helped you procure that last piece; unfortunately, you are not tall enough to reach such a height. You carefully arranged all of these items into your glass globe piece by piece. While there was a rearrangement or two in the process, your decoration went off without a hitch. When it was complete, you felt practically giddy. It looked so good! 

“Jade, look!” You rose up from your spot on the ground and trotted over to where he stood in the shade of a palm tree. He glimpsed your figure as you approached from behind, just as he tucked something into his terrarium. You held up your own glass sphere for him to see. “I’m finished! What do you think?” 

The glint of sharp teeth peeked through his smile as he spoke. “It looks wonderful - a very good job for your first terrarium.” He gazed into the globe for a few more seconds before he turned to face you. “Would you like to see mine?” 

“Sure!” You leaned in close as he brought the terrarium up to your line of sight. A gasp released from your lips. It was…breathtaking! The way he organized the palm leaves, sprigs of fresh and wilted grass, pebbles and rocks, seashells, flowers, tiny sticks. You even noticed there was the tiniest puddle of water in the center; it looked like a mini oasis! It was…so much better than yours. You suddenly felt self-conscious, ashamed, but you forced a smile as you voiced your own praise. 

“It looks amazing!” You lightly pressed the tip of your finger to point out the mini puddle of water. “How did you prevent the water from soaking into the sand?” 

“I brought a little tool with me.” Jade lowered the globe so you could peer into it from the top opening. “You see that the sand is pressed down at the bottom of the water? That is because I placed a circular, plastic tray there. I poured a bit of water into the tray; it will prevent the sand from soaking it up.”

“That’s so cool!” Though you genuinely meant the compliment, the shame from your inexperience only grew. “You’re really talented, Jade.” 

“Why, thank you, [Y/n].” He looked quite pleased with your statement, eyes closed for a moment in silent joy. When they opened again, his smile drooped into a different one as his eyebrows downturned. “But there is sadness in your eyes. Have I done something to offend you?” 

Once again, very observant. You knew better than to lie, or to say it was nothing. Jade would find out one way or another - and he would be hurt that you’d keep something like that from him. So, with a sigh, your own smile faded into a frown, head lowered in a mix of shyness and shame. “N-No, you haven’t offended me. It’s just, well…I guess I wish I could be as good as you are, making terrariums, I mean. I know I just started, but,” you chuckled as you glanced down at the glass in your hand, “mine looks so barren compared to yours.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Those heterochromic eyes filled your vision again as Jade knelt before you. He carefully set his terrarium beside him before he came to clasp yours. “May I?” With a nod of your head, you let Jade take the glass orb and lift it between you two. “Yes, yours is not as detailed as mine,” Jade began, “but there is a beauty to minimalism. This scene you have created…is it perhaps a campsite on the beach?” 

“How did you know?” You tilted your head to beside in bewilderment at Jade’s observation. 

He let out a soft tiddle before he continued. “I recognize it from the fires we built along the beach the other night, when we were with our classmates. Though we did not sit at the same fire, I do recall there being a large umbrella beside yours. It was Riddle’s, was it not?” 

“Yes.” 

“Though it is a lighter shade of color, you have tucked the flower I gave you in the corner to represent that umbrella. In the center, where you’ve made a small circle of pebbles, that is to represent the campfire; I like how you placed a stem of red weed in the center.” 

“Do you think I shortened it too much?” you asked. 

“No.” Jade’s eyes flicked up to meet your gaze - within his were a softness you hadn’t noticed before. “It is the perfect size to mimic a fire.” He glanced back down at the globe, “I see a few shells peeking out of the sand as well.” He paused for a moment, then looked up and asked, “Might I ask what the palm leaf is to represent?”

“The large towel Trey had laid out for us,” you replied. “I tried to cut the leaf just enough to fit in the glass without it overpowering everything else.” Your worried gaze met his once again as you shyly admitted, “I know it doesn’t look too good.” 

“On the contrary, I think it is a wonderful edition.” Jade squinted to get a closer look inside, nose almost brushed up against the glass. “You used the materials at your disposal to create a scene from memory. I believe it is a very accurate setting.” He offered the terrarium back to you and you took it. “I also think your decision to keep the backdrop clear allows for even further detail. You can simply hold it up to the sky - anything, really - and let it paint the picture in your mind.” 

For the way he described it, you felt a lot better now. Still, compared to Jade’s, it was obvious who was the true professional. Your smile returned brighter than ever as Jade stood. “Thank you, Jade. I feel better about it now - and hey, like you said, I’m a beginner. I’ll be sure to get better with time!” 

“Indeed, I believe you will.” Jade picked his terrarium up off the ground as he spoke again. “Does that mean you wish to do this again sometime?” 

“I’d love to!” You walked with Jade as he began to lead you two back to the beach. “Next time, I’d like you to show me how you make yours. I want to see all the different things you can do.” 

“You flatter me.” You glimpsed the lightest tint of pink creep up on the man’s cheeks. He now grinned from ear to ear, not too worried about showing his teeth to you. “I will be sure to teach you everything I know.” He paused in his speech, then that smile turned a tad mischievous. “Well…perhaps not everything. That sort of knowledge will cost you.” 

“Cost me what?” You felt it might be a mistake to ask, but what the hell? 

“Hmm, who knows?” Jade cooed with a small shrug of his lean, yet broad shoulders, still cloaked in that bright purple, tropical button-up. Those orbs had a dark look about them now, glinting with devious intent as he leaned down close to your face. “Do you wish to find out?~” 

You didn’t know why, but you decided to meet the merman’s challenge with a smirk of your own. “What if I do?” 

Jade hummed, “Intriguing. Though we are close, you are often hesitant to accept any plot I might have schemed.” 

“Usually,” you raised your eyebrows as you stared back at him, “but I’m feeling lucky today.” 

“Are you now?” Jade let out a small laugh, smile a bit gentler now. “Well…do call upon me when you are ready to begin your next lesson.” 

You most certainly would.

