#so nothing has to change and i can just pretend its two weeks ago

[uselessdogboy]

im screaming and crying and banging my head against the wall why am i LIKE THISSSSSSSSSSSSS GAHHHHH WHYYYYY

[tyunkus]

amazon wishlist — kang taehyun

pairing: roommate!kang taehyun x afab!reader summary: your roommate and best friend, taehyun, finds a dildo on your amazon wishlist.

wc: 5.5k

warnings: masturbation, dry humping, dirty talk (praise, some degradation), pet names (princess, angel, baby, pretty), like One spank, teasing/humiliation?, penetrative, safe sex, mention of cunnilingus and handjob, also unrealistic because taehyun games here but. let me live my gamer bf dreams ok?

note: originally wrote this in 3rd person and then had to manually change it to 2nd person so sorry for any mistakes ! also still figuring how this site works so sorry for the plain formatting. i dont actually know if amazon sells dildos, and if they cost $30? probably not but yk... artistic liberty... capitalism...

There’s no chicken.

You notice this one Friday afternoon in the middle of July, while the pavements outside sizzle from the heat and the sun spills through the windows and warms up your back. You’re in the kitchen, sifting through a pathetic heap of frozen food. Usually, you head to the nearby supermarket after pilates class to pick up a pack of bacon; other times, Taehyun comes home after a day with Kai bearing a bag of frozen wedges. Either way, it’s clear that neither of you have bought anything edible since your last grocery run two weeks ago.

Frozen french fries. Korean corndogs. A half-empty pack of fishcakes. No chicken.

You open the fridge, eyes skimming over its meager contents, as if it would be there. It isn’t. You open the freezer again, wondering if the gods above would be so gracious as to summon some chicken breast into your freezer to feed you and your roommate tonight. They don’t.

“Maybe we should go grocery shopping.”

You’re fresh from a long, elaborate shower. Your hair falls in wet tresses over your shoulders and you’re clad in dolphin shorts and a big shirt that might have been Taehyun’s but you borrowed so often and for so long that he probably forgot it ever belonged to him. It’s your turn to cook dinner and you’re grumbling over the fact that Taehyun cooked your only remaining pack of chicken breast last night when you hear his bedroom door click open.

Just in time. A shitty rap song follows the sound of the soft padding of his footsteps against the floor. “Hey, you home?” he calls from halfway down the hallway, but you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“I told you I would cook chicken and you still finished it last night, and now there’s nothing for me to cook, asshole,” you say, more exasperated than angry. You turn around just as he walks in, wearing nothing but black joggers and his obnoxious RGB headset. His eyes are wide and bashful. You wrinkle your nose and turn around again. “What happened to your shirt?”

Taehyun has the decency to sound sheepish. “Sorry, I was playing with the boys,” he mumbles, like that wasn’t painfully obvious already. You have no problem with seeing Taehyun or shirtless guys by themselves, but a shirtless Taehyun has you torn between wanting to throw up and throwing away your clothes. Maybe to other people having a first-class view of his washboard abs sounds like a blessing, but to you, it’s only a level below mental distress.

“Tell Kai I said hi,” you say absently, now going through your drawers for restaurant flyers (if worse comes to worst, you’ll order takeout for tonight). “Anyway, what’d you come outside for?”

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

At this, you peer over your shoulder, studying Taehyun’s face. He doesn’t look particularly upset, just stoic, which is a dangerous sign in itself. Taehyun’s usually calm, but he’s not stoic—at least, not in this stage of your friendship, when Taehyun has known you long enough to stop pretending that he’s some sort of tsundere.

“Is something wrong?” you ask softly, turning around to lean against the counter.

“I saw your wishlist on Amazon. Why do you have a dildo on there?”

The words fall on you like a bucket of hardened cement. You feel your heart rate increase by about a thousand beats.

“I—you what?” you sputter in disbelief. There are a few seconds in-between this moment of horror where you want to scold him, yell at him, do anything, but it’s not like he’s in the wrong. It’s your Amazon wishlist. But why was he snooping around on it? And why did you put a dildo on it? Fuck. Your mind searches for an intelligent response, but all that falls out of your mouth is, “Other people can see that?”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows. “Yes? I hope you didn’t share it with your parents or anything, ‘cause it’s like, the first one on the list.”

You grip the counter, suddenly feeling very ill. “Oh. Shit.” You had not done anything of the sort—you kept your parents away from your online presence for that very reason. But if anyone was to stumble upon your questionable wishlist on Amazon dot com, you weren’t expecting Taehyun of all people. Your best friend? And roommate? Really? Fuck Jeff Bezos, for real.

“But that’s besides the point,” Taehyun says, advancing towards you, and you back up a little. Between his tall, wide-shouldered frame and you being a good bit smaller, you discover that it is very, very easy to feel intimidated, almost trapped, by him. “Why do you need to buy one? You know I got a dick, right?”

It’s like another punch to the stomach, except someone also crushed your head with a boulder. If you weren’t red before, you definitely are now, sweat pooling at your palms at his implication. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

Taehyun shrugs and reaches behind you to grab a glass from the dish holder. “I’m just saying,” he says, making his way over to the sink. “Why waste thirty dollars on some plastic when you can get the real thing for free? And better?”

Are you even hearing him right? “Genuinely what are you on,” you say, still aghast. “I wanted to buy one because—because—I mean, I-I don’t know, it’s normal! Shit, Taehyun, does it really matter? Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

He shrugs again. “Why not?”

You say the first thing that pops into your mind. “What if it sucks?”

Taehyun only laughs. “You really have that little faith in me?”

“I don’t know!” You think briefly on the sex talks you two have had—some you had sprawled over each other on the couch, glasses of soju in hand; others you had during movie nights, clay masks smeared over your faces while you struggled not to laugh too hard. They were fun, sure, but it’s one thing to hear Taehyun talk about fucking other people and another to hear him talk about fucking you. To your knowledge, Taehyun’s pretty good in bed, but… But why are you even considering it? You both have been best friends for years. If you have sex, it’s only going to ruin your friendship. There are other ways for you to feel good—ways that don’t risk a seven-year friendship and getting kicked out of the apartment.

“I don’t know,” you say again, suddenly terrified at yourself for not giving him a straight answer. It should be a hard, flat no! You shouldn’t be considering it all! Yet here you are, your brain suddenly full of the thought of Taehyun and his dick.

“Hey, I’m just saying. Trying to open up some options for you here. I’m one hundred percent willing, but only if you are.” Taehyun puts up his hands like that settles it. He flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay? And if you still don’t want to, that’s chill too. We’ll both act like this never happened.”

Is that even possible? “Right,” you say, feeling faint. “Okay, yeah.”

Taehyun’s smile doesn’t fade. You can only watch as he takes a swig of water and shuffles happily to his room.

You think about it. Probably a bit too much.

You have an essay to write for your class, and it’s due in a few hours—but you can’t stop thinking about it. It being Taehyun fucking you. In your defense, you’ve been pent up all week, trying to balance your academics and health and social life and Taehyun all without having any time for yourself, so it makes sense, you think. You hope it makes sense that you’re fantasizing about your roommate, considering everything that’s happening to you.

You shut your laptop and sigh, lying back down on your bed. Taehyun has been acting completely normal in the three days between now and when he had first made his offer, which you are endlessly grateful for, but also bewildered by. He had even paid for takeout that same night, and you had eaten it together on the floor of your living room, and it was like nothing had even happened. Still, you’ve been mulling it over ever since. Pondering it, if you will. And it’s not your first time. Many nights you have found your tired, worn-out brain wandering to your roommate, his pretty face, great body, cute personality… How it would feel. What he would do. Taehyun, leaning over you, kissing you, running his pretty hands up and down your skin. Nipping at your collarbone with his sharp, perfect teeth. Grazing them along your neck, sucking at the soft parts.

Fuck. You’re wet.

You feel crazy.

Your hands slide down your panties, face burning with shame. The only thing you can think of is Taehyun, his soft skin and pretty brown eyes, his lean arms and chest. You picture him above you, caging you between his arms, a glittering smile on his face as he touches you, his back muscles flexing. Do you like that? he whispers, his voice low and raspy. You don’t even have to work hard to imagine what he sounds like during sex—the walls here are awfully thin, he’s a twenty-one-year-old guy, and you’ve thought about it more often than not.

“Fuck,” you keen, your hips rolling up as you dip your finger into your folds. Your free hand trails up your torso and into your mouth; you roll your tongue around your fingers and wish, crazily, that you were sucking on Taehyun’s instead. “Shit, oh f—”

“About your offer.”

You’re sitting at the dining table. Taehyun is halfway through his serving of pancakes that you made for him in a partly-tired, mostly-horny daze. After a particularly busy morning, you can’t remember much of last night other than the fact that you fucked yourself sore and came three times in a row, no refractory period, and now you can barely hold your fork.

Taehyun looks up at you. He’s shirtless again. If you were any crazier you would be disappointed that he never left much room for imagination before your first time together. “My offer,” he echoes.

“From a few days ago,” you clarify, poking your fork through your slice of toast. “The. You-fucking-me thing.”

“Ah.” Taehyun leans back and you can tell he’s fighting down a smile. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well. I’ve been kinda… you know, lately,” you begin, staring hard at your plate, “and I was gonna buy the… you know, but then I realized my shipping address is still at my parents’ house and I really don’t want to wait for another week or pay extra to get it the next day or pay thirty dollars for a plastic dick so—”

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You let out a breath and brave a glance at him. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“That’s all you had to say,” Taehyun says with a smile. He pushes his plate away and fixes you with a look. “When do you want to do it? Kinda weird to be planning this out, no?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do it,” you groan.

Taehyun laughs, reaching over to touch your arm. “Don’t worry about it. What about later tonight? After you’re finished with your homework, I can help you unwind,” he suggests, and he sounds like he’s just telling you about the weather—but his voice has dropped about three octaves and normally you would find this shit cringe, but. Holy fuck.

You aren’t one for slutshaming, but perhaps you are one yourself. You squeeze your thighs together and nod, your gaze falling to the table. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Good. You can come to my room once you’ve finished. I won’t be playing tonight, so don’t worry about interrupting. Well, you might be interrupting something, but—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Nooo need to elaborate,” you spit, standing up and picking up your plate. Taehyun laughs as you walk over to the sink and put away your dish. When you return back to the dining table, he continues eating like nothing happened. “I’ll go study now.”

“Study well, pretty.”

You make a vague sound of affirmation before slipping inside your room again. You back up against the door and take a second to breathe, then shuffle over to your closet.

Your panties are wet. Again.

“Come in.”

You step inside his room. It’s dark—his lights aren’t on, save for the RGB strips on his setup. He sits on his chair, legs spread, lap looking awfully inviting. For once, he’s wearing a hoodie, and he looks like he just got off a game.

“I expected to catch you at a more… compromising time,” you say, carefully.

“Funny way to say you wanted to see me jerking off.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say with a frown, and you stop walking in front of his chair. Taehyun pats his lap. He’s smiling so, so wide.

“Take a seat.”

You’re grateful when his hands reach up to cup your waist, guiding you as you slide a leg over him and sit down. It’s weird—oddly comfortable, but your tits are pressed up against his chest and your faces are really, really close. Like, close enough you can see each of his eyelashes. He’s so, so pretty.

Taehyun looks you in the eye. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice soft. When you nod, he hums and squeezes your waist. “Alright. Tell me about your day.”

“Huh?”

“Foreplay, baby. That’s like, the whole essence of a hookup.” Taehyun raises his eyebrows at you. “Would you just play along?”

“Fine, fine. I didn’t do mu—oh,” you gasp, as Taehyun’s lips latch onto your neck, pulling you into him. “Ah, fuck. I didn’t do much. I—I woke up early and did some assignments. Got a ninety percent on my mock exams.”

“Woah,” Taehyun says, pulling away. His eyes are bright. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“Damn. Good job. Sometimes I forget you’re smart and hot,” he murmurs in between kisses. “Perfect girl.”

Holy shit. “Um—and then I went to the gym and this guy asked me for my number,” you continue. Taehyun licks at your throat and bites down hard. “Ow, fuck you. I said no thanks and then went back home and showered.”

“Did you do anything in the shower?”

You scoff as he licks along your jaw. “No. I’m not a perv like you.”

“Not a good idea to make fun of the guy who’s about to fuck you.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“And then what?”

“And then I had breakfast with you and after, I… I fucked myself a little.” Taehyun groans and your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought of you.”

He chuckles. “I would have been a little confused if you hadn’t. You must have been so pent up, baby, huh?”

You grab a fistful of his hair and pulls him away from your neck so your eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking of you. For a long time. Even before you made the offer,” you say, barely breathing. Your grip loosens, and you watch as his eyes grow dark. “Anytime I got h-horny, I—I imagined you. And I… was going to buy the toy ’cause I never thought I’d get the real thing with you.”

Taehyun seems taken aback, but his face of faint surprise melts into his usual cocky smile and he presses his lips against yours.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the real thing is a little bigger than five inches, baby.”

If you weren’t wet before, you’re drenched now. You feel a little bad for his grey sweatpants, the front all smeared with your precum. But knowing Taehyun, he’d probably like that.

You continue kissing for a while, Taehyun’s gaming chair creaking incessantly underneath your weight, but you’re too turned on to be bothered. He’s still playing with your panties, rubbing you over them. You honestly, truly might die.

“Taehyun,” you say, pulling away. He looks like a mess, lipgloss smeared all over his mouth, hair messy from your constant running your hands through them. “Can you touch me?”

“I am touching you, baby.”

You whine. “No, no, like—like inside me, please, fuck.”

“Use your pretty voice to ask me nicely.”

You take a deep breath but it’s let out as a whimper. “Please, Taehyun. Fuck me with your fingers,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Please, please. Please.”

“Good job, princess. Of course. Anything you want.”

And you—you almost die, and it shows with the way you squeezes your thighs together and nuzzle your face deeper into his shoulder, letting out a soft moan when he finally moves to comply.

Taehyun seems to notice, because something in his eyes shifts and he leans in, kissing your cheek. “Do you like it when I praise you, baby? Come on, tell me everything. Tell me what turns you on. Want to make you feel good.”

“I like praise, yeah,” you say, your voice trembling as he moves his hands down to the hem of your panties. “Praise and… And some degradation, too, but mostly praise. I like pet names and—fuck—biting and spanking and k-kissing, fuck, even just kissing turns me on so much.”

“I can tell, baby.” Taehyun glides a finger over your cunt and smiles. “You’re fucking soaked. So cuuute.” He coos it, like you’re some sort of cute doll and not his fucking roommate whose pussy he’s playing with.

It makes you whimper, your fingers shaking where they should be holding onto Taehyun’s shoulders. “Ugh, fuck,” you squeak. “Fuck you.”

“Let me do it first. Grind down on me, pretty.”

You comply and gasp a little at the hardness underneath you. “Fuck. You’re so—”

Taehyun hums, his hands moving to your waist, helping you rock harder against him. “Just for you. I’ve been hard all day just thinking about you.”

You make a pathetic sound at the back of your throat and kiss him, your mind suddenly flooded with images of him touching himself right here in his chair, the slick sound of his hand wrapped around his cock, all while he thinks of you. Without warning, he reaches up his free hand and lightly taps at your cheek; you don’t even have to think about it before your mouth falls open and his fingers slide in.

“Perfect,” Taehyun breathes, and your heart skips in your chest. “You’re so good, fuck. Didn’t even have to ask, what a good girl.”

You grind down harder. Taehyun throws his head back and lets out something between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck, princess,” he rasps. “You’re so cute.” He reaches up with his other hand to caress your flushed face. “You feel really—ugh—really fucking good.”

