#two big women and a short king could save the world

[crimson-nail]

short hair milly save me

[hcdragonwrites]

Thunderstorm

(a @jttw-monkeybusiness inspired Drabble)

It was hot today and we have a thunderstorm warning so I wrote something really quick! Enjoy another one this one is short.

A heat wave.

It was the only way to describe the sudden shift in temperature from the last week of travel to now.

Sophie turned her head upward, blinking against the sweat rolling from her face. The last of her sunscreen had been used now, to prevent her skin from cracking beneath the sun's attention. The hat Wukong had snatched from a while back was the only protection she had against the hungry rays of light that drove knives of pain into her skin.

This is a miserable business. She could feel the beginnings of a burn on her arms, from where the sleeves of her tunic didn’t cover her wrists.

It was midday, the heat blistering against the companion's skin. Pigsy complained at every step, at every rock in the road, at every breath. He was drenched, his robes dark from his body perspiring. He waddled at the back of the group, bemoaning his pain to the point that even Sophie was beginning to feel it grate on her nerves. It wasn’t like the rest of them weren’t also suffering in this insufferable heat.

Sandy simply stayed quiet, the only sign of suffering beneath the heat was that the demon had emptied seven water skins- ones he had carried himself. Sandy was closer to Pigsy, getting the brunt of his complaints.

Wukong kept his discomfort silent from what Sophie could see except when he would pointedly look back at them from the head of the group, staring at Trip as if waiting for him to say something. When the monk just kept walking, Wukong would turn back around and look upward to the column of thunderclouds beyond.

The heat seemed to suck all the moisture from the world, sending it up into the dark clouds that were beginning to grow in the mountains ahead of the group. It was a day that promised burning warmth and teased the relief of a downpour. A storm born of the heat. At least it was a reprieve of sorts from yesterday's typical shenanigans of Tripataka being almost devoured for the seventeenth time. At least Sophie thought it was seventeen. Was it actually eighteen?

Sophie and Trip were both walking side by side in the middle of the group, leading Yulong behind. The poor dragon horses' sides were slick with sweat, the white fur turned brown with the road dust. Wukong was carrying the saddle, the great leather contraption held easily in one arm to give their silent companion some relief.

“The gods are punishing us.” Pigsy groaned, rolling his pack from shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe they are punishing us for the wanton murder Wukong had committed just a bit ago.”

Pigsy please… Sophie groaned silently, as she saw the Monkey King whip his head around, teeth bared.

“I didn’t see you helping any to save our master.” Wukong shot back. “The last I saw was you running away from that battle when you got cut by the centipede women!”

Sandy rubbed his face, just as annoyed that these two were picking now to start something.

“I thought I would die of poison!” Pigsy gallantly said, hand to the cloth bound scrap on his arm. “I did not want my fellow companions to have to protect me and save our dear Monk.”

“Centipede's poison only hurts insects and smaller beings. Not demons like you.” Wukong countered. He had paused at the head of the group to swing his gaze on the pig demon. “You just wanted an excuse to get back and have the first taste of the sake we grabbed from those merchants at the festival!”

“You know drinking is forbidden on our holy quest!” Pigsy tried to piously counter but Wukong cut him off with his words and a savage slash of his hand.

“DIDN'T STOP YOU FROM DOWNING TWO CASKS OF IT AND LEAVING US TO EXPLAIN TO THE MONASTERY WHY THEY HAD LESS SAKE!”

“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Sophie muttered quietly. She was too tired, too sticky with road dirt, to care much for the beginnings of this argument. And it was shaping to be a big one. Pigsy wanted to take out his discomfort on someone and it didn’t take much to get the Monkey Kings hackles up. Blaming him for the heat? That would rankle his pride.

Trip also looked between the two, face begging silently please not now.

“Stupid Monkey!” Spat Pigsy.

“Shitty Swine!” Snarled Wukong.

The storm clouds ahead cracked with thunder, the noise temporarily pausing the quarrel.

The monk took advantage of the pause.

“Let’s rest.” Tripataka called, wiping his own forehead free of the sweat clinging there. The monk's eyes looked just as relieved as Sophie felt at the excuse to both rest and to stop a full blown argument from starting again. This had been the third one today, and soon it would come to blows or to Tripitaka using the charm to put the Monkey King to heel.

If that could be avoided it would be in everyone’s favor to avoid it. Wukong usually sulked after such uses and he and Tripataka would get into their own argument.

Tripataka and Sophie both beelined for a small copse of trees, Yulong snorting in relief. They left their companions behind without a second thought, both of them tired and sweating. For all Pigsys complaining, he wasn’t being baked by the sun as badly as their mortal companions. Tripataka had a red patch of skin beginning to form on the back of his neck despite the protection of the hat. Sophie could feel the beginning of a blister at her heel. She hoped it wouldn’t burst.

The immortals only took a moment before they too joined the rest of their company beneath the trees. Sandy set to making tea, already propping a fire up faster then Sophie could follow with her eyes.

Pigsy simply just fell against a rock beneath the shade, complaining loudly, grousing about how hungry he was and how he had a pain in his back that may need looking at. No one paid him any heed.

Trip and Sophie dropped their packs in an unceremoniously heap. Tripataka pulled out a curry brush and passed a flat brush to Sophie who took it wordlessly and set to work.

The two humans had fallen into a habit of helping to strip down and tend to the dragon horse, both taking to brushing the flanks. When Sophie had first been asked by Trip, she had been eager and a bit apprehensive. She didn’t have much experience with horses (let alone shape shifted magical dragon ones) to be confident in this task. But Trip had smiled and taught her the basics of care- from brushing his coat to checking his hooves for rocks that could threaten lameness, and bring discomfort.

“You're a patient teacher Trip.” Sophie had said.

“Thank you. It was actually Wukong who taught me to tend to Yulong.” The horse had nipped fondly at the sleeve of the monk in thanks.

“Wukong?” That surprised her. “He knows about horses?”

“Before he rebelled against Heaven he had been given the position of Stablemaster. It was his duty and job to tend to the celestial beasts of Heaven. He showed me what to do to take care of Yulong.” Trip rubbed at the horse's poll, earning a happy snort from the dragon horse. “You should ask him about it! He has seen so many fabulous beasts in the Heavenly stables to rival any lord or Emperor of earth.”

Of course Sophie had. She had bothered and questioned and asked everything she could of the Monkey King about what the Heavenly court looked like, what beasts he had tended, how he had taken care of them, and much more. Wukong, if in a good mood and not acting aloof or having been reprimanded by his Master, was always willing to boast about himself. Of course that usually meant an exchange of sorts. Yesterday it had been for her to sit with him as he answered her questions, rifling through Sophie’s bag and asking questions of his own on what these were and insulting them- he particularly had taken to insulting her makeup which Sophie had, of course, taken the bait on. She had only realized it was a trap until after she was halfway through the reason why her brand of makeup and mascara was perfect and made her look and feel like a goddess that she saw that shit eating grin and had shoved at him.

Today she wouldn’t ask him her typical questions. She had something else she wanted to do.

Wukong brought the saddle up and set it at the base of the tree, tail flicking back and forth. He glared at Pigsy, opening his mouth to finish the argument when Trip, without having to look up, stopped him.

“Leave him Sun Wukong.” He ordered. There was patience still in the monks voice. “He means none of what he says.”

“He means all of it, Monk.” Wukong retorted. Sophie saw Pigsy look up and grin at them, egging the demon monkey on.

“Go.” Tripataka pointed away from Pigsy to another shaded patch. “Cool your temper and yourself. Let us have a moment of peace until we must embark into the heat again.”

The Monkey king sniffed and turned on his heel angrily, leaving Sophie and Trip to their task. As he walked past Pigsy he curled his middle finger up and away from the rest of his hand, flipping the pilgrim the bird.

Of course Pigsy didn’t understand what that statement meant. Yet.

Wukong had pestered and bugged her about the hand signal she had given when one particularly shitty day finally had gotten beneath Sophie’s skin and she had reacted silently. It had been an unusually rough day when finally, her headphones (may they rest in peace) had died in the middle of Gustav Holst Jupiter.

Sophie had at first pulled the headphones out in disbelief and then tried to pop them back in. Maybe they just need to reconnect. She tried them again. No use. Her music was finally gone. So she of course reacted silently and, with what she thought at the time, was appropriate. Sophie had regretted losing her temper that way and regretted even further to having caved to Wukongs questions.

Soon all of them would know what the middle finger meant and that may also lead to further arguments. Sophie could see Pigsy using it the most to get a rise from Wukong. For now, only the Monkey King knew. She hoped it stayed that way for as long as possible.

Or at least till we get out of this heat.

Between Sophie and Trip, they had Yulong brushed down, feet picked clean and a small bucket of water set before the great white stallion. Once his needs had been tended Sophie looked back up at the sky. The thunderstorm was tall and black, staining the blue sky wherever it crossed. A blessedly cooled breeze blew into her face carrying the scent of water and damp earth. She dragged her backpack a bit away from Trip who was meditating now, to a bit of shade a few lengths away from the rest of them where she could watch the storm unfurl.

Sophie would catch up on some reading, having been lucky enough to snag a book. It was a book of poetry by a scholar of the name Li Po, and whatever magic had cast her into the past had also given her an ability to understand and read the languages here too. A small blessing, that.

Sophie hadn’t had anything new to read in what felt like ages and was eager to crack open the little book and read its contents. She craved it.

She settled herself down, setting her backpack behind her and crossing her legs. As she crossed her legs, and turned to dig into her bag, she felt something heavily land in her Lap. She peeked down and beneath her arm.

Wukong stared up at her, face set in a scowl.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Well. This was new. Wukong would sit with her when they had time to silently rest during their travels. Usually it was side by side, usually it was Sophie joining the Sage to ask him questions. But- never him resting on her. That was new.

Wukongs head was resting squarely in her lap, arms crossed behind, shoulders on her legs.

“You aren’t going to ask me questions.” He didn’t say it like a question. More of a statement. He sounded glum.

“I was going to read this book I snagged in the last town we were in.” Sophie pulled it from her bag, showing him the simple black embossed cover. She was too tired to complain about Wukong not at least respecting her boundaries or asking permission before he settled himself on her person. If I brought it up he would just say he was a king and it was his right to any person's space. To keep peace, she wouldn’t voice her thoughts. The heat had made all of them tired and she would rather have a calm monkey resting in her lap than a monkey that would rise eagerly to argue. Even if said monkey had come uninvited.

Wukong wasn’t demanding anything of her - at least not yet. Which meant he was in a … better mood ? It was hard to tell. Some days she felt like she and the Monkey King were as thick as thieves, dodging demonic creatures, bandits and the like with an ease that was comforting in this strange world. Other days it was like walking around a scalded cat, Wukong picking and poking and snapping at things Sophie didn’t understand fully. He was a prickly monkey but …

She looked down and saw that his face, though set in his typical apathetic scowl, had none of the stormy look he usually wore when something was bothering him.

When he acted like this it made Sophie want to be his friend all the more.

Wukong pulled one of his hands free from behind his head and held up a hand, asking silently. Sophie passed him the book. The Monkey King squinted at the words, turning the book and it’s pages in his hand with a disinterested air.

“I guess that’s suitable.” He said and snapped it closed.

“Suitable?”

“To read aloud.” Wukong said, passing it back to her. He closed his eyes, breathing out as another cool breeze shook the tree leaves above them.

“We may have an hour or two before that storm will be upon us.” He lifted his chin up, gesturing at the storm.

“I don’t think you want your little book to get wet in that downpour so if you want to get a good deal into it, best to start sooner rather than later.”

“You want me to read aloud to you?”

Wukong opened one glowing eye and stared at her. “Yes. It will be a welcome change to that monkey stalker crap you have.”

“It’s not crap it’s science!”

“Sounds like crap to me.”

“If you want me to read to you, you better not call this book crap either or I will drop it on your nose.” Sophie threatened.

Wukong opened both his eyes to fix her with an upside down glare.

“You wouldn’t dare.” But there was a hint of a grin about his face, a tugging of humor to his lips.

Sophie kept his stare, unblinking.

“Watch me, monkey boy.”

She shook the book in threat. She would drop the book on his nose. Sophie had a suspicion that Wukong would then take that book and either chuck it away or keep it away from her.

Wukong grinned up and then closed his eyes again, tail curling up and onto his waist.

“I wouldn’t. It’s poetry. I want to hear what this pompous Li Po has to prattle about.” With that Wukong settled back into Sophie’s lap, getting comfortable.

Sophie felt a touch of affection for her friend, something that may have struck a different cord with her if this had been earlier in their relationship (and before Wukong had squashed that very early crush). Wukong may be an ass- pompous and self important himself- but he was genuine in a sense. He may dance around things that made him turn moody and broody but he really couldn’t hide that, despite being hot and cold at times to her, Sophie and Sun Wukong had a friendship. One born of arguments and teasing, questions and prodding. Maybe he had scared her into falling into a river. But he had stolen her clothes to replace the ones soaked. Maybe he had poor communication skills and liked to get her attention by kicking walls or suddenly jumping up in front of her or taking her things and holding them at ransom. But it was friendship. A friendship so very strange and bewildering at times that It confused Sophie as much as rewarded her.

The snap of thunder had her stare back up into the sky. The storm moved closer, already a sheet of rain visibly pouring down onto the mountains beyond. It would be a bit before it reached the pilgrims but it was making its steady way toward them all the same.

Sophie opened the book, flipping to the first poem. Quite appropriately it was about storms.

As the thunder rolled closer, promising a reprieve from the heat, Sophie felt a peace settle in as she read. Even as the sky broke apart before them, she felt a calm and grounding. She may be from another time, another place. Adrift she could have felt. Reading aloud she felt an anchor settle in her. She belonged. Even if it was only to a very angry stone monkey, she belonged.

[hallownoxie]

Chapter 1

Loguetown

Long ago the world had waited with baited breath when the fearsome King of the Pirates Gold Roger was executed within Loguetown.

His last words had been confirming about his treasure the One Piece left on an island within the Grand Line. It began an era of piracy through the world as they sailed to the Grandline.

With it a storm of chaos and cruelty took over, villages saved or razed to the ground, you never knew which ship would be a decent crew or black hearted monsters.

"The world is littered with people that can kill you."

Music played throughout the bar, the food tasted wonderful from where she sat at her lone table by the open window. A small yellow canary landed on the threshold, chirping out its cheerful song.

The woman smiled at the tiny animal that she was named after, a fight had broken out closer to the middle of the room disrupting her peace.

It was a common occurrence she found at any place selling booze, men of all different backgrounds walking in to drink their stress or worries away. At times it gave away possible brawls to unleash violence upon someone you wished was a different person, whether a boss or rude customer.

With her training she would be able to knock both rowdy men down with a well timed kick for daring to break the peace, but that wasn't her assignment.

Canary was supposed to be one with the background, hiding and witnessing any events her Superior's wished to know about.

Never to be in the spotlight.

After the two were dealt with by some good folks, she silently paid for her food and slipped out into the sunny day. Her pursed lips began to whistle as she walked down the street.

"Hey excuse me, where can I find the execution platform?" A voice asked and her eyes turned to meet dark grey.

Lithe built, dark short hair, red shirt and blue shorts. The notable features being the straw hat on his head and the scar under the boy's left eye.

Canary offered him a pleasant smile after assessing him.

"It's only a street down, take a left at the apple cart and you'll be at the square." She offered and watched as he grinned.

"Got it, thanks!" He said, running past Canary.

It took her a while to gather any type of noteworthy information, even more so when the slums of Loguetown tried to intimidate her.

A normal response she supposed, considering this was her first mission around here, it was natural for them to sniff at 'new' blood.

Dozens of men and women wanted to use her for anything and get paid next to nothing, free labor.

Canary would have to thank her mentor when she saw him next time, it was only by his teaching she was competent.

Even if it was harsh and a few times he had to dump her on her own to gain any semblance of experience.

"Monkey D Dragon is in town." One man whispered into her ear, Canary's eyes widened at that.

Why was the leader of the revolutionary army here?

Within the last few years Canary had never heard of any movements from the man, a warm shiver ran up her spine.

This was big intel.

"Why?" She asked, digging the heel of her boot into his thigh.

"N-no idea! All I heard was that he's in town!" The man stuttered, the rank scent of BO became intense.

"You're lying, I can tell by your scent." She leaned her full weight on her heel.

"He has a son!" The man spat out.

Now that was better, she leaned back to let up on him and looked off in the distance in deep thought.

Could this information be true? There were too many variables that could contradict that, Dragon having a son would reveal a weakness.

A weakness his enemies would exploit, there was no sour scent when the man spoke so it had to be true.

How would this information even get leaked?

Canary continued on her way after dealing with the man, it took her a while to even be able to pinpoint Dragon.

As expected since Dragon was avoiding the government, he even perhaps knew she was on his tail.

All she needed was to confirm he was here with her very own eyes. Her photographic memory held enough credit during her long years of training.

Dragon may have years of experience, but Canary was persistent and eventually like all humans… he would make one small slip up.

That slip of course happened as it stormed on Loguetown, she witnessed the man intervening with Captain Smoker.

Both men hovering over a boy with a straw hat on his head, she recognized him from earlier when he had asked for directions.

---

After the fight the girl pouted when all her hard work disappeared within an hour after Dragon slipped away.

Her attention went towards the green haired man with cat like features as he waved at her from his simple ship.

Without any actual proof or confirmation the information about Dragon having a son might as well be useless to her.

Canary at least had a few names for her superiors about who might enter the grandline and that Dragon was sighted in Loguetown.

For now she boarded her new friend's ship and settled down, Bartholomeo was optimistic at least as they sailed off.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the island she requested, it had been a few hours since she dropped off the paperwork for her Superior.

Currently she was sulking in a cup of ice tea as the green haired man gazed from across the table.

"Say Canary, what's got you so down?" He asked while tilting his head.

"I had a possible result that could have been a perfect scoop for my mission as a reporter but sadly I didn't have any concrete evidence." She lightly fibbed.

"Awe but wasn't this also your first gig? You still did great!" The man said.

"It's not my first gig but thank you Bartie " She responded.

Her mentor would say otherwise, even after years of training Canary knew how green she truly was. The cramping in her stomach made whatever appetite she had disappear and she paid no mind to her pastry.

Her drink had enough sugar, she'll be fine for a few hours.

"Look at it this way, Mr. Luffy would say to never get stuck in the past!" Bartholomeo said in earnest.

Cute…

Canary giggled a bit in her drink.

"You always know what to say eh?" She asked, making him blush and huff in pride.

"I gotta if I'm gonna spread Mr. Luffy's greatness throughout the world!" Bartie said while crossing his arms.

"Mr. Luffy huh? Maybe one day he will become someone famous." Canary said.

"Where will you head next?" Bartholomeo asked.

"My next place is Whiskey Peak." She said.

Wanting more?

Check out more on ao3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44415214/chapters/111712612

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[benevolentbirdgal]

Purim: a Jewish holiday and wild ride from start to finish

So let me tell you about the absolute soap opera that is the Jewish holiday of Purim. The scene is set in ancient (appx. 4th century B.C.E.) Persia during the first Jewish Diaspora, in the city of Shushan (typically identified in secular sources as Susa, a now-abandoned ancient city in what is now Iran). I’m telling you, as a work of literature (even beyond theological implications for Jewish people), this book has everything: love, drama, royalty, intrigue, ego, plots, irony, mystery, and a strong female lead. 