[leprosycock]

So what's the appeal of dadson anyway

there are a lot of answers to this question and a lot of them might not make you happy, but part of it is that male/male incest is one of the most taboo concepts in fiction. m/m sexuality is still considered to be scary and dirty and inappropriate in a lot of ways, especially in popular media. i'm sure you can name a ton of f/f relationships that have been shown in children's media over the past ten years, which is wonderful, obviously, but comparatively, there aren't nearly as many m/m relationships shown in an innocent light. even when it is innocent, it's very often seen as perverse. none of that is okay, of course, it's insane and it's sad and it's twisted, but that does add a layer of how degenerate these kind of relationships can be seen.

moving from an outsider's perspective to an inner one—myself—the appeal of it to me personally is that it's twisting one of the tenderest and most intimate relationships that exists, a father and a son, a mentor and his apprentice, a teacher and a student, a male to male bond, and adding a very creepy, sinister, predatory aspect to it. it's just insanely erotic. and incest by nature is a ridiculous abnormality practiced only by people whose brains don't inherently reject pheromones and scents from people of the same blood as yours and this repulsion is often overlooked when these individuals live in a very lonely, isolated environment. i'm extremely attracted to a house and a home being a living being and an entity in and of itself and how it can decay and therefore trap the family unit inside and force it to decay as well, therefore decaying trust and tenderness and purity and mutual respect and safety and instead encouraging harmful, destructive tendencies that will hurt a family beyond measure. every wrong move can leave a mark no matter how minuscule and the bigger it is, the bigger a wound it pulls open.

other things that i like about it is the classic coming of age story and how that's meant to be navigated through a state of constant confusion and body terror and how poor decisions and abusive relationships will heavily impact a developing brain at the most essential points of sexual maturity and discovering an identity and learning how to be a grownup. when you're stuck in a relationship that is meant to be hidden from the world because it is so insanely taboo and it's actively doing you harm, that will warp you beyond measure and exploring that aspect is so complicated and rich and fascinating to me. there's so many roads it can go down.

also!! i love twisting the role that a father can play in a relationship like this and forcing him to act in place of the stereotypical domestic nuclear mother because not only does he have to be the mentor, but he has to be the provider both physically and emotionally, as well as the maternal source of comfort and peace, meant to nurture and offer up his body and blood to a struggling young person. something like that is really fun to play with. everyone is forced out of their comfort zone to the most extreme.

i don't care for erotica unless it contains a lot of nuance and psychological exploration. dadson is one of the most fascinating types of relationships to me to really sift through the complexities of and i could do it all day. and i do. because it's awesome

[thehollowwriter]

Warnings: Implied abuse, character death, implied murder Word Count: 1733

Summary: Ezra contemplates time and how quickly it passes

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Hourglass

Ezra Citlalli was a man with vendettas. Throughout his long life, he had made many an enemy in many of the different aspects of his life.

He may be elegant, but there was a viciousness to that elegance. He was true to the essence of the jaguar. Enthralling and graceful, with a bite that pierced bone.

Too often, others would get just a little too comfortable, convinced they would not be bitten. They were different, they would insist, they were an exception. Then they would find themselves bleeding and become enraged.

While this would happen with competitors or fans, it was most common with Ezra's husbands. They, proud to have "possession" of the jaguar, would shake with rage and burning hatred when the fangs they tried to file down were turned on them.

That was fine. Ezra handled all off it with the grace and beauty of a peacock. Everything was taken care of behind the scenes when the curtain fell.

Competitors could never hope to come close to him if they hadn't already been blacklisted for nasty secrets spilt by someone with loose lips or became a victim of a sudden tragedy.

His husbands, well, none of them could ever handle their wine. They news story was different each time, and Ezra took special care of that wine before the investigations began. Then, a new man would come along, wanting to tame the jaguar, and the cycle continued. It hurt, but... Ezra was happy to take the inheritance each time.

Fans were difficult. They were not a singular individual but a mass of faces and voices. Shouting, screaming, crying for more.

More music, more performances, more layers peeled off, every little thing Ezra had, they wanted. He never gave it them, of course. He only gave just enough that they were desperate to come back and keep demanding more.

Ezra didn't like any of them, not at all, but they gave him everything he wanted and more. That was a vendetta fulfilled, just not through death. Death wouldn't be beneficial here.

The only vendetta Ezra could never fulfil was that against time.

Time was possibly his greatest enemy. It took so much from him and would continue to do so until the day he died. Even with advanced technology and powerful magic, there was no such thing as time travel. There is no changing what has happened nor preventing what was to come.

What was that saying again... ah, yes. Time's arrow neither stands still nor reverses. It merely marches forward.

Though Ezra wouldn't call it an arrow. He thought an hourglass worked better. Slowly, the sand was sifting through, burying people and history in the grains that scratched your throat and clogged your lungs. It does not relent. It does not feel pity or shame or malice. It keeps going until the sand inevitably runs out, and there is nothing left.

This hated of time had been going on for as long as Ezra could remember. The sand would pool around his feet, and days and weeks and months would fly by in what felt like minutes.

"Today felt like it went on for years, right?" Someone would say, and Ezra could never relate.

He remembered thinking to himself, "It can't possibly be October already." At 14, and wondering when summer ended at 50.

His earliest memory was learning his ABCs. It was funny to look back on that now, when he could speak several languages.

Ezra went from learning to spell to middle school before he could blink, and when he did blink, he was standing in front of the Dark Mirror in Night Raven College.

Then, he was a second year with two new friends. They would dance and sing and cause trouble together. Some of the trouble was far worse than the rest, but Ezra didn't care. He wanted to make his cold, cruel parents go pale, to make their hair turn white from stress and rage.

They won their VDC. Then, they graduated. And then, they travelled.

Ezra blinked, and he had switched from singer to model. Microphones and smoke machines and flashing stage lights were replaced with catwalks, trailing dresses, and graceful poses.

Ezra blinked, and Alastair had opened a hotel. Morrigan had found a partner, a guy named Silas.

Ezra blinked, and he was attending Morrigan's wedding. He blinked, and he had switched from model to fashion designer. He blinked, and he was attending Morrigan's funeral.

Nothing had made Ezra want to smash the glass of that hourglass more. That cruel act of cutting Morrigan's life short when there was still so much ahead of him. There was a hole left where he once was, an absence that could never be filled.

From when he got the news to the funeral to the days after, Ezra was filled with grief... and a guilt that he could not escape from.

All he could think about was how, in all his years of knowing Morrigan, he had never visited enough. He never talked to him enough. Never hugged him or kissed his cheek hello and goodbye enough.

When was the last time they sang together? When did they last get into trouble? When did Ezra last speak to Morrigan, and why did it feel like it was far too long ago?

It made him feel selfish, making Morrigan's death about himself and his actions. Morrigan's husband was utterly distraught, and Alastair... Alastair couldn't hear his name without sobbing.

But the guilt still gnawed at him. It made him angry, made him want to find someone to blame. His parents, his bosses, his fans, his job. Almost all his life, he was waking up and working, then collapsing into bed late at night. If he got the chance to sleep at all.

"I'm busy." He would tell himself. "I can't visit right now."

Work was all he knew. But could he blame that? Was he really so swamped he couldn't take a few days off? Was he really, when he was making millions?

Suddenly, Morrigan's funeral was long gone, and Finn had been born. Silas had become a good, even if a bit odd, friend, but he didn't invite either Ezra or Alastair to meet him until he was two or three.