“Oh my god, wait, fuck, wait—” You whimper around his fingers and slow to a stop; your hands clutch at the back of his hoodie. You whine into the cloth, breathing him in, feeling him all over you. His hands move down to your waist, squeezing gently. You can hardly breathe. “I… I was getting close. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Taehyun shifts a little under you; you huff when his hands slide under your ass and he moves to stand up, lifting you with him. “Let’s move to the bed, then,” he grunts, and your legs close around his waist as he carries the both of you to his bed.

He preoccupies himself by kissing you—your lips don’t move away from each other’s as you tumble onto the mattress. Your mind is racing. You’ve imagined kissing Taehyun so many times before, fantasized about how it felt, and these past few days it was all you could think about. His lips are so warm, his hands even warmer where they wander on your skin. You want him close, closer. Inside.

You break the kiss. “Taehyun,” you murmur against his lips. “Taehyun, please.”

Thankfully, Taehyun seems to understand what you’re getting at, and doesn’t make you beg for it—he’s shimmied out of his sweats and hoodie in record time, with only boxers and a wife beater left. He smiles down at you, gentle, loving. “Could you undress for me?”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You pull your dolphin shorts down and kick them off your ankles, trying your best to peel off your shirt as you do so. Taehyun is fully shirtless now, shadows cast across his toned muscles, and his hands probe at his boxers, but his eyes are fixed on you.

You have never felt so exposed wearing your favorite set of lingerie—you fight the urge to cover your stomach with your arms and instead opt to look up at Taehyun from under your lashes and hope he’s as horny as you are right now.

It takes a moment for Taehyun to recollect himself, but when he does, his hands are immediately on you, awed at your softness. “Damn,” he breathes.

“How eloquent of you.”

Taehyun laughs, running his hands down your waist. “No, I—” He breathes out another chuckle, his eyes trailing down to your belly. “No, you’re just perfect.”

Your cheeks heat and you feel yourself throb a little at his praise. “Says you. Know how many guys would kill to have your body?”

“Know how many guys would kill to have such a beautiful, sexy, smart girl like you?”

You press your lips together. You can’t help but think about how nice he looks, seated between your legs. “A lot of guys would be after you, it seems.”

“Can’t blame them. Fuck, your thighs,” Taehyun groans, moving his hands over them. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands look—are—huge. “Oh my fucking god. Promise me you’ll let me eat you out.”

You blink. “Of course,” you say. “Could you get to fucking me already?”

Taehyun laughs. “Right, sorry. Let me take my boxers off first.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, it should be in the hoodie pocket.”

You retrieve the hoodie from the other side of the bed and feel around in its pocket before your fingers graze the plastic; you immediately pick it up and throw the hoodie on the floor. Meanwhile, Taehyun is finally fully naked and stroking himself; you turn even redder. Fuck, you want him so bad.

You tell him so. “Hurry, hurry, please,” you gasp, tossing the unopened condom packet to Taehyun, who chuckles.

“On your hands and knees, angel.”

You obey and whimper impatiently as Taehyun opens the condom and puts it on.

“Jesus, baby, you’re such a mess already and I haven’t even put it in,” Taehyun mumbles. You feel the bed dip where he climbs onto it again, and moans when he gives your ass a smack. “Needy. That’s what you are. Needy and impatient.”

You whimper. “Please, pleasepleaseplease, just put it in, put it in—” Taehyun pushes the small of your back so you drop face-first onto the mattress, cheek squished against the blankets. It smells like him. Everything smells like him. For once you fall silent when he announces he’s sliding in and you feels it poking at your entrance. Your eyes squeeze shut.

He slides in the first inch and you can’t help but whine. “Pleeeease, Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice high and reedy. He complies without an answer, sliding in more, slowly, until he’s almost halfway. You let out a squeak.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyun coos. “Don’t think you can take it?”

You make a small, pathetic noise at the back of your throat. “Nonono,” you cry. “You’re just… really big. Bigger than that—that dumb f-fucking dildo.”

“Aw, am I r-r-really?” Taehyun grins and eases another inch into you before you get the chance to retort. You suck in a breath instead, bunching the sheets into your hands. In a moment of guilt, he uses his other hand to give your waist a reassuring squeeze, then leans over to push back your hair for you. “Damn, you’re tight. You can take it, though, can’t you?”

You whimper. “Ah, shit, yes.”

“That’s it. There you go. Doing such a good fucking job, taking my cock.”

Taehyun kisses your shoulder as he slides in the rest, a string of pathetic whimpers and cries leaving your mouth as he bottoms out. Once his thighs touch the back of yours, he stays very still, letting you adjust to the size.

To both your surprise, you are the one who breaks the almost-silence with a short huff as you prop yourself on your elbows. “You… you can move now,” you grit out, sounding almost pained.

Taehyun hums. “Tell me first. Which do you like better? The toy or my cock?”

You’re silent, but he can see your knuckles whitening as you grip the bedsheets. Taehyun scoffs and grabs both your arms with his hand, pulling them behind you with a grunt. You yelp as his cock hits a different angle inside of you.

“Tell me. Which one is better? I won’t move until you tell me.”

You whimper for a few moments, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. You take a shaky breath and let your head hang. “Y-you,” you mumble.

“Louder, pretty.”

“I like your cock better—hmf—better than the toy,” you say. Taehyun can hear the tears in your voice and his belly flip-flops. So fucking hot.

He might have said that out loud—you might have heard him—but he doesn’t have time to think about the possibilities, because at once he’s drawing his hips away from yours and slamming back inside again. The reaction is immediate. You keen, chest heaving at the intensity. 

“Fuck,” you croak, clinging onto the bedsheets.

“God,” Taehyun breathes, holding you up to his chest, “I’m obsessed with you.” He mouths at your neck and you whimper.

“Don’t bite too hard,” you plead. Taehyun bites down harder in response.

“I’ll bite as hard as I want,” he says, but there’s no heat in his words, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder right after. His hands snake up your body, from your hips to your waist until they stop comfortably at your tummy. He thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace, kissing mindlessly at any sliver of skin he can get his lips on. “Been dreaming about this for ages, you know. I’ve been wanting to fill you up for the longest time.”

Fire stirs within the pit of your stomach at the thought. “I do, too. Fingered myself thinking it was your cock,” you mumble back, delirious, and you can feel him smile against your shoulderblades. Suddenly, he slides out, flips you over and enters you once more in a single swift movement. His pace picks up and you exhale slowly, melting into the pleasure, your eyes trained on the array of faces he’s making above you.

“You’re perfect, angel.” Taehyun’s voice drops into a murmur, his bangs falling perfectly around his face. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you, baby. Not only because you’re really hot, but”—he lets out a moan here—“also ’cause I really, really like you, and I don’t wanna fuck the shit out of you for no reason, I—I also wanna take you on dates, and—” He pauses and groans when you squeeze down on him, eyes twisting shut. “Ah, shit, and I wanna fuck you not as a one time thing, but—fuck, but as like, a boyfriend thing—mm—you know?”

You let out a moan, your eyes cracking open incredulously. “You’re telling me this now?” you pant.

Taehyun laughs but goes even faster, his hands still tight around the softness of your waist. You cry out and latch onto his strong arms, wondering if this is happening, if this is real, if Taehyun really just confessed to you in the middle of rearranging your guts. You can’t believe this. Your heart flutters. Your pussy throbs. God, what is wrong with him?

Taehyun’s hand moves up to your jaw. He tilts your chin up and presses your lips together in a slow, slow kiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. Shit,” he says, kissing you again and again. He looks almost desperate, moving inside you, his entire face flushed red. “I love kissing you. Such a pretty girl, my baby, aren’t you? I—oh, fuck, you feel so good, I like you so much.”

“Shit,” you mewl, reaching up to cup his face. He kisses the corner of your mouth, moving almost desperately now, moaning loudly against your skin. “Fuck, Taehyun, you’re crazy—fuck—”

“Tell me how beautiful you are,” Taehyun rasps, not sounding like himself at all, but he moves his hips impossibly faster, and his hand trails down to your neck. “Tell me how pretty you look while your pussy chokes this dick, fuck.”

You wail, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrists. “I’m—’m a puh-pretty girl, fuck, ’m so pretty—”

“That’s right, princess. Are you close? You wanna come?” he rasps, reaching down now to rub your clit. “Go ahead, baby, come on my cock, please, fuck, come on—”

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your breath hitching, as you feel the waves of your oncoming orgasm. 

“—cream on it, sweet girl, make me proud, wanna feel you coming for me, ’cause of me—”

You cry out from underneath him and you jolt so suddenly it startles him; your back arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around him and you go very, very still. You come for a long time, breathing and whining throughout it; Taehyun keeps moving, easing you out of it, his hands rubbing and squeezing your waist until finally your muscles relax and you go slack, melting back into the mattress.

“That’s it, pretty, good job,” he murmurs, running feather-light touches up and down your torso. “Good job, princess, what a sweet girl.”

He slides out of you after a minute, and you make a noise; you crane your neck to watch as he peels off the condom. “Did you come?” you ask, your voice awfully quiet. He looks up at you and smiles.

“It’s fine, baby.”

You move to sit up. “No, no—”

“Angel, I’m good.”

“You’re still—”

“Shush.” Taehyun scoots closer to you, settling on his elbows between your legs. “I still want to taste you.”

An hour later, you find yourselves lying in bed together. After making you come another time on his tongue and finally coming after the world’s best handjob, Taehyun had scooped you up and seated you in the bathtub, where you took turns washing each other’s hair and giggling deliriously about what had just happened. You smell overwhelmingly like his shitty male body wash, but you find it hard to care that much when he’s buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Seeing that your friendship was effectively ruined in the best way possible, you find it hard not to giggle a little, wrapped in his arms. Taehyun’s hands, sliding smooth and gentle across your torso, stop abruptly.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, sounding affronted.

“You. You’re ridiculous.”

“What? I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just ask me out on a date? As opposed to offering to fuck me. You came off a little strong with that, you know,” you mumble. “Now that I think about it, it was kind of a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Taehyun grumbles. “I’ve asked you out to dinner multiple times but you kept calling them friend dates so I gave up on that.”

“You were trying to flirt with me? I had no idea.”

“Clearly. That’s why I had to stop trying to make romantic advancements and just settled on asking to fuck you instead. The dildo was the perfect incentive.” His fingers move up to tangle in your hair. “I had—I have, like, the biggest, stupidest crush on you. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile. “Lucky you. I like you, too.”

He breathes out, presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Thank god. I was waiting for you to say it,” he says quietly. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine with me. Why were you even looking at my Amazon wishlist, anyway?”

“Well.” Taehyun stills his hands and clears his throat. “I was trying… to pick out… a birthday gift for you.”

“A birthday gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t laugh.”

You start to laugh. “Oh my god,” you say again, in between giggles. “My birthday isn’t for another two months, dumbass.”

“I wanted to be prepared!” Taehyun protests, pinching lightly at your waist. “I told you, I have the biggest fucking crush on you. I was gonna give you a bunch of little gifts. And actually, I was planning to ask you to be my girlfriend. I was so excited, too. Asked the guys for help and everything. Soobin was going to hold up the sign. And Beomgyu was in charge of finding a nice place.”

You snort, twisting around to kiss him. “Sorry for laughing. You’re just an idiot sometimes,” you mumble, and kiss him again. “If it makes you feel better, I would have said yes. And anyway… I kinda knew you liked me. The walls are very thin, you know.”

Taehyun tenses up behind you. “What?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“I hear you jacking off all the time. I’m sorry to break it to you. At least you sound pretty.”

Taehyun groans and presses his nose between your shoulderblades. “Fuck you,” he says, muffled.

You hum. “We’re even.”

tyun: pussy so good i professed my undying love for her

[smute]

[body image & ed tw]

let me preface this by saying that i have very loving and supportive parents. they were open-minded and willing to learn when i first opened up to them about my struggles with my body image and disordered eating a few years ago and my dad still walks on eggshells whenever these topics come up. and even my mom, who has her own issues wrt food and dieting (matrilineal family curse inherited by gay only child lmao) is always mindful of my... baggage. ever since that Big Talk back in 2018 neither of them has ever commented on my weight again (a once common occurrence) or on what/how much/how little i eat. that alone has made a huge difference in my recovery and i know that other people in my situation have to exist in much less supportive family environments, so i feel extremely grateful.

anyway. what i really wanted to say is this: last week my mom told me that my jacket looked nice on me, and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

the thing is, a few years ago, when i was slowly but surely en route to passing a certain weight threshold, both of my parents stopped complimenting me on my appearance. and this actually predates the Big Talk. im not saying that they synchronized their timing, and this wasnt something i noticed right away anyway, but once i started paying attention to it, it became quite obvious.

i mean my dad never really complimented me, he mostly just used to say those awkward things that straight men say to other straight men about broad shoulders or whatever, you know, things that could in a pinch be construed as a comment about athletic performance and provide plausible deniability. but my mom used to call me handsome all the time (even during my fatter periods) the way moms do, she used to compliment my outfits and my sense of style, she would never shut up about my height (which i used to be very insecure about) and how much she liked going out with me ("being seen on a tall man's arm" as she put it lmao) and she would even ask about my dating life and like. potential partners and all that. but one day she just stopped.

its hard to explain in a way that doesn't sound super weird. it's not like i was so eager to receive compliments from my parents. but like i said, once you notice it, it becomes really hard to ignore. and it's one thing to notice how the world's perception of you changes as you go from "chubby but it can be ignored" to "undeniably and irredeemably fat". but it's quite a different thing to observe that change in real time in the eyes of your parents—the two people in the world who are supposed to love you unconditionally.

i don't doubt that they do. love me, i mean. i don't believe that they're secretly ashamed of their fat son and only pretend to like me out of some sense of obligation. i do feel loved and supported and both of them regularly tell me how much i mean to them and that they are proud of me. but that's what makes this such a mindfuck. its really nothing more than a minute detail. and yet it is huge. i can tell that, in their perception, i went from "our son the eligible bachelor" to "our fat son whom we love but who unfortunately stretches our definition of an attractive young man''. and like. so what? right?

but now im in a place where i hear that innocent compliment from my mom about the jacket and immediately know that this is the first time in 7 years that she has said anything positive about my body, and with that context it suddenly becomes so much more than an innocent compliment

anyway. i dont know what i was getting at, if there even was a point to this, but sometimes it's the things you don't say.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

You Ain’t Woman Enough [To Take My Man]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, Original Female Character, Can be Kathy Westmoreland if you want

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4106

Summary: You’ve come to tell me something, you say I ought to know.

Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Reader Has A Name, Marriage, Cheating, Adultery, Affairs, Serial Cheating, Kissing, Nudity, Shower Stuff, Guilt, Angst, Hell Hath No Fury etc etc, Song Fic, You Ain’t Woman Enough [To Take My Man] // Loretta Lynn

Notes: Ive decided to use actual names instead of YN in these reader Fics x

ELVIS MASTERLIST // SONG LINK // HALLOWEEN MASTERLIST

The suite was quiet as you entered, almost perfectly still just as your husband had left it. The curtains were closed though you doubted they’d even been opened today and the air conditioning was on making the room a crisp sixty-eight degrees. It made you shiver. After all, you had spent weeks back at home alone getting used to being in rooms that didn’t feel like a meat locker. Still, as the goosebumps formed on your flesh and the scent of his cologne hit your nostrils you were happy to be there. As you moved through the room you noticed your suitcase had already made it upstairs and though you knew you only had a small amount of time to get downstairs before Elvis went back on for his second show you didn’t find yourself rushing. No, even though you were happy to be reunited after weeks apart you wanted to at least look presentable so you heaved your suitcase up onto the bed so that you could rifle through it. However you had only managed to pull a couple of items out when you heard the door open and expecting it to be one of the boys you turned around ready to tell them you’d not be long. Yet when you looked around you found it wasn’t one of the boys at all, it was another woman, one you didn’t recognise.

She crept in, straightening up once she turned around and found you watching her, a blush on her sun-kissed cheeks.

