#when the basket literally says our names on it!!!

[spacexcowgirl]

a company dropped off cookies at my work for me and my coworker specifically and another person on our team picked them up YESTERDAY and DIDNT TELL US

[apothecareful]

telling nick about all the stupid things my coworkers and i do on the line to keep each other in a good mood is everything to me rn

[archangeldyke-all]

merry chrtismas angel !!!<3

idk if your taking requests today but anything with sevika and reader who celebrate Christmas with isha and jinx and everything is happy and jolly and everyone is alive and well

-💌

merry christmas to all my readers who celebrate!! and if you don't: i hope whatever holiday you partake in is festive and fun and EASY this year (i.e. no family drama ahahhaahha)

men and minors dni

"we might've overdone it..." you consider as you examine the literal mountain of wrapped gifts shoved under your tree. sevika giggles.

"it's their first christmas with us. half of this shit is just stuff for their room." sevika reminds you.

"it's gonna take them all day to get through this stuff."

sevika laughs. "just means we get a day free from having to entertain them."

you laugh and lean against your wife, both of you smiling at the christmas tree. the girls spent the entire evening dressing it up. you're going to be vacuuming glitter out of the carpet for years to come, but it's all worth it for the happy laughs that came from isha and jinx as they covered the tree in tassels and handmade ornaments and garlands.

you and sevika shuffle to bed a few minutes later, exchanging sleepy, happy kisses in each other's arms before falling asleep.

you wake up to squealing.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!"

"wha? wha's happening?" sevika asks as she shoots up in bed beside you.

your bedroom door slams open and isha and jinx both come tumbling in, sprinting up on your bed.

"YOU GOT US SO MANY FUCKING PRESENTS!!" jinx screams as she jumps on your bed. you giggle.

"AAAAAAAAHHH!!" isha squeals, tackling you and sevika back down onto the mattress to wrap you up in a big hug. your heart bursts.

"the sun's not even up yet." sevika whines. you can hear the smile in her voice yet.

"too bad, old lady! get up! it's christmas time!"

you spend the morning making pancakes and watching isha and jinx tear into their presents. sevika hangs off your hips, her chin hooked over your shoulder, a kiss pressed to your throat intermittently.

jinx cries when she opens her customized tool kit-- the handles hand made by a local artisan-- purple and blue swirled together with her name carved in all the tools' handles.

isha stands in pure shock for a full minute when she unwraps her own bike-- all decked out with a basket and pink and blue tassels in the handles. then, she hops on, and rides the bike directly into the christmas tree.

by mid-afternoon, the girls have passed out in a pile of pajama-clad limbs in front of the fire place, exhausted after all the excitement from the morning.

"i'd call that a success." sevika mutters, cheersing her spiked hot coco against yours.

you giggle. "merry christmas, love. you'll be getting your present from me a little later tonight." you tease. sevika laughs.

"what a coincidence. that's when i was gonna give you your present too."

"ugh, you guys are disgusting." jinx mumbles from the floor. you snort and throw a crumbled up ball of wrapping paper at her head. she flips you off, then sighs. "here." she says, reaching out for something under a pile of wrapping paper.

sevika takes it from her hands, a small box wrapped in construction paper; doodles from both isha and jinx decorating it.

sevika carefully unwraps it, refusing to tear the special paper.

tears well up in your eyes the moment sevika pulls out the bedazzled picture frame-- the photo inside taken a few months ago-- all four of you dressed up and smiling bright at the camera.

the treasures and sparkles decorating the frame are clearly all collected by isha-- bottle caps and marbles and anything else shiny she's been able to find.

sevika turns the frame over, and she lets out a choked sob as you both read the note on the back.

none of us expected that this is what our family would be, but now that it's here i wouldn't trade it for the world. thank you. jinx. and isha

isha wakes up with a groan when you and sevika dive off the couch and on top of your girls on the carpet, cuddling them all into your arms as you cry.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[wonyourdreams]