Finn was the sweetest little thing, though he would get excited and bite anyone who held him. Ezra didn't lind. It didn't hurt, and, well, he was used to hiding injuries thanks to more than one of his previous marriages.

Ezra made it an objective to put into more effort into travelling to the Coral Sea to visit, hoping that if something happened, maybe he wouldn't be so wracked with guilt.

But even with this effort, the sand continued to flow, making Ezra feel like he was going to be buried alive.

Finn was four and discovered a love for painting. Then, he was ten and experienced his first crush. Then, he was 14. Then, he was going to Night Raven College.

Ezra nearly cried when the letter came, and Finn showed them, more wary than excited. He couldn't say a word, becoming lost in his own mind.

He, at 66 years old, thought about when he got his own letter almost 50 years ago. He thought about how almost five decades had passed, and he barely felt like he'd lived a mere fraction of that time.

He thought about how Finn looked almost exactly like Morrigan did the first time Ezra met him, hair done up in a bun, eyes bright, looking annoyed.

He thought about how in those near five decades since meeting him, Ezra hadn't spent nearly enough time with his best friend before his death, and there was no way to change it.

Finn went to Night Raven and found love at the ends of his first year. In his second year, he told Ezra about how one of his partners started a cafe in their dorm and that he played saxophone there sometimes.

Ezra took a while to answer, suddenly brought back to performing with Alastair and Morrigan, when they were still a trio and not a duo missing a piece.

Sometimes, Ezra felt like he was suffocating, swarmed by the endless flooding of sand in that wretched hourglass.

He had lost so much to time. His friend, most of his life, his youth... Yes, he certainly wasn't young anymore.

Slivers of silver streaked through his luscious hair, patches of grey formed on his beautiful fur, and wrinkles marred his flawless skin.

Time would come for him as well, eventually.

Often, it felt like the easiest thing to do was to simply wallow in his grief and guilt and self-pity. 'Just lie down and let the sand swallow you.' He would think. 'What else can you do but visit friends and work until you die?'

This was how he was feeling when he first told Morrigan about his experiences with time. Morrigan didn't respond to him at first. He just stared ahead, brows furrowed, and thought long and hard.

"Well," He said, smiling."I don't really get it, but if time is fleeting for you, wouldn't you want to make the most of it? You've got money, Ezra, use it. Travel, go sky diving, the world's your oyster." He paused, then sighed. "Now I'm hungry for oysters..."

Morrigan was right, but he made it sound so very easy. To do all that, Ezra would probably have to retire and that... well, his parents would be rolling in their graves.

"Retirement makes you lazy," His father would say. "And being lazy makes you stupid. Work gives you purpose. It proves your worth."

"Fuck that," Ezra could almost hear Morrigan saying. "You never listened to that wet clump of seaweed before. Why start now?"

Ezra wanted to laugh and jab Morrigan in the ribs for that, but be found himself sitting in his office, painfully alone.

He didn't have to be alone, did he, though. Alastair was a phone call away. Silas and Finn weren't difficult to get to. Maybe Alastair could come with him and travel. Maybe they can perform together again, by themselves, as a long overdue dedication to Morrigan.

Maybe... maybe could be pulled out of the sand. It would take a while, but it would be worth it. He would be able to breathe again.

That sounded nice.

...........................................

A/N: This is a bit of a different type of fic than what I usually do. I rarely use characters to explore my own feelings, but I decided it would help to do so with Ezra. I've always struggled with time passing way too quickly for me, and I have this little fear I'll wake up, and my time will be done despite feeling like I've barely lived. Idk, I guess this one is a bit more personal. Sorry if this isn't as good as my other work fjffjfi

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

[jgroffdaily]

Excerpts from an interview with Jonathan and Maria Friedman at the Los Angeles Times by Charles McNulty, with photos by Justin Jun Lee:

Hopefulness and regret are calibrated to perfection in a revival that ought to be filmed before it closes July 7. I’ve seen the New York production twice, and the psychology only deepens on subsequent viewing.

The key to making this work — which is to say making us care — is the performance of Groff, who humanizes Frank’s choices without sentimentalizing his arc. Frank can come off as a narcissist, a guy who can’t resist whatever shiny object happens to be in front of him. But Groff, who received Tony nominations for his performances in “Spring Awakening” and “Hamilton” and deserves to win for his beautifully layered work in “Merrily,” reveals what Mary and Charley see in him and don’t want to give up on: an answer to their dreams of fulfillment — romantic in Mary’s case, artistic in Charley’s.

Groff was fresh from filming HBO’s “Spring Awakening: Those You’ve Known,” a reunion concert with the show’s original cast and creative team, when casting director Jim Carnahan asked him about his interest in “Merrily.” He immediately watched the London production on YouTube and was struck by an image from the opening number that matched something he had just re-created for the “Spring Awakening” doc.

“Frank walks out with a red folder, and Mary and Charley come out and stand in the exact positions that John Gallagher Jr. and Lea Michele stood in at the end of ‘Spring Awakening,’ with the girl over the left shoulder, the guy over the right,” he said, speaking from his dressing room at the Hudson Theatre. “That is the final bit of ‘Spring Awakening’ and I was like, ‘Oh, that’s so weird. I just lived that.’”

But it was one of Frank’s lines that really clinched the deal for Groff: “I’ve made only one mistake in my life. But I made it over and over and over. That was saying ‘yes’ when I meant ‘no.’” “When I heard that,” Groff said, “I went, ‘Oh, my God. I have to play this. I have done that. I’m just learning how to not do that. Yeah, I get him.’”

“I cast Jonathan for many reasons,” Friedman said. “One, because he’s absolutely brilliant. But I cast a big heart, a beating heart.”

“The amusement and bafflement of having a go at life and everyone wanting a piece of you — that is the place that Jonathan works from,” Friedman said. “Everyone wants a piece of Frank. That’s what happens with brilliant people. Jonathan is not just brilliant and beautiful but also one of the kindest men. And kindness is central to this production.”

Groff, who was exceptional in the short-lived HBO series “Looking” about a group of young gay men living in San Francisco, said that, from “a queer perspective,” he could identify with the way Frank represses parts of himself to please others.

“Growing up closeted, I became an expert at dodging questions and shining a light on other people,” he said. “This can create a relationship dynamic where you’re in a constant state of service to others — like the perfect son who’s hiding something. That stereotype feels connected to the way Frank supports everybody’s dreams, talents, neuroses and needs. He’s able to do it because he’s full of passion and genuine love for those people.”

So how exactly did Friedman, Groff & Co. finally solve the riddle of “Merrily”? By approaching it the way they might a play by Shakespeare or Chekhov, sifting through the lyrics as though they were lines in “Hamlet” and digging into the psychology of the characters as though mining subtext in “Uncle Vanya.”