‘Oh sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘I didn’t know anyone was in here.’

‘It’s fine. Can I help you?’ you replied.

‘No, it’s um nothing,’ she said dropping her gaze to the floor as she ran a hand through her blown-out brunette locks, ‘it’s fine I was just-’

‘Looking for Elvis?’ you asked which finally made her bright blue eyes snap up to meet yours, guilt swimming through them as they stared back at you.

‘No, uh,’ she said no doubt scrambling for an excuse yet you were quicker, having been down this road before you had learned to distinguish between the two types of women who circulated around your husband. Those who could be trusted and those who couldn’t. And those who couldn’t all seemed to harbour the same actions whenever you were around, watching you with wide-eyed guilt, dropping their gazes, or feigning stupidity or ignorance. Whether it was for your benefit or theirs you weren’t sure but sometimes, when Elvis wasn’t around, you grew tired of it. You grew tired of pretending not to know why a woman would be sneaking into your husband's private suite, not when you knew that there was no way your husband would’ve allowed her to come anywhere near his room tonight. No, he would’ve orchestrated it so that your paths never crossed which meant that her presence here was of her own choosing and so you decided to do away with pretences.

‘So what are you doing in his suite then? You’re aware it’s private, right?’ you challenged which appeared to make something change inside her, whatever coyness she had been going to attempt disappearing, an attitude in its place. Ah, you realised. She’s one of them. As you had become an expert in fishing out the woman who couldn’t be trusted you had also started to put them into categories. There were the innocent ones, the ones who fell for his charm and charisma like you had many moons ago and even though they knew it was wrong they succumbed all the same, guilt coursing through them at the mere thought of you. There were bold ones, ones who weren’t really expecting whatever they had to go anywhere but were making the most of it whilst they still had his attention. They too had guilt but it was different, rationalised that at the end of the day, he still chose you. And then there were ambitious ones, ones that had fallen for him too but now sought to lay claim. Ones that didn’t feel guilty because in their eyes you were the other woman, the one keeping them from what they wanted. These were the worst of the bunch, mostly because they almost always sought to make it sure that you were aware of their presence. Hence why she was standing in front of you. Indisputable proof.

‘If you must know he asked to see me,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest. You eyed her for a minute, musing over the fact you’d probably seen more fabric on one of your daughter's dolls than she was had on right now though she’d probably spent hours agonising over just what to wear. For both yours and Elvis’s attention presumably. As you finally caught her eye you found she was watching you exasperatedly, no doubt wondering why you hadn't torn into her. Wondering how you could remain calm when both of you knew what was going on. Sometimes you wondered how you could do it yourself but to see how your lack of reaction was getting under her skin you continued, the only words that you offered were, ‘Oh sure.’

‘He did,’ she said snappily making you smile.

‘Honey my husband is many things but he isn't stupid,’ you said moving back to your suitcase so that you could continue unpacking. To come here and goad you was one thing, to distract you from the task at hand was another.

‘What's that supposed to mean?’ she asked.

‘It means that he asked me to come to Vegas today. Do you really think he’d risk having another woman in his room?’ you said, turning around as you folded a dress over your arm. Her face went cold then, any trace of guilt wiped from it confirming your suspicions she had chosen to do this off her own back, ‘no. My bet is you thought now was a good time to come and tell me the truth right?’

You waited, looking at her expectantly as you continued to unpack. When she didn’t say anything, you sighed and said, ‘Well go on then. I haven’t got all day to wait around for whatever you’re gonna say.’

‘Elvis and I are dating,’ she said proudly, a smile tugging at her lips.

‘Is that right?’ you asked, finally stopping in your movements to look at her.

‘Yeah it is,’ she said, ‘have been for a while.’

‘Wow,’ you said sarcastically, ‘and uh, let me guess he loves you? Promised you the world you and you're just here to let me know before it all gets outta hand?’

‘It’s the right thing to do,’ she said.

‘And is dropping your panties for a married man also the right thing to do?’ you asked. You refused to show your irritation outwardly but it didn’t half stick in your craw whenever they laid on the martyr act. The girls-girl only looking out for your best interests, like they had been thinking of you and your family when they’d let him talk his way into their beds.

‘Look I didn’t have to come here. I didn’t have to tell you,’ she started making your irritation crash like a wave inside you, finally seeping out into your tone.

‘Oh but you wanted to right?’ you challenged, ‘that’s why you came looking for me when you knew I’d be here alone. Let me guess you’re just letting me know so I can plan ahead. Bow out gracefully, right?’

‘It’s better than being dumped,’ she scoffed.

‘True,’ you said, ‘but then again that would mean me allowing someone to take what's mine. And I can tell you now that'll happen over my dead body.’

‘He doesn’t love you anymore,’ she snapped.

‘Is that right?’ you mused, genuinely trying not to laugh. You knew it wasn’t funny, the idea of your husband lying beside this twenty-something and filling her head with the idea they had a future yet you couldn’t help but laugh. Because they fell for it every time.

You knew how of course. It was that same silver tongue that had gotten you into his bed, the ring on your finger, the marriage that you had. He had wormed his way into your life the way he did to theirs but there were differences because for all the promises he gave them, he gave you twenty more. For all the times he told them he loved them he made sure you were loved in every way possible. It wasn’t exactly painless, the idea that he could flout your marriage vows so easily would always hurt, but you had learned to deal with it because you knew that they didn’t mean anything, not really. Because time and time again you were the one he chose. Maybe you were a fool to let him. To turn a blind eye to it all. But when it was over, when he’d had his fill of whatever contact or affection he needed he always came back, more the man you married than before.

‘He told me he just wants out,’ she sneered, ‘he just doesn’t want to pay you your money.’

‘Honey,’ you said knowing full well your tone was fully laced with condescension but unable to care, ‘if you believe that you’re dumber than a box of rocks.’

She scoffed at that, her mouth falling into a tight scowl that made it look foreign against her pretty features. You sighed before you said, ‘you think I’m lying? More to the point do you really think you’re the first?’

At that her face flicked with uncertainty, your words calling into question whatever she had assumed to be fact, casting doubt she hadn't anticipated. It was cruel really and if she hadn't been so cocky, so determined to ruin your life, you might’ve even taken pity on her. After all, she was just a kid, one whose head had been filled with nonsense that she was too naïve to see couldn’t possibly be the truth.

‘Do you really think that if he wanted to go he wouldn’t just leave? That if he was so unhappy with me I’d force him to stay? He knows that if he doesn’t want to be in this marriage I sure as hell wont force him to be. And I'm sure whatever money he has to pay for our family he could earn back in a minute,’ you said. Again you watched as pain flicked across her features, guilt finally settling with her at the mention of your kids. Yet you didn’t let up. You refused to, ‘he has no intention of leaving me and whatever yarn he spins to get you into bed is between you and him. Hell darlin’, he’s probably as surprised as I am that it actually works.’

At that you offered a small laugh one that made her brows knit together as she tried to hold back whatever emotions she was feeling in front of you. It almost made you feel sorry for her. Almost. Yet you still needed to make sure she got the picture.

‘Elvis loves me and why his head may get turned every now and then he always comes crawling back, promising it won’t happen again until the next young thing in a tight skirt walks by,’ you said, ‘now a weaker woman would probably give up on him but I’m not weak and I sure as hell ain't gonna step aside and watch you ruin my marriage you hear me?’

She stayed quiet, that scowl still on her face though it looked as though it was holding back whatever she was scared to let burst out of her in front of you. Whether that anger or tears you weren’t sure. If anything you didn’t really care, you had said your piece. Though for whatever reason you felt the tiniest amount of compassion swill in you. After all, you were a seasoned veteran in the game of loving Elvis Presley, didn’t it fall to you to show her the ropes?

‘I will however offer you some advice,’ you said finally turning away from her and continuing with what you were doing before she came in, a slight act of mercy that allowed her to release the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. You heard it come out, shaky and pathetic, before her voice cut it off, her words coming out snarky as she replied, ‘Oh yeah, what's that?’

‘Don’t tell him you came here tonight,’ you said and as you pulled out a stunning blue dress, deciding that would be what you would wear at tomorrow night's show you heard her scoff.

‘Why afraid it’ll make him kick you to the kerb?’ she said, the scowl she had perfected back in full force as you turned around. You didn’t bother moving towards her, instead, you moved to the closet, sliding the door back until your husband’s vast wardrobe was on show, your dress slotting in perfectly next to his clothes, an action that made her eye twitch with irritation.

‘Oh honey,’ you said with a condescending smile, ‘it’s not me I’m scared for.’

And with that final remark she stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard behind her that the sliding door of the closet rattled in its tracks. You however couldn’t bring yourself to offer more than an eyeroll, her actions reminding you of your daughter who had a tendency to pitch a similar style of fit whenever she didn’t get her own way though of course she had the excuse of being three years old. You knew you should probably let it bother you. That the idea of another woman coming to tell you your husband didn’t want you any more should shake you to your core but it didn’t. You refused to let it because if you did it now you'd have to let it every damn time he conceded to be weak. And you refused to be weak too.

After that you busied yourself with unpacking and though you did head downstairs you made sure it was when Elvis was on stage, after all, there were things more interesting to you tonight than your husband's performance. Like finding out just who the girl was. That was how you’d come to find him on stage with her, laughing and joking as if nothing had even happened. And in an instant any thought you’d had about playing nice left your body because you had meant what you said. You weren’t going to stand aside and let her take him but now you were actively going to ensure she didn’t have the chance.

That thought came to you again later that night as you heard him call your name, the bathroom door opening as he said, ‘Lor, ya in here?’

‘In here,’ you called listening as he moved into the bathroom, clothes dropping to the floor as he went before you finally heard the glass door click open and then shut as his naked body slid in behind you, his arms ensnaring your waist.

‘Hi there,’ he mumbled as his lip met your neck.

‘Hi,’ you breathed sinking into him as he peppered kisses along your shoulder before you felt his hand snake down your slippery skin cupping your sex which caused you to shriek, ‘Elvis!’

‘I missed ya,’ he said as if it was your own fault not to have expected it.

‘I can see,’ you giggled wiggling your ass against his cock that was already growing rigid against you.

‘Joe told me you got here in between shows,’ he said his arousal not yet pressing enough that he felt the need to forgo chit-chat, ‘how come ya didn’t come down?

‘Oh I did but you know how it is when you haven’t seen folks in a while. I ended up bumping into people and we just got chatting,’ you said. That wasn’t untrue. You had spoken to some people, using carefully selected questions to get the information you craved without alerting them to what you were up to. You see you hadn’t been lying when you had told her to be careful. After all, you had done this dance a hundred times before and you knew all the steps. You knew if you challenged Elvis about his behaviour it would only get ugly. No, you needed to be smart. To orchestrate the situation so you got what you wanted but he was the one who felt like he had made the decision. And that was a skill you’d become an expert at.

‘Are they more important than me?’ he said and for a moment you were glad you were facing away from him, your expression liable to give you away as you thought about how he prioritised people in his life.

‘Of course not,’ you said, ‘but I knew I’d have you all to myself soon so I figured I’d play nice. Let them have you while they can.’

‘Ever the diplomat,’ he mused, his lips moving back to your neck for a moment. You knew now was the time to broach it, with him happy and pliant coming off the buzz of the show and the excitement of having you back. Yet you needed to do it carefully and so as he kissed you, you picked at your nails, removing the non-existent dirt from under them as you said, ‘but it wasn’t all bad. Actually, I got talking to one of your band members.’

‘Yeah?’ he asked, stopping his actions and resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched you carefully.

‘Yeah I don’t think we’ve met before though,’ you said, ‘they must be new.’

‘Yeah, there’s a couple of new faces around. We lucked onto some good talent for this season,’ he agreed.

‘Mmm, pretty too,’ you said, and though your words were casual you felt him stiffen, ‘I think her name is Kathy?’

‘Oh?’ he asked airily and though you could feel the heat of his blue eyes watching you you kept your face casual.

‘We had a nice chat,’ you said, ‘she told me you’ve really made this gig special.’

‘That right?’ he asked flatly.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said.

‘Lori,’ he said ruefully.

‘I just think it’s a shame,’ you said continuing as though he hadn't spoken.

‘A shame?’ he asked confused.

‘Yeah well I know I said I didn’t manage to see the show before I came back up here but I caught some of it and well to think of her stuck being backing vocals when she could be great on her own is just a shame. Don’t you think?’ you asked.

‘Yeah,’ he said quietly, ‘yeah you’re right.’

‘I sure think so,’ you agreed. You could feel him hesitate behind you, no doubt trying to figure out exactly what you knew or whether to let it go but after a minute he pulled back and you turned to look at him for the first time since he had gotten in.

‘Everything alright?’ you asked with a frown that forced him to fake a smile and nod.

‘Yeah, I’m gonna get out okay?’ he said.

‘Okay,’ you said, placing a wet hand on his chest that he grabbed, taking it to his lips so he could kiss your fingertips. A feat that brought a genuine smile to your face.

‘Do you want food?’ he asked.

‘Yes please,’ you said.

‘Okay,’ he said leaning in to kiss you properly before he said, ‘take your time. I’ll order for us both.’

‘Okay,’ you smiled.

And then he was gone, moving from the room at lightning speed only just managing to throw a towel around his waist as he headed to the phone, yanking the receiver from its cradle before he punched in the number he wanted rather harshly. It didn’t take long for the line to connect, a sweet young voice saying, ‘hello?’

‘You told my wife?’ he asked in an angry whisper, listening to Kathy as she scrambled to sit up.

‘It wasn’t like that-’ she protested.

‘What the hell did you say to her?’ he snapped.

‘Not much I promise,’ she exclaimed.

‘How could you go behind my back like that?’ he said angrily.

‘But I thought-’

‘What that if you meddled in my business I’d just fall into line? That I’d just up and leave my wife because you’d decided you’d had enough-’

‘No of course not!’ she cried.

‘Because that’s not how this shit works you hear me? And if you don’t get that then maybe I was wrong about you,’ he spat.

‘Elvis,’ she whispered but he was on a roll. Too angry to bother listening.

‘You know what? We’re done,’ he snapped.

‘Elvis-’ he heard her whimper but he had already slammed the phone back onto the hook anger bubbling through him until he heard you say, ‘was that room service?’

‘What?’ he asked turning to find you standing in the bathroom doorway, unaware as to how much you had heard though on the off chance it might have been nothing he said, ‘uh no… the uh line was busy.’

‘Shoot,’ you frowned.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll call down in a minute.’

You smiled and nodded, padding into the room and climbing into bed dressed in the nightie you had donned in the time since he had left the bathroom. Elvis watched you, wondering how you could be so calm when he was sure that you knew if not all at least some of it. As you offered him a sweet smile he felt his heart tug, the guilt creeping in as it did every time. He moved to throw his towel on a chair in the corner, changing into the pyjamas you’d lovingly laid out for him like the good wife you were. As he slipped in beside you, allowing you to cuddle into him for the first time in weeks, that thought consumed him.

He didn’t know why he did it. How his head could get turned time and time again when you were all he could’ve ever asked for. You were the perfect wife, the perfect mother, a friend, a lover and yet he never felt satisfied. Time and time again he’d think that the grass was greener only to find that they weren’t you. And so he’d come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. At least he used to, now it was this complicated dance the two of you did. The one where you pretended not to know what he had been doing so long as he nipped it in the bud when you asked. It was a flawed system but it was one that seemed to hurt you less. And if he couldn’t stop himself from hurting you, he’d at least try and make it somewhat better. He knew he was weak but he could give you that much. Which is why when you looked at him with knowing eyes and words that hovered around accusation but never landed he knew it was time to move on.

‘You know I’ve been thinkin’,’ he said clearing his throat which made you look up towards him, ‘about what you said.'

‘About what baby?’ you said laughing to yourself how you made fun of his floozies for feigning innocence when you were better at it than any of them.