The Manager

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Ateez!OT8 x male reader

Warnings: Gang Bang, Slutshaming, Degrading, Penetration, Polyamory relationship

It’s been eight months since you became Ateez’s newest manager after the two other previous ones ran away because of how they were chased by Jongho and Yeosang telling them they’ll end up like the apples Jongho broke with his two bear hands

Technically you became the group’s longest manager to stay since the last two didn’t even make it a month

Which is understandable since being with them is like hell, and by hell, IT’S LITERAL HELL trying to tame eight spans of Satan in one go

Let’s just say they didn’t know their limits and dragged you to every trouble they could put you in

But strangely enough they started to be a bit more quiet lately, it started past month when you accidentally walked in Wooyoung masturbating he started to be more quiet, when Yeosang accidentally walked on you taking a bath, though he didn’t clearly see you just your figure through the glass, when you cleaned the house everyone just kept quiet and looked at you which was wierd

Now your walking towards the laundry room holding Wooyoung’s basket taking it to the rest of the baskets that were piled up in the room

“What the-“ you exclaimed as you saw that the baskets were flipped over and most of the clothes are piled down on the floor

“Ok who did this?!” you shouted but nobody showed up or answered your question

You put down Wooyoung’s basket on the side and started to pick a random basket and putting all the rest of the dirty clothes, not caring anymore who owns which

You aren’t suppose to do their laundry but the boys begged you to do it despite having a bad relationship with them

“Be their manager they say” you mumbled out “its gonna be fun they say” you added

As you were picking up clothes you felt something hard wrapped in one of the underwears, you unwrapped it and it was a purple dildo

Your eyes widened as you stared at it it wasn’t big neither was it small

Looking at it turned you on to be honest living with eight good looking boys turned you on everytime they changed in front of you or jokingly flirt with you despite the bad relations

You liked it when they tried to sexually touch you in certain parts of your body

You took off your shorts and looked around before finally taking off your underwear with it

You sucked on the dildo making sure it was slippery and wet, gagging yourself in the process

As you were already certain it was ready to put inside you, you arch your back a little as you reach the dildo to your back and slightly push it in you

You whimper and moan out Yunho’s name as you try to push it in while your other hand grips tightly on the pile of clothes in front of you acting as a support to not lose your balance

As it goes deeper you moan out each of the members name randomly

You continued moaning, when you feel like you couldn’t take anymore you stopped and adjusted

You let go of the dildo for a while as you feel your hand was tired from holding it, you adjusted for a while

When you felt like you were ready you tried to reach for it but felt a slap in your hand and someone pushed the dildo in your eyes widened as you let out a moan pleasure and pain at the same time

You felt a hand holding your right arm to keep your balance and another hand in your left

It was Yeosang and Jongho as you felt a whisper from behind “You dirty little Slut” Wooyoung said as he continued to fuck you with the dildo

You moaned loudly and shamelessly as you were being fucked with the dildo washing out the thought that someone might hear you

As you were being fucked you see Seonghwa, San, Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi in front of you smiling and staring at you

“Who would’ve thought our manager turned out to be a cock hungry little bitch, that fantasizes about eight men banging him” Hongjoong says as he kneels in front of your fucked out state who was still a moaning mess

He grabs you by your chin and looks into your eyes admiring your pure innocent looking face that’s now crying and drooling over a dildo that was inside your ass

“Don’t worry we’ve also been thinking of doing very dirty things to you” he says as he leans in and kisses you whose mouth was agape and tongue out

You kissed back hungrily, and you whined as soon as he pulled away

“I-I w-want k-kiss” you try to let out but they just smiled at you as they were all taking off their pants

Wooyoung continuously murders your hole with the dildo as you tightened your grip on Yeosang and Jongho on either your side

Yunho kneels in front of you and kisses you and roams his hands all around your body until he stopped in your still soft sensitive buds he plays with it as you moan on the kiss

As soon as Yunho parted, Mingi kneels in front of you presenting his monstrous dick, "Suck" he said as he slapped his manliness in your face multiple times

You couldn't do anything but obey, you took him in your mouth, you were struggling, given how big he was, "Fuck hyung, I've always wondered how you felt around my cock, your mouth is tighter than all the girls we fucked on tour" He whines while his head hangs all the way back and eyes are closed