[some non-slur swearing below]

Ahasuerus, party-loving king of Persia executed or exiled (translations argue) his wife Vashti, and had to find a new queen. Why did he do this, you ask? Well, it really starts with an 180-day party across his kingdom for all his subjects to celebrate the third year of his reign. After that absolute rager, party-bro KA has another one immediately after for a week, this time just for the capital city of Shushan. Vashti was having a woman’s party in her quarters, presumably living her best life, when party-bro sends his top seven yes-men to deliver a message to Vashti. This sleaze-ball wants her to appear at his party in front of everyone, wearing her crown, with the clear implication being only her crown. Vashti more or less tells him to pound sand (I mean, not the literal translation, but that’s the sentiment). 

KA’s advisors convince him that this is not only an offense against the king but also against all the men in the country (ah, the joys of ancient patriarchy and toxic af masculinity). KA writes a degree that women must respect their husbands so he has an official reason to get rid of Vashti. Vashti is soon thereafter out of the picture and the king is short a queen. Whether she was a Wise Lady With A Point Who Got Screwed Over or a Vicious Jew-Hating Adulteress Who Had It Coming has been a matter of furious debate for over two millennia (the Babylonian Talmud and the Jerusalem Talmud vociferously disagree on her). In any case, KA regrets it pretty quick and wants a new queen. 

At the behest of his advisors (you know, since their last advice worked out soooooo well), KA had a big contest/forcible gathering of young women from around his kingdom and a Jewish woman, Hadassah, was the winner.  Hadassah was an orphan raised by her cousin Mordechai in the city of Shushan. Hadassah is more commonly known as Esther, because she changed her name to hide her identity as a Jew (at the behest of Mordechai). In any case, KA decided he liked Esther best and she became queen (it’s specifically mentioned both that he loved her most and that the palace staff liked her because she was nice to them-it’s unclear how much of an influence the latter was). 

Concurrently, a wicked man named Haman was the top advisor to the king and the king would basically rubber-stamp whatever Haman wanted. Haman was a raging Jew-hater-this will be relevant later. 

Some time into Esther’s reign as queen, Mordechai, who has taken to hanging around the gates of the palace to keep in touch with Esther, overhears a plot by two guards, Bigthan and Teresh, to kill the king. Mordechai alerts his cousin, and she tells the king. It’s recorded in the book of deeds and life keeps moving. 

Some time later, Haman decides (after a promotion to head lackey) that he wants all to bow to him as he passes. Mordechai refused to bow to Haman every single day (citing that as a Jew he bowed to no man), and that did not sit well with Haman. So despite being prime minister and presumably having more important things to do, “genocide the Jews” made it to the top of to-do list. He didn’t like them before, and Mordechai refusing to treat him like a special snowflake was something he took really, really personally (totally can’t think of any modern politicians like that, nope). He told KA, who frankly doesn’t seem to ask enough questions, that there was a people disrespecting the king and his laws throughout the land, and could he pretty-please exterminate them. As a bonus, Haman would “donate” 10,000 silver kikar to the royal treasury (modern conversion vary, but all agree this an absurd amount on money). 

KA handed him the royal seal to do so. Haman was feeling lucky I guess so he decided the best course of action was to draw lots to pick the day for the massacre. [Purim is lots in Hebrew, so that’s where the name of the holiday came from]. The message went out to all the provinces that on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, that they citizens and leaders should murder all of the Jews, young and old, man, woman, and child, rich and poor and take their possessions as spoils. 

As this wasn’t exactly a state secret, the Jews knew and were quite distressed. The planned slaughter was like a year out, but what the actual fuck were they supposed to do? If you lived in Persia at that point that, the empire was functionally your entire world, unless you were fabulously/ridiculously wealthy and well-connected. Having several months notice the other locals and your rules were going to slaughter you and take your stuff isn’t particularly useful when there’s really nowhere to go. 

In Shushan, Mordechai (who, although not explicitly in text, is in oral/Talmudic tradition a leader of the Jewish community) goes into mourning. He dresses in sackcloth and ashes, he weeps, and he fasts at the gates of the palace, as Jews throughout shushan and the kingdom are doing. Esther hears of her cousin’s mourning behavior and tries to send along nice clothes through a messenger, which he refuses. It is then that she learns of the decree. Mordechai (through the messenger) implores her to go ask the king if the Jews not getting murdered could be a thing. Esther explains that she could be killed for approaching the king unsummoned. Mordechai stresses the severity of the situation. Esther agrees to ask the king and tells Mordechai to have the Shushan Jewish community fast day and night (as opposed to just day as prior) for three days, and she and her handmaidens will fast too (no word on what the handmaidens thought of this).

On the third day, Esther bravely approached the king, asked him if she could request something. He said anything, up to half his kingdom (which implies to me that homedude, for all his flaws, was actually into her). Esther invited him to a party, where he and Haman would be the only guests. At the party she asks if she can another request. KA is open to it and she invites him to another party the next night. Party-bro king is obviously down and Haman is tickled to death at this second invitation. 

He goes home to brag to his wife, Zeresh, about the invite and also to bitch about how angsty he is Mordechai is still alive (this angst reignited by passing him on the way home). Zeresh suggests he have fifty-foot gallows built to make Mordechai an example on, with the king’s permission, ASAP. Haman orders the building of the gallows, feeling secure in the knowledge that his bestie the king will execute Mordechai on them. 

Back at the castle KA can’t sleep. He demands a bedtime story from the his records, because those will presumably put him to sleep. The story that gets read, ~coincidentally~, is of Mordechai saving KA’s life. Haman had sidled on up to the castle to speak to the king about killing Mordechai, and the king called him in. KA asks Haman, if he were to honor someone, what should he do? Haman is thinking “this is obvi about me” and tells the king that the honoree should be donned in royal clothing, and ride through the streets on a fancy horse with people someone shouting how great he is. KA is like great, love it, perf, go do that for Mordechai. Haman is not a happy camper but does the thing. After that, he goes home and tells Zeresh about it, who warns him that this is a very bad sign. 

Finally, that night is the night of Esther’s second soiree. Haman and KA attend. The latter offers to Esther anything she wants, up to half of his kingdom. Esther asks that her life, and the life of her people be spared. KA is like “whomst” and Esther revealed it was Haman. At this point Ahasuerus.exe stops working and he takes a walk to the gardens. He comes back to see Haman begging Esther for his life, and KA thinks Haman is assaulting her. Haman was seized by nearby guards.

One of the chamberlains is then like, hey, KA, coincidentally there’s these super high gallows Haman just had built. Why not take care of the problem that way? (The fact that the random nearby chamberlain was like yup, that dude, hang ‘em in the morning, probably says a lot about how Haman treated most people around him, even more than forcing all to bow to him). KA orders it be done. 

Not that Haman was around to be sad about it, but what happened next would have massively pissed him off, as his old job then went to Mordechai. Esther then implored of the king that the degree to allow the massacre of the Jews be reversed. The king couldn’t Cntrl+Z the order to murder-all-the-Jews, but he could issue an order that they could fight back. The proclamation was sent throughout the land, and the Jews were able to prepare. Since the royal decree had been amended, the governments (princes, governors, satraps) largely reformulated their plans accordingly, but plenty of Jew-haters still wanted to use the opportunity. The ability to self-defend meant that the communities weren’t massacred. In most of the kingdom, the Jews were now safe. Outside of Shushan, the fourteenth of Adar became a feast day. 

Shushan was still not safe though. Antisemites were still out and mad (and apparently had not learned from the previous day), so Esther asked the Jews of Shushan to be allowed to defend themselves once more. Her wish was granted, and the Shushan Jews were able to defend themselves once more (so Purim is celebrated a day later in walled cities). 

The story ends with the decision to write it down, and although there some debate on authorship, it is traditionally attributed to Esther herself cowriting with Mordechai. 

Nowhere in the book is God mentioned. Nowhere is there divine intervention (at least not explicitly). Just Jews sticking up for themselves, being brave in the face of mortal peril, and a metric fucktown of chutzpah. 

[annabellenaughtyprincessrose]

My Brothers, The Lovers ❤ (Repost: Classic fanfic)

My Brothers, The Lovers *Revised version*

By Annabelle Naughty Princess Rose

Summary:I wouldn't trade my Brothers for anything in the world. SAM/DEAN/OFC. Wincest!

Rated: MA (18+)

Author notes: Hey guys! Well, I have  another classic fic of mine to share. This was a little idea I had while I wrote this story, an OFC sister of Sam and Dean Winchester, and thier growing forbidden bond. So, this is a Wincest story.

This story was recently published on my Fanfiction.net, as well as on live journal, Wattpad, and WordPress page. There may be some little changes I made because the story had bad typos. (Don't judge me.)

Please note: That this story contains Wincest. If you are uncomfortable with this nature, please DO NOT read!

Lastly, I don't own any characters. The story plot was my idea. ;)

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

(Reader's POV:)

I love my brothers. They are caring. They are protective. When you're feeling down, they turn your frown upside down. If it was over a guy, they would stop at nothing to nail his ass to a wall. Any person, whether boy or girl is lucky to have them.

I wouldn't trade my brothers for anything in the world. They are a godsend. Sam and Dean: my knights in shinning amour.

We been through a lot together. Since our father died, it has been hell on earth...literally!

But no matter, we had stuck it through till the end and now we could live our lives...

A lot has happened since we saved the world from certain doom. We had one hard challenge: to learn how to live normal lives. I mean, I know it sounds stupid to do one simple thing, but come on, In our eyes, we are hunters. We were born as hunters. I don't think the three of us couldn't shake the fact that life was over. It was the only thing we knew.

But still, we somehow mange to cope with it. We settled in Kansas with the help of our father's will. We brought a house pretty much like the one you see on those commercials with the white picket fence.

It was close to the University Sam was planning to attend to resume his studies as a attorney and close to Lisa, Dean's one last stand and his possible legitimate lovechild Ben. I, myself was planning to go to a local Community College. At first, I didn't really wanted to go to school, but Sam insisted that it was serve me well later in life.

Yeah, life was perfect... at least for the half of that year. The urge of the life of freedom were still brewing inside us. We miss the life with no worries, of bills, school, kids...

So we sold the house hop into the impala and left.

About three months after, I noticed that our bond was changing. I noticed Dean would at times, would make quick glances out from the corner of my eye. I really didn't pay to much attention to it at first because I thought it was something that brothers normally do.

But now I found at night when I take turns laying next to him or Sam, at times I could have swore I felt his eyes staring down at me while I sleep.

Sam on the other hand had a very different approach. There would be times whenever me and him are alone, he wouldn't normally act like your typical big brother. He would act as though like a boyfriend. When me and him are alone, He would be a lot closer than usual. At times when I'm in the shower, I could have swore that I heard him breathing on the other side of the curtain not to mention to very tall figure I see just standing mere inches.

I guess I'm just imagination things. That's it's all in my head. Or maybe, I have a bad case of thinking dirty. Can I help it? I am not going to lie. My brothers are absolutely drop-dead gorgeous! They could get the princess of Cambridge a heat attack! I found that comment to be quite interesting! I begin to think the times when the three of us would be out, like geoceries shopping, bars,at the park. I have women rolling their eyes, whispering words about me, thinking that I was a whore for my brothers...

Nothing could prepare me for what happened two weeks later...

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I was sitting on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy hotel. I was writing in my journal at the same time sneaking glances at Dean as he was wiping down the impala. The way he smiles as he glazes down at his baby makes me happy but a tad jealous...but he assure me that I was his main baby.

I could hear the faint sound of water coming from the bathroom. Sam,was inside, washing his god build form in the shower.

Turning my head, I couldn't help but grin as I saw a narrow view of his ass. Even after all these years, Sam still had a nasty habit about leaving the shower curtain open.

"Hey," Dean replies getting my attention. I turn my head towards him trying to look innocent."What are you smirking at?" He asks.

At his question, I raised my eyebrows giving him a side smile.

"Nothing. just a thought I was thinking." I looked up at him and I could tell he wasn't buying it. That's the thing I love about Dean, he has the sense to know whether something was troubling me or Sam...and he would stop at nothing to find out.

"About? I curious," He replies in a singing tone making me laugh.

"It's personal. My thoughts only," I winked. Finally he give up the debate and returns to his duty wiping down his impala.

Later that night, we decided to pay a visit at local bar. That day was the worst night of my life.

To be from what seemed, the only sibling with two very handsome attractive brothers was a bitch!

From the second we walk in, there were woman, whether their were in a relationship,married, or even betrayal their same-sex partner, had cornered us.

One was a blonde, who I can tell had the personality of stupid trying to seduce Dean with her luscious but totally fake breasts. While a brunette who was staring Sam down and was the bartender of the bar didn't give a damn if she had other people waiting to be served. It disgust me how women could be so depraved for a man.

I wanted to get out of there. The room felt as through it was trying to suffocate me. It hurt my heart to see I was the only one left out. To keep myself from bursting into tears, I did just that but my attempt to leave was cut short by a hand on by wrists.

Turning my head, I came face to face to a man who was pure hillbilly. He had messy hair,oily jumper and I remember that when I was at the bar, I would turn my head and he would smile at me.

"Where do you think you're going, darling?" The man asked. I can tell that he was drunk and had the slightest clue as what he was doing.

"Going home," I replied. "And I appreciated if you remove your hand from my wrist." I tried to Jerk him away but it was a useless attempt.

"I don't think so darling, You're looking very pretty there's no need for an angel face like you to scurry away..."He tried to pull me along, but I stood my ground. Then he does the unthinkable, He roughly pulls me against him loosing his balance completely falling on one of the now broken tables.

Everyone turned their heads Including Sam and Dean who immediately lest from their social gathering to my aid.

"Hey Asshole!"Dean replies as he and Sam walked over to the scene. "What are you doing with my sister?!" He began to throw insults at the poor man, while ignoring Sam's attempt to help me up, I stood up on my feet.

"I'm fine," I replied. "The fat ass broke my fall."

"Fat ass?" The man shouted. "Who are you calling a fat ass you bitch!"

"Hey!" Dean shouted. reaching down to jerk the man up by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to my sister like that!"

"What happened?" Sam asked, taking my hand and I jerked it away.

"Oh! Like you care! he was trying to rape me!" I shouted. "Forget it! I'm getting the fuck out of here!" The last thing I remember was Dean calling that fat bastard "a Son of a Bitch" before throwing punches and Sam trying to calm him down.

At the Hotel, I stood fully nude in the shoulder letting the warm water abuse my body. I was just so relieved that I got out of there.

So what I acted like a ass. So what if I act like a jealous girlfriend. I'm not going to be held responsive. I could hear the door to the hotel room opening following the distant voices between the two.

Dean was shouted some sentence that were inseparable and Sam was speaking in a mild tone. I covered my ears, to try to block out the conversation, along with the pounding of the door, but it a useless. Finally, I finished my shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and took a deep breath. I made my way out of the bathroom with my head down before glazing at the faces of my older brothers.

Sam, who now has a sad look on his face. His green eyes sparking with concern. Whilst Dean has a pissed off expression, trying his best to remain calm. There were no words that were unable to fall out of mouth. I just walked passed them and climb into to very large king side bed we shared with saying a unexpectedly surprising, I suddenly began to cry my ear out.

Almost immediately, Sam and Dean's expressions changed. If they were confused, I could say the same thing. The reason why I was crying, I couldn't understand. I was always the second tough one when it comes from intense situations, I guess with everything that we had been through together finally had took a toll on me. I see with my watery eyes Sam turned towards Dean and he nodded his head. without hesitation, they began to walk towards me.

Dean lay on my left, Sam lay on my right. They huddled up against me trying to console me. Sam was wiping away from my tears, while Dean began to rub small circles down my back.

This warm fuzzy feeling began to grow inside me. I gaze into Sam's eyes and I can see the easiness and calm in his face. Then I did the unthinkable. I reached my hand and caress his cheek and I leaned in a kiss him passionately on the lips.

There was no feeling I can't describe other than, I felt as through I explode into a million pieces. What was more shocking is that Sam didn't pull away. He gave in and began to response with my advances. Dean was anxious to show his passion. I could feel his lips on my neck, his hands trailed down to my breast giving them a firm squeeze.

I moaned in response breaking my lips with Sam replacing them with his. I tried to show my love for the both of them. Wanting to give them all of me...

Everything happen in a flash. the removing of clothes. The hot soft lips on my heated skin. The feeling of being completely filled. Like flipping a page in a book. Like riding the biggest wave and suddenly ,you're caught in the tide.I felt so much pleasure.

It felt like Heaven. It was heaven...

That was last night...

And here we are...

Today is a new day. I stare at the ceiling with a smile on my face as I felt warm naked bodies sleeping silently against me...

Nude Dean on my left...

Nude Sam on my right.

Right now, I can't say that God is pleased. Not with the events that had happened. Now, When I said I love my brothers...I love them more than just a sibling nature. I love them, I'm madly in love with them! When I think of their eyes and their smiling faces, it makes my body want to explode in fireworks.I don't care what people would say. I don't care if our father would turn over in his grave, I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world! it always will be the three of us forever...

Sam and Dean,

My brothers, the lovers.

The End.

[officialleehadan]

Ghost Chess

Siavyn had a ghost.

Well, not exactly a ghost, as he was reasonably sure she wasn’t dead, but she was certainly difficult to track down, which was frankly strangeconsidering the amount of magic ha had to throw at any given problem.

And yet.

He had a chess set that lived on the coffee table he never used, surrounded by chairs for friends he didn’t have. Shiriki liked to drape himself in them occasionally. He sometimes could be talked into playing a game or two if Siavyn was having a particularly difficult night and needed something to focus on. The Coyote didn’t particularly enjoy chess, though, so those games were few and far between.

So the chess set usually went undisturbed, save only for the way that Shiriki always left one pawn stepped forward before his king, his favorite opening move ever since Siavyn taught him to play in the first place. Siavyn usually left the pawn where it was, if only because Shiriki would only replace it if he tried to reset the board.

So when Siavyn came back from yet another long meeting with his newest collection of refugees, a group of spirits from the lesser Harvest Domains, he was surprised to see that a black pawn had been moved to match the ever-present white one.

Someone had been in his room. Someone who chose, very deliberately, not to hide it.

Siavyn immediately thought of the two women who were, despite his best efforts and Shiriki’s angry dedication, still somewhere in his castle. Finding them had thus far been utterly ineffectual, and he hadn’t decided if they were a problem or not. They hadn’t tried to cause any harm, which meant they probably weren’t spies from Conciliam, but he still didn’t have a good answer for what they were.

In fact, aside from Shiriki’s one encounter in the library, nobody had even seen them.

And now one of them had invited him to a game of chess.

There was a lot to be learned about an opponent by how they played, so Siavyn waited until he could feel the weight of invisible eyes on him, and moved a knight out to back up his white pawn.

After that, the game was on. On and on they played, over the course of eight days. It was a slow game, of course. His ghost never made a move when Siavyn was in the room, but sometimes she was daring enough to get in and out in the time it took him to use the bathroom.

Two days and six moves in, the notes started appearing.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” the first one said in scribbly, hastily-written black ink on an alarmingly green post-it note. Siavyn didn’t have any post-its, particularly not in that shade, so she had to have brought it with her.

He, of course, tried to use it as a magical focus to find the two women, but it was like the little bit of paper had been wiped absolutely clean of any trace of magic. It was a professional job, he had to admit. He had the power to do the same, but the skill spoke of a mastermage. Likely, the woman Shiriki met in the library.

“You should move your desk, or bullet-proof your big window,” the next note, just as offensively green, said. The writing was the same, and it too was utterly clean of any trackable trace. “There’s a perfect line-of-fire from the top of the second-tallest tower for anyone with a half-decent scope.”

A laser-pointer dot had appeared on the note as he read it, which did rather make the ghost’s point inescapably clear. He tried to see whoever had the laser-pointer, but it was gone as soon as he started to turn.

He moved his desk. The light wasn’t as good, but it came with a much-lowered chance of one of Conciliam’s assassins shooting at him. Guns weren’t common in the Realm of Gods, but they weren’t unheard-of.