‘Ka-’ he said stumbling over her name and instead opting for, ‘my backing singer.’

‘Oh?’ you asked, your fingers playing with his chest hair as you waited for him to tell you what you knew was coming.

‘Yeah, you’re right. She’s talented…maybe she’d be better tryin’ to get her own solo thing goin’,’ he said.

‘Oh no doubt,’ you agreed.

‘Maybe I’ll give one of the talent scouts in LA a call tomorrow,’ he said hesitantly, ‘help her out ya know.’

‘Why aren’t you sweet,’ you mused, your nervous heart finally settling as everything clicked into place. You knew it was harsh. You knew that you should’ve just been satisfied with him breaking up with her but as you pictured her smug face, the one that had expected you to roll over you couldn’t help but smile.

‘I just wanna help,’ Elvis said.

‘Well I’m sure it will. Sometimes people just need a helping hand you know,’ you said.

‘Yeah, I know.’

Women like you they're a dime a dozen you can buy 'em anywhere,

For you to get to him I'd have to move over and I'm gonna stand right here,

It'll be over my dead body so get out while you can,

Cause you ain't woman enough to take my man.

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

[chronosh0t]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon-divergence ; Lee's pov ; sfw ; slightly angst. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 〔 NO BETA 〕

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: what if Lee got stuck in a loop? it's based on this tweet I posted weeks ago.

〔 if you like what I write or my edits, consider tip me on ko-fi. you'd help me a lot by donating me. thank you lots 〕

────────────── ❁ ──────────────

It has been so long, too long to count. Nonstop fighting for an end that is far from near, for a thin lay of hope that may or may not come out of the cruelty of reality. The light it's too dim, the air is too heavy, toxic and corrupted, no matter how deep every breath is, it never makes him feel better, less relaxed. Less lonely.

His hands are tired, his legs are having a hard time trying to keep up and his M.I.N.D is completely numb over time. Losing sense, and every single moment that peace seems to greet him, it flies past him as fast as one of his bullets. Breaking him in the silence of rejection, in the middle of the tower where escaping is not an option. For how long will this keep going? He does not know. And, to be fair, he doesn't want to know either. The crushing weight of having a clock ticking, counting what's left and what's yet to come, is not pleasant.

So he opted to ignore it. He made the decision, that day, to do the job only he was able to do. Because that was his sole purpose, at least for now, as much as he wished to change this twisted fate, it wouldn't be fair for those outside. If he was the only one capable, then so be it. Sacrifices must always be done. Be it time, or his own life. Just for the illusion that outside everyone is safe. He will stand over and over, shoot his gun, kill whoever or whatever gets in his way, for a slim chance.

There are short moments when everything is quiet, when not a single cry from despair could be heard, except for his erratic breathing, his feet dragging him to the stairs to finally take a seat after hours of battles and the loud noise of his weapon against the floor. He closes his eyes for a few seconds before taking a small device to call them. He just wants to have a few minutes to talk. Hoping. Wishing.

The call makes it through, and two faces greet him, smiling happily. The girl in red breaks the silence first.

ㅤㅤㅤ“It's been a while, Lee.” she stops, as if pondering if it's plausible to ask about his condition when it's obvious. “How are things on your side?”

ㅤㅤㅤ“Nothing new. The fights are endlessly annoying but, it's fine. I'm fine.” His voice cracks at the end, how terrible he has been at lying lately, or maybe he is too tired to pretend. Lee knows his teammates are aware of his state.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Lee…” the soft voice from Liv seemed to echo inside the tower, he nods and smile, “I know it's useless to say but, do please take care of yourself. I also know you're capable but.. We are worried about you. Especially Commandant.”She finished, her pink eyes showing great concern.

ㅤㅤㅤ“Commandant is a bit busy now. We would've called him but I know you have your ways.” Lucia explained, a chuckle escaped from her mouth.

Lee laughs at that. Indeed, he has his ways to contact his Commandant. “Thank you, I really mean it.” He finally spoke, the bitterness can be tasted, smelled and felt. Too heavy. “My time is running out. When I get another break, I will try to contact you guys again. Please take care.” He smiles again, and ends the call.

There's never a “goodbye”. Because he doesn't want to think about an end. As much as he is tired and his frame is at its limit on par with his M.I.N.D slowly losing complete focus from time to time, more often than not, Lee would reject the idea of a last call with his friends. That won't happen. He refuses to let that be part of his reality.

More often than not, he finds himself considering giving up and leaving, letting the wheel of destiny decide his punishment but there's something, someone, that keeps him from doing so. Or more like a “possible future”. Where there's no one, when the person he has come to cherish a little bit too much is no longer by his side, where his teammates are no longer walking with him but just a name in a marble stone. That was scary enough for him. The weight it's too much again.

His break is about to end. Taking a deep breath, he takes his device and taps a message and presses the send button, with the same address. For the same person. With the same words. He can feel an insufferable pain packing up inside his chest, filling the space between his ribs, crushing his artificial heart. He is shaking. His eyes are burning and tears are building up, but it's not the time.

It has never been. It probably never will.

He stands up, weapon in his hands. Time is running and it will never stop, no matter how many times he goes back, no matter how much he wishes and hopes, because time has never cared for that. So, for now, he just needs to keep going, and maybe one day, time will stop for him and he will be able to go back home. Go back to his friends. To his Commandant and be part of Gray Raven again.

…………

The digital screen beeps at the new message. He knows who sent it, and it's the reason he is also a bit reluctant to open it. He is always afraid it will be the last. His fingers trace the screen before lightly pressing over the email icon. A small text shows up, saying:

ㅤㅤㅤ“It's been a while. I know Liv and Lucia are there to take care of you, but I've got to know you enough to understand you're a magnet for troubles. So, don't do anything stupid.

ㅤㅤㅤ I don't have much time, there's nothing new. I am doing as fine as I can, you don't need to worry (I know you will, but don't let my situation distract you from your job, Commandant).

ㅤㅤㅤ ………… I miss you. I miss you a lot. It even hurts a bit sometimes. But I'm always hoping. Hoping that one day I will be by your side again, seeing you smile, holding your hand. I miss your warmth. The idea of going back to you, to Gray Raven keeps me going.

ㅤㅤㅤ I have to go. See you next time.”

And without knowing, despite the distance between them, tears were shed at the same time. Because time was the only thing connecting them.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter Eight

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Previous: Chapter Seven ~ A Little Boston Magic ~ Andy/Leia

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter Eight ~ Nothing But Lies ~ Andy/Leia

Andy 

I feel like I have been here before.  

I’m pretty sure I’ve been here before.  

The pain in my back is getting worse the longer I stay in this position. I finally pry my eyes open and am blinded with pain. Why is my room so bright? And why am I so uncomfortable? I blinked a couple of times and realized, I’m on my couch.  I slowly sat up. What the fuck happened?  My mind runs throught the previous night. I remembered watching Leia and Jeremy and then heading to the Red Line. I frowned as I remember Stella being there but then, nothing really.  

“Oh, you’re wake.”  

I snapped my head up (which was a terrible mistake) and saw Leia coming down the stairs, fully dressed. Oh shit, there was a game today.  I scrambled for my phone before Leia stopped me.  

“Its ok Andy, its only eight. Practice is at ten. I’m going to make some coffee.”  

I sat back with my head on the cushions. Fuck, being hung over for the second time in three months is not a good look for a captain of an NHL team. I took a moment to breathe before Leia came back in with two mugs. “Thanks,” I muttered.  

“Wanna talk about it?” She took a sip, looking at me.  

“I’m fine.” I took a sip and avoided her gaze.  

“Ok, why are you getting drunk the night before a game? That isn’t like you, Andy.” The look on her face was breaking me. But how can I tell her?  How can I tell her that her new boyfriend is a tool bag and I’m so in love with her, it kills me to see her with her.  What do I say? How do I tell her about what I overheard in the locker room a couple of weeks ago.  

Two weeks ago... 

“That is such a sweet shot you took on Ullmark,” Luke said, laughing as he and Andy walked down to the locker room.  

“It’s all in the wrist,” I replied with the pretend flick of the wrist.  “Are we heading to the bar after?” 

“Yeah, Cubby said she’s be our designated tonight after the game.” Luke high-fived me when they heard laughing coming from the locker room. They were about to burst in when they heard Swayman’s voice.  

“Dude, she had a thing for me.  When I was talking with her on the plane, she was playing hard to get. But I know, she’s into me. I’m gonna ask her out.”  

“You really want to ask out the assistant captain’s sister?” Andy could hear it was Ullmark. “Is that wise?” 

“Why not? You heard Andrews.  He gave his blessing.”  

“That’s because he doesn’t know your reputation.”  

“He knows.  I’ve been with him at the bars and stuff. He was just as bad before he met Miranda.” He heard him chuckle. “I just want a taste. She is sexy as hell and I can feel like she is a devil in the sheets.”  

“You better make sure that Barber and Andrews don’t hear you talk like that about her.”  

“What is Barber going to do? He’ll ruin his friendship with her which is ok by me. I just want a piece of her. Fuck her and leave her. Make it look a mutual thing so there’s no bad blood. Trust me, I’ve done this before and I’ll do it again.” 

It took everything in Andy to restrain Luke.  

It took everything inside of Andy not to tell Leia. 

Present 

I lied.  

“Fiona called and she was trying to convince me we should make another go at it. I told her to fuck off but it messed with my head. Got to drinking to numb the feeling.”  

I lied big time.  

“Oh Andy,” Leia came to sit next to me and held my hand.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.” She leaned over my shoulder. “She is the worst.”  

I never wanted the feeling of her body pressed against mine to ever stop. “Yeah, I know. I’m not even sure why I answered the call.” I am a complete asshole for lying to her but the truth would hurt her more and I can’t do it. 

“Well, I’ll be home tonight after the game. You don’t fly out until tomorrow so we can relax tonight, ok?” She gave me her smile, the one I go weak over.  

“It sounds like a plan, Princess.”  

I have to remind myself that he is my teammate and I can’t fuck with that. It would screw everyone else and I can’t do that.  

But boy, do I want to.  

Practice went as practice goes but my head was not in it. Warm ups for the game are the same and I know everyone can see it.  Its obvious, especially when Swayman looks at me with concern. “You ok, Cap?” 

“I’m fine,” I mumble, lacing up my skates. “Leia told me what happened.  Thanks for helping her.”  

“It’s no problem.” He frowns. “But everything’s ok?” 

“Fiona called.” Yep, maintaining that lie. “It just got to me. I just want to skate.” I pushed past him and start taking laps on the ice. I know Luke knows the lie because Leia told him. But I can’t face him. I can’t face anyone. My heart is broken right now and I just can’t do it.  

The game is a tire fire right from the start.  

I can’t focus. I just see Leia and Jeremy and the happiness on her face and it makes me sloppy. So sloppy that coach has to bench me in the third period, probably for safety reasons. I sat there, watching the game, knowing that if we lost this, it would be my fault. Luckily, Luke was able to take control of the team and pull out the win.  

I was sitting in my stall, trying hard not to show emotion. I just wanted to go home and cuddle with Leia. I just wanted to be with my girl.  

Fuck.  

She's not mine.  

I’m still totally fucked.  

Leia 

15 Weeks 

The last few weeks with Jeremy had been amazing. He is such a gentleman. We had the road trip right after for ten days and Jeremy made it a point to sit across the aisle from me so we could talk. He would carry my bag when we got off and made sure that Stella and I are safely in our rooms. In the mornings, he would bring me a tea, make sure my gloves were on and then hang out if he was done for the day.  

We would go out every couple of days, some days I just can’t from how tired I was. I still hadn’t told him about the baby.  I spoke with management and they agreed to modify my duties but it was up to me on who I told.  I love the Bruins.  

The only thorn in my side is Andy.  He’s been distance since my first date with Jeremy. Not just distant but angry even a little hostile.  I’ve noticed that sometimes he is sharp at practice with his teammates, especially Jeremy. Its so unlike him.  I decided to text Luke to see if he knew anything.  

Leia: Do you know what’s wrong with Andy  Luke: No  Leia: You are so helpful  Luke: Seriously, I’ve asked and he says nothing  Luke: You know Fiona called  Leia: its still from that?  Luke: I guess so  Leia: I guess I’ll talk to him to see what’s up 

I frown at my phone. Its near 8 pm and Andy still isn’t home. Its weird for him not to come home after all of his meetings and stuff but lately he’s been coming home later and later. Sometimes, especially on days when I got out with Jeremy, I won’t see him until the next day.  I decided to cancel plans with Jeremy and head home.  I sit in the living room, reading when I hear his car pull up. He walks in. “Oh, hey.” 

“Hey Andy. How was your day?” My voice is super sugary sweet and Andy narrowed his eyes at me.  

“What’s going on? Why are you talking to me in your ‘I’m pregnant and don’t feel good so can you help me’ voice?” Andy crossed his arms over his chest. Normally I would find this very attractive, because he’s still in a dress shirt and slacks, and fuck, focus Leia! 

“Just realizing that I haven’t seen you around much.” I smiled softer at him. “I missed hanging out with you.” Andy snorted and went to grab a beer. He had been drinking a little more than usual. “What? Don’t you miss hanging out with me?” 

“Of course, I miss hanging out with you.  I didn’t realize that you and Swayman were not serious and that you would be home more often.” He took a long pull.  

“Jeremy and I are fine. What is the matter with you?” My tone was sharp.  

“Me? I’m not the problem. I’m giving you space to grow in your relationship.” He raised his hands and move towards the stairs. “I���m going to bed.”  

“You can’t do this Andy.  We live together, we’re roommates...” 

“Yes, Leighton, we’re roommates. Doesn’t mean I have to share everything with you or acknowledge your relationship.” I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.  “Oh, here we go, the crying.”  

“You’re being such an asshole right now Andrew.  You are not like my best friend right now.” I wiped at my eyes furiously.  

His face turned angry. “A best friend? You want me to be a best friend to you. Fine! Jeremy is not this great guy you think he is. He’s a douchebag and a womanizer. He’s going to hurt you and you’re just planning your entire future with him and your kid.”  

“You’re just jealous because I’m finding happiness with him. I’m moving on unlike you!” 

“That’s rich, moving on. You’re not going to move on with Swayman.”  

“That’s not your decision!” 

“I’m not deciding anything. Its facts; you’re not going to find what you are looking for with him.”  

“Stay out of my life Andrew. I’m happy and that’s all that should matter.”  

“He’s going to hurt you and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces again. Just like your high school boyfriend and just like Bret.  You can’t even see what’s right in front of you. You keep choosing fuckboys when you could have something better.  I don’t know why I would think you would look at the bigger picture with Swayman. He’s a fuckboy hockey player just trying to sleep with you so he can say I fucked my teammates sister. You are just a warm body to him and you’re too stupid to see it.” His words vibrate against the walls and his face falls with realization. “Leia...” 

My heart cracks at his words, his mean and awful words.  “Fuck you! I fucking hate you!” 

I ran past him up the stairs and slammed the door, locking it behind me. I slide down to the floor and sobbed. I’ve never had a real fight with Andy but he’s so wrong. Jeremy and I are just starting. Things are different this time and I know it.   

I woke up the next morning, my eyes sore and raw from crying. Its still early but I can’t face Andy again. I got up to shower, using the hot water to loosen my muscles. As I’m drying my hair, I stand in front of the mirror and gasp.  

Between my hips is now a distinct bump. I grab my phone and check my pregnancy tracker. 15 weeks, one day. My bump popped and now there is no way to hide this. I can get away with it while I’m out because of jackets and scarfs but at work I tend to wear leggings and sweaters. I run my hand over my belly as I stare in the mirror.  Hi baby, I croon softly.  I move to open the door to tell Andy but I stop.  

He lost the right. 

I sneak out the house and head to the coffee shop for my morning tea and muffin. I work on my notes for work when my phone chimes.  