"I think he's ready" Wooyoung said, "Who wants to go first?" he added

"May I?" Jongho asked while looking at Hongjoong, Hongjoong just nodded and quickly Jongho went to your back

Wooyoung removed the dildo, you whined at the loss, Jongho proceeded to rub the tip of his cock in your slightly gaping hole

"Hyung, fuck, ngh, so tight" he bends his head back

"That's right you slut" Hongjoong said as he grabbed your hands and wrapped it around his dick, while Yunho on the other side

Jongho continuously ravaged your ass while Mingi mouthfucked you, while Yunho ang Hongjoong on both saides of your hands the rest of the group just watched and masturbated

"I'm gonna cum!" Jongho says, "Me too" Mingi exclaims and just like that they both came on your holes you two came untouched while Yunho and Hongjoong also came on your hands

They removed themselves from you, you were going dumb, dizzy and lids half closed

You were tired, you whined when they removed themselves and left you on the floor

"I want a turn" Yeosang said, "Me first!" San said while trying to push Yeosang

They both started bickering, wanting to go first but Hoongjoong thought of something and smiled

"Why not at the same time?" he said, Yeosang and San looked at each other

San manhandled you and placed you on his lap and started rubbing his tip

He slowly pushed his cock inside "Fuck" he leans his head back and closes his eyes "Still so fucking tight, fuck" he groans

You moaned at his sudden intrusion "Enough" you faintly said

Seonghwa laughed, "Enough? just a while ago you were whoring yourself out over a dildo, next time you should be mindful cause your not the only one who lives here" he mockingly said

San started moving upward, your back and head leaning on his shoulders and chest, you also started rubbing yourself on his cock trying to meet his thrusts

"He's so hot" Wooyoung said

"He's ready" San said looking at Yeosang

Yeosang moved in front of you and started making out with you, spitting in your mouth every once in a while and kiss you

"N-No! Don't" you tried to complain but Yeosang was determined, his and San's growls getting louder at Yeosang's intrusion, you screamed at their cocks

San alone was already hard to take in because of his size not as thick as Jongho but definitely longer, Yeosang was shorter than San but definitely girthier, which made it difficult to take them both in

"Fuck hyung!" Yeosang cried, "So tight"

Yeosang was fully in you, two cocks were in you, both men were moaning at how their dicks were against each other being hugged by your tight hole

"Fuck I can't take it anymore" Seonghwa said and held your chin and pulled to face the side

He presented his cock in front of you "Open your mouth" he commanded, you did as you were told and he spit on your mouth

Seonghwa stared at your face for a few seconds, red cheeks, dried tears and sweaty face, traces of cum still evident in the side of your lips

"Filthy, I like it" he said and shoved his dick in your mouth "Fuck so tight and warm" he leaned his head back and closed his eyes

Wooyoung on the other hand proceeded to take your other hand and wrapped it on has manhood

They all started pushing together, you felt euphoric, you felt a mixture of pain, pleasure, and you felt tired but still wanted to keep going

You came as Hongjoong played with your cock as they all were thrusting in you, the rest of the members were biting you and making out with each other and Jongho and Mingi played with your nipples while still masturbating

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum" Yeosang said between kisses with Hongjoong

"Me too" San said as Mingi fucked his ass

Yunho was also fucking Seonghwa who was busy with your mouth and same goes with Jongho to Yeosang while he was busy with fucking you and making out with Hongjoong

Your fuck session went on for another hour you cumming five times

All of them as they reach their high tried to cum inside and on your face

After fucking you they cleaned you up and rested you in your room

"So what's the plan?" San asked

"We keep him" Hongjoong said

"What if he hates us for doing all those?" Yeosang said worried

"Then let's be nicer, No more pranks, No more demands, let's have him as our boyfriend" Seonghwa said

"All eight of us?" Jongho said

"Why not right?" Woo said

"Ok then let's be nicer" Yunho said

Ever since that day the boys were well behaved, all of them listened to you, they bought you gifts and started being touchy

Casually they would gang bang you but sometimes on tour you get used like a clock sleeve by who ever needs to release

—

A/N: This was a draft from 3 years ago, I wrote this during the pandemic but I never actually continued it till now, but since I wanted to get this out there I finished it, also as a thank you for 200 followers!!! This is just a little gift for all of you readers! Hope you enjoy this

[marionthegeek]

Stede is in the Gravy Basket, Izzy is Alive

The season 2 finale of Our Flag Means Death is odd.  It hits weird. I think I know why. And this is going to sound bananas, but give me a chance to explain.  Maybe you’ll agree.