This revival, fittingly, has been a team effort. And the ensemble’s collaborative joy only reinforces our sense that, however much Frank, Charley and Mary may bitterly disappoint one another, their bond will always be the best thing that ever happened to them.

[electric-cross]

Timebomb

Pairing: Ricky Olson x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, lovey dovey shit

Word Count: 6.1k

Ricky and the reader are on tour together and fall in love. Smut ensues.

I may have gotten a little carried away with this one, but I've had romantic Ricky on the brain for months. Enjoy!

You were on your tour bus, sifting through the belongings in one of your bags, looking for your makeup. It was hot outside, hence why you were dressed in shorts and a tank top, hair pulled up and out of your way. After a moment or so of digging, you finally found the little clutch bag that you had been looking for. Picking it up, you went into the bathroom of the bus, needing the mirror to prepare yourself for tonight’s performance.

You had been on this tour for almost two months, enjoying the chance to tour with a larger band like Motionless In White. Of course, being a huge fan of theirs helped, too. It was nice, as a smaller band, and yourself, a lesser known vocalist and guitarist, to get the opportunity to play to larger crowds and get your name out there. You’d met several people at the merch stand that bought your shirts and now called themselves fans. It was everything you’d dreamed of in the days of tiny venues and crowded vans to carry you to them.

You applied eyeshadow and reflected on your time on this tour thus far. Happy to know that you’d played some of your best shows and given some of your best performances. You’d met so many crew members that you were happy to call new friends. Of course, you’d met and befriended all of the guys in Motionless, as well. They were a very friendly and welcoming group, and you were proud to share the stage with them. You’d spent quite a bit of time with some of them and had even developed friendships and inside jokes. Sometimes, on long bus rides, you’d text the guys on the other bus to kill time and strengthen your newfound bonds.

Of course, there was one member that you seemed to grow especially close to. Their guitarist, Ricky, had become a close confidant of yours and you spent much of your free time on tour talking to him, whether it be through text or just being able to hang out in between shows. He was so inviting when you first met, always asking you questions and genuinely wanting to get to know you. You were surprised by how much he cared about knowing you. After all, you were just the opener, he didn’t have to go out of his way to be nice to you. But, for whatever reason, he seemed to seek you out quite often, thoroughly enjoying your talks. You couldn’t count how many times the two of you had killed hours of time just sitting around, shooting the shit and getting to know each other. You felt like you knew him like the back of your hand at this point, and you were sure he could say the same.

You continued applying your makeup, a thick layer of black eyeliner smudged around the lid to compliment the sparkly black eyeshadow you had previously applied. You caught yourself smiling in the mirror as you recalled the last conversation you had had with Ricky. A seemingly relaxed conversation about some book he’d insisted you read. He even insisted that you make a note of it in your phone, lest you forget the title. You agreed with the promise that he would also read a book of your choosing, as well. He agreed heartily. This man loved books. He spoke about them with such reverence and adoration. You especially loved the way he talked about writing his own book. It really enabled you to catch a glimpse into this man’s mind, his way of thinking about the world. You couldn’t wait to read it and, thankfully, he promised to send you a copy. 

You put the final touches on your look while wondering what his writing would be like. Would he write the way he spoke? Or was it more formal? Would you pick up on any telling information about his personality from the way he phrased his thoughts and feelings of the world around him? You were desperate to read it. It almost made you wish the tour was over so you could go home and eagerly await your copy to arrive. Almost, being the key word. The other half of you, the larger half, hoped this tour would never end. You loved the overall experience, but mostly, you just loved spending time with Ricky.

You knew that you had a crush on him from the day you met. He was so handsome, friendly, and intelligent. You found yourself a bit nervous around him, but unable to pull yourself away. Your introverted nature telling you to hide yourself away, but your mind still involuntarily pulling yourself in the opposite direction. This man drew you in. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had had such a strong effect on you so quickly. Usually, it took more time to draw you in like this. Earlier encounters usually just brushed off as silly little crushes until they became something more. Ricky was different. You felt that rush of adrenaline and butterflies early on. It got to the point where you found yourself either looking for him or thinking about him all the time. 

Eventually, you couldn’t hide your feelings from yourself anymore. Too many deep, late night conversations with him drew forth intense emotional feelings. You couldn’t believe it, but in such a short amount of time, you had fallen in love. It was a recent revelation, but a strong one, just the same. You felt as though you were being swept up by a riptide of love and anxiety, unsure of what you should do. Should you tell him? What if that made things weird? At least the tour was almost over, so you wouldn’t have to live with that awkward situation for long. But what about after? Would you no longer be friends? The idea of losing the relationship you’d already built was crushing. You’d grown very close to this man, and you valued your friendship above all else. You decided to just keep your feelings to yourself. For now, anyway. Maybe it was something you would deal with after you got home and didn’t have to face his rejection face to face.

You finished getting ready and headed out of the bathroom, through the bus, and eventually outside. You were parked outside the venue, the show starting in a short while. You knew your band was warming up, and you decided to join them. Making your way to the practice area, you saw several people lined up out front in full Motionless regalia. A few short years ago, you would have been one of them, and now, you were playing with them and hiding what was probably unrequited love from their guitarist. You lightly shook your head and chuckled at the way things had turned out.

You heard music playing as you approached the vicinity in which your band was practicing. Without saying a word, you slipped into the group, picked up your guitar and joined them in playing warm up scales and running through various parts of the set list. You had already warmed your voice up on the bus, preferring to do that part alone, although you sang bits and pieces and drank lots of water to help keep your voice lubricated. You always wanted to put on a great show, but knowing that Ricky would be watching made you especially focused on playing the best show you could. You’d never felt more nervous performing than after realizing your feelings of love and knowing he was in the crowd. He didn’t have to watch you perform every night, but he did. You chalked it up to him just enjoying the music, which he had admitted to, and not to anything personal or serious.

Finally, the time came to take the stage. You carried your guitar to the side stage and waited to take your place out front. Before you could make your way center stage, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Hey, good luck out there tonight,” the voice said.

You turned to face the man you knew would be standing there, “Thanks. Come to see us play again?”

Ricky smiled, “Yeah, you guys have killed it every night, I’m not missing out.”

You smiled sincerely, “Thanks, Rick. You guys are killing it, too.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, “Listen, are you doing anything after the show later?”

You paused, “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Well, we have an off day tomorrow and we’re not traveling tonight, so I thought maybe you’d like to hang out or something.”

Your heart raced. You’d hung out many times and surely this would be no different, but you still felt your stomach flip flop whenever he wanted to spend time with you.

“Yeah, that’d be awesome. Is everyone getting together after you play or what?”