Jeremy: Morning beautiful  Leia: morning handsome  Jeremy: so since we bailed on dinner last night, can we try again tonight  Leia: I would love to 

I smile as I think about the date with Jeremy. And then my smile falls. I don’t know how I can hide my condition.  I have to tell him about the pregnancy. But maybe I should wait.  

Perfect. 

Andy isn’t home when I get there so I take advantage of it and start getting ready. I put on a fit and flare type dress with stockings and booties. My nice coat and scarf will hide my secret until I’m ready to talk to Jeremy.  He’s prompt like always and we head out.  

I’m nervous because this is like date four and every romance book has told me that by now, the man is hoping to get lucky.  And I would, I totally would follow this except I feel so uncomfortable in my body.  Having Andy and Stella tell me all the time that I look gorgeous is just getting to my head. What if he is grossed out about my body? What if he finds me repulsive? My mind is spiraling.  

“Everything ok Leia?” Jeremy smiled at me as he placed his big hand on my thigh. His finger are long and I can feel the warmth, strength and roughness in them.  A hard working man.  

“Yeah, just upset about Andy is all. He’s still being closed off and that’s unusual for him.” There was no way I would tell him what Andy said.  That would be just asking for an argument.  “He’s never been so distant before,” I say before smiling.  “But, I’m going to let it go because I’m excited for our date.”  

“Good.  I was thinking of just going to Lou’s for pizza and North Park has those Christmas lights up. Could be really pretty. “His fingers are dancing over my skin and it feels so good and distracting.  

“Sounds like the perfect night.” God, I am falling hard for this man.  

After pizza, he drove us to the park for the festival of lights. As we are climbing out, Jeremy hands me a soft ball.  I look at him curiously. “Because I know you forgot them.” I open the bundle and its a pair of mittens. I blush because I did forget and I look down.  Jeremy touches my chin to lift my head. I look into his eyes and all I see is kindness.  “Its ok, beautiful. Its our thing.”  

Our thing.  

Swoon.  

As we walk around, all the twinkling lights are setting a mood of romance. An aphrodisiac of scents fills the air from the food stalls. Jeremy gets some hot ciders to keep our hands warm as walk trough. “Ok, Halloween or Christmas?” he asks. 

“Christmas. I don’t like to be scared.” I shudder at the thought. “Plus why does it involve so many spiders and clowns. Spiders are poisonous and they are creepy.  Clowns... well, clowns eat people and just no.” I take a breath and look at Jeremy’s face. His face is surprised and unmoving.  “What?” 

“That is the most passionate speech I have ever heard about Halloween.” He burst out laughing. I huff with mock indignation and cross my arms, hip jutted while he is bent, hands on knees trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says wiping his eyes. “Sweetheart, are you afraid of spiders and clowns?” 

“It’s not funny.” I pouted at him and begin to walk away.  

“Sweetheart!” Jeremy chases after me and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry,” he says with puppy eyes.  

I can’t be mad at this man. “It’s ok,” I say softly.  

“Let me make it up to you.” He smiles. “Let’s go back to my place, I’ll start a fire, some hot cocoa, we can cuddle on the couch.” He kisses me softly. “What do you say beautiful?” 

Shit. He’ll try to touch me and he’ll know. He’ll know and I’m not ready.  I’m not ready for this bubble to burst. “I would love to but I have a six am call with a club in England. I need to be up early and presentable, at least, from the waist up.” I smile.  “But that sounds amazing. Maybe another night?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. I like that you are working to conquer the world.” He kisses my cheek and whispers, “maybe one night I can dominate you and take you to places you never knew existed.”  

I blush as he gives me a sexy smirk. Refusing this man is hard.  

And I don’t know how much longer i will be able to delay it.  

Its been a week since Jeremy has asked me to go home with him and I know now my time is up.  My baby belly is growing and I don’t want to lie to him.  I ask him to lunch and he said he would meet me at a cafe near the house. I bundle up as the falls weather has now turned to the colder side.  It also helps with the bump hiding mission.  I’m putting on my coat when Andy walks by.  “Going out?” 

“Yep.”  

“Princess...” he face falls at the lack of energy in my voice but I don’t want to hear it.  

“Nope.” I walked out the door and drove to the cafe.  Jeremy is sitting there in a hoodie and jeans, his black peacoat over the chair.  He looks like a goddamm snack.  “Hey!” 

“Hey sweetheart!” He gets up to kiss me on the cheek. “Its cold today.”  

“Yeah, winter is coming,” I say with a giggle.  

“Nice,” he smiles.  We order and chat but the more I chat the more i start to get nervous. I mean, how do you tell the man you are seeing that you are pregnant with another man’s baby? Now he can tell something is wrong because he asked me something and I completely spaced. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Leia, you are a thousand miles away. What’s going on?” 

I take a breath and hope for the best. “I need to tell you something.”  

“Okay,” he says slowly.  “You can tell me anything.”  

“So, I’ve been dealing with some life altering news for a few weeks now and I didn’t know if I should tell you earlier because I hadn’t finished making some decisions.”  

He frowns. “Is everything ok? Are you sick?”  

“No, not sick. Just... pregnant.”  

Swear I feel like a pin could drop and I could hear it. Jeremy’s face froze and I know, this is the end. Finally, he says, “you’re pregnant?” 

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I didn’t know if I was keeping it or what I was going to do but I decided that I wanted the baby.  I’m sixteen weeks pregnant. I told management last week but I needed to wrap my head around it and I needed to tell you because I know you want more with me and I just couldn’t while lying.”  He still sitting there, not moving a muscle. “Say something, please.” 

“Wow.” I blink, not sure what he is going to say.  “I mean, wow, that’s big news.” He takes a long sip of his drink as I try to blink back tears.  

“I understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me...” 

“No, that’s not it, sweetheart.” He takes my hand.  “I just need a moment to process this.” He smiles. “You’re gonna be a mom.”  

“Yeah. Its big but I’m determined to give my baby the best life.”  

He smiles. “Anything I can do to help, ok? Just let me know.”  He cups my cheek. “I believe in you, sweetheart.”  

Its exactly what I needed.  

NEXT

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[erisenyo]

I'm living for the surge of jetko, it's delightful how you write both of them ^-^

for a prompt, maybe "please, put it DOWN"

or "let’s not go back. not ever." for Jetko (if you haven't gotten tired of these knuckleheads lol)

For this prompt game! (And also this one!)

(Can be read along with this and this and this and this and this)

Agni’s flaming balls, if Jet fucking sucks his teeth one more fucking time Zuko is going to fucking—

Nothing. Zuko is going to nothing, he tells himself, cutting off that thought and shoving it away and trying to replace it with the calming, soothing breath cycles Uncle always pressed on him as he jerks his focus back to the assembled governors and viceroys and Councilmen around him.

“Lady Tang,” Zuko says, paging through his notes and trying to force the grit of frustration out of his voice, “I really do think we should consider—”

“What we should consider is the way we’ve distributed water rights off the Earth Kingdom’s coast,” she cuts in, flapping a hand at him as she sips her tea, and Zuko sucks in another slow, calming breath and tries not to feel the way Jet’s eyebrow ticks up, amused.

“We should consider a more traditional governance structure,” Councilman Vukuq agrees like he always fucking does and there’s no way the two of them aren’t— “It’s ridiculous, really, how the current divisions are assessed.”

The gentle breeze to the ostrich horse may be a gale to the flutter bee, Zuko remind himself as Jet’s other eyebrow tick up, as Zuko yanks his inner fire back down so hard it stings because it was like trying to scoop fire into a ladle to get what divisions they have now. “Councilman, we all agreed just a year ago—”

“Yes, well, things change,” Vukuq says, flicking his eyes over Zuko. “Isn’t that what you’re always saying, Fire Lord?” he adds, snide, and Zuko’s skin feels tight from that look, from the way Jet props his elbow on the table and his head on his fist and smirks.

“As you should all be able to see in the report my scribes put together,” Zuko grits out, finally finding the report in question amongst his notes and pretending he doesn’t see the way Jet’s eyes go overwide and overly rapt, a mockery of awed attention that scalds after spending the past week thinking he was seeing flashes of the real thing. “The population shifts along the coast—”

“Reports, reports, always with the reports,” Lord Geheng rolls his eyes and the fact that Zuko is fucking wishing Kuei were here right now with all his cheerful, agreeable fumbling– “Sometimes a man just has to think with his gut,” Geheng continues, giving Zuko a haughty, pitying kind of look. “You’ll learn,” he adds, lips curled into something probably supposed to come across as kind, fatherly, and Zuko grips onto the edge of the table and shoves his flame down and tries not to light it on fire.

“Thank you for your advice, Lord Geheng,” Zuko forces out, somehow harder than usual to do with Jet sitting there, watching, just smirking wider when Zuko’s gaze flicks over to him against his better judgment and mouthing ‘you’ll learn’ like it’s a joke, like it doesn’t matter, like he’s shoving his finger into a bruise and leaning into it and fuck, Zuko knows he shouldn’t have brought Jet into this, should never have even asked. He was almost more surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth than he was by Jet’s slow blink and drawling acceptance and now somehow they’re both here, when usually its only Zuko, everyone staring at Jet’s hodgepodge of clothes and the livid hickey still high on Jet’s neck and giving Zuko looks like he’s Viceroy Hoang again bringing his latest—his—like Zuko’s a fucking child, like—

Zuko takes a deep, calming breath as he drags his attention back to the conversation in front of him, trying to exhale the frustrated knot in his chest, straightening, trying to put on his most poised, polite expression. “Be that as it may,” he cuts back in, silently congratulation himself for how smooth the words come out, how reasonable and even and ignoring the way Jet straightens and mouths be that as it—fucking imitating him, fucking— “Given the population dispersion in the late years of the war and after—”

“Sure you want to go there?” Vukuq says under his breath and also not under his breath at all, everyone pretending not to hear. Except for Jet, who actually lets out a low, “Ooh, ouch,” at full volume and Agni, they’ve already been at it for fucking hours and Zuko just wants to fucking—

Just wants to take a deep breath, and calm himself, and shove down the roiling tangle in his chest, and remind himself something about ostrich hoses and flutter bees, and that a vessel already full of anger cannot have any room for peace, and—

Jet is watching him. Smirking, leaned forward against the table and clinking his fancy little teaspoon obnoxiously against the sides of his fragile little teacup and making a—making a fucking visible jerk off gesture at him.

“Irrespective of the reasons,” Zuko hears himself saying, aiming a kick at Jet’s ankles and barely restraining the urge to hurl his own teaspoon at Jet’s head when Jet easily evades it, just smirking wider, “Population movement did happen. And traditional governance approaches do not make sense given the increased demands of—”

“Interior trade routes can account for that,” Lady Tang says, dismissive, and Jet snorts out loud like Zuko wants to.

“It’s fish,” Zuko says, incredulous, fraying. “You’re talking about caravanning fish across the desert.”  

“I’ve heard its pretty warm there,” Jet says in a thick north coastal drawl, grinning sharp and wide when the assembles lords and ladies twitch at the sound, chewing on a—on a stalk of wheatgrass that he must have pulled out of his fucking sleeve or something, like he has a whole fucking stash up there, except he doesn’t, Zuko’s tried to find it while stripping him down, though how else he keeps—

“Yes, well,” Vukuq says, expression edged with something Zuko at his most charitable can only call distaste, “Smarter men than you are working on it, dear.”

“Oh, gosh,” Jet says, voicw going breathy, sitting up all wide-eyed and attentive and polite as Zuko’s swallows hard, fire gulping in his chest as his breath control breaks. “That’s so good to hear, there’s no better time than now,” Jet says earnestly and so clearly mockingly and Zuko feels the thin remnants of the leash around his temper turn to ash.

“Now that that’s settled,” Lady Tang is saying, the picture of genteel amusement, “Let us go back to the discussion of tax rates on our merchant class, which truly are far too—”

“No, how about let’s not go back, not ever,” Zuko hears himself saying overloud, nearly shouting, frustrated anger suddenly boiling up out of his gut, “While I’m sure you’d love to renegotiate your own tax rates, I think we’re all sick of you wasting all our fucking time with your blatant profiteering," Zuko snaps, ignoring the gasps around the room, the shocked outrage on everyone’s faces—except for Jet's, who’s air of feigned indifference has dropped for the first time all day to give way to a delighted kind of eagerness.

“Now see here,” Geheng straightens, bushy eyebrows drawn in disapproving, “There is no need for such unseemly displays, young man, this is—”

“Fire Lord,” Zuko corrects, smoke on the back of his tongue and Geheng jerks back, shocked, “And I think there’s plenty of need after this travesty of a negation,” Zuko says, smelling smoke too, which probably means he’s damaging the table but he doesn’t particularly care to check right now with his fire stretching and spilling out inside him and Jet looking at him, rapt.

“Fire Lord,” Vukuq says, chiding, stern, “Just because the negotiations have not personally favored your views—”

“Are you sure you want go there?” Zuko rounds on him, spiting the words, “You?”

“Are you implying—”

“I’m not implying anything,” Zuko snarls over top of him and Agni, it feels good to not have to modulate his tone, to check his volume, to carefully watch of every lilt and bit of emphasis, Jet leaning forward, eager, and that feels good, “I’m saying I don’t know why we even fucking pretend at it anymore, when you’re so blatantly in each other’s pockets.”

Vukuq is choking, sputtering, furious. “I should have known someone of your—”

“What, someone of my what, Vukuq?” Zuko challenges, exhilaration thrilling in his chest at the edge of threat in his voice, at the way Vukuq’s mouth works, silent, soundless in the face of it. “And Lady Tang I can see you picking up that seal,” Zuko says, snapping his attention to her and feeling wild with his hours of frustrated anger, his months of stifled indignation, with the way Jet is grinning approving and sharp.

“Lord Zuko,” she says, huffy, drawing herself up and Zuko feels a seething kind of satisfaction at that Lord, more than she’s ever given him, “I don’t know how things are done in the Fire Nation, but around here—”

“They’re done a fuck of a lot better than this,” Zuko says, incredulous, incredulous that they think something as small as words, as chiding, as shame can rein him back where they want him and if it’s worked before— “And we’re a fucking mess,” he adds, laughing, Jet cackling along with him, the sound like sparks in his veins, “The bar is not high. And yet somehow, you continually manage to faceplant over it.”

Vukuq pulls himself up, scrapes his eyes over Jet and then Zuko, snide and ugly. “It’s just like the Fire Nation to attempt to trample all over—”

“I will remind you, Councilman, that Fire Nation reparations still require the Fire Lord’s approval,” Zuko spits, the words coming easy and right when he doesn’t make himself think over them, “And I am the Fire Lord—” It’s almost dizzying, the adrenaline and anger and clear, crystal sense of focus and Jet’s nearly triumphant grin. “— and I will not be approving shit until I hear meaningful concessions. Because I assure you,” he adds, turning to Geheng before the man can say whatever drivel he’s opened his mouth to say, “The reparations are not for you, Geheng. I think we are all very aware of how little you need them after the war.”

Zuko’s breathes hard as the room gapes at him, stunned, uncertain. His breath control is in some wild, seething rhythm and the urge to tug it back under more familiar control trembles through him, just like the instinctive, learned impulse to apologize, to rein himself back and be calm and polite, to offer tea and amends and be reasonable.

But Jet is looking at him eager and impressed and genuine for the first time all day, and Zuko’s fire is blazing and for the first time—or maybe not the first time, not really, though Zuko’s always felt shame for it, for these loses of control that were so improper and ignoble and nothing like the calm consideration and measured words Uncle tried so hard to impress onto him—Zuko’s thrumming anger feels like an ally rather than an enemy.