It did, however, convince him that the woman meant her first note. If she meant harm, she wouldn’t be worrying about him getting shot.

“You’ve gotten six hours of sleep in four days,” the third letter said. It had appeared with another one of those almost-impossible chess-moves. Siavyn had been out of the room for less than two minutes, but somehow, his ghost had gotten in, made her move, and gotten out again, all without leaving a single trace of herself beyond her move, and the green post-it. “Go to bed, or I’m drugging you.”

Siavyn chuckled, put the note with the other two, got another mug of strong tea, and didn’t go to bed.

He woke up fourteen hours later, in his bed, with a green post-it on the pillow by his head marked by a very malicious-looking smiley-face.

“She drugged you?” Shiriki demanded when Siavyn told him what had happened, more bemused than anything else. It didn’t escape his notice that the drugging could have very easily been a poisoning instead, but after the laser-pointer incident, he rather doubted that his ghost was inclined towards his death. “I told you they were still here! I said! I been tryin’ to track them all this time an’ you’ve been playin’ chess!”

“It was a very friendly sort of drugging,” Siavyn pointed out as he considered the chess board. It was his move. His ghost was an interesting player who leaned heavily on her bishops and her queen for long attacks from across the board. She also didn’t hesitate to sacrifice her pieces, but she made him pay dearly for each one. “I’m reasonably sure I fell asleep at my desk, but I woke in bed. She even took my boots off. And nobody plays chess with me anymore. Well, nobody but you.”

Shiriki looked torn between outrage and incredulity. To be fair, Siavyn couldn’t blame him. Shiriki had been chasing the two women for almost a month. His nose was hard to evade, but it wasn’t easy when they were in the vents, which spread their scent all over the castle. Siavyn had expanded the castle and added spell-grids to try and catch them, but so far, his new traps remained empty.

After some deliberation, he moved a rook into place, and nodded to himself. His own tactics tended to rely on long, careful traps set up over the course of the game. So far, it was holding up.

“I wouldn’t mind knowing their names,” he said once he was done with the chessboard. He was still a little fuzzy from sleeping so long, but otherwise seemed to be fine. “It’s relatively clear that they aren't trying to cause problems. If they were, they certainly could have after all this time.”

“No, I know that,” Shiriki admitted and flung himself into one of the chairs like the put-upon drama queen he was. He fiddled with the heavy turquoise bracelet around one of his wrists. “Not a trace of scent in here if you’re wondering. I checked twice. They know about my nose. The only time I scent either of them is when it’s through the air or in th’ library.”

“They’re watching us. I sense it once in a while, but I rather suspect that nothing short of actually reshaping the castle around them will catch them at it.” He hadn’t decided if it was worth that much trouble. If they seemed hostile, maybe, but for now, he was curious. “And I’m not confident in that.”

“You think they’re spies after all?” Shiriki was justifiably cautious of spies. Conciliam would give almost anything to get a spy into Derelinquere long enough to breach the walls. Interestingly, Siavyn didn’t think that was the goal of either of their ghosts. “Could be a problem.”

“I think perhaps it’s time for a discussion,” Siavyn murmured to himself and considered the chess board again. “Go get some sleep, Trickster. I have a letter to write.”

+++

Of Other Worlds:

Stara and Eislynn are sisters sworn to the service and protection of the Multiverse. Now if only it would tell them what exactly it wanted them to do.

Between Lives

Fortress of Sand

Revelare

Octuple Negative

Tequila Trickster

+++

More Stories!

+++

[hypermanga]

Of braids and jealousy (Thorin Oakenshield x reader)

Requested by: @queenofmankind​

Request: Can I request a jealous Thorin Oakenshield please when he saw that the reader  has allowed Kili to braid her hair because in the dwarves custom that is a display of intimacy & possession but the reader don’t know that because she’s human?  

Word count: 1469

It was a particularly hot summer day as the Company of Thorin Oakenshield made its way to Erebor to retrieve the ancient dwarven kingdom from the claws of a northern dragon.

This would be something understandable if you were from Middle Earth, but this wasn't the way you wanted to spend your spring break: you'd been cleaning your dorm when you'd come across an old dusty book at the bottom of one of your cupboards. You recognized it as your aunt Talulah's birthday gift, which she had given you while she said: "Every book holds an adventure in it, just dare to enter it fully". As you'd turned the first page you had felt the world around you disappear as a black hole sucked you into the book.

Just your luck, you'd landed in a tree near what you would soon learn was called 'The Shire' , surprising the Company. It took you a while to reason to them and explain why you were wearing the clothes you wore, but thanks to Gandalf's gift of speech, you'd managed to land yourself a place in the group.

Since then you'd faced many dangers, noone your age may believe if told so. Not that everything was bad; the Company was a fun little group, and everyone had been really welcoming of you.

What you didn't count on is becoming emotionally attached to the dwarves, especially to the leader. Sure, he was much older than you, but he carried himself with a mixture of pride and nostalgia that drew you to him. More often than not you would drift off thinking what it would be like to become his queen, thoughts that you quickly shoved aside every time you noticed them because that was something proper for a fifteen-year-old full of foolish dreams. 

Yet, who would have told your fifteen-year-old self that you would get sucked into a book?  

~~~~

"Kili, could you help me with something?" The young dwarf had left the sausage he was cooking, sighing sadly as his brother stole it from him, and made his way to you "Tell me, and it shall be done" He crossed his arms proudly, making you chuckle "It's just, it's so hot in he-Don't you dare pull me an 'it's because I'm here' crap" At that he closed his mouth, earning a full laugh "I see that everyone had braids, and I was wondering if you could braid my hair to feel better, I fear I'm going to cut my hair with one of your swords if I don't do something about this" You had grabbed the ends of your hair, making puppy eyes to Kili, who got behind you and started to work. After a couple of minutes, your hair was tied in a beautiful braid, which surely would help you through the hot summery nights "Do women from your world not know how to do braids?" "Most of them do, but I was never interested in doing so"Shrugging, you stood up when Bilbo, Balin and Thorin returned from deciphering the map "Well, how did it go?" You asked the older dwarf, who grimaced "We need to reach the mountain before Durin's day, which is the end of summer" "Is it near?" "Far too near, we must-" Thorin's voice came to a halt once his eyes landed on you "We leave at morning" He cut his intervention short as he made his way past you "Did I do something?" You asked nobody in particular, as everyone busied themselves with packing.

You casted a glance at the Company's leader. He had been wearing a stern expression since Rivendell, probably because establishing relationships with elves wasn't something the dwarves enjoyed very much as you'd learned. That wasn't anything new, but he also had been actively avoiding you "Don't worry (Y/N), he's just wary of you as he is of me. We don't belong in here" Bilbo shrugged, not preoccupying himself of what Thorin thought of him.

But that was what worried you: you were lost in a world you thought was fictionary and in the middle of a quest which you needn't be part of, yet you had fought vigorously to save the Company from the trolls and were prepared for anything, and so this display of behaviour surprised you negatively.

As per our favourite dwarf king, he spent day and night thinking what he'd done wrong: everyone in the Company except for you and Bilbo picked up his display of affection, such as protecting you in case something happened as well as being caring despite his lack of trust to anyone outside his kin. 

And still, Kili had won your heart. Perhaps it was a matter of age, as he wasn't one for pulling pranks or being 'fun', not with the task he carried on his hands. 

Now, as he couldn't retract himself from his words or feelings, he opted for focusing on his mission and hope that you wouldn't be affectionate with Kili in front of him, and hoped his feelings for you would leave. 

~~~~~~

One night, you decided you had enough.

"Thorin, may  I have a word with you? Privately" He just nodded reluctantly, guiding you just after the treeline "Okay, so what's wrong with you and me?" Your tone surprised him, not expecting you to be so straightforward with your question. Nevertheless, he didn't bulge "Nothing" "C'mon, if I have to stay all night for you to spit it out I'm going to, is not my first sleepless night after all" You crossed your arms as you supported yourself with a nearby tree "I said nothing" 

It was going to be a long night.

"So...Who wants to bet in which one gets down from his high horse?" "Lad, I think I will pass in this one...The lass has some if she goes toe to toe with Thorin" Dwalin smirked, lowkey hoping this would help his friend spill how he felt about you.  

"...I fought to save your life!" Another string of shouts broke the silent night, as the Company tossed coins between themselves as the fight went on "So what! Nobody asked you to do so!" "I did because I wanted to, don't you understand? I'm in a world where everything is foreign to me...And you had been really friendly with me, what happened?" 

Thorin couldn't bear to look at your eyes, his guilt too strong to prevent him from doing it "Who braided your hair?" That question completely threw you off "Wait-" Your tone stopped being pointed, yet your features remained like so "All this is because of the damn braid?" "Aye, because this dumbass right here didn't put his crap together to ask you out before Kili did" Dwalin came to view, tired of the back and forth  "Kili did not ask me out!" "Then why did you let him braid your hair?!" Thorin pointed out your braid "Wow...Let me get this straight. Correct me if I'm wrong, but by letting Kili braid my hair I'm automatically 'dating' him?" 

The two dwarves nodded as Dwalin calmed Thorin down from his outburst "First of all, what the heck is this? I only let him braid my hair because it was hot and don't know how to braid it myself; Second, this proofs tradition can lead to some serious misunderstandings; Third, Thorin were you going to ask me out?" Your face was red, from anger or embarrassment, only god knows "Aye, he was" Dwalin answered for the king, who looked just as baffled as you were "Is that true, Thorin?" "Didn't I tell you-" "I want to hear it from his lips, Dwalin" You interrupted the gruff dwarf, who just crossed his arms in exasperation "Thorin, I suggest you do so, nobody is going to be as stubborn as this lass...Or will put up with your pride" Thorin snickered at that, swallowing his pride "If you will still take me, an old man who becomes a dwarfling when musting up the courage to ask a pretty lass out-" You smiled, a tired but victorious one "Come here, you big oaf" You opened your arms, a gasp escaping your lips when Thorin lifted you "I'll leave you to it" Dwalin muttered, but you were in your own little world, with the background noise of groans and cheers -depending on their bets- of the Company's members.

Sure, there was a lot of communication and long hours of knowing eachother further -given your cultural backgrounds- to make it work, but not like every day you get to have a dwarf king as your boyfriend, right?

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[chiseler]

Hero of Our Nation

I first encountered Roger Ramjet on a Chicago public access station in 1983. It was part of an early morning show apparently aimed at stoner insomniacs. The show came on at five and also included episodes of Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp, that awful Beatles cartoon, and a weather report clarified by some appropriate pop song (“Here Comes the Sun” or “Here Comes the Rain Again”). I was usually up and around that early for some godforsaken reason, and originally started watching on account of Lancelot Link. Always did love that Lancelot Link. But Roger Ramjet was, well, let’s just say it was a revelation.

Roger Ramjet, “ that All-American good guy and devil may care flying fool” (as he compulsively introduces himself) was a none too bright and none too coordinated drug-dependent space age superhero in an ongoing battle against the assorted forces of evil (or more specifically, N.A.S.T.Y.) to preserve the American Way of Life. He was square-jawed, straight-laced, straight-faced, and True Blue if little else, so hyper-patriotic that nearly every time his name is spoken aloud an American flag, a bald eagle, or a rotating ring of stars appears on the screen. After catching one or two episodes, I forgot all about Lancelot Link.

The show was easy to overlook, especially when squeezed between the Beatles and some secret agent chimps with a psychedelic band. The episodes were only five minutes long (maybe seven with the abrasive theme song filling out the opening and closing credits), and were so crudely drawn and animated it might at a glance seem like something a couple of junior high school kids threw together in their basement one weekend. The shows were so primitive they hardly bothered with niceties like “backgrounds” satisfied instead to settle for rudimentary suggestions of a setting. But the writing was so sharp and the voice talent so good what it really felt like, if you paid attention, was a spoof of a ‘40s radio serial like Sky King or Gangbusters, complete with a soap opera organ and illustrated by a handful of jerky drawings scratched out by someone’s kid. People who thought Jay Ward’s Bullwinkle and Dudley Do-Right were crude when compared with the output from Disney or Warner Brothers had no idea what “crude” meant. 

Looking at it today what it reminds me of more than anything are the paper cutout animations of the earliest episodes of South Park, before they upgraded to Flash. Along with the lo-fi stylistics, the humor was clearly aimed at an adult audience while pretending otherwise.  You may not find any child molestation jokes or crass religious cracks in Roger Ramjet, but for 1965 the lightning-fast humor was pretty hepcat and sophisticated, with undisguised satirical references to the Cold War, Central American turmoil, and the  Vietnam War (“Hey kids, this is Roger Ramjet,” demanding that you stay tuned to this station to see my next adventure,” Roger announces in his commanding superhero baritone. “Or I’ll see to it that all you little rascals are drafted.”) . Mixed in with the topical jokes we also get some highly unlikely name drops, from Noel Coward and Henry Cabot Lodge to James Joyce and bawdy nightclub performer Rusty Warren, as well as film parodies and  literary nods to the likes of Catch-22 and Catcher in the Rye.  It’s also a little less than what you might call racially sensitive by modern standards (consider Mexican revolutionaries The Enchilada Brothers, Beef and Chicken).

While a lot of the more timely jokes might be lost in the murk of the over 50 years since it first aired, there’s plenty of rapid-fire absurdity that’s timeless, from the misspelled title cards punctuating the narration to the self-consciously dumb coked-up adventures.

Bullwinkle aired from ‘61 to ‘64. Roger Ramjet came along a year later and Jay Ward’s influence is undeniable. The difference was Roger Ramjet crammed the equivalent number of bad jokes, references, and plot twists of a typical 8-part Bullwinkle serial into each five-minute episode, both mirroring the rapid-fire screwball dialogue of the ‘30s and the frenetic quick-cut comedy to come along a year or two later in shows like The Monkees and Laugh-In.

The episodes were produced with essentially no budget and were cranked out very quickly by a small team of writers, voiceover artists and animators with solid day jobs in radio and TV. They were all seasoned pros, some dating back to the days of classic radio, who worked on the show after hours as a way of letting off a little steam and tossing around a few cynical, subversive  cultural jabs their day jobs wouldn’t allow. The show was created originally by animator Fred Crippen  (who went on to work on some pretty dreadful crap like the Extreme Ghostbusters  and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) and Ken Snyder, an ad exec who moved over into producing cartoons. They brought in a remarkable team of voice talent and comedy writers, including Gene Moss (the voice of Smokey the Bear) Jim Thurmam (who did a lot of kids shows including Sesame Street), Dick Beals (the original voice of Gumby), and the great Gary Owens, a drive-time deejay in LA who would get national recognition soon enough as the on-screen announcer for Laugh-In. Although they would all get specific credits in the end (Crippen as director, Moss as a writer) it was a communal effort, in which everyone contributed to the writing, and everyone, even the executive producer, did a few of the voices. Apart from the regular crew, careful listeners might also catch a few uncredited guest appearances by some surprisingly big names (I’m told Sinatra and Dean Martin appear in an episode, but I’m still looking for that one). Owens was the star, though, as his ability to read the most ridiculous lines in a dramatic deadpan made him the perfect Roger Ramjet. Together they made 156 episodes (about 150 still exist), which were sold directly into syndication in ‘65 as half hour shows, each containing three unconnected adventures. I can’t say as I’m exactly sure who they thought their target audience was at the time, except maybe each other.

Much like William Conrad in Bullwinkle, each show opened with our narrator, Steve Allen alum Dave Ketchum, setting the mood and the scene (“In today’s depressing episode,” he’d begin with dramatic enthusiasm, or maybe it was an “existentialist episode,” “phlegmatic episode,” “rickety episode,”  “hairy episode,” or “ethnic episode”). Then we’re out of the gate at a breakneck pace, with a flurry of gags coming from every direction. “Ramjet rode into Boot Hill,” we’re told,  “where the men were men and the women were men, which can get pretty old after awhile.”

While none of the shows are connected, there are a few recurring characters and locations worth remembering: Roger hails from Lompoc, an actual California town (“where nothing ever happens, and seldom does”) and  takes his orders from General G.I. Brassbottom, a no nonsense military man who “hadn’t had an original idea since he was a civilian.” He’s also assisted by Yank, Doodle, Dan, and Dee, the unusually chubby  kids who make up the American Eagle squadron. Like Roger, all the members of the squadron wear their white jumpsuits and flight helmets at all times (Roger even wears his helmet on dates), and in true superhero sidekick fashion, their primary job is to get Roger out of scrapes and make sure his drugs are handy. 

That’s one little detail more than a few casual viewers have taken umbrage with. Roger, see, is a pretty hapless character most of the time, but he repeatedly saves the world thanks to a little help from his Proton Energy Pills (PEP), which take five seconds to kick in, then give him the strength of 20 A-Bombs for 20 seconds. Modern viewers seem a little uncomfortable with the idea of a superhero gulping amphetamines in order to function, but all I can say is, well, it was a different time, and hey, it worked for Roger and Elvis both.

The proton energy pills come in handy when dealing with his arch-nemesis Noodles Romanoff, the short, trench coat and fedora wearing head of N.A.S.T.Y. (the National Association of Spies, Traitors, and Yahoos). Romanoff may not have a Natasha, but he does have a gang of cronies and thugs who all mumble in unison (save for one, who can’t seem to get the rhythm). 

Along with Romanoff and his gang, Roger also has to contend with some lanky alien robots, the Solenoids (voiced by executive priducer Ken Snyder), and their repeated efforts to invade the planet in assorted ridiculous ways (in one episode, they begin kidnapping all the Miss America contestants, who “were disappearing faster than co-eds at a Dartmouth weekend.”)

When not saving the world, Roger found himself competing with the smarmy hotshot test pilot Lance Crossfire (who sounds an awful lot like burt Lancaster) for the affections of Lotta Love, the fickle Southern belle with a taste for the finer things in life.

Then there are the adventures themselves. Some seem standard superhero fare, but only to a point. Earth is besieged by flying saucer attacks (sort of). Roger’s hometown is terrorized by a werewolf (sort of). Roger plays tennis with a kangaroo, or becomes the first man to surf in space,  or, in a personal favorite, attempts to stop the flow of bootleg comic books into America’s drug stores.

Actually, there’s an interesting moment in that one that revealed just how subtle you could be even with animation this unsophisticated. Okay, so Noodles Romanoff, see, is replacing real comics in drug store racks with bootlegs in which popular superheroes are humiliated, all in an effort to destroy the morale of America’s children. After Brassbottom shows Roger a few examples (the issues include “Superman Gets Beat Up by a Chicken!” and “Ratman Stubs His Toe!”) he explains that if this sort of thing continues, “America’s kids won’t have anyone to look up to except YOU, Ramjet.” Then, for just an instant in that crude and jerky style, Roger cuts his eyes toward the camera, revealing in that moment everything we needed to know, namely that it’s what he’s always wanted.

Thirty years on and that still sticks with me.

In the end, though, the characters and storylines are secondary at best In Roger Ramjet. At heart it’s  a matter of trying to keep up with all the lightning-quick  jokes and wordplay, the non-sequiturs and references. In the five minute span of one cowboy-themed episode I counted nods to at least seven classic Western films, from High Noon to She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and I suspect I missed a few. It really is such a dizzying blur of dialogue and bad puns and cultural references, sometimes, christ, even just references to old jokes that take the form of bad puns (“Waiter, there’s a spy in my soup” or “how many angels can swim in the head of a beer?”), that absurd as it all is, repeated viewings are a necessity to catch everything. It’s a bit like having the complete contents of an issue of MAD magazine jammed onto a single page. It can make your head hurt after a while, but it’s worth it. Whether the density and the pace make it better or worse for stoner viewing is something, I guess, each stoner will need to answer for him or herself. Lots of bright colors, though.