It has a huge tonal shift. It seems to speedrun Stede and Ed’s romance. It feels like we’ve missed out on something from the end of episode 7.  The fight scenes and pirate plans are nonsensical, even for OFMD. And most egregiously, a prominent character is killed off in a way that feels disingenuous to his story arc, just for starters.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  We need to go back to the beginning of season 2.  The season opens with Stede looking more piratey than ever. Beard, sash, earring… oh he’s his own fantasy of a real proper pirate.  He’s clashing swords with Izzy Hands and demanding to know where Ed is. He’s dreaming. In the dream he kills Izzy. He and Ed run into each other’s arms while screaming each other’s names. They crash into the surf. Ed says “I knew you’d find me, Babe.  I knew you’d find me, Love.” Stede keeps asking if they’re good. Ed dodges the question. Then Ed asked about the smell. Stede wakes up in a crowded room with farting and shushing roommates.

At first I thought the finale was supposed to be just a “satisfying” mirror to Stede’s dream. Stede and Ed call each other’s names and run into each other’s arms in a display that resembles a more grown up version of Stede’s dream fantasy. There’s some wild sword fighting not unlike Stede’s dream duel with Izzy. And Izzy dies.

It does mirror, but I didn’t find it satisfying. All of the characters except Stede feel flattened. Stede gets to make the heroic plan (that we never even hear) while there’s at least five pirates with better skill sets for it in the room. Ed, as Blackbeard, was described last season as “History’s greatest tactician”; Zheng Yi Sao conquered China; Jackie just took out a room full of British soldiers. Izzy and Auntie are right there. You could make arguments that Jim or Frenchie, or pretty much anyone could make a better plan. Then Stede says “It’s only suicide if we die,” which is horrible considering the plan gets Izzy killed.

Stede’s really the only person in that room who thinks Stede should be making the plans.  So I got to thinking, what if it's not just mirroring the dream? What if it is a dream? Last shot of episode 7 is an incoming cannonball. Maybe he’s unconscious.

Huge shout out to @Arty_Sunflowers on twitter (I’m not calling it X, fuck Musk) for pointing out that that isn’t the only episode that ends with a cannonball. Episode 2 ends with Jim swinging a cannonball down at Ed’s head.  Stede’s not just dreaming, he’s in the Gravy Basket!!!! (Stede even screams “Oh my God!” at the end of episode 7 in the same tone he screams “Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” in s1e9.

Stede’s hopes, dreams, and insecurities shape everything in the finale. And it helps explain the absurdities in the episode when you remember that Stede is living out pulp adventure and romance novels in his head. (He even looks like someone on the cover of one in his episode 1 dream.) But Stede can’t be dead, you say. He’s literally the main character. Well, Ed was dead for a whole episode. Let’s take a closer look.

I could and probably will do another essay on Lucius as a POV character and Ed’s mental health and how the threads they seemed to have dropped aren’t as dropped as they appear. But all of that hinges on me proving the Stede is in the Gravy Basket theory. So for this essay I’m focusing on that.

So for starters we’ve got the cannonball scenes. They’re eerily similar even if the method of cannonball propulsion is different. We don’t know Ed is dead and in the Gravy Basket for about half of episode 3. Neither does he. It makes logical sense you can be there without realizing it for a while. Buttons even said Ed didn’t know whether he was in the Gravy Basket or not in episode 4. It definitely messes with your reality.