“So, Fire Lord,” Jet says into the stunned silence, drawl thick and syrupy, all faux, smirking sweetness, the curl of his lips undeniably feral as he taps his teaspoon against his lips, drawing nervous looks, “Do you have a list of concessions you’re seeking?”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, feeling his grins sharp and feral in answer as he takes in the room, feeling bright and invigorated and exhilarated by the sudden clear certainty that he’s going to fucking get this one, “Yeah, I do, actually. If you'll look at the report that was sent to you..."

[solarpunkani]

Sonic the Hedgehog and Solarpunk Ideals

Alright, it's June 23rd which means not only is it Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, but it's also Sonic the Hedgehog's 32nd birthday. Let's all say Happy Birthday Sonic the Hedgehog.

Overall, that means it's time for me to do something I usually don't do on this blog--talk about Sonic the Hedgehog, one of my favorite series of all times. Specifically, how I feel it embodies Solarpunk at least a little bit. Hopefully you'll see where I'm coming from by the end of this.

Real quick though, special shout out to @modern-solarpunk for being my beta reader 100/10 owe you my life.

Alright let’s make one thing clear. I’m a Sonic nerd. I’ve been a Sonic nerd since at least the 5th grade. Sonic the hedgehog is one of My Things. IDK if I’d call it a hyperfixation, but it’s definitely one of My Things, and it’s been one of My Things longer than gardening or even Solarpunking and all the other stuff y’all know me for has been. I am about to talk y’alls ears off. Buckle up.

With that in mind, I’m not going to pretend that the Sonic franchise is a perfect franchise made by perfect people working under a perfect corporation. Even ignoring the timeline disasters, retconning, and rushed projects (*cough cough Sonic 06 and Sonic Boom cough cough*), Sonic the Hedgehog is made by a corporation in a capitalistic world who has done some… iffy things in the past, present, and likely the future. We are, here, today, strictly talking about two things--the creation of Sonic and the creation of Dr. Eggman. There will be a super special third topic I bring up later, but that's gonna be its own post. I’ll bring up a handful of things from the shows, comics, movies, etc. If I finish writing and editing and posting this whole lengthy diatribe and someone ignores this paragraph and brings up some inane unrelated shit that the Big Corporation Guys did That One Time Months/Years Ago I might snap. Yes, corporations are bad. Yes, I like Sonic. Let’s establish that.

Ok let’s actually get started.

Sonic the Hedgehog the Dude, Tiny Rebellions, and Freedom

Alright, so Sonic the Hedgehog is a series of games, movies, comic books, TV shows--it's a whole thing, it's an entire franchise. The basics of what you need to know here is that a little 3’3” superpowered anthropomorphic blue hedgehog dude and his array of equally-animalian and equally-colorful friends are ruining the robotics-based evil world takeover plans of a 6’1” egg-shaped human dude on the regular. Occasionally, there are other villains, and other storylines, and sometimes the motivations change, but that sentence boils down the Sonic the Hedgehog storyline to its base essentials. 

The Sonic franchise was dreamed up in 1990 when SEGA needed a new mascot to compete with Nintendo’s iconic Mario. Personality-wise, he’s said to have been inspired by “a modern sensibility of wanting to get things done right away, righting wrongs as they presented themselves instead of letting them linger.” As we currently know him, with Sonic “What you see is what you get--just a guy who loves adventure.” He’s a free-spirited drifter who goes with the flow, valuing freedom above all else and wanting nothing more than to live by his own rules and whims rather than bowing to the expectations of others. He loves interacting with the many cultures on his planet (which we mostly see in Sonic Unleashed, but still), trying local dishes with friends frequently. Overall, Sonic is driven by a strong sense of justice and fairness, fighting for the ideal of freedom rather than the name of the law--and he always fights for the underdog. He likes to handle things on his own, but he isn’t above looking to his friends for help when needed--and acknowledges their role in his life and achievements regularly (if he can be a bit smug at times). He appreciates scenic views and nature, with a special fondness for places filled with plants--we see him do this lots in the series--and he hates when people destroy it for their own gain. He doesn’t hate cities, though, and finds they have their own beauty.

So what’s Solarpunk about this? In my eyes, a good bit. If you don’t know what Solarpunk is, it’s described on Wikipedia as ‘a literary and artistic movement that envisions and works towards actualizing a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community.” Aesthetically, I like to describe it as a mix between sci-fi and cottagecore, with a particular leaning towards some steampunk and some cyberpunk elements, but in a brighter, cleaner, more hopeful way. It's important to note, however, that Solarpunk is also a practical and political action mindset--as much as Solarpunks dream of a hopeful future and work to visualize it, we also work to learn the concepts and take the actions needed to make it a reality. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that Sonic is super politically revolutionary, I’m here to talk about how Sonic fits into the aesthetics of Solarpunk.

As such, lets get into the point--I feel like Sonic is pretty Solarpunk, personality-wise. He just fits a lot of the core tenants--wants to right wrongs ASAP, whether they’re his wrongs or wrongs of the past. He values freedom, traveling, and beautiful natural places--a big chunk of Solarpunk is learning to appreciate and protect the natural species around you, and plenty of people have dreamed up nomadic Solarpunk societies. Even Sonic living by his own rules instead of bowing to expectations fits in Solarpunk--A Solarpunk Manifesto states that “the ‘punk’ in Solarpunk is about rebellion, counterculture… and enthusiasm. it is about going in a different direction than the mainstream…” People in the Solarpunk movement care deeply about freedom, justice, fairness, and fixing the broken systems we deal with today--and often start the legwork by forming or taking part in community-based movements and initiatives. We lean onto those around us for strength and courage, to work as a group to think of solutions to problems, whether that be something small like trading DIY patch instructions to bigger things like planning and creating community gardens to even sharing news about unionizing and more. There’s acts a Solarpunk can do alone--like guerrilla gardening, or moss graffiti, or drawing and writing concepts of a brighter future--but we all know we’re at our strongest when we’re not just one, but many. 

But one of my biggest arguments to Sonic being Solarpunk actually centers around his nemesis--Doctor Eggman.

Doctor Eggman as the Antithesis of Solarpunk

After all, it’s pretty hard to talk about how a hero of a series is Solarpunk without discussing the people and forces he fights against, and most of the time that’s Doctor Ivo Robotnik--better known to most as Dr. Eggman. He was developed more or less directly alongside Sonic the hedgehog, and as such the notes about his creation not only influence his character, but the character and vibe of most of the franchise so far. So who is Doctor Eggman?

Doctor Eggman is often described as the World’s Vilest Person--he’s evil, mean, cruel-spirited, and a self-proclaimed genius scientist who only really thinks about what he wants and what he needs to do to get it--getting pleasure in crushing anything that gets in his way. His main goal is to establish his Eggman Empire across the entire planet and build his own version of a utopia, Eggmanland--usually taking the form of a polluted, smog-filled city or a robotic theme park. His plans have varied from excavating natural spaces and turning woodland creatures into robotic slaves (Sonic 1, 2, 3), using doomsday devices to threaten nations and blow up the moon (Sonic Adventure 2), tie down planets for his own purposes (Sonic CD, Sonic Colors), or even using cosmic forces beyond his comprehension to flood metropolises or literally rip the planet apart (Sonic Adventure, Sonic Unleashed). In the comics and some shows, he even takes it a step further--a common theme with him is Roboticization, wherein people are forcibly turned from organic beings into robot slaves. Sometimes its a machine fulfilling this sometimes-irreversible process (Archie Comics, Sonic the Hedgehog Cartoon, Sonic Underground), while other times its an all-consuming virus that grows out of his control and turns almost the entire planet into raving robotic zombies (IDW Sonic Comics issues #12-29). He’s fueled by delusions of grandeur, believing that all of the world’s problems would be solved if he specifically were in charge of everyone all the time and had things his way, and makes robotic inventions and weapons to obtain power. He’s overflowing with self-confidence and pride, highlighting his ‘scientific genius’ whenever he can. He’ll leave temporary allies to rot if it gives him a chance to take all the credit and power for  himself, he looks down on everyone else and sees them as insignificant, only interested in what benefits him. Fairness and community? With Doctor Eggman? Forget it, he’ll steal candy from a baby and then turn it into a robot if given the chance. And even with robotic helpers he makes himself, he quickly gets sick of them--Eggman doesn’t do friends. 

I’d compare him to Elon Musk, but at least Dr. Eggman is actually a genius.

A Solarpunk Manifesto was published in 2019, describing Solarpunk as “A movement in speculative fiction, art, fashion, and activism that seeks to answer and embody the question ‘what does a sustainable civilization look like, and how can we get there?’”. Eggmanland is not how we get there--Doctor Eggman is an embodiment of everything the Solarpunk ideology stands against, and not entirely by accident. Here’s a quote from Yuji Naka, one of the creators of Sonic the Hedgehog.

“Robotnik was created to be the opposite of Sonic, and to be the bad guy. At that time, there was opposition between "developers" and "environmentalists", and Robotnik was created to represent machinery and development.”

He represents it pretty well--his common motifs are imperialism and pollution, and his version of a utopia is often reminiscent of pre-EPA photos of US cities. Sometimes its done to a cartoonish level--but the point still stands. Whenever we catch glimpses of Eggman’s ‘Home Bases,’ whether its Scrap Brain Zone in Sonic 1, Chemical Plant in Sonic 2, Metallic Madness in Sonic CD, or elsewhere, we’re always seeing tons of mechanization, smog, pollution, and death robots.

Solarpunks aren’t opposed to technology--not in the slightest. But I feel its safe to say that any Solarpunk would be opposed to the over-industrialized, hyper-mechanized, pollution-riddled empire hellscape that Eggman would call heaven. (And you know damn well he'd be all over those Boston Dynamic robot dogs if he were real). To me, Eggman represents the grim-dark futures that apocalyptic stories tell us we’re barreling towards--the darker, less sunny side of the already dystopian cyberpunk genre. Solarpunk is the sun that burns away at smoggy futures, the light that reveals what we can have instead, the ideas that lead to actions to secure it. Its hope in a bottle--hope that we can enjoy and add to, a dream that we can help make into a reality. The ideals are chock full of resisting the real-life Eggmans who want to send humanity into a nose-dive of mechanization and energy-burning self-destruction for the sake of short-lived profits and smug ego-trips. 

Is Sonic a strictly Solarpunk series? I wouldn’t necessarily say so. But I think if the themes and terms had existed in 1990, it certainly would have been cited as a bit of an inspiration. Whether the Solarpunk community would have been chill with a corporation citing the term as inspiration is a whole other deal.

Stay tuned for this posts' sequel, where I talk about how I feel my favorite game in the series--Sonic Colors--is Solarpunk.

[fandomsgal]

Okay, so I saw this post by @yourcrumblingsaikiisnotmyproblem and now they got me spiraling into idea town and apologies if nothing makes sense, I am half asleep and writing this on like three hours of sleep but the ideas would not stop flowing through my brain so enjoy the rambling!

Okay, so they find something big that they need to hide from the sages, from everyone, no on can know about this, maybe it has something to do with forbidden knowledge or we could go down the whole reincarnation au route if you want to put that in.

They are both scared, they make many trips to the desert to discuss what they found and how everyone else would react and they both agree to get rid of it and look like they both fell out to trick everyone so that the information cannot be known.

Alhaitham is the one to come up with the fight, though knowing about Kaveh's past promises that they will still be best friends, that nothing can separate them, Alhaitham maybe makes a comment about how they're each others mirror and that's when Kaveh kisses him. Fueled with those feelings, they need to get this right, they have one chance to act the biggest fight the Akademiya will ever see in its history.

They are both so nervous when the day arrives they have to constantly touch each other, reassure each other that nothing between them will change, they are still Kaveh and Alhaitham, two halves if a whole mirror.

So the fight happens, Kaveh is pulling up every inch of drama acting he has seen anywhere, he cries on the spot, he screams at Alhaitham and he rips up the thesis paper before storming out. He hides away during the rest of the day in an area that will one day become the space of the Palace of Alcazarzaray.

Alhaitham finds him, and to keep up the charade, they will have to be apart for a while, maybe Kaveh goes to Fontaine for a few weeks, maybe Alhaitham visits for a week and who knows, maybe those two get spontaneously married.

So years go by, Kaveh builds and makes a reputation, Alhaitham becomes the scribe, they're both wearing matching ringers under their outfits so they don't get lost and missing each other seems to be on their mind, they think they can be seen together without suspicion from the sages, especially Azar, if they have the right motive... so Kaveh us under commission at this time from Dori and he comes up with an idea, he talks with her and they come to an agreement, Kaveh pretends to be broke and in debt to Dori when really he isn't, he's the light of Kshahrewar, he's not broke, but he'll do a couple of free commissions for her after the palace is built (we pretend the withering zone story is part of the cover up that those two discussed) Dori is also the only one to know most of the details about years ago since she needed the context but not what the research was about.

So Kaveh pretends to be broke, gets "drunk" at Lambards and in comes Alhaitham with the next part of the plan, and so that's how in everyone's eyes, two ex friends became "roommates."

They don't reveal they are married until after Alhaitham resigns from acting grand sage and all the new sages are chosen, the reveal causes everyone to question everything about them, and Alhaitham and Kaveh just smile and go about their business, Alhaitham is reading, Kaveh is drinking but avoiding questions and under the table their pinkies are linked together, two halves of a whole mirror rightfully together.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Meanwhile there is a darkness growing in Ketterdam, and it seems a killer may be stalking the streets of West Stave. An unknown evil is closing its jaws over the city, and it’s starting to feel like nowhere is safe.

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus @i-need-help-this-is-my-obsession

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: death, murder references

AO3 link

Chapter 49 - Kaz

“I need you to gather as much intel on them beforehand as possible,” Kaz lifted his gaze to glance over at Inej, “We have a week. Riesen is sending Geels, I know, but I need you to find out who his seconds will be - by tomorrow, if possible. We’re at a considerable advantage without Stoevelaar in the fray; they might not know who our seconds are until the meeting, but keep your eyes open. I assume there’s been no further word about his interest in you?”

“Nothing since Liesbeth died,” Inej’s tone was light but there was a hidden weight to her voice that Kaz had learned how to read; in the slight movement of her shoulders, in the almost imperceptible glance away from him as she spoke, in the ever so slightly of kilter inflection over the word died. 

Kaz didn’t have time for her moral quandaries tonight. She had killed Liesbeth, she had killed others, and there was nothing she needed to hide here so why did she insist on this discomfort? He did his best to ignore it - he had other things to focus on now. There was the game, of course, to prepare for - Nina was due to arrive at the Crow Club in just over an hour, Kaz would make a move there soon - but there was also the added complication of planning this parley with the Black Tips. Haskell had told Kaz to arrange some weeks ago now, if things didn’t change, but Riesen had beaten them to it about two hours ago. 

“Relax, boy,” Haskell had said, leaning back in his chair and swishing the glass of brandy sitting in his palm, “This is what we wanted,”

It was decidedly not what Kaz had wanted. 

“We’ll get things all squared away quick and easy,” the old man drawled on, “and re-establish our claim on the harbour. Easy,”

Easy. Kaz wanted to snort his derision, but he restrained himself to a curt nod and bit his tongue. He’d marched from the office and across the ground floor of the Slat with something jagged twisting inside his chest. Easy. Nothing but a trap was ever easy. 

He sent for Inej before he’d even reached the stairs - her shift had ended after she reported back to him a little over an hour ago, but he expected she’d still be in the house somewhere. And it would seem he was correct; Inej had knocked on his door barely two minutes after he’d walked in himself. She looked tired. 

“They’ll expect me to make you my second,” Kaz continued now, eyes tracing over the shape of Inej’s bent legs on his windowsill. “So-”

“So I won’t be,” she finished, “Obviously,”

Kaz nodded, though he wasn’t sure that she was actually looking at him, and forced his eyeline back towards his desk and the ledger lying open in front of him as though he needed to create some pretence of working. They both knew he wasn’t working on a ledger whilst he planned this parley; he needed his focus. So stop studying her. If Inej said her leg was painless enough to climb then he could trust her word and stop scanning her for a slip in the façade. 