In 1965 there was nothing new about making cartoons with adult sensibilities in mind. Betty Boop and Bugs Bunny were made to be shown as short subjects to largely adult audiences. Jay Ward’s cartoons a few decades down the line were near-revolutionary for smuggling hip, subversive political humor into what had become an exclusively child-friendly format. What made Roger Ramjet so radical was it’s blend of ‘30s radio style with mid-’60s cynicism, as well as its foreshadowing of our shrinking attention spans, a hyper-condensed proton pill of comedy and commentary disguised as just another dumb, low-rent superhero cartoon. Although it’s barely remembered today, its influence is still evident in most any subversive animated show you can name, even if they’ve slowed things down a bit.

by Jim Knipfel

[tchallasbabymama]

who you are (T’Challa x Black!OC)

6,281 words

A/N: Damn I wrote a lot. So I want this to turn into a series based around music, but I haven’t figured out the series title yet. It’ll come to me.

As soon as the sun peeked out over the horizon Ashanti’s eyes blinked open. It was going to be a normal sweltering January day in Wakanda, so the merchant tribe girl took advantage of the cool morning air. She threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts before putting on her running shoes and heading out into the world. She stood on her porch to stretch her muscles while she watched the sun begin to peek between the trees. Once she limbered up, she took off for her daily run around the streets of Birnin Zana. Her mind cleared as she processed her dream from the night before.

In her dream, a faceless man walked into her store and browsed for a long time before turning to face her. Ashanti was drawn to him. Her arms found their way around his neck and her lips met his. She felt a buzzing all throughout her body and her lips heated up like she had eaten hot peppers. Their breathing synched up and his hands roamed from her neck all the way down to her ass, cupping her cheeks and getting dangerously close to her dripping pussy. He introduced his tongue to her mouth and her knees buckled as she let out a desperate moan. Just as his right hand slipped under her skirt the sun rose and woke her from her utopia with her mystery man.

Ashanti kept a dream journal, and this one was one she wanted to have on record to come back to later. It felt like more than a dream, it felt too real for it to just be a dream.

Ashanti pushed through her run and made it back to her house in record time. When she walked in the door she could hear the sounds of her roommates finally rising for the day. Ashanti loved living with Kwame and Binta, and there was never a dull day around the house living with the two rambunctious fraternal twins. Both of their parents had died by the time they graduated high school, and the big empty house had been left to them. When the twins met Ashanti they had been looking for another roommate to make it feel like a home again, and it was friendship at first sight. They knew they had found a good match.

“Good morning Titi!”

“Ayy look who it is! How was the run today?”

“You wouldn't have to ask that if you’d join me,” Ashanti teased knowing damn well Kwame wasn’t one for non-sexual physical activity. Kwame rolled his eyes and shoveled more plantains onto his plate.

“Girl you know I don't do all that running mess. For what?!”

Ashanti and Binta giggled as they shared a knowing look and the older twin  handed her a plate full of food that she had just whipped up while Ashanti was on her run.

The three of them had lived together since college and fell into their morning routine years ago. Ashanti would rise at the crack of dawn and go for her run, then Binta would get up and make breakfast which was somehow always ready by whatever time Ashanti got back and Kwame finally decided to join the land of the living. Ashanti asked her once how she had perfect timing every morning, and the twins responded in perfect unison.

“Magic.” “Magic.”

Ashanti never asked again, mostly because she couldn’t tell if they were serious or not. She wouldn’t be surprised either way.

Per their routine, Ashanti shoveled her food down and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She turned on the water to let it warm up, and in the meantime she stripped down to her birthday suit and admired her body in the mirror. She had a love-hate relationship with her body for most of her life, but she found that the more she saw herself naked the more she loved what she saw. Ashanti wasn’t vain though, it was a self-esteem thing.

Once she tore her eyes away from her naked form she stepped into the falling water and just stood there for a moment letting it all wash over her. She grabbed her lemongrass and black soap bar and her loofa and went to town washing her body from head to toe.

Since she was a little girl Ashanti had a fear of singing in public, but when she was in the shower she never held back. Thankful for the soundproof vibranium-laced walls, she belted her heart out to her favorites. She even had a playlist just of songs to sing in the shower. Sometimes she would build a queue, but other times she would let the shuffle button have it’s way. This was one of those times.

This perception's got me restless I ain't dreamin' 'less you're there I supply what you require I need you like I need air You give me life with all the light you're shinin' Oh, there's no question It's evident that you would compliment the love you're not havin'

So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

She carefully swayed her hips and sang along with Luke James, feeling every bit of the emotion in his words. The song made her feel warm inside like a first crush. That nervous yet adorable energy swirled around her as she reveled in the feeling of puppy love, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Ashanti had discovered western music when Wakanda opened itself to the world, and she wanted to personally thank King T’Challa for allowing the joys of R&B and other genres from across the diaspora into her life. The melodies and the beats were reminiscent of music from her home country in many ways, and she gravitated towards the love songs, songs about heartbreak, and ass-shaking music. She needed to feel it either emotionally or physically.

She could’ve stayed in that shower for hours if she had the time, but Ashanti had errands to run and work to do.

After getting dressed for the day, she grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder before heading back downstairs. Binta was lying across the couch staring at their newly installed hologram tv in contempt. Ashanti noticed it was playing some American reality show about rich colonizers that try to look like Black women.

Binta sucked her teeth.

“Can you believe this? Why do they look like that?!” Binta half yelled at Ashanti and half yelled at the screen.

“Because, girl look at us,” Ashanti gestured at her and her roommate’s beautiful assets and they both fell out laughing.

“You heading into work already? It’s barely 8”

“Yeah, I need to get some shopping done before I open up. Be good!” Ashanti pecked Binta on the cheek before sliding her shoes on and heading out the door for the second time that morning.

Ashanti walked through the bazaar and took in the sights and smells. She made quick work of her shopping list and even with being stopped to say hello to every other person she encountered on the way, she made it to her store in record time. She loved the energy of the marketplace as a little girl growing up in the Merchant tribe. When she was seven years old her parents, Chidi and Bisa Mostafa, opened up a restaurant, Zana Cafe, smack dab in the middle of the Birnin Zana Bazaar that’s been going strong for twenty years. When the shop owner from across the street grew too old to run her art supply store she sold it to the Mostafas for a low low price. There wasn’t another shop like it in the market, so Chidi and Bisa tasked Ashanti with keeping it running.

Ashanti eventually saved enough money to buy the shop next door and she transformed the space into a combination art gallery, supply store, and amateur marketplace. She wanted it to be a space where artists of all skill levels could come together, create, and even sell their work.  She sold her own handmade crystal jewelry and had a children’s section full of finger paints and fun craft projects. The kids loved when she displayed their art along the shop walls. There was even a classroom towards that back of the multi-use space she used for community art lessons.

Ashanti had named the space after the first person to encourage her art, her umakhulu Taj. She missed her grandaddy more than anything in this world, and she dedicated her creative space to his memory. People from all over Wakanda knew of Taj’s, it being the only shop of it’s kind in all of Birnin Zana.

Chidi waved at Ashanti from across the street while he prepared the restaurant for the morning rush, and she blew him a kiss before stepping into her shop, her happy place.

She closed her eyes and smiled a warm smile before drawing the curtains and letting the light in. She turned on her music and danced around the shop, straightening up as she went. She still had that same Luke James song on repeat from earlier.

Did I mention, I love tension? No more stressin' when we touch My salvation, my temptation I felt safety in your clutch (clutch) Come save me now, just stick around No, you ain't gotta stay long How you make minutes pass like seconds I feel like I gotta hold on (hmm) So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

A chill went down Ashanti’s spine as that warm fuzzy feeling filled her once more. Her face felt flushed and she kept grinning wider and wider as she shuffled around Taj’s, sweeping all the dirt out the back door. She went to sweep her stoop when the sight of the Dora Milaje caught her off guard. It wasn’t often that royalty made their way to the market, but she knew every shop owner would be clamoring to gain whoever’s attention. She kept sweeping then opened her shop doors wide before heading back inside.

Before she could make it halfway back to her spot at the front counter, she heard the chime that alerts her when new customers enter.

“Hi, welcome to Taj’s, what can I-”, her voice caught in her throat when she turned around and saw the king flanked by two of his Dora Milaje. She noticed two more stationed at the door and looked past them to see her nosy parent across the street staring into Taj’s to get a glimpse of what's going on.

“Kumkani wam.”

Ashanti saluted King T’Challa and a deep rumbling erupted from his chest before he cracked the most adorable crooked smile.

“Please, none of that.”

____________

Mornings in Birnin Zana were always calm and quiet until about 10am when the whole city woke up and went on about their day. This wasn’t the case for King T’Challa who preferred to start his day at 6. It was the only time he could really have to himself without interruption. He would always go for a run around the palace grounds or out into the lush Wakandan forest right as the sun poked out above the trees.

Another thing people didn’t know about the King of Wakanda is that he loved to cook. As a boy he spent so much of his time hanging around the kitchen staff they jokingly put him to work one day and he took right to it. Not only did T’Challa love mornings because of the solitude, he loved mornings because of breakfast. It was his favorite meal of the day. When he was a teenager he often cooked breakfast for his family, but as an adult it’s something he only had time for sparingly. He always had a meeting or a mission or something important and unavoidable in the way.

However, today he had the time because he had taken the day off. As king he answers to nobody but Bast and the people of Wakanda...but there are a lot of people and a lot of problems to solve so sometimes the king needed a day to himself. T’Challa trusted his sister and his cousin to keep things running smoothly in his absence,and he made them swear to only contact him if the country was about to collapse.

These would be a beautiful 24 hours.

After making his way back to the palace he quickly showered and threw on some clothes for the day. T’Challa felt relaxed being dressed-down and thought about maybe doing it more often. The royal robes were so stiff.

The king slid into the kitchen with a smile on his face, humming to some American song he couldn’t get out of his head but didn’t know the words to. He scooped up some mandazi the kitchen staff had left for him and took a bite while he rummaged through the refrigerator looking for whatever called to him. T’Challa found what he was looking for and got to work dicing and mixing and grating his ingredients. He had just thrown a pinch more of cardamom in the pancake batter when his mother strolled in.

“Mholo, unyana wam!”

“Good morning to you too mother,” T’Challa chuckled at the Queen Mother’s jovial mood.

He kissed her cheek and flipped the pancakes on the griddle. He turned around just in time to catch Ramonda taking a swipe of the batter.

“Mama you should know better. What kind of role model are you for your young impressionable daughter?”

“Hush, child”

The two smiled and settled into a comfortable silence while T’Challa sautéed up fragrant vegetables, making Ramonda even more impatient. Just as she was about to ask T’Challa how much longer until they could eat, her young impressionable daughter rounded the corner looking like she had been caught in a tornado. That was the normal for Shuri, a notoriously wild sleeper.

“Good morning mother, Gap Tooth,” Shuri yawned. “ Where’s Braille?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his little sister’s nicknames and cracked eggs into the pan.

“You know that boy only shows up right when the food is do-“

Ramonda was cut off by the doors opening and Prince N’Jadaka strolled in with sunglasses on and the same clothes they saw him wearing when he left last night.

He noticed all three sets of eyes were glued to his hungover form. He was surprised when instead of admonishing him for his obviously very unroyal behavior they all broke out into laughter. He couldn’t help but smile himself.

“Long night?”

“Man you already know, we’ll talk later when there aren’t sensitive ears around.”

The two male cousins dapped each other up before N’Jadaka kissed his Auntie and little cousin on their foreheads.

“Mornin’ Auntie, Rugrat.”

“Mholo Daka.”

“Topographic map.”

Even T’Challa had to give her that one.

The family of four sat down and enjoyed the home-cooked meal of spiced plantain pancakes drizzled with honey, an egg and vegetable scramble, cheese grits, spicy sausage, and fresh fruit.

T’Challa loved seeing the look of satisfaction on people’s faces when they eat his food almost as much as his family loved eating whatever he put in front of them. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship.

After breakfast, T’Challa hung around and chatted with his family while they cleaned the kitchen. They never let him do this part, and since none of the Udakus were big on relying on the palace staff for every little thing, the prince, princess, and Queen Mother of Wakanda rolled up their sleeves to do some quick manual labor. Shuri and Ramonda washed and dried the dishes while N’Jadaka wiped down the table and countertops. He finished and the two male cousins went to take a walk around the gardens.

The second they stepped outside the palace T’Challa pulled out a blunt of the finest Wakanda kush and lit the tip. He pulled the smoke into his mouth and let it float up to his nose. He inhaled and then exhaled the smoke as he felt it take effect. He passed it to N’Jadaka and started talking.

“Last night…?”

N’Jadaka took a hit.

“My nigga...so you remember that hot lil river tribe thang I told you about?” T’Challa nodded as N’Jadaka handed him the blunt.

“So I take her out, right? Tell me why, we get to the restaurant she starts acting brand new? Turns out, this whole time we been smashing she’s trying to lock this down. So I paid for dinner and had Aneka take her home-“

“So where did you end up staying all night?”

“With the waitress.”

T’Challa stopped walking and glanced at his cousin before they both broke out into a fit of giggles.

They continued to walk and talk and pass the blunt back and forth. As they neared the palace doors the blunt had burned down to the roach. The two “went for a walk” so much they had it timed perfectly.

“So what you got planned for your day off?”

“Absolutely nothing,” T’Challa said, grinning from ear to ear. “And it better-“

“Stay that way, yeah yeah nigga I know. The Brain and I got this, go enjoy your day. Do some shit you haven’t done in a while. Be lazy. Make something. Get some pussy.”

T’Challa cut his eyes at his slightly younger cousin but couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. It had been a while for all of those things and damn did he miss them.

He clapped N’Jadaka on the back and turned to walk in the other direction.

“Good idea, umzala.”

“Which one?...Aye I know you heard me witcho supersonic hearing ass…”

T’Challa just chuckled and flipped off his cousin as he rounded the corner.

“Don’t ruin my country while I’m gone!”

“I should burn it down again just for that.”

T’Challa roamed the Birnin Zana Bazaar with his Dora Milaje for the first time in at least two years. Yes, he was a busy man with very little leisure time, but the Bazaar also held a lot of memories that the king would rather not revisit. As he passed the winding staircase he sighed, thinking of his former lover Nakia. She was off living a happy life in America with her girlfriend Janelle and their two goofy looking dogs, and he was genuinely happy for her. He and Nakia had love for each other, but they eventually realized they weren’t in love and decided to split. The memories were bittersweet.

The king decided he would pay an old friend a visit. Growing up, T’Challa only had his father. His biological mother died in childbirth, and since his father didn’t meet Ramonda until he was 12, the only mother he knew as a young child had been his nanny Ada.

She was a firecracker of a woman who never let him get away with anything, and he loved her with his whole heart. She was still an unofficial member of the Udaku family with an open invitation to visit the palace whenever she wanted. T’Chaka and Ramonda had tried to offer her a room in the palace but she refused, saying, “It’s too quiet here.” After she hung up her nanny hat, Ada became an entrepreneur. She had always loved arts and crafts so she opened up an art supply shop in the middle of the Bazaar, thanks to a hefty check from the Udakus. T’Challa used to love visiting Ada’s shop, but when she grew too old to care for it anymore she sold it and he hadn’t yet seen what became of it. He decided he’d stop by the shop before visiting Ada.

People were everywhere, but T’Challa loved the hustle and bustle of the city. Many of the past monarchs avoided mingling with the public more than necessary, but T’Chaka had taught his son the value in spending time among the people. In fact, T’Challa’s favorite part of being king is when he makes his rounds to visit all the tribes.

The king and his Doras strolled through the market, periodically stopping to converse with excited children.

They rounded the corner of the main streetway and he noticed a woman sweeping the stoop in front of what was Ada’s shop. He watched the sway of her hips and tried to read her lips to figure out what song she was singing. As he got closer he could just make out her angelic voice singing over the acoustic guitar in the unfamiliar song.  She had a dreamy smile on her face that made her deep dimples come out of hiding, and when she turned around to head inside the shop he noticed the thickness of her ass and thighs.

“Bast have mercy.”

His feet automatically carried him into Taj’s, and when she turned around to face him his knees nearly buckled. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

——————————-

Ashanti felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn’t believe the king was in her shop of all places.

“My apologies, your highness,” she stammered and the broom fell out of her sweaty hand.

Before she could even reach for it, the king had already lifted the old broom from the floor. He passed it to her and when their fingers brushed against each other they both felt static in their fingertips, though neither of them broke their poker faces.

“Truly, it is not a problem.”

T’Challa tore his eyes from hers and looked around the multi-use space. His eyes and eventually his body gravitated towards the childrens’ artwork along the walls, taking it all in with an adorably crooked smile.

“How long has this shop been open?”

“Coming up on two years now...your highness.”

“No need for all the formalities miss…”

“Ashanti Mostafa, my kin- I mean, um, sir,” Ashanti stumbled over her words, unsure of how to address the royal.

“I took the day off so just call me T’Challa, Miss Ashanti,” he winked and continued around the space.

“Is Taj in today?”

“No, Taj was my umakhulu. He died five years ago, so when I got this place I named it after him because he’s the one who taught me how to draw and paint and mold clay...he shared his love of art with me, so I’m paying it forward with all this,” Ashanti gestured outwardly.

T’Challa was in awe of her. He listened to her story and walked towards the artist marketplace section of the shop. His eyes gravitated towards a golden vibranium filigree choker with an intricately wrapped garnet pendant.

“These pieces are beautiful, I would love to get one for my mother and my sister. Does the artist take custom orders?”

“They will for the king.”

“Well sometimes being royalty has its privileges. Ayo, will you get the artist’s information from Miss Ashanti here?”

Ashanti couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was almost stunned to silence. The king liked her pieces.

“Actually your hi-,” she was stopped by a playful warning look from the king.

“T’Challa, I’m the artist.”

T’Challa became more and more enamoured with the shop owner every time she spoke. She was beautiful, talented, and her aura seemed to cover everything in its reach with her warm glow. He would definitely be visiting the Bazaar more often.

Ashanti rounded the counter and fiddled with her rose gold kimoyo beads before her other designs were projected in the air in front of the king.

“I thought you said you painted and molded clay. This is certainly not that,” he leaned on the counter as his Doras shared a knowing glance.

“That’s just how I started,” Ashanti explained. “I still paint sometimes when the mood hits, but nowadays I mostly craft jewelry. Oh I just got into beading, and you wouldn’t believe how sore my fingertips are.”

In that moment it took all of T’Challa’s willpower to keep from reaching out and kissing her calloused but delicate fingers.

Ashanti unconsciously leaned in closer to the king.

“So what brought you to my humble shop, T’Challa? Bast, it feels so weird to call you that.”

T’Challa chuckled, and Ashanti nearly blushed again from the deep rumbling.

“You’ll get used to it eventually. As I mentioned before, these pieces are beautiful. I would like to commission two. What is your price?”

“Two hundred a piece.”

“I’ll give you one thousand.”

Ashanti’s eyes blinked and her smile gradually crept up her chubby cheeks. The two went back and forth for over an hour over the details of the necklaces before the king bid the shop owner adieu with the promise to return in two weeks. Before he reached the door he turned around, almost catching her staring at him.

“I forgot to ask. Miss Ashanti, do you normally play the same song on repeat in the store?”

Ashanti hadn’t even noticed Luke James’ “Who You Are” had been playing ever since she opened her doors. Her mind had been clouded by the king’s powerful aura and kind eyes, and the only sound that mattered in that moment was the smoky melody of his voice. She blushed yet again.

“I don’t normally, but something had me a little distracted today,” she winked at the king. “The artist is Luke James, one of my favorites from America. You should check him out if you like what you hear.”

Her eyes locked onto his and he smirked.

“I’ll do just that.”