One of Ed’s issues is self hate. He manifests Hornigold as his companion. Stede is desperate to be a good pirate and have people be proud of him. And he lives in his fantasies a lot.  So his dream shapes his experience. There’s a whole bit about Zheng needing “soft” and Auntie saying she’s proud of her. That isn’t their issue. It’s discordant with the show previously. But it is Stede’s issue. He’s manifesting.

When we first see Stede and Zheng in episode 8, they’re in a familiar spot for Stede, the bridge from episode 1. But why are they alone? When we last see Stede and Zheng in episode 7, several characters are within 5 to 10 feet of them. Did none of them decide to escape with Stede? Izzy, Lucius,  and Jim are closest. But we know Pete was there begging Stede to stay down during his fight with Zheng. Archie was definitely in the bar. That's why Jim entered the fight. So why is it only Stede and Zheng at the bridge? Because, going back to rescue others fits into Stede's hero fantasies. 

Zheng and Stede also argue about who pulled who to safety and how they got there. Stede waxes poetic about being a failure his whole life, but things always seem to work out for him. He’s such a main character mediocre white guy in this scene. He saves Zheng from two random soldiers, then she has to save him from them. Then they fight a bunch more soldiers on the beach until Blackbeard manifests in full leather from the ocean.  It looks cool. But it's absurd, even for OFMD.

Speaking of Ed, he begins the episode waxing poetic about nature and calling fishermen simple.  Those things are more Stede than Ed. Pop pop tells Ed, “You have no skills” which is something Izzy said to Stede in episode 5.  He also tells Ed, “If you were ever good at something, go do that, you bum.” If Stede’s insecurities could be distilled into one sentence, it would probably be that. (He also talks about being like a wave. I’m not 100% sure it's a The Good Place joke, but it would be thematically appropriate.)

Pop pop also tells Ed he “ruined dinner.”  Back in season 1, in Stede’s flashbacks to life with Mary and the kids, Stede thinks he’s ruined dinner. But remember, we also see another version of the scene where Stede is laughing with Mary and the kids.  Stede isn’t exactly a reliable narrator. Even in his own head.

Despite it being beyond unlikely, Ed finds soldiers reading one of Stede’s letters. I know physics in this show is sketchy, but this seems like a good time to point out no one found the red silk. Stede wants Ed to read a letter and for it to fix everything between them. The letter, plus Stede being in danger, make Ed swim out, find his leathers, and emerge from the sea with them on, while the music is the Swede’s solo from Stede’s fuckery in s1e6. Stede wants to be rescued by his handsome pirate in leather, again, just like a pulp adventure romance novel. Little chance of Ed swimming out and finding his kit.  Even less of him getting leather pants on under the water.

Back to the beach… for some reason two squads of soldiers are wandering around out on an empty beach. A visually incredible fight scene occurs. It honestly reminds me of Pete’s story in s1e2, including flips. Ed and Stede yell each other’s names exactly as in the dream. Like I’m pretty sure they used the same audio track. The same song (I Love My Baby, Nina Simone) starts playing. Ed says “I love you.” Stede says “I know.” (We’ll come back to the Han Solo joke in a minute.) They have a bit more absurd fighting then Ed, Stede, and Zheng sit on the beach complimenting each other. And Ed calls Stede “babe”.  He’s never done that outside of Stede’s dream and this moment. He’s called him mate a couple of times.  Babe is exclusively in Stede’s head.

Back in the Republic of Pirates, the crew are locked in a cell that is actually the “vista suite” at Spanish Jackie’s.  Izzy gets a heroic entrance. It’s as cool as Stede thinks Izzy is. And he gives a speech that sounds like what he probably told Stede to get him to relinquish the suit in episode 5. Piracy is about belonging to something. You can’t ignore the wishes of the crew.  Izzy also knows details about Captain Kidd and Pinocchio. Not impossible, but not exactly Izzy’s wheelhouse. It is Stede’s though. He’s obsessed with pirate tales and he read Pinocchio to the crew.