“No, I don’t know what everyone else is getting up to tonight. I kinda just thought it could be you and me.”

Was he nervous? Surely, not. But, then again, he did seem a bit fidgety and he was having a hard time maintaining eye contact.

Feeling a bit nervous now, yourself, you took a moment to steady your voice and replied, “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. We can definitely hang out. Where do you wanna meet?”

“Well, we have this little back area of the bus that no one really uses. We could hang out there. Do you just wanna meet me at our bus after we’re done?” he asked, seemingly hopeful.

“Sure, that’s fine. I-”

You were cut off by your cue to take the stage. You turned to look out at the rest of your band heading off, before turning to Ricky one last time.

“I’ll see you then,” you smiled.

He returned the grin, “Okay. See you later. Good luck out there!”

“Thanks,” you smiled one last time before turning and heading out to do your job.

You spent the entire hour of your performance swept up by nerves, glancing back every so often at Ricky watching you. He seemed to be enjoying himself. You were trying your best to take your mind off the fact that Ricky wanted to spend time alone with you, and tried instead to be laser focused on every chord progression you played, every word you sang or screamed. You felt immense pressure tonight, but somehow, you managed to pull through and put on another great performance.

You played your final song, thanking the crowd for their enthusiasm and building up Motionless to come on and knock it out of the park. After you played your final note, the guitar fading into dissonance, you walked off stage back to where Ricky had been. You noticed he was no longer there, figuring that he had to leave to warm up for his own set. You handed your guitar to the waiting tech and made your way backstage to your dressing room. Thankfully, most of the venues had showers, and this one was no different. You took a quick shower, deciding to forgo washing your hair as you had just washed it last night, and you hadn’t gotten too sweaty in your performance. You threw on a pair of tattered jeans and a loose band tee, your hair still up and makeup surprisingly still intact. You gave yourself one last glance in the mirror and then headed out the door, knowing that Motionless would be on in any minute.

You made your way to the side stage, once again, ready for the guys to show up and take their place. After a few minutes of waiting, you saw them rounding the corner out of your peripheral vision. Chris, ever the leader, was in front with the rest of the band following close behind. One by one, they greeted you and gave congratulations on a job well done as they gathered up their instruments and prepared to take their place. Ricky had been quite quiet but never took his eyes off you.

Eventually, he made his way over to you, looking you straight in the eye and making you feel particularly vulnerable. You couldn’t deny it was a good feeling, though.

“Hey, you were fucking amazing out there, as always,” he told you.

You felt your heart flutter, “Thanks. I’m sure you’ll do great as always, too.”

He grinned, “Well, I sure hope so. Don’t be afraid to tell me if we suck, though.”

You laughed, “I’m not sure that’s possible. You guys have been great this whole run.”

“Yeah, well, you can always have an off night,” he began, “So don’t hold back on the honesty.

You chuckled, “Okay, deal. I’ll let you know how awful you are.”

“That’s all I ask for,” he grinned again.

Before either of you had a chance to say anything else, now he received the call to take his place. He turned back to you, smiled one last time, then walked out. Your eyes never losing focus of him. You watched him the whole night. Regardless of who was doing what out there, all you saw was Ricky. You watched the way he walked, the way his fingers moved against his guitar, the way he headbanged and sang his parts. He was a master of his craft, and you were completely smitten by everything he did.

Eventually, they played their final encore and another show was in the books. They made their way back side stage and you gave words of encouragement and high fives to them all. They discarded their instruments and left to head back to their dressing room. Ricky lingered behind, catching sneak glimpses of you when he thought you weren’t looking. You noticed and did the same to him.

Neither of you said anything for a few moments until Ricky broke the silence, “So, listen. I’m gonna go take a shower but do you still wanna meet outside our bus in a little bit? I can text you when I’m on my way.”

“Sure, that sounds fine. I’ll see you in a bit,” you responded.

“Okay, see ya in a bit, then.”

He turned and walked off in the direction of their dressing room. You decided to head to your bus and wait by the phone until he was ready. You figured you could distract yourself with some mindless Instagram scrolling for awhile.

After about a half an hour or so, your phone lit up. You were disappointed to see that it was just some app notification, and not the text you’d been waiting for. You felt a bit silly getting so excited over a text, but you were in love, and you couldn’t lie to yourself about how caught up in this man you were. So you kept scrolling, even going so far as to go to Ricky’s Instagram and look at the beautiful pictures this man had posted of himself.

You were so lost in just looking at him, that it actually startled you when the text you had been awaiting popped up just a few minutes later.

“Hey, sorry I took awhile. Had to wait for my turn to use the shower. I’m on the bus now if you’re ready.”

Your heart raced as you typed, “Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay,” was all he responded.

You put your phone in your purse and headed out the door. Walking through the parking lot, you saw the familiar sight of their tour bus and made your way over. You knocked on the door, loud enough to make sure someone would hear you. A few moments later, the door swung open and you were greeted by the friendly face of Vinny.

“Hey! What are you doing here? Come to hang out?” he inquired.

“Sort of. Ricky and I have plans. I’m supposed to meet him here.”

“Oh, yeah. He mentioned something about that. Come on in!”

He stepped aside to allow you to enter the vehicle, closing the door behind you. You were immediately greeted by the entirety of the band and a couple of crew members you’d gotten to know as well. They all said their hellos and Justin informed you that Ricky was in the back room of the bus, just as he had said he would be. You thanked him and made your way to the back, stopping to knock on the door.

The door swung open and you were greeted by the friendly face you had been anticipating, “Hey! Come in!”

You said hello and made your way past Ricky and over to the seated bench. Ricky closed the door and immediately offered you some water which you gratefully accepted. You felt your breathing hitch slightly as he sat close to you.

“So, what’s up?” you asked as if you hadn’t just seen his entire evening.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he half laughed.

You chuckled in response, “Yeah, I can see that. By the way, you didn’t suck tonight, in case you were wondering.”

He put on an expression of faux seriousness, “Are you sure? Because I told you not to lie to me, remember?”

“I remember, and I swear I’m telling the truth. Scout’s honor,” you replied as you held up the three fingered Girl Scout salute.

He laughed again, “Okay, good. I believe you. So, what do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know. You asked me here, remember?”

He grinned, “That’s true. I guess I should have thought ahead and planned something for us to do.”

“Well, I don’t mind just talking. I’ve enjoyed it every other time we’ve done it.”

He shifted slightly, “Okay, cool. What do you wanna talk about?”

You paused, suddenly feeling nervous, “Oh, I’m not sure. What do you wanna talk about?”

He seemed slightly uncomfortable, you could tell by his expression that he was either trying to think of something, or he had something on his mind and didn’t know how to say it.