---------------------------------- A week passed and both Ashanti and T’Challa had listened to that same song on repeat more times than they could count. Neither one could understand how they had become so smitten with the other in a 90 minute time span.

Even the people around them had begun to notice the changes in their behavior. Unsurprisingly, the first two to say something were N’Jadaka and Kwame.

N’Jadaka slipped into T’Challa’s office after the council meeting wrapped up. His cousin had spent the last hour settling land disputes and was in desperate need of a break. They were too busy to take a walk, so T’Challa poured two generous glasses of the strongest palm wine in Wakanda. It wasn’t enough to make them drunk since the heart shaped herb running through their veins burned off alcohol too quickly for one glass to cause any damage. They’d have to drink a bottle a piece to even start to have a good time. However, they felt the effects of cannabis and psychedelics just like anyone else.

“What’s got you smiling so much? It’s starting to get creepy, you looked way too happy during that land dispute and I know you hate doing that shit.”

“I don’t know what-”

“You're really gonna lie to me? Your favorite cousin? I’m hurt.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his least favorite cousin’s dramatics.

“You are my only cousin, N’Jadaka. And besides, I really do not know what you mean, I have just been in good spirits lately.”

“Mmmhm. You got some pussy, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You sure? Because you're acting like you got some pussy.”

On the other side of Birnin Zana, Kwame watched Ashanti glide around the living room with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Girl I know you’re not that happy about dusting. Spill.”

“What?” Ashanti giggled. “I’m just in a good mood today, it’s been a good week at the shop.”

Kwame cut his eyes at her and pursed his lips. He didn’t believe a damn thing she said. Binta told him she had seen Ashanti humming and slow dancing in the kitchen the other day, so he knew something had to be up.

“Did you get some dick? Or some pus- nah that’s a dick face right there.”

“Who’s a dick face?” Binta came in and grabbed some coconut water from the fridge.

“Apparently I have ‘just got some dick’ face,” Ashanti responded with an eye roll.

“Yeah you’ve had it for about a week now. Spill.”

“That’s what I said, twin!”

They did their annoying twin handshake and turned back to Ashanti.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s just been a good week at the shop.”

Ashanti tried to get back to her dusting, but they wouldn’t let her.

“Nuh uh girl, get to talking.”

“B…”

“We’re waiting…”

Ashanti rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck, or so her mom would say had she seen it.

“Ok, fine! This man came into the shop the other day and had me blushing like a sixth grader with her first crush. He was just so...fine, and smooth, and sweet…”

Ashanti drifted off into a daydream while the twins sat there taking it all in. Kwame was the first to speak.

“Titi, your nose is wide the fuck open. Did you get his name, tap beads, something?!”

Ashanti couldn’t admit she had a crush on the king. For one, she was a little embarrassed because she knew how foolish she looked pining after a royal who could never return the sentiments. Secondly, if she told them she would never hear the end of it.

“Uh, his name is...Amare.”

Binta’s eyes went soft.

“Amare, I’ve always loved that name. What’s he look like?”

“Like Bast carved him out of vibranium.”

Kwame and Binta look at each other again.

“Like I said...wide open. So when are you opening those legs too?”

Ashanti tried to look busy.

“I’m uh, not sure if he’ll be back. His accent sounded American.”

She knew that would get them off her case. Ever since T’Challa announced Wakanda’s riches to the world they had opened up their doors to the Lost Tribe. For the last two years, Black people from all over the globe had travelled to Wakanda, so it would be an easy cop out for Ashanti.

“Well damn girl, you finally get a man and this is how it goes...maybe one day the king will allow outsiders to move here permanently and you can get your Prince Charming.”

“Heh, maybe. So what’s for dinner?”

——————-

Another week passed and the day had come for Ashanti and T’Challa to see each other again.

Both of them were nervous beyond belief, but only one of them had someone to confide in.

“I’m telling you, T, just be cool. Plus, you’re the king, she’d have to be an idiot to say no.”

T’Challa had planned to ask Ashanti out on a date. He couldn’t get her out of his head the whole two weeks they were apart, and he took it as a sign from Bast that she was something special.

He was nervous to see her again and he hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Right in the center of the Birnin Zana Bazaar, Ashanti fiddled with the custom necklaces she made at the king’s request. She hoped they were good enough for royalty and her nerves started to get the best of her. Her hands shook and her breathing sped up. She took a deep breath then walked out her shop and across the street to her parents’ restaurant. Her mom was the first to greet her.

“Hi honey, what brings you over to our side of the street?”

“Bisa you know the girl wants something!” Chidi yelled from the supply closet.

“Hush!”

“Hello to you too baba!” Ashanti laughed at her father’s antics.

“I’m just nervous. The king is coming back today...what if he hates them? What if Queen Mother or Princess Shuri hate them?!”

Ashanti started to get worked up again and Bisa rubbed her back in slow circles. Chidi brought her a cup of tea and the three of them sat outside the cafe in silence while she calmed down.

“Sweetie, it’ll be ok. He wouldn’t have commissioned the pieces if he thought they wouldn’t like them. And he’s seen your work, how could he not like it?! If so he’s a fool.”

“Baba! This is the king we’re talking about.”

“I don’t care! Anyone who can’t see my baby’s talent isn’t worth my respect.” He kissed her on her forehead and when he opened his eyes he noticed the women in red coming around the corner.

“Someone’s early…”

Ashanti looked confused for a moment before her mother gestured for her to turn around.

There stood the king and his Dora Milaje.

Bisa and Chidi quickly stood and saluted the king, Ashanti giggled and they looked at her in disbelief.

“That is unnecessary, please.”

“We are sorry, my king. Welcome to our restaurant, we are Ashanti’s parents. I am Chidi Mostafa and this is my wife Bisa.”

“We are so honored to have you.”

T’Challa reached out and shook their hands, shocking the older Mostafas.

Ashanti wondered if she looked this starstruck last time...she concluded she probably did.

However, this time when she stared at him she made sure to take in all his features. The faint crinkle around his eyes and his frown lines reminded her of their slight age difference and the stress of his job. His big bright eyes made him look like a puppy and his gap-toothed smile leaned perfectly to the left.

“Unfortunately I cannot stay long, I have other business to attend to that I cannot  get out of. I do hope to see the two of you again, but I believe Miss Ashanti here has something for me.”

“I sure do. Mama, Baba, I’ll swing by later.”

She kissed their cheeks and walked shoulder to shoulder with the king to her shop across the street.

“I have had your parents’ food before, in my opinion it is the best in all of the Bazaar. You are very talented people, Miss Ashanti.”

She was getting really tired of blushing, but it happened again.

“Thanks T’Challa. So, um, let’s get to it so you can get to your important kingly duties.”

They shared a smile.

She pulled out two large velvet boxes and opened them. Sitting among the silk were two necklaces that were more beautiful than T’Challa had imagined.

Shuri’s necklace featured a rough sapphire gem wrapped in wire hanging from a structured v-shaped vibranium collar. The stones set in the vibranium gave the necklace an ombre look as the stones grew lighter and lighter all the way down to the sapphire. The necklace would land about mid-chest on the princess, and T’Challa just knew she’d love it.

Queen Mother’s necklace was even more intricate and more like the necklace he had seen his first time in the shop. The gold filigree collar necklace was dripping with small gems hanging from every loop, with one large ruby set in the middle.

“Miss Ashanti…” T’Challa barely breathed out.

“Oh no, You hate them.”

“No, no! Quite the opposite actually. They’re beautiful, I-I’m speechless.”

Ashanti breathed a sigh of relief.

“As I mentioned before, you Mostafa’s are very talented…and beautiful.”

Ashanti gasped. There was no way…

“My king?”

“What? It is true. You are a very beautiful woman Ashanti, among many other things.”

That damn song started playing in her head and her smile pushed her dimples deeper the larger it grew.

“Thank you, T’Challa. You’re...alright looking.”

They both had to have a laugh at that one.

“Just alright?” He leaned in closer to her across the counter.

“Hm, maybe”

“Will you let me change your mind?”

“How would you do that?” She asked, leaning closer and getting a whiff of the cocoa butter on his skin.

“If you’d accompany me for a night out tomorrow evening I could show you.”

Ashanti froze and backed up. For a minute there she almost forgot who he was, but she had to remind herself that he wasn’t just a cute customer. He was the king, and he had to have been out of his Bast-given mind.

Unless this was something he did often.

“My k-, T’Challa...If you are looking for someone to play with and discard, I suggest looking elsewhere. I’m sure there are plenty of your subjects lined up in waiting for the bachelor king to swoop them up.”

Ashanti immediately regretted her words, but they just seemed to tickle T’Challa.

“Miss Ashanti, I am not that kind of man. I believe you have me confused with Prince N’Jadaka.”

Ashanti snorted. She had heard many stories about the prince and sort of assumed all royals behaved in such a manner.

“Besides I am much too busy to play the field since becoming king. Had you known me 5-10 years ago it would’ve been a different story.” T’Challa winked and noticed her look away to hide her smile. She remained silent.

“Please, it would bring me great joy to see you again. If not I will leave you alone. Just think about it.”

He tapped his black and purple kimoyo beads to her rose gold ones.

“There, now you have my contact information. It’s my direct line, please feel free to use it.”

With that he turned and left the shop. Ashanti had to pinch herself to make sure she was awake. After a minute it started to sink in that the king of Wakanda had asked her on a date.

“That really just happened.”

She stood there in a daze and was only pulled out of it when a customer walked into the shop.

“Welcome to Taj’s!”

—————

Chapter 2

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tokyo Love Story (Part 3) Ghosts

.... .... The clouds are gathering...

@rurifangirl

Like the summer days and winter nights in the arctic, it was getting hard for you to keep track of time. So when Caesar taps on the closet door to wake you up, you almost ask what day it is wondering if you sleep for 3 days straight, like before.

You still feel a little achy in your bones but otherwise your pain is gone. There is only the lingering fatigue and gnawing hunger. Caesar was prepared with a hearty breakfast of oatmeal fruit and eggs.

“Eat up and get dressed. We have a lot to talk about.” He was not dressed in his flamboyant work clothes so it must not be evening just yet. He had on a simple grey sweatshirt and jeans. Still, you pause and look because it was so rare to see the Gattuso heir dressed so casually. He tosses you some clothes and you catch them.

They were nothing like the sexy cheongsams that you were used to wearing, just a simple woven sweater and puffy slacks. Comfortable, like his clothing was. In fact, the sleeves were a bit too long. You open the door of the closet and yawn, rubbing your sleeve against your eye. The men had bathed already. Caesar was sitting in a chair slightly too short for him. Chu Zihang was leaning on the wall next to him, in a button down shirt and dark pants, arms crossed, his long sword slung behind his back. He looked at you pointedly, but didn’t say anything.

“Where’s Mingfei?” You ask, looking left and right for him.

“Lu Mingfei is on a special assignment. Turns out he escaped from Genji Heavy Industries by being mistaken for evacuees. And he just happened to have the young Uesugi Clan chief with him.” Caesar sat back in the chair making it creak. Despite the sweatshirt, there was no hiding the musculature there.

“Oh… Is that bad?”

“It’s good and bad.” Caesar said. “There’s a lot I can say about her. To start, it looks like she’s been extremely isolated her entire life. According to Lu Mingfei, her living quarters in Genji was a replica of an old Japanese house. It doesn’t seem like she was ever let outside of it. While we were watching her, she was just sitting and listening to birds. So it's reasonable to believe that the area was nearly soundproof.”

You’re still hungry so you make your way over to a minifridge they had delivered and grab a small tub of yogurt.  “That’s awful.”

Caesar shrugged. “It’s all she knows. The theory is her mind is so unstable she couldn’t handle a drastic change in environment without losing control. But… in this case. Mingfei said that she insisted he stay in the room with her for comfort. Because she seems to have an odd trust in him, his presence puts her mind at ease. Taking him away would be dangerous, so we thought it best he stay with her for now.”

“Mmm… I guess that’s okay if she’s okay with it. After all, it’s how I’ve been living all this time.” You say.

Caesar eyes you silently for a moment.

You continue. “I just … wonder if Lu Mingfei will be okay with it. He’s kind of a perv.” 

“You picked up on that too huh?” Caesar grinned bitterly.

“Right. He was always anxious about my so-called purity, he must have been having impure thoughts.” You take a bite of yogurt thinking to yourself. Mingfei is the brother of Z after all.

“He might have those thoughts but he’s terrified of her.” Chu Zihang muttered. “And with good reason. You never said anything about it so I assume you didn’t know how we all escaped the Trieste disaster. You said you were rescued by dolphins, but if it weren't for Uesugi you wouldn’t have survived long enough for rescue.”

You pause, spoon hanging from your mouth. “I thought you blew up the monsters with Royal Fire?”

“I tried, but Royal Fire is limited in water.” He fixed you with his cold gaze. “It was really Erii Uesugi who destroyed the remaining enemies by producing a massive iceberg out of thin air and ramming it into the beasts. They were all eliminated  in one blow. I thought I’d never see anyone with a Yanling that powerful… but…” Chu Zihang trailed off.

“So she saved us?” You ask.

“We don’t think it was intentional to save us. We just happened to be saved.” Caesar replied.

“That Yanling  is called 'Judgment' and is so powerful that it makes her look like a god standing in the clouds judging humans, hence the name. But the actual effect is to eliminate all life in its field. It’s a rare 'command' type of spirit of speech." Chu Zihang continued. He then glanced at Caesar.

You start to get a strangely uneasy feeling. Like there was something they wanted to say but were nervous about saying it. Your eyes shift from Chu Zihang to Caesar. “So… what’s the plan? Are we holding her hostage or...”

Caesar chuckled in disbelief at the notion. “We can’t hold someone like that hostage. Chisei Gen we can capture, but her? Her power surpasses his.” He sighs.

Chu Zihang lets out a breath. “Chisei is supposed to be the strongest a White King Hybrid can get. He surpasses the blood-threshold and still remains sane. The only explanation for her being stronger than him is that the Uesugi family head is an anomaly. She is the strongest Ghost. She surpasses Chisei but her bloodline is not stable." Chu Zihang said slowly.

“So she’s like me.” You raise your eyes to him.

Chu Zihang’s eyes shift from yours “You were not as unstable as she is. That said, your use of Blood Rage has not helped matters. Without specialized equipment, I can’t tell how unstable you are.”

Your heart beats a little faster and your eyes widen. “Are you scared of me?”

“MC… relax!” Caesar says sharply. “Both Chu Zihang and I have already talked it through. It was fine keeping you here, so it should be fine to keep Erii in the short term. Especially keeping Erii out of the hands of Hydra while we wait to get in contact with the Academy.”

“Then… … if she does endanger Mingfei, I will fight her?” You ask quietly.

“You’re the only one who could stand a chance.” Chu Zihang said.

“But let’s not jump to such dark conclusions yet.” Caesar gives Chu Zihang a steady warning look and you wonder if Chu Zihang told Caesar that he was authorized to kill you if needed. Caesar said they had talked it over, but you’re getting the feeling that the talk was more of an argument. Chu Zihang was going along with it, but they were not of the same mind.

“It’s hard not to think that though.” You say. I’ve been questioning for a long time why I was awakened and sent here  with you after being asleep for 20 years. I’ve always been raised as a weapon, but… I’ve never been needed in my full capacity.” You turn your dark eyes up to him. “What better reason to wake me up, than to serve as someone who could potentially defeat Erii Uesugi?”

“No…” Caesar’s voice was firm. “That won’t happen.”

You grip the yogurt cup tightly in your hands. “I think you should plan for it. If she’s really as strong and unstable as you say, to go against her I will need to do more than create an 8.0 earthquake. It will be like Godzilla vs. Godzilla. No matter who wins, all of Tokyo gets destroyed!”

 "How can you compare yourself to Godzilla?” Caesar turned to you, putting on a winning smile. “I’ve never seen you that way, MC. When I look at you, all I see is a beautiful girl! Same with the Uesugi Clan Chief. I wouldn’t pit two beautiful girls against each other.” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it calmly.  

Chu Zihang looked stone-faced.

You let go of your tight grip on the yogurt cup but it was completely crushed. You toss it away. Of course he wouldn’t pit you against each other. But the world was cruel and evil and might not give him a choice.

“By the way, there was something you wanted to tell me in the trunk of the car… what was it?” Caesar asked, exhaling smoke.

“Oh… right.” You take a breath. “When I was using my abilities to cause the quake, I was under Genji Heavy Industries, at the lowest point. And when I put my mind into the ground, something big was there. It was distant… but the fact I would sense it over that distance meant… it’s very big.”

Caesar’s lips closed over the cigarette. “Dragon?”

“From what I heard?” You say seriously. “More than one.”

------

The Kabuki theater you are invited to is over 100 years old and is considered the throne of Kabuki theaters. It has been burned down and rebuilt several times, and today, the building has a distinct Momoyama-era style, with a purple cloth hanging in front of the door.

 Numerous national treasures of Kabuki actors have appeared here, and it is considered a great honor for newcomers to debut in this theater. This night a newcomer was on stage and, although the attendance was not expected to be high for newcomers, the tickets for tonight’s show were sold out early and a banner saying "Thank you" was hung in front of the ticket window. Those who came to buy tickets were young women, dressed in fashionable and hot clothes, not at all like the traditional older audience of Kabuki. This bright young throng crowded in front of the ticket window. The theater manager, who hadn't seen such an unprecedented turnout in more than a decade, was thrilled to the point that he thanked God that this ancient art had not been cut short and had managed to attract such a large young audience. The staff who knew what was going on said with a bitter smile that the manager misunderstood. They did not come for the traditional art, they just wanted to see the man who was amazing.

The newcomer on stage was named Ruri Kazama, and the play was "A New Telling of an Ancient Tale.”

The ticket you received was for a special royal box seat, separate from the seats of Chu Zihang and Caesar. Lu Mingfei couldn’t attend, obviously, so they graciously allowed Whale to come take his spot. 

For you, this great and illustrious occasion was part of the MC Romance contest and you had star-heart tickets to give away to a suitor who pleased you best. But because tickets were sold out for the show, the only thing they could do was send you gifts and give you a complete makeover. When you entered the Takamagahara spa and beauty salon, the entire boutique staff of the Takamagahara was waiting for you, lined up in two neat rows on the left and right sides of the door. They all bowed simultaneously with a loud “Irasshaimase!” 

The day outside was warm and bright and sunny. Perfect for a day out on the town, but the worst weather imaginable if you wanted to avoid the searching eyes of Kaguya. You would get a complete makeover that would hide your identity.

It started with full body skin treatments, shaving and hair removal, even massage. After that, you were whisked away in a fluffy robe for a manicure and pedicure where your nails were buffed and shined. Then your hair and scalp were treated to make it soft and aromatic. At this time, when you were sitting in the chair, your hair being pulled through a hot press, a Japanese woman in a pinstripe suit with long legs and sharp eyes walked into the room. You’d never seen her before but she seemed familiar with you.

She looked you up and down with a critical glare as all the workers stopped and let her inspect. “Well, things are coming along pretty well for our diamond in the rough. But my boss needs you to look like a queen and so long as you have that wide-eyed stare, you won’t fit the part.”

“Your boss?”

The long legged woman handed you an oblong carved sandalwood box that was tied with a red ribbon.

You pull the ribbon and remove the top. In the box was the deadpool's claw, buffed to a mirror like sheen. The raw knuckle bone was now inserted into a wooden hilt painted in vermillion and engraved with gold. It looked like a weapon one might find in a hidden tomb surrounded by other precious artifacts. A legendary weapon. The note said, “From Z.”

When you look at this woman again, she puts her finger to her lips. “There’s something I need you to understand. As the queen, the world only exists by your express permission. So from now on, I need you to simply ignore everyone around you. If you act like an ignorant girl, people will question you. Only pay attention or acknowledge anyone if it’s absolutely necessary.”