Stede, Ed, and Zheng show up just as Jackie has poisoned a bunch of soldiers. Stede makes a plan, despite everyone else being more qualified. Everyone disguises themselves as soldiers. Now we’ve seen the crew of the Revenge wear disguises. They never do the weird free styling they do here. Only Stede actually looks like a British officer. Zheng at least wears the disguise properly. Suddenly Ed has a multi gun bandolier like Blackbeard in the books. Pete ripped the arms off. Izzy is still wearing his vest. Doesn’t make sense if we’re going for stealth. Neither does not checking hostage Ricky for weapons or putting Izzy and his wooden leg at the front of the group.

If I'm right, Stede wouldn't know Ricky was behind the explosions. However,  Ricky is basically evil Stede. He's Stede's perfect foil. All of this is reflecting Stede's psyche. So, of course, it's Ricky.

Izzy gets shot and says quite a lot of nonsense in his death scene. “They love you, Ed.” Um, 3 of them were going to leave like five minutes ago. Ed has made some progress with the crew, but we’re not at “they love you Ed”.  The only person who thinks the crew loves Ed is Stede. Stede who weeps for Izzy while most of the crew aren’t showing much emotion. Stede can barely deal with his own big feelings. His fantasy doesn’t give the crew room to have them. Also, given the rest of the season, having Jim just let Ed be the person cradling Izzy doesn’t fit. The crew is also pretty stony at Izzy’s funeral.

I feel like it should be noted the last shot of Izzy in episode 7, he’s got one are around Jim and a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. He sat in Wee John’s lap in episode 6. Reactions to his death don’t make sense.

Also, Izzy’s terrible grave marker is very … Stede. He’d think it was a brilliant idea.

I didn't understand at first why Izzy had to die, even in Stede's dream world. Stede clearly likes him a lot better now. Why kill him? Well, it's because we're supposed to think Buttons is there to go to the Gravy Basket for Izzy. When actually he's already arrived in the Gravy Basket and he's there for Stede. Also, mentors die in pulp adventure novels. Stede sees Izzy as a mentor.

They go aboard the Revenge for Lucius and Pete’s wedding. It’s cute that the crew performs the ceremony, but I’d venture a guess that’s because Stede doesn’t know a captain should do it if it's legally binding. Stede does love the romance of it all.  The sudden uptick in monogamy is also very Stede. He barely understands monogamous relationships. Polyamory is beyond him.

Then Stede and Ed, who earlier told Zheng they’d help hunt Ricky, go back to the island where Izzy is buried to start an inn in a run down shack.  Stede knows Ed wants to do this because Ed told the (Taika’s) kids that they ran an inn.  We hear Ed ask “Jesus, what is that smell?” Now, at first, I thought Izzy, because Ed “knows the smell of my rotting first mate”. But what was the last thing to happen in Stede’s dream? A fart joke.

Last scene is Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave. To retrieve Izzy from the Gravy Basket? No, Izzy’s not dead. He’s with Jim and Lucius, probably watching over Stede’s corpse. Buttons is there to retrieve Stede.

This theory fixes the plot holes and dropped threads problem. We’re coming back to them next season. Ed's amends making should be far from over. And we see several moments during the season where he acknowledged that. And yet here on the island they've set up a horror movie and called it a happy ending.  Well, Stede is the type of boss who thinks things are fixed with a pizza (Calypso) party. In Stede's mind, this is a happy ending.  But really Ed is still off finding himself,  Stede is (temporarily) dead, and Izzy (who is not dead!) is probably guarding Stede's corpse.

They haven't resolved the domestic violence thread, but they haven't dropped it, either. Izzy is alive. Stede and Ed aren't together (yet). There's still time.

This also explains some of the freewheeling nonsense David Jenkins has been spouting in articles. Ed doesn’t see Izzy as a father figure and mentor, Stede does.  Stede almost turned to mush when Izzy approved of him. And David is writing a three volume adventure novel. Han Solo (Stede) is in carbonate (the Gravy Basket). The perfect end to the second act. See, I told you we’d get back to the Han Solo joke.

I still have problems with the season.  I really think they need a sensitivity reader. Even just implying a newly disabled character was fridged is certainly a choice. Especially given the amount of time devoted to how the character handled the disability. The DV scenes were brutal, as well as the suicide attempt, and the Human Puppet joke. I think they need someone trauma informed and disabled in the writer's room. (David Jenkins hit me up!)