“Umm… I don’t know. We could always talk about books again. Unless I’ve completely burnt you out on that subject.”

You chuckled, “Of course not. I love talking about books with you. Got any other recommendations that I should add to my list?”

His eyes lit up, “Oh, definitely. How much time do you have?”

“All night,” you said more assuredly than you had intended.

He paused, looking deep into your eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, knowing he had something to tell you.

“Okay, so there is one book that I just finished yesterday that I’ve been dying to talk to someone about.”

You smiled, “Lay it on me.”

This went on for a while. You listened to Ricky’s synopsis of the book and reveled in the way he passionately described what he loved about it. You asked questions and gave opinions which he seemed to delight in. Of course, he got more recommendations from you, as well. The conversation then shifted to more substantial, life centered topics, and you found yourself creeping toward your desire to tell him how you felt about him. Especially when the conversation made its way into more relationship centered territories.

“...and I guess that’s why I’ve been sort of nervous about love and relationships again. I’m sure it’s all in my head and that things will work out fine if I were to just put myself out there and try again, but it’s daunting, you know?” he finished his thought.

“Absolutely. I totally get what you mean. My last relationship was pretty much the same and I have some of the same hangups about all this stuff as you do,” you responded.

He half smiled, “Glad to know that someone gets it.”

“Definitely.”

He paused for a moment, looking away from you, “Although, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready to try again.”

“Oh, really? Just in general, or is there someone specifically that you’ve got your sight set on?” you inquired.

He paused again, “Someone specifically.”

Your heart skipped a beat and then sank deep into the pits of your stomach. Here you were like a love sick school girl, desperately wanting this man’s affection, and his heart was already spoken for. You felt your throat tighten a bit and the smallest semblance of tears start to sting your eyes.

“Oh. Well, if you like someone, you should tell them, right? That’s the only way anything’s gonna happen. So, good luck, and let me know how it goes,” you attempted to play cool.

He said nothing. Just simply stared at you, his brows furrowed as if he were wrestling with himself over what to say next. You had no idea just how much he was contemplating his next choice of words.

“Okay,” he began, “What if I’m in love with this girl? Should I tell her, or should I just say that I like her so it’s not that big of a deal?”

You bit your lip, “Umm, I guess you should tell her that you love her. Might as well be honest. You never know what her response could be.”

“Okay,” he replied, “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Good,” you offered back, softly, feeling sadness creep up.

You were worried that you would start crying and immediately began thinking of an excuse to leave. You were just about to excuse yourself when Ricky took a deep breath and lightly grabbed your hand in his.

“So… I guess I’ll just take your advice and tell you that I’m in love with you.”

You froze. Unsure if you had heard him correctly.

“What?”

He steadied himself and said, “I’m in love with you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I know how I feel. I’ve been holding this back for a little while and hearing you say that I should just go for it made me realize that this is what I want. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I can deal with it. I just wanted to tell you.”

You attempted to piece together this information with your own internal thoughts. You could hear your brain replaying his words and screaming their own at you. You had no idea how to go forward, completely overwhelmed by emotion.

“You’re in love with me?” you questioned.

“Yeah. I am. Is there any possible chance that you might feel the same way? Call me crazy, but I swear there’s been something between us for a while now.”

“You’re definitely not crazy. There’s absolutely been something between us.”

His eyes lit up again, “Yeah? This isn’t all just in my head?”

“No,” you swallowed, gathering courage, “Ricky, I love you too.”

He was shocked, “Really? You love me?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. I don’t know if I was expecting that.”

“Really? What were you expecting?” you inquired.

“I don’t know. I guess I played through all the possibilities in my head and I never really landed on which one I thought would be the way it played out.”

You smiled, “I’ve done the same thing. Although, my pessimistic ass always thought you’d reject me.”

He furrowed his brow once more, “You thought I would reject you? Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t know how you felt about me and it was hard to come to any conclusion other than I was being delusional.”

He squeezed your hand softly and lifted his other to the side of your face, “You’re not delusional. I really do love you, and now that I know that you love me, I want to be with you. Is there any reason why we can’t be together or do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

You looked at his big, hopeful eyes, waiting for you to respond as he slowly rubbed his thumb against your cheek. You were swooning hard and your heart was beating out of your chest. You were finally getting what you wanted. What you had been dreaming about.

“Yes, Rick. I want to be your girlfriend,” you replied, lifting your free hand to rest on top of his that still sat at the side of your face.

He smiled, “Thank god. I’ve wanted you so badly.”

You weren’t sure if it was your own bravery or Ricky’s close proximity that made you so bold, but you soon heard yourself saying, “Wanted me how?”

He looked puzzled, “Wanted to be with you.”

“Is that all?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, still confused.

You bit your lip again, trying to work out how you would phrase what you would say next, “Well… I mean, have you just wanted me in the sense that you wanted me to be your girlfriend? Or have you wanted me in other ways? If you know what I mean…”

Realization struck his expression, “Oh! Yeah. I mean, if I’m being completely honest, I have thought about you in that way, too. Sorry, if that’s weird.”

You grinned, “Rick, I’m your girlfriend now. You don’t have to apologize for wanting to fuck me.”

You noticed his breathing hitch when you said that. He seemed much more focused and sure of himself now, “Yeah? It’s okay that I want to fuck you?”

“It’s very okay, sweetheart,” you flirted.

He smiled, a seductive expression on his face, “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been waiting for this too.”

He gave you no opportunity to reply. As soon as the words left his lips, they were latched on to yours. You felt your head swimming from the contact. You’d daydreamed countless times about your first kiss with Ricky. The fantasy proving to be far inferior to reality. You moved your lips slowly against his, taking in every sensation.

You stayed like this for a few minutes, just soaking each other in and enjoying the romantic catharsis you were both experiencing. Slow kisses turning into soft tongue kissing. You loved the feeling of his tongue against yours. You could stay like this forever.

Ricky had other plans, it seemed. His hands left your face and traveled down to the hem of your shirt, gathering the fabric and lifting it up past your bra. You broke the kiss in order to lift your arms above your head as he continued pulling the material up and off your body. He stopped for a moment to admire what he could see of your semi exposed body.

“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips were once again on yours, his hands at your back undoing your bra clasp.

You felt him slide your bra off your body, leaving your breasts exposed to him. Without breaking the kiss, he slid his hands up to lightly squeeze the two mounds of flesh, brushing his fingers over your hard nipples. You moaned into the kiss before pushing your tongue back into his mouth, which he gratefully reciprocated.

You continued kissing as you took your turn to tug at his shirt as well. He repeated your actions of breaking the kiss and lifting his arms, allowing you to discard the clothing. You both sat shirtless, making out as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, you felt his hands undoing the button of your jeans. Your heart raced. This was finally happening.