Knowing that this woman was acquainted with Z raised goosebumps on your skin. So rather than say yes ma’am, you turn away and stare into the mirror.

Your immediate obedience seemed to please the woman who said, “Good girl.” Before leaving.

You sit still while they paint your face with pale powder. Then they pile your hair up on your head. One of the women shows you an intricate golden comb the shape of a flying phoenix. A card came with it. “From Diamond,” it said. You nod mutely and they use it to secure your hair in front. The comb was from Diamond. Another shows you a bottle of floral scented perfume “from Armani”. You nod again.

At the end of the night, two men carried a large mirror to you and you caught a glimpse of yourself. The person reflected doesn’t look like you. You don’t see an orphan from Siberia but a delicate young woman. She smiled from the mirror. Her eyes were bright and sparkling in shy surprise and delight. Her eyebrows were dark and slender. Her ebony hair bloomed with flowers, gold and jade.  Her clothes are fine linen and silk brocade, a Chinese Hanfu reminiscent of the Tang Dynasty that reached the floor and pooled underneath her in red and white. Her shoulders are draped with translucent gold colored silk shawls. 

She didn’t look like you. But she was you.

Even though Caesar said you were beautiful over and over, this was the first time you ever felt that way about yourself. You find yourself swaying in the mirror, observing the way the silk shawls sparkled on your arm, a little giggle makes its way out. You feel a strange sense of thrilling excitement. Joy even.

You’d always thought of Renata as much prettier than you. Renata’s pale hair and her blue eyes were like the sun and the sea. But your dark eyes and your dark hair reminded you only of ravens. You cared for yourself like a potted plant, so you never thought of yourself as something to be admired, something dainty. You were a weapon. That was all you were good for. But now you admire the tendons of your neck, the curve of your collar bones, the taper of your wrists.

The sun sank in crimson and gold over the city of Tokyo. The light of the sky went out and the city lit up like a sea of stars. A sleek black limousine rolled up in front of the Takamagahara as it opened for the night, but you would not be there for the performers. Instead, the performers were lined up to see you out. The suitors in white suits while the rest of them wore their finest blacks.

They tilted in a stiff bow when you appeared. Per the instructions you received through the Japanese woman, you keep your eyes forward. In doing so, you feel a smile come to your face as you walk between them. Your heart swells and you straighten your back and lift your chin. 

You step out into the humid night. Heads turn, but you’re accompanied by your suitors who walked you to your limousine on the left and right of you. Even if someone were going to try to get a picture of you, the view is blocked. 

They only get a glimpse of royalty.

In the box right next to the stage, you sit in a velvet chair. There was one seat next to you but it was empty. You can look down directly onto the stage and the lower audience.

The curtain was low and the stage was dark, and the guests whispered quietly. They are all regulars at nightclubs, usually laughing and exchanging drinks, but tonight no one is making any noise. The audience is dressed in fine kimonos or foot-length evening dresses, ladylike and reserved. Although he is a male escort, Ruri Kazama's performance has been praised by several kabuki masters, who didn’t mind saying in the newspapers that they have gone out of their way to visit rowdy nightclubs to listen to this kabuki lover's performance. This is not a game, but a proper Kabuki performance, a masterpiece.

 Caesar and Chu Zihang were sitting in a box on the second floor, so you couldn’t see them but they could see you clearly from across the theater.

 "Ah… I guess this is my seat.” A familiar voice says. Chance walked down to the seat next to you. At your wide eyed surprise he said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

You were expecting Z to show up. But of course you couldn’t say that. “I thought none of you could get tickets.”

“I have an inside contact.” He winked and you notice that he has a pin on the lapel of his tux.  It was the Chinese character "ghost". Your jaw drops and you stare up at him in concern. On the envelope containing your invitation, there was a small seal in the corner, consisting of a painted dragon and that same character. Caesar told you that meant that this performance was hosted by Ruri Kazama and that Ruri was a Ghost and belonged to the Devil Clan, the enemies of Hydra. Chance raises one finger to his lips. “I see you understand.”

“You’re the inside contact. You’re the one who told Ruri about me. About… all of us?”

He nodded once, winking.

You lean forward, smiling nervously. “Then you’re… like me? You’re with the Devil Clan?”

Chance smiled warmly at your bright enthusiasm, but sat back in his chair. He was still wearing his bright gold chains and hands were freshly painted with a new pattern in Henna. “Have you ever seen a performance like this before?”

You shake your head. He was clearly changing the subject to avoid talking about his unstable bloodline. The knowledge that he was a Ghost like you cast Chance in a new light. You had so many questions. You had more in common with him than you did with Chisei Gen.

 "Just look at the translation screen above the stage. The lyrics will appear there for you to read so you understand the show.”

Z said that this Kabuki performance would answer many of the questions you’d had since waking up at Cassell and your pulse quickened. Finally, you would start to get a grasp on your new reality.

 The lights suddenly went dark, and someone struck a snare drum. The drums sounded hoarse and low, like a ghost whispering in a distant ancient time. The curtain was pulled back and the plain white woman stood quietly in the center of the stage, draped with long, dark hair.

But it wasn’t a woman. It was Ruri Kazama.

"All happiness in this world is a fleeting blossom in the shadow of the moon. 

Only loneliness and pain are always with us in the depths of Hell.”  

He sang and slowly raised his head, his face as pale as paper, only the corners of his eyes were a harsh blood red.

His costume looks like a stark ghost in the depths of the underworld, but his body is graceful and feminine, just like a stunningly beautiful woman wrapped in a veil, making people's hearts flutter.

But the words he sang. In the first lyric, Ruri Kazama presented a stinging rebuttal to your response to him the day before, when you proudly told him you were not perishing. Chance turned to look at you. His hand moved over your hand and he gave it a gentle squeeze but that was scarce comfort. You were suddenly struck with a sense of doom, as though the voice of Ruri Kazama were a death knell.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 4/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx

Chapter 4: Devil is a Woman

Killian stepped into the archway of the castle; Belle’s arm wrapped through his elbow. “You look quite delectable in that uncomfortable contraption.” He whispered into the woman’s ear.

“I can barely breathe. You know women only wear these things because a man thinks it’s attractive, right?”

“Aye, we are reprehensible as a species, love.”

Killian surveyed the room, spotting the King and Queen at the front of the room, flanked by two large men. The King’s eyes were darting around the room, nervous energy while searching for his unwanted guest.

“Let’s mingle. Work the room, we’re looking for a man with a feather in his lapel.” He said against her ear. Belle nodded and left his side as Killian glanced around the room, taking in the faces of the guests dancing on the floor in front of him.

He smiled at a woman with dark hair in a blue dress, reaching out and taking her hand as the music started. He bowed deeply before standing and spinning the woman, releasing her as he accepted the hand of a red head who was passed his way. He carried on the dance, watching the men around him, searching for a feather.

The music died down, a melodic tone began playing, as he felt a woman brush up next to him. “I don’t believe I’ve danced with you tonight.” Killian felt his mouth go dry when his eyes met a sea of emerald-green, surrounded by a glowing mane of blonde hair held up by a crown of flowers.

“Perhaps fate was saving the best for last, love.” He said with a grin.

“Henry?” Henry flinched, dropping his pencil, and slamming his book shut.

“Hey.”

“You busy?” His mother asked.

“No, did you need something?”

“Can you help Will take the food up to the roof?”

“Sure.”

“What are you working on there?”

Henry dropped the book into his side table and shut the drawer. “Just my to do list.” He shrugged.

“You’re eleven, what could an eleven-year-old possibly have on a to do list.” She laughed.

“Loads of things, mom.” He stood up from his bed and headed to Will’s apartment. Opening the door, he yelled into the empty room. “Hey Will, I’m here to help.”

“Hey, can you go down to the basement and grab the ice?”

“Yup, I got it.”

He took the elevator down to the bottom floor, stepping into the dark basement. He heard singing coming from the laundry room. He followed the soulful sounds until he saw Killian Jones, hunched over the washer, pulling clothes from inside and tossing them into the dryer.

She's got eyes of fire that burn like a shot of whiskey

And she's been known to bring a man to his knees

She'll take all you have, and you never see it comin'

And that's how I know the devil is a woman

“I didn’t know you could sing.” He interrupted, startling the man.

“You can’t just sneak up on people, lad. It’s bad form.”

“Sorry, I just came down to get ice.” He paused, stepping across the room to the large freezer. “You sing pretty good.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “I suppose all sailors fancy themselves as a singer eventually. Sometimes when it’s just you and the sea and nothing else to do.”

“Were you singing about someone?”

“Does your mother know you are down here?” He deflected.

“Yup, she told me to help out, so that’s what I’m doing.” He reached in and grabbed a bag of ice, tossing it over his shoulder. “So why the sad tune?”

“Just feeling a bit melancholy today, I suppose. Guess I got a bit caught up in the past.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Melancholy? It means that I’m feeling a bit sad today.”

“The barbeque should cheer you up. It’s always fun.” He added jovially. “I bet you’ll enjoy it.”

“Perhaps. Is there anything I can bring?”

“They never turn down that whiskey you were singing about.”

The man laughed loudly, “And what about yourself?”

“No one ever brings enough orange soda.”

“Then I shall ensure you have all the orange soda your heart desires.”

“Gee, thanks!” He grinned. “I’ll see you tonight, Killian.”

“See ya there kid.”

~*~

Killian folded his clean clothes and placed them in his basket. He hadn’t realized how much his attitude had shifted after waking this morning. Belle and he had barely spoke since her last visit. She had texted this morning telling him she would be at his place by 5 for the barbeque but that had been all.

The awkwardness between them led to dreams of Milah, which led to his sour mood.

He didn’t want to admit it, but the short visit with the Swan boy had cheered his mood. Normally he found most children to be quite annoying, but Henry had taken a genuine interest in him. He somehow felt welcomed by the boy, almost wanted, which was ridiculous of course, yet comforting.

Killian took the stairs back up to the fourth floor, but before he could step into the hall, he heard voices on the other side of the door.

“I’ve got to go out of town for a few weeks on a business trip.”

“Where are you going?” He heard Henry’s voice.

“Just adult stuff, kid, you wouldn’t understand.” Killian rolled his eyes as the man spoke. He hated when adults spoke to kids like they were stupid.

“So, are you going to be back in time for our literary fair at the end of the month? You said you’d take me.”

“Sorry, kid, I don’t think I’ll be back yet. I’ll call your mom as soon as I’m in town. You understand right?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” The disappointment in his voice apparent.

“Great, well I gotta run, thanks for understanding. You’re the best.” The man carried on, ignoring the sad tone in his son’s voice.

Killian heard the elevator doors close, and he pushed the door open, stepping into the hall. The young boy was leaning against the wall next to his apartment door. He looked up quickly, brushing his sleeve against his cheek. Shit, what was he supposed to do with a crying kid?

“Hey, lad. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the moment with your dad but I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation.”

“It’s ok. He’s going out of town for a bit.” A forlorn look on his face.

“I’m sure it’s something very important for him to miss time with you.”

“Yeah, she’s got dark hair, big boobs, loves to travel. I think this one’s name is Tamara.”

Killian set his laundry basket on the ground and leaned against the wall next to the boy. “Ah, well women sometimes vex a man’s mind and make them do stupid things. And I should know, I speak from experience.”

“Pretty much sounds like my dad every time he gets a new girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry lad, I don’t have a lot of experience with fathers.”

“You don’t have a father?”

“Not one that was around often. My father left when I was a young lad. My brother, Liam raised me.”

“What about your mom?” He inquired.

“My mom died of cancer when I was two.”

“Oh.” He replied sadly. “I don’t know what I’d do without my mom. She’s the best mom in the world.”

“You’re a lucky lad.” He said with a smile.

“I’m a bad kid.” He said softly.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“I’d be honored.” He said with a nod.

“When I go to my dad’s house, I spend the whole time wishing I was back home with my mom.” He frowned and stared at the floor. “So why am I so sad that I don’t have to see him for a month?”

“Ah, just because you miss your mom, doesn’t mean you don’t care for your dad. Perhaps next time you visit him, you should tell him how you feel.”

“I don’t know if he would even listen. He always just tells me to run along and play with my toys.”

Killian felt for the boy, hated seeing him feeling so down. “I find the truth is always better than locking things away that eat at you. Trust me.”

The door to his apartment opened and the woman with the blonde locks stepped into the hall. “There you are…” She stopped when she locked eyes with his. “Oh, you again, how come I always find you with my son?”

Killian pushed off the wall and focused his attention on the boy. “Chin up, lad. Things always work out for the best in the end.” He ran a hand through the boy’s brown locks and walked toward the woman. A smile forming on his face as he approached her, his tongue darting out slightly to wet his lips. “Afraid the chat is confidential, lass. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to get some orange soda.” He turned back toward Henry and winked. “I’ve heard there is never enough provided at this barbeque.”

The woman’s mouth was agape as she blinked at him, then turned toward her son. Killian simply entered his apartment and shut the door behind him.

~*~

“What was that about?” Emma questioned her son as Killian entered his apartment.

“You heard him, confidential. Man to man.” He said with a nod of his head, wiping his face and walking back to their apartment.

Emma knew Neal had spoken to Henry, had told him that he was going out of town for a while and wouldn’t be seeing him. She knew he was going to Barbados with Tamara for a month, probably on some pyramid scheme he was so good at hatching when he was trying to make an unearned buck.

She knew Henry would be disappointed that his dad was going to miss his literary fair at school, Henry loved everything to do with books and writing. It wasn’t a surprise to her that Neal would disappoint him again, but it still hurt her heart every time he did it.

What surprised her was that Henry appeared to be talking to the new neighbor about the situation. Henry was a friendly boy, he rarely knew a stranger, but he never shared personal information with one. Usually, he talked to her or Will, but for some reason, he seemed attached to this new man, this Killian Jones.

Emma watched from her balcony as he left the apartment thirty minutes later, he was the definition of sex on legs. Black leather jacket, tight pants, and of course he strutted up to the black Ducati parked outside the apartment, straddling the bike in a way that felt almost obscene to her. She felt the warmth in her cheeks as he started the bike, the hum of the engine vibrating his body. She blushed when she realized she was thinking about what it must be like to have his legs wrapped around hers, feeling the power of his own engine thrusting inside of her.

She stepped back into the apartment when he looked up in her direction, her hand over her mouth. “Good God, Emma.” She said almost breathlessly. “Stop acting like a horny teenager.”

“Who’s a horny teenager?”

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin, seeing her best friend sitting at the kitchen table. “Do you not knock, William!”

“Why the bloody hell would I knock? I came to see if you had that large spatula we used last time to flip the burgers. I broke mine playing Star Wars with Henry last week.”

“Of course you did.” She groaned, reaching into the drawer to pull out her spatula.

“Now, who were you ogling just now?”

“I wasn’t ogling anyone. Go make some burgers, dammit. I’ll be up in a minute with Henry.”

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around the castle before.” The maiden said with narrowed eyes toward the Captain as they flitted around the room.

“Aye, but that would be because I’m not from around here, love.”

“We don’t get many visitors in Bostonia.”

“I have business with the King.” He said with a smile and the woman paused their dance.

“What business do you have with the King?” She questioned.

“Ah but that is confidential information, I cannot divulge such information without betraying the trust of the King.”

She snorted. “Is that so?” She asked, her curiosity peaked.

There was movement on the stairs behind her, and Captain Jones caught the vision of a man in black, the only piece of color was a white feather sticking out of his lapel.

The Swan Thief.

“I do apologize, but duty calls.” He said with a bow.

The woman looked him up and down and then dropped into a courtesy. “I would not stop a man from doing the King’s work.” She turned to walk away, and his hand grazed her arm.

“May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of the most beautiful maiden in all of Bostonia?”

She giggled, her cheeks blushing a shade of red. “I’m afraid that is confidential information, Captain.” Turning, she walked away as Killian stared at the back of her retreating head.

He unfortunately did not have the time to play her game, bounding up the stairs after his mark. When he reached the second floor, he saw movement to his right, the man disappearing down the next hall. When he reached the dead end, he had two choices. A single door on each side of the hallway. Right or left, he thought to himself.

Choosing the right, he bounded through the closed door, his cutlass drawn at the ready. Inside the room sat a young man, hunched over a desk, furiously writing away at the scroll in front of him. He turned quickly when he heard the noise behind him.

“Who are you?”

“Did a man enter here?”

“Only you. Should I be looking for someone that would cause you to draw your weapon in my house?”

“Your house?”

“I am Sir Henry of Bostonia, this is my room.”

Killian cursed, lowering his weapon. “I apologize Sir Henry; I was looking for someone who came this way. I will leave you to your writing.”

“Can I be of assistance? My mother has taught me to fence, perhaps I can help you find this man you seek.”

“I am here in service of the King, I do not think putting his young nephew in harm’s way would please him.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m sixteen, I’m not a boy.”

“Of course not, but I shall take my leave, I’m sorry to trouble you.”

He retreated to his starting place before he breached the door, finding only an empty room across the hall. He doubled back the way he came, hoping he had not lost his mark. He did not notice the young man in the shadows, satchel slung over his shoulder, eager look in his eye as he followed his every move in his search of the castle.

Emma stood in the doorway watching her son writing in his notebook. She knew he wrote tales of faraway lands, she always loved that he had something that interested him so much. She could hardly believe how big he was getting. He would be twelve this year, and Emma wondered where the time had gone.

“Hey, you ready for some barbeque?”

The boy looked up and smiled, though she could still see the sadness in his eyes.

“You sure you’re ok about your dad?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Things always work out for the best in the end.”

“Do they now?” She mused.

“Yup, you’ll see.” He said with a smirk that made Emma wonder what the boy was up to.

~*~

Killian parked his bike next to the apartments, sliding off the seat and pulling the soda from the back. Bellle pulled up next to him and he smiled at the woman as she parked the car. Things had been awkward between them, and he hoped that time apart had soothed things over.

“Hello, lass.” He opened her car door, assisting her from the vehicle.

“Hi.” She smiled, tilting up to press her lips softly to his. When she pulled back she frowned. “I just wanted to apologize for how I’ve left things the last few days.”

“Not necessary. You have no need to apologize.”

“I just…” She sighed. “You were right, I knew what I was getting into, and I shouldn’t have gotten upset.”

“I just want to enjoy the evening with my best girl tonight.” He said with a genuine smile.

“What have you got there?” She asked, eyeing the soda in his hand.

“The lad had a request for orange soda.”

“Did he now?” She said with a narrowed glance and Killian ignored the remark, instead leading her up the walk toward the building.

The party was in full swing by the time they made their way to the roof, lights strung from the rafters, the water off in the distance shining by the moon’s light. It truly was a magical scene for an evening barbeque.

He introduced Belle to his neighbor Ruby, before walking over to the cooler to deposit the orange soda.

“Orange soda, huh? My nephew will be happy to hear he has someone else in the building who prefers the stuff.” Killian looked up to see a man standing near him. “I’m David, Emma’s brother.”

“Henry’s uncle, yes the lad mentioned that there is rarely enough orange soda at this event, I figured it would be nice to ensure he had enough to drink. He seemed to imply that the event had usually been mired in adult beverages.” He added with a wink.

“It’s difficult for him sometimes being the only kid in the complex.”

Killian’s brow furrowed, “He made mention of a friend, Will, I believe.”

The man laughed loudly. “Will only acts like a child, but I assure you he is supposed to be a grown up.” He gestured toward the man talking to Henry in the corner. The two were balancing trays of vegetables on their head. He remembered seeing the man at Emma’s the night he borrowed the bowl.

“Who’s your friend, darling?” David was met by a beautiful woman with dark hair and rosy cheeks.