Even if they hadn’t been expecting her, would Kaz want to bring Inej in as his second for this? Did he want to put her back in the Black Tips line of fire? 

This was her job. It didn't matter. It shouldn’t matter. And it didn’t. It didn’t. 

“I’ll take Jesper,” he said, turning a page for absolutely no reason, “And Big Bolliger,”

He saw the sharp movement of Inej’s head as she snapped up to attention at that last word, pictured the little furrow between her brows and the downturned edges of her mouth before he looked up to see them. She was, indeed, frowning when their eyes met; her hand drifted to count her knives and he was sure that she was thinking of their names in turn. 

“Why name it?” he’d asked her, when she told him the first blade he’d given her was Petyr. 

“For Sankt Petyr,” she said, almost confused, blinking at him. 

“I didn’t ask why that name; I asked why you’d bother naming it in the first place,”

For a moment he’d thought that she was going to reply, as he watched her it seemed like a retort was forming and he’d been intrigued to hear it, but then the colour rose in her cheeks and she turned away from him. Kaz stood watching her back for a moment before he spoke again, and once he did they seemed to carry on as though the moment had never happened in the first place. He hadn’t brought it up again, though of course it didn’t stop him from broaching the subject of philosophy every time he heard her name another blade. 

“Why Bolliger?” she asked, now, her little frown refusing to relent, “He’s not bad muscle but-”

“Jesper and Bolliger,” Kaz repeated, not bothering to temper any impatience in his tone, “Let them know, and let me know who Geels is bringing. I want you there as well, out of sight,”

She nodded - perhaps a little stiffly, but if that were true then Kaz was ignoring it - and stood up from the window ledge. As far as he could tell there was no wince, no buckle in her knee when she moved her weight onto it, no sign at all that she was in pain. Good. It wouldn’t do for the job if she was still injured.

“Is that everything?” 

“Anything else you can get me,”

Inej gave him another short, sharp nod, and then in the space of a blink she had vanished through the open window and disappeared somewhere between the raindrops. It seemed as though she knew how to enter some kind of hidden world, one that really did just exist in that liminal space in between two droplets of rain falling too rapidly to track. Chasing each other to the ground, splashing against the cobbles and seeming to cease their existence - only to fall from the sky again, in their inescapable little circle. 

After another half hour of working Kaz began to make his way to the Crow Club, pausing on the way to check in with Anika. It would seem that Layla had not been doing anything untoward. 

“When you told me to watch her I didn’t think that meant holding her hair back whilst she hurled,” Anika complained, leaning back against the doorframe. 

“Where’s Pietro?”

“Fuck if I know, I’ve been with her ain’t I?” she jutted her chin towards the closed door, “If I catch something I’m blaming you,”

Kaz didn’t bother with the retorts that offered themselves up to him, and instead just asked her to confirm that someone was following Pietro - they were - before he turned away. 

“Oh - did Nina respond?”

He paused and nodded over his shoulder. 

“She coming?”

“Of course. Why?”

Anika shrugged.

“Heard she was gonna be busy tonight. She said some toff wants her to go to the Geldstraat,”

Nina had neglected to mention that to Kaz. Van Eck again? Didn't she think that was relevant? He scowled as he began to walk away, nodding at the door as he said: 

“Enjoy your handful,”

Anika sighed melodramatically.

“I’m not being paid enough for this,” she muttered, distractedly twisting a lock of yellow hair from the non-shaven half of her head tightly around one finger, then undoing and redoing the same little action, as she spoke. 

“None of us are,”

Kaz walked on, down to the ground floor of the Slat, and was taken by slight surprise to see Wylan Hendriks cautiously weaving his way through the crowd. Since he had stopped using a cane upon arrival to the Barrel Kaz had rarely seen the boy without a sighted guide, and now he paused to watch him traverse the room with intrigue. Wylan moved slowly and in places with hesitation, but not without confidence for the majority of his steps, and after a beat Kaz realised that he had memorised how many steps it would take him to get from one obstacle to the next in the setup of the room. The rest, that being non-stationary obstacles, he seemed to track by sound - someone shouted something near his right and he side-stepped neatly to the left, though they wouldn’t have been directly in his path if he’d continued, and Kaz frowned. He was good. He was very good. But Kaz still wasn’t sure he felt convinced - he just couldn’t place his finger on why. 

There was also now, of course, the matter of Wylan’s scars. Kaz could hardly claim that they didn’t look believable. 

Raske, who’d been lounging on a chair with some little project or other - Kaz hoped, for all their sakes, nothing explosive - twisting quickly beneath his fingers, metal slotting in and out of place, looked up and noticed Wylan crossing the room with a small frown. It was unusual to see Wylan around the Slat, that much was true, and Raske stood up to speak to him as Kaz stood watching from the other side of the room.

What time was it? Getting late. Nina would soon arrive at the Crow Club and Kaz wanted to be there to oversee the setup of the game, and as much as he was sure the Heartrender could cover Layla’s task once the cards were laid she didn’t know her organisation system. Layla usually directed the other servers and kept as much control over the game as she could without dealing the cards herself; it was to be an honest game tonight anyway, but Kaz still needed things to go swiftly and smoothly. 

He could have crossed the room and found out what Wylan was doing there, but ultimately decided that there was no real need. Wylan’s role in tonight's job was already done, and Kaz had other things to concern himself with. For one moment longer he looked on, then turned away and left the building in silence.

[disillusionedjudge]

“I understand you’re doing this for the Empire, but what about us?” The Empire. That’s what this argument was about. It was what every single one of their arguments had been about. It was par for the course, considering they were both actively involved in politics, but Thor felt like it was all they ever talked about lately. “You returned two weeks ago, yet I feel as if you’re still a ghost. I know duty has kept us both busy, but I’ve missed you, and… you’ve been spending so much time with your family lately. Are you upset with me? Do you not wish to speak with me?”

“Do you ever wonder if we’re on the wrong side?” Thor asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Gylfie had always had a temper, and she was angrier than ever when her father had practically denied her the position of Judge Magister. Thor was echoing sentiments she’d heard from Gylfie in the past, but the uneasiness in her stomach couldn’t be ignored forever. “What if Archadia isn’t what we thought it was? What if it’s become corrupted beyond saving? I took an oath, Gylfie, I do not believe I could just dutifully stand by… and the sorts of things the Archadian representatives have been saying in the Congress of Worlds about nethicite chill me to the bone.”

Thor wasn’t from Archadia, and she never would be, no matter how loyal her lover was to her homeland. She didn’t mean to insinuate that the sacrifices had all been for nothing, but at the same time, was Gylfie willingly choosing to ignore the mess the Empire was creating? Or did she really just not care? What happened to the woman who had confessed her love in Thor’s private chambers after protecting her from an attempt on her life?

“I’m becoming afraid. I know that’s not your intention, but… you want to shut me out all the time. A-and you’re keeping secrets from me.” They both were keeping secrets from each other, and their relationship itself was a secret, yet the tension between them was still palpable. What had changed since the last time they’d seen each other? “Please, Gylfie, let me in.”

Thor sighed, and she slid her arm around her lover’s shoulders. She leaned her cheek lightly on her arm. She didn’t want to lose her partner because of politics, and there was no denying her feelings hadn’t changed at all. The five months they’d spent apart had made her heart grow fonder, as the saying went, and she remembered how Gylfie had kissed her when she first arrived on Midgard. If only Thor could get through to her…

“Look,” she said. Her room was quite nice, and she glanced out over the balcony’s edge. The sun was setting, and although Asgard had its own beautiful sights, she was awestruck by the view from her apartment on Midgard. Her soft, loose, pink gown and messy brown bun were far less formal than the clothing she usually wore, yet her own distinct style was clear enough. Her sense of identity was stronger than ever, and she could only hope that her love and pure soul could bring Gylfie back from whatever darkness she was battling.

“I’m sorry. Let’s not talk of politics or war. Let’s say they don’t exist here, in this place. It’s just you and I. You can hold me in your arms, and we can pretend we’re back on Asgard. No responsibilities to distract us, no duties to create distance between us. When we talked about running away together and marrying in secret. The purest of loves, that’s what Sylvie said… Gylfie, I still love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Just… please. I need you, my dearest, especially in times like these. Do not abandon me.”

—

continued from here

What about us? she wanted to ask, but held her tongue - knowing better to say such a thing aloud. “You and I must put our peoples first,” she whispered, but even with their arguments, she never sounded angry. She never raised her voice. Never at Thor. She just sounded… tired. “My love, I want nothing more than to put this all behind to spend my days with you, but I swore an oath to defend my homeland. It is my duty to act in service of the Empire. You know this. And now that my–”

Her voice caught in her throat, and Gylfie could not stop her tears from welling. “It… This is not because of you,” she rasped, and her voice wobbled. “’Tis nothing like… like that. My brother, he… he…” Her head shook, and she stepped away - dragging her hands down her face before she pressed them together and held them against her lips. Her hands trembling as she did her best to steel herself. “Silas is dead.” Her words were hollow and faint - strained against grief she tried to swallow. “My father is a wreck. I have been trying to lead in his stead, but I… I cannot…” Gylfie closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath. Struggling to keep herself composed. “It is all wrong, Thor. Everything is all wrong.”

And it could have been avoided. It could have been avoided if–

Gylfie’s attention snapped back to her partner - her eyes clouded with tears unshed, and she remained silent. Her stomach twisted to hear the words she had once spoken - the words she… hardly believed in. No, she could not believe such a thing. Not when she had gotten so far. Not with everything she had done. Not with her brother’s blood– “I cannot afford to think such things,” she said quietly, despite how ill she felt. “I am doing what I can to save Archadia, and all of Ivalice. I know… I know it may not seem that way, but, my dear–”

She lowered her hands and turned to Thor once more. A desperation bright in her teary eyes as her heart began to beat faster. Please believe me. “The Empire is not too far gone. I know it… it doesn’t seem like it, but a plan is in place, and I must adhere to my part. I need to– I must do this for my brother. I need to play my part, my love. There is a sickness within the Empire, yes-” oh, calling House Solidor a sickness was just barely scratching the surface, “-but it can be fixed. It will be. Thor…”

Gylfie closed the distance between them, and finally took her partner’s hands within her own - squeezing them reassuringly. “Please. Believe me when I say it will not be this way forever. Archadia will change, but we need to play this carefully, or all could be lost. I wish I could tell you more.” And, oh, how that was true. She wanted to let Thor in completely - to reveal to her the quiet plans of encouraging Gramis to rally for peace, and to prevent Vayne from taking the throne. But she had to be cautious, and she feared she would only invite trouble if Thor knew of what was lurking beneath Archadia’s surface. Thor would not betray her, she knew, but she could not trust anyone else around her.

Agony flickered in Gylfie’s eyes as Thor spoke again, and she leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss against her forehead. Still holding her hands as she then pressed her head against hers. “I do not mean to,” she murmured, “but I do not wish to endanger you. To deal with Archadia’s politics is to deal with vipers, and I do not wish to see you bit. Please, my love, just… just trust me in this. Trust that I know what I am doing. I promise, one day, you will not have to fear Archadia’s need for nethicite, for, one day, we will never use it again.” She wanted so desperately for Thor to understand this - to understand that she was doing what was needed. It was not pretty - no, what needed to be done was messy and dangerous - but she would save the Empire. Somehow, she would.

She kissed her partner’s cheek, and let go of her hands as Thor moved to wrap her arms around her shoulders. Gylfie said nothing as she pulled Thor closer and wrapped her arms around her lower back, and nuzzled into her hair. Her heart fluttered, her love for Thor as strong as ever. Gods above, she loved her so much, and when Thor told her to look, she could not help but look at her, first, before she turned her gaze out to the sunset. It was beautiful, but…

“I would much prefer to look at you.” She turned her head back to Thor, and offered a weak smile. Her troubled expression softening as her glassy eyes filled with warmth. A warmth that… only ever lit for Thor, those days. And she listened in silence as her partner spoke again - eager to accept the idea of not speaking of war or politics inside Thor’s apartment. Eager to just hold her, and leave everything else behind. To entertain the idea, once more, that they could marry. That they could run off and it could just be the two of them, and–

Do not abandon me.

Those words stung Gylfie deep, and a knot formed in her throat. Did she really think…? With a slow shake of her head, she hugged Thor tighter, and kissed the side of her head - closing her eyes as she breathed her in. “And I will never stop loving you,” she murmured against her hair, “and I swear to you, I will never abandon you, my heart. I may not always be able to be here, but I will always return to you. But, please… I need you as well. I love you, Thor.”

[neopronouns-in-action]

Neopronouns in Action #085: The Endless River

Neopronouns: av/afo/afi/afozasi and en/eta/ake/etazasi, which follow the same rules as he/him/his/himself

Replace he with av or en

Replace him with afo or eta

Replace  his with afi or ake

Replace himself with afozasi or etazasi

EX:

“He is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as he gets a fence set up around his yard so the puppy can go outside without him having to walk it. His uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting him use, since he lost his. He’s going to buy toys and train the puppy himself.”

becomes:

av/afo/afi/afozasi:

“Av is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as av gets a fence set up around afi yard so the puppy can go outside without afo having to walk it. Afi uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting afo use, since av lost afi. Av’s going to buy toys and train the puppy afozasi.”

or

en/eta/ake/etazasi:

“En is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as en gets a fence set up around ake yard so the puppy can go outside without eta having to walk it. Ake uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting eta use, since en lost ake. En’s going to buy toys and train the puppy etazasi.”

___

“We should have died a long time ago.”

Oru lifted afi eyes from the bottom of the boat to look at Yahmoxa.

En was standing on one of the benches at the back, looking out across the rushing grey water with ake back to Oru.

Av contemplated making many responses in the few moments of comparative silence that followed.

Av could say it wasn’t true, or av could ask what en meant. Av could pretend av hadn’t heard eta, or even pretend to still be asleep. Or just say, “I don’t want to talk about that”, and the matter would be dropped instantly.

And a dozen other things that went through afi mind in the space of time before av said quietly, “Yeah, I know.”

Av didn’t know how long the two of them had been in this boat, on this river. The time all blended in together into a blur of nothing.

The two slept when they were tired. They lay, or sat, or stood awake when they weren’t. The current carrying the boat swiftly along never slowed, changed course, or showed any signs of stopping. The river never forked, or turned in any way they could detect. The dense forest on either side never varied enough in its array of plant and animal life for them to tell one spot from another.

They drank from the river by cupping their hands in to the silty water, and they ate, sometimes, when one of them managed to catch one of the large, slow, eel-like fish that sometimes came to the surface, but nowhere near often enough for what should have been required to keep them alive. The sun never rose or set, so they had no positive way to keep track of the time, but they just knew that, regardless of the sky’s position in the matter, “months”, if not more, had sometimes passed between times when they could eat, and often “weeks” went by before either of them felt thirsty enough to drink from the river.

Still lying at the bottom of the boat where av hadn’t moved from afi curled position, Oru watched as Yahmoxa heaved a long sigh, and stepped down from the bench, still with ake back to Oru.

Yahmoxa looked the same as en always did – a blurry, human-shaped shape, with what appeared to be an orange sleeveless vest, and dark pants that ended at the knee.

Anything more than that, Oru could never see, and it was the same for Yamoxa when en looked at Oru.

No matter how close to eachother they got, they could never clearly see the other, not even their basic skin color, even when they took off all their clothes. Yahmoxa could hold ake hand directly in front of Oru’s eyes, and Oru wouldn’t even be able to guess at anything about it, besides that it was, in theory, a hand-shaped shape.

But they could see themselves perfectly fine when they looked down at themselves, and Yahmoxa had described etazasi for Oru:

Pale skin that was now constantly red from sunburn that didn’t seem to ever improve, but at least also didn’t seem to get any worse. Hair cut just above ake scalp, which never grew any longer. Wide cheekbones and a round face with laugh lines that en could feel with ake finger tips. Hairy arms and legs, with a tiny, scratchy mustache above ake upper lip, and a few random prickles of hair on ake chin.