He pulled down your pants until they were at your ankles. He stopped to remove your shoes and socks before pulling the jeans completely off your body, leaving you in only your panties. He positioned you so that you were lying in front of him across the bench. Without saying a word, he grasped the fabric of your underwear in his tattooed hands and pulled them down your legs, removing them as well. Now you lay completely naked before this man. His eyes roamed your body, looking everywhere and unsure of where to focus.

After taking a proper look at you, his eyes returned to yours and he said, “You are so fucking beautiful. Even more beautiful than I had imagined.”

You smiled, “You’ve been thinking about me naked?”

He returned your smile, “I’ve been thinking about a lot more than that, baby.”

With that, he lowered himself over your body, his chest flush against yours as he began kissing you once more. He kissed you slowly, deliberately. You could tell he was taking his time with you. You didn’t mind in the slightest. You were happy to spend the entire night lying naked underneath this man.

After a few moments, his kisses began to trail your jaw, making their way to your neck. You took in a deep breath as you felt him gently suck and kiss the flesh of your throat. You felt pleasure building in your core as he made his way lower down your body, stopping to latch his mouth onto your breast. You let out a soft moan as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, licking and biting and causing more waves of pleasure. He paid the same care to your other breast before further kissing down your body and to your aching cunt.

He leaned his head up to catch your gaze, as if inquiring whether he could go further. You merely bit your bottom lip and spread your legs wide before him. This was all he needed to further descend upon your soaked pussy. He licked your clit with finesse, drawing the prettiest sounds out of you. He moved his tongue in slow circles as he began to place a finger inside you. You gasped at the intrusion and subconsciously bucked your hips up into his mouth. He seemed to be pleased by your response and responded by sucking your clit hard, making you moan out loud.

“Oh, fuck, Ricky. Baby, that feels amazing,”

He kept up his assault on your swollen bud and placed another finger inside you, pumping and curling his digits against the spongy inner sweet spot of your throbbing cunt. You felt dizzy from the work he was doing to you and you closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. He moaned as he worked his magic, loving the response you were giving him. It wasn’t long before you felt that familiar coil tightening inside you.

“Fuck, Ricky. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He moaned louder against your clit, sucking and fingering you like his life depended on it.

“Oh my god! Fuck…” you trailed off, gearing toward an orgasm.

Soon, the coil snapped, and you felt yourself arching into his mouth and letting out loud exclamations of ecstasy. You came for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, your body settled and you opened your eyes to the sight of Ricky undoing his jeans and removing the rest of his clothing. Your eyes never left one another, not even once his cock was free. You were so in love with this man and you were swimming in the post orgasm bliss that melded with it. You couldn’t look anywhere other than his beautiful face.

Ricky positioned himself between your legs once more, laying on top of you, just barely hovering above the surface of your skin. You could practically feel an electric charge rippling between your two bodies.

He looked deep in your eyes and asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah…” you replied softly, still shaken by the orgasm you had just experienced.

Without breaking eye contact, you felt him position the head of his cock at your soaking entrance. He rubbed it back and forth, gazing into you, gauging your reaction. You bit your lip and waited for him to cross the threshold. When he did, your jaw slacked and you closed your eyes once more. You heard him groan as he slid the full length of his member inside of you. He stopped for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the new fit.

You opened your eyes to see him staring back at you, a loving expression in his gaze. He brushed the side of your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said earnestly.

You smiled a sweet smile back at him, “I love you, too.”

With that, he slowly began to rock his hips. You moaned at the newfound friction. You felt completely filled up by this man, loving every second of it. Your gaze met his once more and you felt completely overwhelmed by the romantic and lustful feelings you were experiencing. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in deeper. He moaned and shut his eyes in response. You fought to keep your eyes open as he quickened his pace, wanting to watch the satisfyingly beautiful expression on his face as he made love to you.

Both of your moans filled the room as things escalated. Ricky’s hips now snapping more harshly into yours, eliciting sharp cries from you which he reciprocated. He must have been worried about the guys outside hearing the two of you, as he cut off one particularly loud moan by sealing your lips together once again. You grasped at his back, all four limbs wrapped around him as he fucked you, kissing and soaking in each other’s bodies.

This continued for a few minutes more, increasing in intensity before the two of you came close to your breaking points. Neither no longer caring about who heard what as his lips detached from yours and you openly, wantonly moaned against one another. He lifted your hips lightly off the bench and fucked into you with reckless abandon. You couldn’t help the cry that escaped your lips.

“Fuck, Ricky! Holy shit, that feels sooo good,” you whimpered.

He moaned in response, “Yeah? You gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?”

“Yes…” you whined, almost pathetically.

“Yeah? You want me to make you cum again?” he teased before dipping a hand down to rub your clit as he fucked you.

“Oh! Oh my god yes, Ricky. Please, baby.”

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, snapping his eyes shut.

He picked up the pace even more and soon you were seeing stars.

“Oh! Fuck!” you moaned, having your second orgasm of the night, “Ricky, baby… Fuck!”

That was enough for him to come undone as well. He gripped your hip harshly in his hand and fucked into you roughly as he moaned his own orgasm. Both your cries filling the room and forever sticking in your head. You would remember this night for the rest of your life.

Eventually, Ricky stopped completely as you both composed yourself to the best of your ability, “Fuck, baby, that was amazing,” he breathed out.

“That was fucking incredible,” you managed to slip out, your breathing ragged.

He climbed off of you and scooted you over so that he could lay next to you and hold you in his arms, “I really do love you, you know?”

You smiled sweetly at him, “I really love you too, Rick.

He smiled back and kissed you gently. You lay like that for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and the softness in your lips. You were content to stay like that the rest of the night. You felt his hand rubbing gentle circles into the small of your back as he kissed you. 

Finally, he broke the kiss, “You know what I just thought of?”

“What?” you asked.

“Those guys have been out there this whole time. They probably know what we were doing.”

“Can they hear us this far back? Isn’t the generator loud enough to cover it up?”

“Yeah, but we’ve been back here for awhile, and they sort of know that I was planning to tell you how I felt tonight.”

You were shocked, “They know how you feel about me?”

“Oh yeah, they’ve been giving me shit about it for weeks. I think they’ll just be relieved that I finally did something about it instead of just bitching about it all the time.”

You chuckled, “So you mean this whole time, I’ve been madly in love with you and pining from afar, and there were several people who could have ended my suffering?”

Ricky laughed as well, “I mean, technically, yeah, but I swore them to secrecy. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” you smiled, “It’s much better coming from you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, sweetheart,” he began before kissing you again, surely trying to lead up to round two of the night.

You were more than game for another romp with him. You would let this man do whatever he wanted to you, hopefully for the rest of your life.