Overall, I liked season 2. Especially once I realized Izzy wasn't dead. I'm looking forward to season 3, the conclusion of the Gentle Beard arc, and hopefully 6 seasons and a movie of Izzy (to be clear, he's not captain) and the kids sailing up and down the coast being gay and doing crimes, occasionally checking in with Stede and Ed.

Seriously, David, call me.

Historical Note: IRL Blackbeard died on November 22, 1718, killed in a naval battle off Ocracoke Island in North Carolina. IRL Stede Bonnet died December 10, 1718, hanged in Charles Town, South Carolina for piracy.  IRL Israel “Izzy” Hands survives piracy, death date unknown. I know this show doesn’t actually care about historical accuracy, but this lends a little support for my Ed died, then Stede died, and Izzy isn’t dead theory.

[husbandhoshi]

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[keii-starz]

garden.

character: idia shroud

summary: you and idia on a cute picnic date in a pretty garden (pre-established relationship)

author's note! : my entry for @cloudcountry 's event!! it's my first time writing for idia, so I hope I wrote him well!!

divider credits to @/saradika

Knock, knock.

“Idia?” you called your lover’s name as you peek in his room, the door slightly open.

“A-aah!” startled, Idia jumped back. But when realizing it was you, he quickly scrambled, organizing his room to make it look the least bit presentable, even if you only stuck your head in for a peek. “ Y/N? W-what brings you here?” He asked with a stutter.

“Oh, well…I was wondering..” Hesitant on asking, you made a few pauses in our sentences. (I guess I should just hurry up and say it…) “..if you’d like to go somewhere with me? I promise you won’t regret it! I know you don’t like going out much…”

He was wondering why you seemed so hesitant on asking a simple question, but it was clear you were just trying to be considerate of him. But if it’s with you, he could go anywhere, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone, because he knows you would be there with him.

“Sure.”

Your face lit up with a smile at his response. You shout out excitedly, “Follow me!”

___________________

Holding hands, you and Idia head toward what looks to be a beautiful garden with a variety of flowers deep beyond the mountains. There, you and your lover gaze at the ethereally beautiful, lovely sight of the sky and flowers. Perhaps you picked this time of day on purpose.

“Do you like it, Idia? Jade showed me this place saying that I could use it for a date with you if I’m able to convince you to come with me. He never mentioned who made this garden, though…”

“Uh, yeah…I like it. It’s very..nice. I didn’t know there was a place like this out here in the mountains. Must mean it was made this year…or something.” Then, Idia sneaks a few glances at what you have held in your hand.  He saw it while you were both walking up the mountain and towards the garden. A picnic basket…Were you planning to have a picnic? “Is that a picnic basket in your hand? Are we having a picnic here?” Idia didn’t hate the thought of having a picnic with you, but he’d much prefer playing games with you in his room than being outside, even if it’s at such a pretty place.

You grinned. “Not just a picnic!” You pull a few things out of the basket. First, you lay a large blanket over a patch of grass not too far from the flowers. Then, you pulled a gaming console, a popular board game, a few of Idia’s favorite manga (which also happen to be your favorite), and some containers full of food, plus some water bottles and silverware to eat with. “I thought you’d enjoy having these over a regular picnic date.”

Idia gasped over the sight of it all. He was amazed that you knew him so well and went so far as to consider his preferences for this date. Not only that, but he found it quite literally jaw-dropping that you were able to fit all that inside a single picnic basket. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but smile at this pleasant surprise.

“This-this is awesome!!!”

You smile pleasantly at Idia’s reaction. “I’m…really glad you like it! Are you hungry?”

“Yeah…Can we eat now? It’s been a while since I’ve had some of your cooking..”

“Alright!”

While you unpack the food, Idia flips through one of the manga with a smile on his face, letting out a few laughs and chuckles.

After you and Idia finish eating, he reaches out for the board game and starts to set up the game for the both of you to play.

“Idia.” You call out to your lover while grinning ear-to-ear, as if you have some mischievous plan worked up your sleeve.