“This is my wife, Margaret. I’m sorry, I never got your name.”

Killian held out his hand to the woman. “Killian Jones. I just moved in a couple of weeks ago.”

“Very nice to have a new neighbor in the place. You’ll be friends with everyone in no time.”

“Do you both live here as well?”

“No, we live across town, but I feel like we live here, Emma always invites us. I’m not sure if you met, Graham?” The man who Killian knew to be Emma’s boyfriend approached the group. “Graham and I go all the way back to high school together. Hopefully one day soon, we will call him family.”

“I don’t think we met officially.” The man said, offering his hand and Killian shook it.

Looking to escape from the conversation, he made small talk. “This is quite the affair.” He said looking around, spotting Belle standing in the corner, flanked by Will and Henry. “If you’ll excuse me, I should rescue my date. It was a pleasure meeting you all.” He nodded and made his way to the other side of the building.

“And you have access to this restricted section? Is it like porn?” Will was asking her as he approached them. Belle’s eyes flashed brightly as she laughed, reaching out to touch the man’s shoulder.

“No, it’s not like…” She whispered. “Porn. It’s for the more expensive books, the ones that are rare, or first editions.”

“There you are.” He announced, offering a beer to Belle.

“Have you met Will?”

“You’re much older than I imagined when Henry mentioned you.” He said, winking at Henry.

“Oi, I get that all the time. Bloody ridiculous if you ask me. There is no rule book for how old you have to be to play with Legos.”

“We’re building the Millennium Falcon.” Henry announced with pride.

“Round or Square?” Killian inquired.

“Round of course.” Will said with a huff. “Lando near destroyed the whole thing during the death star debacle. I prefer the original dish the way Han Solo drove her.”

“Good man, a purist.” Killian said, slapping the man on the shoulder as Henry beamed at them both.

“You like Star Wars?” The boy asked with large eyes.

“Of course, I like Star Wars, my brother took me when I was a wee lad.”

“We even dressed like Han and Leia when the last one came out.” Belle said with a proud smile, and it wasn’t lost on Killian the way that Will’s attention focused in on his date, his smile directed only at her.

“Henry, go help your mother.” Will directed his attention toward the blonde, carrying in plates and silverware.

The boy did as he was asked, running over to the table to help set up before he watched the blonde leave through the rooftop door, heading back into the apartment.

He stood back, watching the small group of people milling about, huddled in corners laughing at jokes being told or tales that were shared. He had not had friends in years, after leaving the Navy he moved to Maine to work in the shipyard. He had met Milah shortly after, as much as he had tried to avoid the woman, his choices and their torrid affair eventually blew up in his face causing him to lose everything he had built in Maine.

Perhaps finally all of that was behind him. Maybe now he could afford to put himself out there and make new friends.

He felt a tug on his shirt and turned to see Henry standing behind him. “Hey, can you help me really quick?”

“Sure thing lad, what do you need?”

“More Ice from the basement, everyone else was busy and I can’t carry it all.”

“No problem, lead the way.”

He followed the boy to the door when he turned back suddenly. “Um, I forgot something, I’ll meet you down there.” Killian laughed as the boy ran back through the crowd and Killian made his way down the stairs to the basement.

He opened the door to the sound of cursing, a slamming noise reverberating through the cold concrete room. As he entered the area where the ice was housed he stopped short. Emma was bent over, her ass shifting back and forth while she gathered up the stray ice from the bag that appeared to have blown open when dropped on the floor. He found himself entranced by the woman in front of him, his head cocked to the side to get a better look.

He cleared his throat and she nearly fell onto her face. He rushed forward, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back toward him, her bottom making contact with his groin before he pulled her upward, her back resting against his chest.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, love.” He teased against her ear. He felt her shudder against his hand, then pull away from him.

“Do you always stalk people like this?” She moaned, leaning against the freezer.

“Sorry, your lad sent me down here to get some ice.”

“Why did he…” She sighed. “Never mind, can you just help me with this?”

He bent down, retrieving the spilled bag of ice from the ground. She grabbed a broom and swept the remaining ice into the drain in the center of the room.

“Can I ask you something?” She said suddenly.

He chuckled, “I see where your son gets it.”

She glared at him teasingly. “Did he talk to you about his father today?”

“Ah, I don’t want to betray the boy’s trust, but I happened to overhear the conversation with his father this afternoon, purely by accident, I swear. He seemed a bit downhearted from the news of his father’s upcoming business trip.”

She snorted, “Did he really say it was a business trip?”

“Aye, your lad is a bright kid, he seemed distrusting of this information as well.”

“Sorry, it’s just that my ex has a problem with telling the truth…pretty much always. He’s going to Barbados with his new girlfriend.”

“As I said, he’s a smart lad.”

“He knows it’s a lie, doesn’t he?” She said sadly. He nodded in the affirmative. “Well, sorry he keeps seeking you out. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to an eleven-year-old kid lament about his woes.”

“It’s not a bother, I rather enjoy his company.” He turned to her quickly. “With your permission, of course.”

She laughed nervously. “Sorry I made it seem like I thought you were a pedophile or something. I’m not exactly good around new people.”

“Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

“Yeah, I’m not good at that either.”

“Perhaps the lad will teach us both something new then.” He heaved another bag of ice over his shoulder.

“If I’m learning to trust, what’s he teaching you?”

“That’s a lesson for another day, Swan.” He winked and retreated to the comfort of the empty stairs. The conversation both intriguing him yet also weighing heavily on his mind. Perhaps there was more than meets the eye to his beautiful neighbor, who was obviously off limits to him, he wouldn’t dare mess around with a taken woman, however, what he hadn’t shared with the Swan woman, and what was most concerning to him had more to do with her son at the moment.

Killian had spent years closing himself off to caring about the feelings of any but his own. While he cared about his brother and to an extent had formed a close friendship with Belle, he only looked out for himself.

Why then was he so concerned about this young boy’s sadness over his father or his desire for orange soda? He didn’t make connections with others on a personal level. He had no need for the complication that came with worrying about other people or their needs.

Yet as he looked around the rooftop, watching the boy interact with his mother, he found himself smiling as the kid took a drink of his orange soda, seeking his attention from across the expanse of the party and smiling at him in a way that made Killian’s heart soar.

“He seems to really like that soda you brought.” Belle murmured into his ear as they sat at a small table, drinking their beer.

“Aye, that he does.” He replied softly.

Note:

The song that Killian sang is called Devil is a Woman – Bishop Gunn.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IiLz5OinyJs

[producingtrashycontent]

who are your favorite top ten black clover characters & ships? talk about them! ~tat

Ooh this will be fun. I'm not sure I'll have as much to say as some other people who have been asked this question, but I hope it's ok!

Top 10 Black Clover Characters

1. Mereoleona Vermillion

I could rant for hours about how much I love this woman. She's very strong and doesn't give a damn about status, which I love about her. Like almost all the females in Black Clover, she isn't overly sexualized or dependent on a man in some way. I love her character design, her magic, and everything. I think I'm a little obsessed with this woman honestly.

2. Noelle Silva

A typical female shonen character that's part of the main guy's harem. What I love about Noelle is her development. She goes from a royal who hates commoners to a strong female lead that accepts anyone for who they are. I haven't watched all the anime in the world, but from what I've seen, she's gotten the best development of any shonen female. If there's another one out there, please let me know. I love that Noelle's character development isn't over. I can't wait to see where she ends up by the end of the series.

3. Asta

Our gray-clad hero. A typical shonen protagonist with a never give up mentality. I really love that about Asta. Asta's mental strength is off the charts. He was able to dealing with people bullying him his entire life over something he had no control over. And yet, he continues pushing onward to change the dynamics of the Clover Kingdom. What a brave boy. Of course, with mental strength like that, it makes sense his brain can't keep up in other areas. I love how much of a simpleton Asta can be. It makes him more endearing. Asta's character even inspires me to push past my own limits and never give up on my dreams.

4. William Vangeance

A sweet, quiet man with a deadly secret. I love his origin story and how it has affected his life to this day. The main thing I love is how complex his character becomes. From a top captain to a man struggling living with another soul in his body that defies the ideals and people he believes in, William is complex. I couldn't imagine living with another soul in my body for about 15ish years. Dealing with this all alone without going insane marks William as another mentally strong character. Choosing between the mentor that saved you and gave you a new life and the best friend who's shared your body for longer than you've know your mentor must be a very difficult decision to make. I'm not surprised William wasn't able to choose between them. I hope both William and Patry get a good redemption arc.

5. Finral Roulacase

A typical playboy character. He's cute, funny, and relatable. I tend not to like playboy characters, but Finral is different. He believes all women should be worshipped and treated like princesses, and he actually has a backstory. Having a sibling who is better than you in all ways reminds me of Zuko and Azula from Avatar. Despite dealing with his parents disappointment and his sibling's sneering his whole life, Finral never turned evil or tried to get revenge. At first, he ran from his problems, but with the help of the Black Bulls, he conquered his fears and grows stronger each day. I really love this boy.

6. Nozel Silva

LOOKS AT HIM HE'S SO FUCKING CUTE DJJSJDJAJJS! Ok rant over. As a royal, I never expected Nozel to have a reason for treating Noelle the way he did. Granted, I don't approve of it at all, but I love that he's working to change. He's also very stoic and strong. Nozel has a cold exterior that can be broken over time. That's what Asta did to this Silver Eagle. Now, Nozel is rivals with 2 commoners. I love that he's changing to be better with Noelle. I can't surroort how he treated Noelle before, but I love that he's working to change his relationship with her. Also, his braid is so majestic. I had a dream and the whole dream was me staring at Nozel's majestic braid flowing in the breeze. I love this handsome man.

7. Yami Sukehiro

This man. Thiiiiis man. He is glorious. He's funny, smart, grumpy, and strong. I love him for all the reasons everyone else does. The main thing I love about Yami is the vibe he gives off. When I see Yami, I see a shonen protagonist who has completed their journey and gives advice to the newest generation of protagonists. He's such a well-rounded character. I would live a spin-off series of Yami's adventures when he was young. That would really sell.

8. Fuegoleon/Leopold Vermillion

THEY'RE BOTH SO PRECIOUS

Fuegoleon: I love this man. Such an inspiration. Just like his other siblings, he doesn't care about status. My favourite line if his is: "There isn't any shame is being weak. The shame is in staying weak." This line can really apply to anything in life. He also inspires me to do better.

Leopold: BABY. Ahem. I love his spunky personality. He's makes me think of Asta had he been born into a royal family. I love that, even though he's a royal, he has his own issues to deal with: making his own way in life and not having to live in his siblings' shadow. He's just a precious bean that requires protection.

9. Klaus Lunettes/Julius Novachrono

I RAN OUT OF PIC SPACE

Anyway, I love these boys. So good.

Klaus: Mom friends are the best kind of friends. I love that he changed because he witnessed Asta and Yuno's abilities and decided these boys were strong. They weren't cheating in any way. He was the first noble to change his ways and believe is Asta and Yuno, and I really love him for that.

Julius: A man working to change his country. We love that. I love that Julius is working towards a country where everyone tears each other as equals. That's a hard task to take on, yet Julius didn't hesitate and took the challenge head-on. Also he's hot...

10. Dorothy Unsworth/Yuno

I love these babies so much.

Dorothy: Hot, short, and powerful. My spirit animal. She's hella strong and shows us that you don't need to be a big strong man to be a powerful leader. Also, she sleeps a lot, which is something I desire more of in life.

Yuno: UwU baby. Hot, strong, and stoic. What more do you need? I love his HEALTHY rivalry with Asta. It's such a joy to watch him grow side-by-side with Asta. I love him so much that I'm not even sure who I want to become the Wizard King in the end. Can we have them both be Wizard Kings?

I don't have a top 10 list of ships, but I do have ships. I'll just talk about them in no particular order.

Mereoleona x William

I love this ship because opposites attract. But if someone tells me they ship William and Patry, I'm not going to argue. Overall, this ship would make both these characters even better than they are now.

Dorothy x Nozel

I get Hinata/Kageyama vibes from this ship. A small, eager baby with a tall, stoic and distant partner. The main reason I ship this is because of the fact that Dorothy knows about what happened to Acier. Nozel wouldn't tell just anyone about that. He must trust Dorothy a huge amount for her to know that information. A royal wouldn't share his darkest family secret with a lavender-haired witch from another country. Also, after the time skip, they both changed a part of their outfits for feathers of the bird corresponding their squad. They got feathers together!

Finral x Vanessa

After the seabed temple arc, I shipped these two. They have such a wholesome relationship that makes them better people. They're so cute together! What else can I say?

Asta x Noelle

I love how much they help each other become better. Asta is doesn't realize it yet, but he cares about Noelle more than he realizes. Noelle fell for Asta because he was the first person to ever say anything good about her magic. I just love these two. They're so cute!

Yami x Charlotte

I get the same vibes from this as I get from Asta x Noelle. A tsundere and an oblivious protagonist. I love this ship for the same reasons as Asta x Noelle. I won't repeat what I said before, so read the reasoning for Asta x Noelle. I love these two as well!

Grey x Gauche

I love the reasoning for Grey loving Gauche. I totally see Gauche being as protective of Grey as he is with Marie. Grey might help Gauche loosen up a bit with Marie. These two are just really cute, ok.

I can't think of any more ships, but yeah. Those are my favourite black clover characters and my favourite ships.

[kumeko]

Prompt: Iskander/Waver, slice of life, domestic

A/N: For the @fateverse-exchange for @t1mco! I love these two and hope you like the fic!

…

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…

…

There were certain communal standards in life. Despite not being a very social person, even Waver understood that much. He got up when an old lady got on the bus, he held the door for whoever came after him, and if there was a line, he stood at the back of it like any other decently raised human being.

 “Why would we wait?” Iskander asked, his thick brow furrowing with confusion as they stood near the back of the game store building.

 Unfortunately, Waver wasn’t dealing with a decently raised human, he was dealing with a Servant. A Servant who never obeyed like a servant, but instead ruled over his master and everyone else like he was still King, like they were in Macedonia and he was still conquering the world. As usual, he was wearing a ridiculous, utterly trashy game t-shirt. They had too many freebies like that these days; once Iskander had discovered the world of pre-orders, Waver started counting his savings by whatever spare coins he happened to have.

 Rubbing his forehead, Waver gestured at the line that wound around the corner ahead of them. “We have to wait for our turn.”

“Our turn is now.” Iskander snorted, amused. He always sounded like that whenever Waver mentioned a rule, as though it meant nothing to him. Maybe it didn’t—he was a Servant, after all. Anything he did would just end up as Waver’s problem. It always did.  

 “It isn’t.” Waver could just feel a headache coming. No matter how he pressed his fingers into his skull, the dull ache only grew. The sun didn’t help; it was an utterly hot day and sweat beaded on his skin. “The person at the front of the line can go in. They waited all night for this.”

 “And I waited all week.” Iskander laughed, patting Waver on the back. It was a sign something terrible was about to happen.

 “You didn’t wait out here all week,” Waver replied as patiently as he could. “You just learned about the game last week.”

 Iskander wasn’t listening already. “We just need to stand at the front of the line.”

 He nodded. “Yes—no!”

 It was too late. Iskander, in all his ridiculously tall height, left their spot, walked around the corner, and disappeared. Waver groaned before jogging after him. He should be surprised by now. It happened every time.

 He was just never ready for it, somehow.

 As he turned the corner, Waver spotted Iskander stepping in front of the head of a line, an exhausted teen who was blearily looking at his phone.

 “You can’t do that,” he protested, looking up. The bags under his eyes were almost black and Waver hoped that was only from this one-night wait and not doing this every day.

 “I can’t?” Iskander raised a brow.

 The teen squeaked, finally realizing just who stood in front of him. As a foreigner, Iskander already had an imposing air with his fiery red hair and chiseled face. Add in his overly bulky frame and his monstrous height? There was no one in Japan who could face him without cowering.

 Well, maybe the military or some hotshot punks. Waver secretly prayed that they didn’t have to deal with that before the war ended; there was no way he could handle that type of stress on top of everything else.

 Terrified, the teen shrank back, shaking his head. “It’s…fine…” he mumbled. “Go ahead.”

 “Good lad.” Iskander patted him on his back. Each hit sounded like a cannon going off. Noticing Waver still watching, he gestured impatiently. “Come on!”

 The line looked at him. Waver ducked his head slightly as he quickly hurried to Iskander’s side. Maybe he should start wearing disguises when they went out together. “That’s not how lines work.”

 As usual, Iskander didn’t listen. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Waver’s back, forcing him forward and into the building. He didn’t know how waiting worked either. Waver groaned; he could never return to this place again.

 “There is the game!” Iskander grinned as he made a beeline to the new arrivals display. Sitting on it was Admirable Tactics Five: The Hope of Fight Pilot Sophia. The case looked silly in his big hands, but he was oddly gentle. “And there are so many of it!”

 “That’s how companies make their money.” Waver tried not to laugh at his shocked expression. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he’d come from the past, what with all the knowledge the grail gave him. Yet, at times like these, it was all too obvious that this wasn’t his home. “They sell as many copies as possible.”

 “Even our libraries could not produce so many tomes.” Iskander glanced around, noticing the shelves of different games now. “Are these all games?”

 “Yes…” Waver trailed off, immediately guessing just where this was heading. In many ways, Iskander was like a child: extremely straightforward and honest about his desires. “We’re only here for Admirable Tactics.”

 Humming to himself, Iskander shifted through the shelves, picking up every genre from rpgs to first person shooters. Either he hadn’t heard Waver or he didn’t care. The end result would be the same.

 “Fine but limit yourself to like three.” Hunching over slightly, Waver followed, looking idly at the latest releases. There was a new Tales of, though it was still in pre-orders only. Next to it was the latest Fire Emblem. And beside it—

 Waver looked down and groaned. Just when had he grabbed all of those cases? It was supposed to be just one, maybe two, and now he had like twenty in his arms. There was absolutely no way he could buy that many, let alone even have time to play them all.

 Maybe he shouldn’t have chided Iskander earlier. Clearly, his self-control was just as bad or worse. Discretely, he dumped the pile into a basket and scurried away before an angry employee noticed just how much work he’d left them. Looking up, he scanned the rows for his Servant. “Iskander?”

  Luckily, it was impossible for Iskander to hide his big frame. Even when he bent over, he was still a head above the racks. “Waver! We will also get this!”

 “What did you pick?” Coming closer, Waver swiped the game out of his hands. “Steamy hotsprings—”

 Immediately, he flushed a bright red and dropped the case like it was cursed. “What—that—what are you trying to play, you idiot?” he screeched.

 Iskander furrowed his brow, staring at the fallen case. “A game.” Clicking his tongue, he picked up another one. “Try not to drop this one.”

 Waver stepped back, refusing to touch the thing. The clerk was looking at them funny and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do you know what that game is?”

 “Of course.” Iskander looked at him pityingly. Pointing at the cover (graced with several busty women that Waver was certain couldn’t be anatomically correct), he explained slowly, “This is game where you conquer people! What better game is there for a king?” He guffawed. “Truly, there is a game for everything!”

 “Conquering…people…” Waver tried not to stumble back. “You’re not wrong…but you’re not right either…” What if any of his associates found out he had bought that game? What if they found the case in his things in a few months? At least with the other games he could claim he was practicing tactics or something, but a harem game?

 A hentai harem game?

 “No, we’re not buying it.” Waver stomped his foot. He probably looked as intimidating as a rabbit, but he glared at Iskander. “We’re not getting that or any like that.”

 “Hmm?” Iskander cocked his head in one direction, then the other. After stroking his chin a few times, he grinned, and Waver knew that whatever inane idea had entered his mind was utterly wrong. Chuckling, he reached forward and ruffled Waver’s short hair. “There is no need to feel jealous.”