[justanotherhh]

very fun reading all the analyses on the breakup, because layers reveal themselves with every one of them. they're interesting characters going through a slowburn of all time and there's so many facets going into why it's not working right now, set up throughout the show + and the ideas that act as foundations for the hellaverse generally (that hell is a giant circus, that everyone has predestined roles to play, that breaking those structures is dangerous, the hierarchies of hell, etc), while at the same time showing why it could work in future and what tools they need in order to make it work

but for right now all those pieces have been laid out and need to topple, so we can sift through them to say exactly how and why they reacted the way they did. been awhile since ive had so many thoughts for a dynamic on a show that's built up over such a long period of time

[adiluv-moved]

♡ ､､ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

꒰summary—wc꒱ poor, poor rosalyne. 1173 words.

꒰warnings꒱ major character death, angst w/ unhappy ending, reader is a fatui soldier, barely edited.

꒰adi moment꒱ still can't believe they robbed us of playable signora when she's literally my wife and we're literally happily married and just celebrated our anniversary together smhhh ꒰struggling to cope꒱! would like to be delulu and hope she gets revived somehow, cuz she fr deserves it. anyway, hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀི১

Celestia does not pity the sinners.

When you'd first found yourself involved with the Fatui, your failure to pay back your father's loans indebting you to the organization, you'd already known that you'd be destined for a bad ending. When you'd first found yourself being placed beneath the authority of the Eight Harbinger, you were surprised that Celestia did not strike you down right then and there. Namely, because unlike the other wide-eyed recruits that stood at the entryway of her manor, your cheeks were not tinted pink by the sub-zero temperatures. 

She was an interesting person, laced in webs of contradiction and mystery. She boasted a haughty personality, a sharp tongue that could slice through the egos of even her most self-conceited underlings. She dressed herself in luxurious shades of red, hair elegantly styled and makeup perfectly applied. But there was something strange that lurked beneath the surface of icy-blue eyes, like a flame, one that was too stubborn to be snuffed out—brazen, and burning beneath layers of snow and frost. Her face was fair, long hair draped over half of it, but in moments where she turned too fast, or the wind picked up, you could see charred flesh beneath it—a reminder, it seemed, to something she wished to forget.

Her home was warm, the furniture all imported from Mondstadt, a land of freedom that many deserters fantasized about escaping to. A fire burned within the servant's quarters, your colleagues and you huddling by it whenever the night fell and you'd been released from your duties. And yet, despite the feelings of positivity that her choices in furnishings tried to radiate, she seemed to be a bitter woman—locked in invisible shackles and tugged along like a doll. 

Oh, and you knew she was aware of your blind devotion, aware of the way that your back straightened up whenever you heard her heels clicking against wood paneling, aware of the sparks of awe that danced around in still-bright eyes.

What you didn't know, however, was the fact that she'd reward it.

The feeling of her arms languidly wrapping themselves around your waist, tugging you close and trapping you on her lap as she'd complete paperwork. The feeling of long nails gracefully sifting through your hair, tugging out any tangles she'd find along the way because, of course, she was not one to be deterred—and it was impossible to be annoyed by this trait when she'd coo so gently in response to your whimpers. The feeling of your lips on hers, flesh soft but oh so cold, with a near intolerable heat that thrummed beneath it. 

All these feelings, and the ways that she'd allow you to spoil yourself in her love. But how, so quickly, she'd push you from her embrace the second a knocking came at her door, leaving you to compose yourself within a second as she beckoned for her visitors to enter. How they'd leave, and in the next second you'd already be draping yourself against her, bodies intertwining in a hardly useful attempt to combat the room's constant chill. ꒰At the very least, it was more effective for her than you.꒱

How the pathway to her personal chambers would become so familiar, with her commanding you to come and meet her after all of the other soldiers you shared your quarters with drifted off to sleep. And, oh, how you'd listen, awoken before the crack of dawn by the feeling of her lips and a soft hum in order to scurry back before anybody could note your disappearance.

When did all of those feelings become familiar to you?

And, when did those feelings become strange once again?

"The Eighth is dead?!" You hear, once again, a shrill shriek that grates on your eardrums as it reverberates through the common room. Another Fatuus has just been informed of her fate, it seems, a newer recruit from the House of Hearth that you hadn't had the chance to properly introduce yourself to. Not that it even mattered anymore. 

You sigh, for what seems like the hundredth time within the hour, a futile attempt at keeping the tears brimming in your eyes from spilling over, from keeping the wail bubbling inside of your throat from escaping.

La Signora is dead. 

Your lover, dead.

Dead, in a foreign land, practically on the other side of Teyvat, on a mission she'd insisted she'd return alive from.

Dead, on a mission that—when you'd initially questioned her about it—caused a prideful sneer to emerge on her face, familiar fingers gently pinching your lips shut as she teased you for your concern.

Dead, on a mission that she'd outright refused to let you accompany her on, half-jokingly stating that she didn't wish for the other Harbingers stationed there to catch a glimpse at you—stating that they might just fall in love at first glance, and she didn't want to share.

Looking back, you should've protested her decision more, insisted more instead of looking away to hide the red hue dusting your cheeks. You should've begged, even, instead of allowing her to steal a kiss from you, lips lingering with an unspoken promise of return that could now never be fulfilled. You should've followed, even if it would've made her upset, instead of allowing her to depart from the estate and board the one-way ship at the harbor, leaving you behind for good. 

Anything, anything. You should've—would've done anything, if it had the chance of making her stay.

Unlike her fellow Harbingers, you would not be granted the honors of peering into her casket, witnessing her remains before her manor—and her, by extension—are sealed away forever—a memory hidden away in the snow. ꒰You cannot decide if that makes you relieved or upset, because thinking about it for too long instead makes you wish to vomit.꒱ 

Instead, you are made to pack your belongings, flowers native to Mondstadt that she'd gifted you pressed beneath your pillow—not that you even slept on it all that often to begin with. You hold them as though they're made of glass, hands trembling and vision blurring as you attempt to keep even a single one of your teardrops from sullying them.

"What a shame, it is, that she was so far out of the Archons' favor." Comes a hushed murmur from another soldier, a recruit who'd been enlisted around the same time as you, devout to the point where you'd questioned their motivations for joining the ranks of such a morally ambiguous force.

A bitter laugh escapes your mouth at that, shoulders tensing as it devolves into nothing more than a strained sob. And while a part of you aches to destroy them, to rip them apart in some cruel way of reminding yourself that whatever you had with that woman is gone—you don't—simply shoving them back into their hiding space, hoping that they're also preserved within the icy wasteland that will soon take over your old home.

Poor, poor Rosalyne. 

Celestia does not pity the sinners. 

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