En was fat, covered in freckles below the sunburn, and had a large curved scar on ake left forearm that en couldn’t remember getting. There were also a collection of little dimpled scars on both of ake knees, that en was sure was from falling off a rock as a child. When en closed ake left eye, whose color en could only guess to be “probably brown, I think my parents had brown eyes”, en could tell that ake right eye saw colors with slightly less saturation and brightness.

Yahmoxa had a dark patch of a birth mark on the back of ake neck, and a large peircing in ake right ear, with a wooden circle stretching the skin, and a black-beaded charm hanging down, which Oru could actually see, faintly.

Oru constantly thought about these details, and more, that had been offered up, because they were the only real image av had of Yahmoxa besides the strange, but now familiar blur av saw when av looked at eta.

And in return, Oru had described what av could see of afozasi for Yahmoxa.

Av had thin brown hair that grew only in sparse patches, leaving most of afi head a patchwork of bare skin and hair, which av couldn’t remember the reason for. Av could only tell from feeling, but was pretty sure the same had happened to afi eyebrows. The only reason Oru knew what color afi hair was was because there was just one patch on afi head long enough to fall in front of afi face when av leaned over far enough.

Both of Oru’s ears were peirced in multiple places, with what felt like different sets of pointed spikes and smoother round circles. There was another peircing in afi nose, which av could see faintly as a blur of silver if av crossed afi eyes.

Afi skin was light brown, and though av couldn’t see it, av was pretty sure av shared the same sunburn Yahmoxa was suffering from, though, like with eta, it didn’t seem to ever get any worse.

Oru was short and fat, and had a seemingly hand-drawn tattoo on afi upper arm of a cat holding a butcher knife in its mouth, saying, “being straight was never an option”.

Trying to deciper that from upside down had whiled away a few minutes for the day av had discovered it, so that had been a nice distraction.

Afi clothes consisted of flowing blue robes with red, black, and white flowers, diamonds, and snakes, with loose, matching blue pants underneath.

Oru’s right leg ended below the knee, and when av needed to, av used the carved wooden staff av had woken up with for balance. Not that there was anywhere for afo go, unless av wanted to go for a swim.

Which was never going to happen.

Oru and Yahmoxa had discussed the idea many times. Just talking about it was fine, it would be a nice way to cool off, and maybe they could risk it and try swimming to shore. Hours had been spent conversing over the subject, sharing any idea that popped into their heads.

But they both felt the same inborn horror any time they actually tried to enact the plan. They could stick their hands in, they could stick their feet in, they could even lean out from the boat to grab things floating past. But if they intended to actually fully get into the water, they wouldn’t be able to. Horror would freeze them in place or make them yank themselves back into the boat and lie there until they calmed down again.

They’d thought of trying to push eachother in, out of sheer rebeliousness against whatever seemed intent on keeping them out of the water, but as soon as it was their intention to do so, the same thing happened. Even if they just planned to be careless enough to make falling in an accident, they found themselves unable to approach the edge of the boat until they stopped trying to get into the water.

They’d mostly given up on that task by this point, but had made a habit of trying every now and then just to see if anything had changed.

But nothing around them ever seemed to change. The sun never set. The river never changed. Their clothes never faded from the sun. Their hair never grew. They never got any older.

They should have died a long time ago, from hunger, or thirst, or the constant exposure to the beating sun, but they didn’t.

Something was keeping them alive.

Oru was still tired, so av laid afi head back down on afi arms and prepared to go back to afi nap, repeating, as Yahmoxa’s blurry form plopped heavily down on on the bench across from afo, “Yeah, I know. I know.”

The river raced on without end, and carried Oru and Yahmoxa with it.

[aita-liveontv]

Hi a few things

-I have been informed that Fight Song was not written by Katy Perry. Oops

EDIT:: mom doesn’t own the house. She doesn’t pay for the house by any means. As long as any of my siblings have been alive, so like 32 years, she’s never had a job— her disability developed in the last 6 years, and I no longer want her to have a job, but if y’all think this is contingent on house ownership, mom explicitly does not have her name on the deed.

I have a dad(58M) who is an inactive player in this situation. He works a demanding overnight job and often sleeps through the day until it’s time to leave again. When he doesn’t have work, he acquiesces to mom because he wants to keep the house peaceful… even though she’s the one most likely to disturb the peace.

To the people in the thread who thought my siblings have 25+ genders between us: you’re my favorite people here. I’m not certain we have that much gender, especially because I’d skew the average since the number of gender I have is none.

Now for the question being asked the loudest;

Why not get your own TV?

Generally speaking, I live paycheck to paycheck. Summer is kind to me because I work at a tourist hotspot so sometimes I can afford a video game. Note: I haven’t bought a console since 2017.

I never said all three of us have jobs. I just said I have a job. One doesn’t have a job because of disability and since writing this ask, the other (also unemployed due to disability) sibling had an abrupt change of address (in another country, I cannot visit at the drop of a hat). As the only one with a steady income, buying a TV would just be too hard a hit when I’m worried about gas and food.

Additionally: it is very much an issue of space. None of our rooms can accommodate more than one person for long and the ventilation in our rooms mysteriously sucks so bad. It isn’t a comfortable time and not really an enjoyable time either.

Now the real reason I sent this ask is because I wanted to see if my mother was justified when this issue hit its peak. I wasn’t sure about including the full story because it’s a long one and I was scared I wouldn’t be believed, but here we go.

Consider this the official expansion of AITA for wanting to use the TV?

In February of last year, she kicked me out of the house over this.

In the week prior to this incident, I was using the TV to distract my siblings from the death of a pet. My mother said nothing during this time other than “Think you’ll be done at 5?” and we’re like yeah that’s cool

One day she changes her tune and tells me to stop asking for the TV because I used it for the past 4 day (4 hours at a time, but to her this constituted “all day”.) I didn’t want my siblings to go back to their room because the grief hit them hard. I was doing this to take their minds off that long enough that they’d have an appetite.

Yes I did tell my mother all that

No, she did not care because she didn’t care about the pet that died and thought we were dragging out the grief (it happened… 4 days ago…).

When I told her I was doing this to take them out of their heads, she started yelling at me and calling me selfish (???). Anything I tried to say was suffocated by her continued yelling. I told her that she was being childish over this.

I step outside the house to catch my breath and cool my head, my mother ran after me (despite her disability) because she made sure I wanted to hear what she said next:

“Don’t come back.”

I should note that I suffer from anxiety and suicidal depression, which she’s always been dismissive of, but she’s aware that I’ve ended up in a psych ward more than once. So to tell her historically suicidal kid to not come home was… it felt really fucking bad.

I stayed with at my older sister’s house during this time (she has since moved to another state, thus I cannot play games at her place if I wanted to.) and I wasn’t stable to go back home until two weeks later. Where she’d revert to her typical MO of pretending like nothing happened and then yelling at me because I’m not reciprocating her buddy/buddy attitude.

This is when my siblings and I started saving TV time until it was past her bedtime (which ranges from 11PM-2:00AM.). Which did a number on us as far as sleep goes (we’d usually give up by midnight).

Since I came back it’s been endless acquiescing to her because if I complain about unfairness, I now know the worst thing she can do to me is make our home feel so hostile that I can’t remain in mentally.

So sometimes I wonder if I’m the problem.

If this all happened because of me. Like I know she can be childish and selfish, but I insisted against her. I knew how hostile she can be but I still said “but hold on—“. I’ve had a lifetime to get used to this sort of song and dance, but I still knowingly take the wrong steps.

So am I the asshole for still asking? Butting heads like this usually just results in making my siblings upset, but I really don’t think I’m asking for that much.

AITA for wanting to use the TV?

I (26, NB) live with my parents (55+, M and F) and siblings (25+ assorted genders). I have a job and I don’t pay rent because it isn’t asked of me. I do pay for all of my own entertainment things like consoles and video games, and I like playing these games on the TV in the living room because my siblings have fun watching me/accepting me being bad at video games be background noise for whatever work they’re currently doing.

My mother does not like it when we use the TV. Ftr, she has control over the TV 16 hours out of the day, but doesn’t really watch anything. She’s not engaged in anything she puts on the TV, really. She’s either on her phone, watching TikToks, in another room doing something else without pausing her show, or just straight up asleep. But if we try to take the TV when she’s not engaged, she yells at us and throws tantrums for being rude to her; even if she lets us use the TV she will spend the entire day making passive aggressive comments at us for using it.

Note: when I say “we” this is because the three of us siblings all count as one unit even if we aren’t all engaged in what someone else has on the TV.

What’s weird is how hard we need to push to use the TV for maybe 2 hours/give a condition where she can ask us to stop when she wants a turn, and she can openly ask or give us a heads up like “can I have the TV in 30 minutes?”.

Sometimes we also ask her to turn the volume on her phone down/use her airpods because we’ll watch shows with tense scenes or get to climactic points in a game and our experience can be ruined if a tiktok starts blasting katy perry’s fight song (true story; completely ruined the true pacifist ending of undertale). She gets really mad about this, but we never play things at loud volumes on our phones (because we are scared at being yelled at) when she is ‘watching’ something.

So why might I be the AH? Well… she has a mobility disability and can’t really go upstairs to her room to do something else or go outside for a walk or anything, so I understand that this is basically the only thing she has in the way of a hobby… (I mean if you can really call binge watching hallmark movies a hobby.)

TLDR; mobility disabled mother controls the TV in the house’s only common area for 16 hours out of the day but doesn’t really have other means of engagement. AITA for wanting to use the TV to play games or watch shows with my siblings?

Additional info: we try to do things when she goes upstairs, but that tends to be near midnight on many days, so we don’t get to do much.

Sometimes she engages in what we’re doing, sometimes asking questions or giving commentary when I’m being bad at video games. She’ll even laugh and joke about it sometimes.

She is not interested in watching shows as a family and has no interest in trying any video games.

What are these acronyms?

[captainstarsplitter]

Oh hey, my fellow humans.

It’s been a while, again.

It’s been a while of unpleasant things, which is why I took a break and focused on myself. This happened partially because I semi-voluntarily agreed to being treated in a hospital setting for a few days. Am I still grappling with it? Yes. Am I doing better? Maybe. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.

I am currently on medical leave from work and I am so incredibly grateful. I’m even more grateful that this leave is paid. 2023 has felt like rock bottom so far, but when I look up I see a plethora of bright lights. I just have to get there again. To say I’ve been dealing with a lot of things is an understatement. The divorce is ongoing, and while it’s productive, it’s draining — mentally, emotionally, financially.

Two weeks ago one of the lagomorphs broke her leg and due to the complexity of the fracture had to get said leg amputated. I am incredibly thankful she is such a resilient old broad, because she’s adapting so well. But man, what a turn of events (which were also super draining — emotionally, mentally and financially.)

C. and I are no longer dating. I’ve made the decision to put a stop to any relationship other than the one with myself or the spawn, aside from regular friendships, obviously. I need to be honest with me and with others: I have neither the time nor the emotional bandwidth to deal with a partner right now. For the first time in my life I’ve committed to staying friends with an ex, and it’s refreshing. We still frequently talk and he’s been a lot of support during the dark days. (He’s also still a kind, smart, cute, thicc gem of a person and I’m still crushing a little. But right now is not the time.)

In the last couple of weeks I’ve focused on letting go of the bad and/or unwanted stuff. Lightening the load and clearing my conscience.

I’ve started selling stuff in preparation for moving, which is finally starting to feel more real. If things go well I might be in my own place in a month or two, which is fucking insane to think about.

I’ve reached out to people I owed an apology and diplomatically called out others for mistakes they’ve made — and then cut contact, letting myself feel what I need to feel and realize that no matter how vigilant I’m trying to be, some people just aren’t what they’re pretending to portray. It is sad and infuriating, but ultimately nothing I can change. What I’ll have to do is remind myself that while I’ll have to remain skeptical, plenty of good people exist. Good things will happen, and the earth will continue to float & turn, doing its thing. Everything will be ok in the end.

I will be ok in the end.

[dewitty1]

This gif is from The Pricess Bride. A fantastic movie if you haven't seen it ;)

Fic Recs Wrap Up - January 2022

Endowment by dicta_contrion @dictacontrion

Potter has got under my skin for far too long, in far too many ways. I fully intend to return the favour. Rec Post

What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym @gyzym

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought. Rec Post, Fic Claim (with art!!!) by @thistleraven, Chap 11 (spoilers) art by @thistleraven, art by @prhynefisher

Mixed Drinks and Crossed Wires by korlaena @korlaena

Draco is a handsy drunk. Harry is okay with it, really. They’re friends, so it doesn’t mean anything. Rec Post

The Four Doors by fluxweed @fluxweeed

It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy. Rec Post

To Serve Malfoy by VivacissimoVoce

Harry loses a wager with Draco, which means he must spend the summer at Malfoy Manor as Draco’s personal servant. Rec Post

Another Heart Whispers Back by slytherco @slytherco

At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates. “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ― Plato

In which Harry learns that some things are worth waiting for, that looking and seeing are two very different things, and that his heart’s song has been heard a long time ago. Rec Post

And I Will Be Your Shield, My Love by Viridescence

“Why did you step in front of a killing curse for me, Malfoy?” Harry asked.

“I just didn’t want you to die,” Malfoy said. “And that’s all that is really important.” Rec Post

Lockdown Lurgy by xanthippe74 @xanthippe74

When a dangerous virus comes to Britain, the Ministry orders a mandatory lockdown to control its spread. If Harry wants to spend the next two weeks with Teddy, he’s going to have to share Andromeda’s guest room with none other than Draco Malfoy, England’s Number One Prat. Andromeda’s collection of romance novels might save Harry from boredom, but nothing can make living with Malfoy bearable… until Harry has the inexplicable impulse to kiss him. Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

The Truth About Love by waterwings @amywaterwings

In which Draco is a high-powered magical divorce lawyer and Harry is the Unspeakable assigned to seduce him. It goes as well as one might expect.

"I'll Figure It Out." by Vukovich @vukovich

For the prompt: "Don't let your mouth get you into something that your ass can't handle."

Harry's mouth repeatedly gets him into situations his arse can't handle.

Then, he finds himself in a situation his arse can handle better than his mouth.

Beds, Knobs, and Broomsticks by fencer_x @fencer-x

A long-term mission to the Baltics that will take him far away from London sounds like the perfect time to cash in the embarrassing 'Butler in the Buff' coupon Harry received as a birthday gag gift—until Harry winds up injured in the field and sent home to recover three days into the mission, obliging him to endure one full month of inappropriate attentions from horny housekeeper Draco Malfoy.

Burning Down the House by peachpety @peachpety

Harry is happy as editor-in-chief of The Quibbler. From planning to printing, design to deadlines, he enjoys being in the hot seat. And after vanquishing Voldemort, managing fires is an easy part of the job. Until his scorching crush on his impeccably dressed fashion editor flares out of control, and he's forced to face actual fires.

1,000 Points From Gryffindor by blithelybonny

The story of how Harry Potter single-handedly lost Gryffindor the House Cup while attempting to have a “normal” year at Hogwarts. Featuring Harry's suspicious nature turned up to eleven again, a new DADA teacher who is so not here for Harry’s fame, multiple detentions, Slytherins being sneaky, Hufflepuffs being sneakier, and the mystery of Draco Malfoy's hoodie because seriously Hermione who gave that to him and is he wearing it just to torment me? This is ridiculous!

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡

I hope you enjoy these as much as I have! Thanks, as always, for being here! ( ᵕ́ૢ‧̮ᵕ̀ૢ)‧̊·*

Happy reading, y’all!

xoxo Carey  (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?  Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, @hoebii​ and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.”  As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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