 “Jealous?” he squawked, his arms hanging limply at his side as his hair started to resemble a porcupine from all the rubbing.

 “I am only conquering them.” Iskander winked. “You are more than a trophy.”

 “I—that’s…” Waver clawed the air, unable to find the words to explain exactly how un-jealous he was, how fine he was with the whole thing, and what did Iskander even mean by trophy?

 Iskander added, smirking, “Our bond is deeper than that.”

 From the corner of his eyes, Waver spotted the curious cashiers leaning closer, trying to listen in on the conversation. If he let this last longer than it already had, the entire town would know. If they didn’t already know. Iskander was loud and unashamed and Waver wouldn’t be surprised to hear he had told every person he’d met.

 “Fine!” Waver growled, swiping the stupid case and marching to the counter. “We’ll get that and nothing else.”

 “I knew you’d like it!” Iskander patted him on the back again.

 “I do not—” Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he cut himself off. There was no point in arguing with Iskander. He had learned that already. Slamming the case on the counter, he barked, “I’ll buy these two.”

 A middle-aged woman, she blinked in surprise before nodding. “Would you like—”

 “No!” He scowled, daring her to ask another question.

 Fortunately, she picked up his irritation. “Okay, no insurance then, no points card—”

 “That…” Sheepishly, he slid his points card on the counter. “I have that.”

 She gave him a look before accepting it. “Alright then.”

 When she picked up the harem game, she didn’t react. Perhaps because she worked here, selling it in the first place. That didn’t stop him from flushing either way, his neck and ears warm as he imagined what she was thinking. Fortunately, the transaction was quick.  He slid the money over while his dignity was still somewhat intact.

 Handing over the bag, she bowed. “Have a good day.”

 “You too,” he mumbled, clutching the bag to his chest as he slowly inched away. The plastic felt thick. Maybe no one would notice what was inside. His head bumped into Iskander’s chest and he froze.

 “You make a cute couple,” she added as she waved.

 “Couple?!” Waver jerked his head up, not sure if he heard right.

 “A handsome couple,” Iskander corrected, wrapping an arm around Waver and pulling him close.

 Part of him was pleased. A bigger part of him flushed a bright red and he cried, “But we’ve only started dating!”

 “And?” Iskander looked down, confused.

 “It’s…it’s too soon…” Waver flushed before sprinting out. Between this and the stupid game, he couldn’t handle anymore of this.

[entity9silvergen]

Mosaic (Disenchantment Fanfiction)

Summary: We are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are. Bean doesn’t think she can love like everyone else but maybe that’s okay.

Fandom: Disenchantment 

Word Count: 2K

Characters: Bean

Relationships: Bean/ Mora, Mentioned Bean & Everyone, Mentioned Odval/ Sorcerio, Mentioned Zog/ Oona, Mentioned Zog/ Dagmar

Warnings: Internalized arophobia, first person pov, some self-deprecation, sex mention, drug mention, mention of interspecies relationships in fantasy setting 

Other Tags: F/F, Mentioned F/F QPR, Reflection/ Self-Reflection/ Internal Thoughts, No Dialogue, Queerplatonic, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Homosexual Character, Arospec Character, Queer Themes, Unreliable Narrarator, S3E6, Oneshot, AroWriMo 2021

Author’s Note: My friend sent me the line “I am a mosaic of everyone I’ve ever loved” about twenty minutes after I watched “Final Splash.” I’m working on the prompt for Week 2 of AroWriMo rn but I had to drop everything and write a short fic about this. Again, I didn’t really use the prompt but it kind of fits with week 1’s prompt romo/loveless & future. 

I’m headcanonnoning Bean as aro or demiro/ greyro. I think in the show it was implied she never experienced romantic attraction prior to meeting Mora because she likes women and I don’t want to erase that in any way but Bean still gives off a big aromantic bisexual homo(queer)platonic vibe.

_____________________

My name is Princess Tiabeanie of Dreamland and I’ve never loved anyone.

I mean, I love my dad and my friends and all that but I’ve never loved loved anyone. Is that weird to say? That makes it sound like I don’t really love my dad and Elfo and Luci and everyone. I probably shouldn’t say that then because I actually love them a lot. They’re my everything. 

One time, I was walking down Elf-Ally and this elf was sitting on the side of the road with some chalk. I feel like elves would really like chalk but I’ve never seen any of them use it, not even Arto, except this guy. I’d never seen anything like it before so I asked what he was doing and he said he was making this mosaic to show his love for this other elf he liked. I didn’t really understand it so he explained it to me like this: we are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are.

I still didn’t get it so I just laughed at him and he got kind of upset and threw a piece of chalk at me. It didn’t really hurt but Luci was with me and the elf started throwing stuff at him and you know how Luci gets when he hits his nose so we left. I couldn’t really forget what that elf said though. 

You see, a mosaic is a mix of a bunch of little pieces taken from different things that all come together to make one thing. There’s this mosaic at the church and it’s pretty freaking ugly but the mosaic this elf was making was just so beautiful. He used so many colors and he drew all these little pictures and hid these words I didn’t understand in them. I’d expect it to be all crude and gross like those scribbly pictures Derek would draw when he was younger that Oona pretended to love but it all came together so well. It didn’t even look like separate pieces. It was just one.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The influences of countless parts of my life, weaving together into an insanely complex mesh- That felt like me. I always felt like something was broken in me but maybe I’m just a mosaic. 

I think my dad made me who I am the most. Even if he wasn’t really present most of my life. Sure, we don’t see eye to eye sometimes but I think we’re better because of that. He made me strong. His actions guided me into becoming the woman I am today. He taught me how to keep fighting. Literally and figuratively. He taught me to keep my head up and he taught me how to stab people. It’s pretty cool. I remember this one time as a kid he took me out to the courtyard, stole this guy’s knife, and taught me how to use it. I think I still have the knife actually. I don’t stab people with it anymore though.

(I hope he’s okay. He hasn’t been the same in awhile.)

My mom… Well, I don’t really love her anymore but I did for a long time. She was… How do I put it? A constant in my life. Even though she wasn’t there. What I felt towards her, it kept me together for a long time. When I had nothing to fall back on, I always had her memory. Until she tried to take over Dreamland, obviously. Now I just say she gave me my love for alcohol and that’s pretty sweet too. 

(I still miss her. I bet she’s dead.)

You know those pictures where the guy has an angel and demon on his shoulders telling him what to do? That’s Elfo and Luci, and it’s literal for Luci. And maybe for Elfo? He did go to heaven that one time. It can be kind of annoying to hear them bickering all the time, especially since they almost never want the same thing, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Elfo keeps me safe and Luci pushes me to be more than I am. They make life fun. Fuller. Less lonely.

(I’m scared they might leave someday. I wouldn’t blame them.)

I don’t really like Derek but I still love him. Maybe a little less since he tried to burn me at the stake. Maybe a little more since he chickened out at the last second. And a little less because he still went through with it. And maybe a little more since it was an accident. We have a complicated relationship but he’s still my little brother, as weird as he is. He reminds me of what I have to fight for, if that makes sense. I don’t really see him as the future of Dreamland or anything but he’s still a little kid and I can’t really help but have a soft spot for him. Don’t tell him I said that.

(I wonder if he’ll keep me around when he’s king. I’d be lying if I said I was surprised.)

The same goes for Oona. I never liked her but I think I love her. Especially after she tried to save me from my mom. And since she became an epic pirate. She’s awesome. She’s the mom I always wished I had except she was actually there the whole time and I didn’t realize it. I’m happy with how things turned out though. I don’t regret it. Plus she’s got great taste in drugs. I still steal them sometimes.

(I don’t know if she loves me. Maybe she did once but not anymore.)

I kind of hate Odval and Sorcerio in a weird way where I like them at the same time. They’re not really family but always been there. Like they’re kind of like second dads to me. Second dads whose the sex lives I know way too much about. My gay polyamorous uncles? But they kind of care under all that court properness and tradition nonsense so they’ve kind of wormed their way into my heart. They’ve always made my life difficult but I don’t think I would be myself if I wasn’t challenged so much.

(I think they’d rather have me gone. They don’t hide it every well but I can pretend.)

I’m going to be honest, I was really bummed when Pendergast died. We were kind of the same age and he hung around the castle for most of my life. And my dad trusted him so we actually did stuff together sometimes. A lot of adventures that never really went anywhere. He could be kind of a stick in the mud but he never really minded that I’m a girl and let me tag along on crusades and helped me get better with weapons and stuff. And Pendergast was weirdly loyal to Dreamland, even after Dad forked his eye out. Or was it spooned? I don’t remember. Some kind of eating utensil. I wasn’t there when it happened. But it was nice knowing I could trust him. He could be kind of fun though when he was off-duty. Total lightweight though. He threw up on one of those little guys who carries dad’s cape once. 

(I wish I’d known him better. I really miss him but I can’t tell anyone since Dad gets set off by anything that even reminds him of the guy.)

Who else is there? That’s right, Mertz and Turbish. Turbish and Mertz. Two peas in a pod. Plus Mrs. Mertz. Don’t get me wrong, they are idiots. Totally incompentant. It’s a wonder they’re still alive. But they’re sweet. And they try. They’re not good at anything but they try. Sometimes I don’t want to try but they tell me I always can.

(I’m waiting for the day they realize they could have a better life. It’ll be weird not having them around the palace.)

I even kind of like Merkimer. As a pig, not a human. God, he was an awful human but he’s a funny little pig. He lets Luci ride on his back sometimes. Both of them like it way more than either of them will ever admit. It’s cute. I think they’re friends. If they’re not, Elfo and I will start plotting until they are. Or maybe not. A Luci-Merkimer friendship might be too much for Dreamland to handle. They’re kind of a lot, even on their own. Merkimer always kind of had a big head and it only got bigger when he accepted his new life. It’s actually kind of inspiring how happy he is now. 

(I don’t want him to change but he already has. It makes me sad sometimes.)

And Bunty. Oh, Bunty. And Stan! The world doesn’t really deserve Bunty. Stan does though. I think they’re the ones who taught me what real love is. Bunty always showed me love as a kid, she was like the second mom I never had but actually did have because Oona was there. But she gave me something neither Oona or Dagmar could. I didn’t really understand it until I saw her and Stan and their family together. I still don’t. They’re really sweet.

(I’d give them everything. I know they just see me as some spoiled princess though.)

I want what those two have. Or what Odval and Sorcerio have. What my dad had with Dagmar or Oona. What Elfo’s had, and Luci’s had, and Derek’s had, and the knights have had. It feels like everyone’s had that kind of deep love at some point except me. I didn’t even realize until I was talking to Mora. 

I’ve had the chance to have it. Merkimer, that brother of his I accidentally killed, that one time Pendergast made a pass at me, that Steamland guy… I don’t think any of it really would’ve worked out though. I’ve had a lot of things with guys and there’s been kissing and touching and I’ve always enjoyed it but I think I always knew it would never go anywhere. That it will never go anywhere. And I can’t even blame my dad because it’s all me. It’s always been me. And I’m okay with that? Maybe? I don’t think so but I’m not really good at understanding my feelings. It’s just another thing on the pile of things I won’t work through.

I think I understood what I had with Mora though. It wasn’t… romantic but it felt like it almost was. We just… clicked. It felt right. She was tough and funny and she didn’t hold anything back. She followed her dreams and didn’t let the world get her down. That one night we had together, I felt like we were alone in the world.

Mora gave me the ocean and the stars.

She was beautiful. Maybe that’s what was missing? None of the guys I ever screwed around with were beautiful. Not like Mora was. Not like a woman can be. I really felt like this was it but there was still that disconnect. Like something was there but not quite. Like something was missing. I don’t know what it was.

But then she just left. I had that dream and I just felt so happy. I’d never felt happiness like that. And I never felt pain like the pain I felt when I woke up and the necklace was gone. I definitely would’ve cried if Elfo wasn’t there. I might’ve actually cried a little bit. It’s kind of hard to hear anything when Elfo’s sobbing. Some of those tears might have been mine.

Did I love her? I don’t think so. Not like Elfo loved that boat. It wasn’t romantic. But it was real. It gives me hope. I don’t think I’m capable of the same kind of love everyone else seems capable of and that’s not even a slight at me. It’s just reality. But what I had with Mora, however brief and imagined it was, tells me that’s okay. I don’t need the kind of love everyone else has. Not when I have so many others in my life.

Still, I hope I see her again, even for a second, just to feel that kind of happiness again.

I think that’s what that elf meant when he said we are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are. Mora was beautiful and she didn’t see it but maybe she would if she saw how I looked at her. 

Stars and the ocean, I’ll never forget them. They’ll be a part of my mosaic forever.

Other AroWriMo Fics By Me, Posted on Ao3, Posted on FFN

[tabloidtoc]

Entertainment Weekly, May

Cover 1 of 3: The 2021 Oscars Issue -- Viola Davis

Page 2: Contents, the other covers with Chloe Zhao and Regina King

Page 6: Cold Open -- a bunch of random jibberish I can't even begin to classify

Page 16: The Must List -- The Underground Railroad

Page 18: The Department of Truth, The Mosquito Coast

Page 19: The Last Thing He Told Me by Laura Dave, Together Together

Page 20: Jakob's Wife, Frank of Ireland Q&A with Brian and Domhnall Gleeson

Page 22: Role Call -- Josh Duhamel

Page 23: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir, Resident Evil Village

Page 24: My Must List -- Brian Tyree Henry

Page 27: Oscars 2021

Page 28: The Race Is On

Page 29: Dick Johnson Is Dead

Page 30: The Powerhouse -- with her record-breaking best actress nod for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, Viola Davis proves she's Oscar royalty

Page 33: Riz Ahmed -- the Sound of Metal star on inhabiting a demanding role, and how the film uses sound to take the audience on his character's harrowing journey

Page 34: The Revelation -- Right after winning an Academy Award for her acting, Regina King directed her debut feature film, One Night in Miami to three Oscar nominations. Is there anything this woman can't do?

Page 38: The Front-Runner -- Chloe Zhao has already made Oscars history, now the Nomadland director is poised for a triumphant finish

Page 41: Carey Mulligan -- the Promising Young Woman nominee reveals how she broke the film's tension with costar Bo Burnham by singing a rendition of Paris Hilton's Stars Are Blind

Page 43: Original Screenplay -- The Trial of the Chicago 7

Page 44: Around the Table -- Making History -- how four of this year's Oscar-nominated films radically confront and reframe Black history in America -- Judas and the Black Messiah, The United States vs. Billie Holiday, One Night in Miami and Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

Page 45: Maria Bakalova -- how the Bulgarian breakout unleashed her inner wild child and found her character's heart during a pivotal scene in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm

Page 46: 5-Minute Oral History -- West Side Story -- in honor of its 60th anniversary, stars Rita Moreno and George Chakiris look back on their 1962 Oscar wins

Page 49: Daniel Kaluuya -- the two-time Oscar nominee on the power and responsibility of taking on revolutionary icon Fred Hampton in Judas and the Black Messiah

Page 52: Fire Starter -- how Angelina Jolie blazed a trail with Taylor Sheridan for the upcoming firefighting film Those Who Wish Me Dead, her first action film in more than a decade

Page 56: Romancing the Screen -- record breaker Bridgerton proved the power that love could have on the small screen. By satisfying audiences' pent-up lust, it became a cultural phenomenon: spawning a TikTok musical, landing star Rene-Jean Page an SNL hosting gig, and catapulting Julia Quinn's 20-year-old source material to the top of the New York Times best-seller list for the very first time, but will the Bridgerton Effect make Hollywood finally fall in love with romance novels?

Page 60: Demi's New Groove -- after detailing her harrowing 2018 overdose in a recent documentary, Demi Lovato returns with a newfound sense of stability and her first album of new material in four years

Page 66: Stand Up & Step Up -- For EW's Around the Table, Chloe Bennet, Dianne Doan, Daniel Dae Kim, Hari Kondabolu, Olivia Munn and George Takei discuss the rise violence against Asians, their experience as Asian artists, and how Hollywood can help crush stereotypes and be more inclusive

Page 70: News + Reviews

Page 71: TV -- whatever happened to the Men of Tomorrow? Everywhere you look there are supermen behaving badly. Is this a bold new era in superhero storytelling or cheap cynicism on steroids?

Page 77: Movies -- Bad Romance -- Amanda Seyfried and James Norton talk about their tragically doomed marriage in Things Heard and Seen

Page 78: Women Who Kick Ass -- Jodie Turner-Smith -- she's got a juicy role opposite Michael B. Jordan in Without Remorse and will lead Netflix's upcoming The Witcher prequel. Meet Hollywood's most exciting new action star

Page 79: Childlike Wonder -- David Oyelowo goes behind the camera for his mystical directorial debut The Water Man

Page 80: Three provocative new indies explore the beauty and pain of contemporary romance -- Monday, Hope, The Killing of Two Lovers

Page 81: My Favorite Shot, Oscars edition -- Tom Hooper in The King's Speech -- the filmmaker revisits a scene on the tenth anniversary of Speech's four Oscar wins, including Best Picture and Director

Page 82: Parental Guidance -- your crib sheet on the best entertainment for kids, from toddlers to tweens -- Q&A with Danny McBride -- the Righteous Gemstone shines in The Mitchells vs. the Machines as a luddite dad trying to save the world and his family

Page 84: TV -- First Look -- Never Have I Ever -- the comedy's second season is bringing in the big guns, casting Common as Nalini's love interest

Page 85: License to Thrill -- after smashing the charts with Drivers License, Olivia Rodrigo is ready for her High School Musical: The Musical: The Series character to follow in her footsteps in season 2

Page 86: Cruel Summer

Page 87: The Transformation -- Oh, Boy! It took five years, but Nasim Pedrad's new TBS comedy Chad has finally made it to TV. Here, Pedrad details her transformation into an awkward 14-year-old boy

Page 88: The Nevers

Page 89: First Look -- Solos -- from creator David Weil, this futuristic anthology series explores the depths of human connection through the lens of eight remote characters

Page 90: First Look -- Hacks -- after four decades in showbiz, Jean Smart is living out some Hollywood dreams in her new series

* Strike a Final Pose -- FX is about to say goodbye to its her-story-making Pose. Here's why season 3 offered a proper ending

Page 91: Global Viewing -- these three series all debuting on Earth Day offer new insights into nature and science, with a little help from David Attenborough, Greta Thunberg and Sigourney Weaver: Life in Color with David Attenborough, Greta Thunberg: A Year to Change the World, Secrets of Whales

Page 94: What to Watch

Page 98: Music -- Hungry Heart -- after a devastating 2018, Eric Church left Nashville and made his favorite project ever which is the three-part Heart & Soul in a restaurant

Page 100: Bebe Rexha

* My Hometown -- Saweetie by the Bay -- the My Type rapper makes hella sure to add a little bit of California into everything she makes

Page 101: Greta Van Fleet

Page 102: Jhay Cortez -- meet the 28-year-old who co-wrote Cardi B's I Like It, and whose sophomore album Timelezz drops later this year

Page 104: Books -- Seoul Food -- singer-turned-author Michelle Zauner, who goes by the moniker Japanese Breakfast, paints a vivid portrait of identity, loss, and a mother's love in her memoir Crying in H Mart

Page 106: Pop Culture of My Life -- Leslie Jordan -- the actor and Instagram star is releasing a new essay, How Y'all Doing? Here, he divulges his own Southern charm

Page 108: The Air Up There -- with Great Circle, best-selling novelist Maggie Shipstead puts a smartly feminist spin on the old-fashioned adventure tale

Page 109: A Lot Like Love -- in the short-story collection Love in Color, British-Nigerian author Bolu Babalola smashes the patriarchy of the classic folktale

Page 111: Broken Horses: A Memoir by Brandi Carlile

Page 112: The Bullseye