“Yeah?” He asks, with his eyes focused on the board game pieces.

“I love you.”

Then, Idia’s face turns red and his hair pink. You can tell how flustered he is. “I-I love you too..” He says while looking away. Giggling, you place your hand in his, clutching it tightly.

taglist: @eynnwwyjth @twistwonderlanddevotee @i-like-forgs @flmer @fukashiin @dove-da-birb @ruggiethethuggie @krenenbaker @rayisalive @hisui-dreamer @lemonchuu @red-viewe @angelhairpastawithherbs @honeychips-milo @asherenjoysart @l7k-a

[howlingday]

Weiss: ...I wonder if Bleiss is happy or pissed that both the SDC and Jacques are dead.

Ruby: Why? What makes you say that?

Weiss: Judging by our last conversation...

--During the timeskip between Vols. 3 & 4--

Bleiss: Some days I can't stand being the literal Black Sheep of this whole wretched family.

Weiss: ...Is this in reference to-

Bleiss: Both.

Weiss: I think i'm starting to see where you're coming from.

Bleiss: I honestly can't wait for the day I get to see this damned company burn to the ground.

--Present Day--

Weiss: I wanna say pissed because she didn't do the deeds herself.

//Honestly, I headcanon that Bleiss is a Faunus to really fuck with the Schnee's.

"Mm... Darling?"

"Morning, Bleiss." The dark-haired young woman yawned, stretching before rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, your... Your dad died."

"Oh, shit, that wasn't a dream, huh? Remind me to send Irondick a thank you basket."

"Bleiss, he's dead, too."

"Even better! He was the other half the reason Atlas was such a cold shithole."

"You don't feel bad about it?"

"Why would I?" She sat up. "The only person I liked in Atlas was my brother and my mother. And Willow, too, I guess."

"What about your sisters?"

"Prude and pruder?" Bleiss snarked with a curled lip.

"I'm serious, Bleiss."

"Jaune..." She sighed. It'd been ages since she'd used his real name. "Not all of us grew up in one, big, happy family, okay? Winter saw me as nuisance, at best, and Weiss might as well have put me in the same box as the White Fang. The only one in that family who actually wanted me was Whitley." Jaune was quiet. "Before I started living in their house, I was on the street, struggling to keep my real mom alive. And when she died, the only thing I had left to remember her was my hair." She reached up and pulled a bundled strand of curly, black hair out. "And it wasn't until I met you that I started letting it curl again. Everything there was so... strict Everybody needed a good dicking, and I was lucky enough to get mine from you."

"So... you don't regret it?"

"Regret what?"

LETTING YOUR SISTER DIE?

"What?!" Bleiss whirled from where she sat to find no one beside her. "Darling?! Jaune?!"

OR LETTING ME?

--------------------------------------------------

"NO!" Bleiss awoke with a start, clutching her chest. She patted around her, blinding feeling and hoping that this, too, was only a dream. But it wasn't. It was real. Jaune was gone. If it wasn't for Winter, she would have stayed where the gate collapsed and waited for him to come through. But he didn't.

"Bleiss?" She spun to face the door, where Winter was standing. "Are you alright? I heard shouting."

"I'm..." Bleiss grit her teeth, looking down and gripping her sheets. "I'm fine."

She didn't look up, but she could hear the footsteps across the floor and feel the bed shift from the weight added. A cool hand was placed on her back and gently rubbed up and down, no greater than a few centimeters in motion. Bleiss responded by latching onto her big sister and heaving sobs into her chest. And she was embraced in kind.

A distant memory came into recall, on a similar night to this one. Bleiss had just moved into the Schnee home and had spent her first few nights weeping in her room. On one such night, someone had entered her room and held in this same way. Thinking back on it, this comfort likely came from the same person comforting now, just a decade or so younger.

"Thank you..." Bleiss whimpered.

"You're welcome, sister."

[fresne999]

Half way through the journey of our analyses

I feel like roughly half of the analysis I'm reading about OFMD S2 is folks who clearly fixated on a character (it's Izzy, it's always Izzy that inspires this kind of analysis) write analyses that cause the 2nd response of, "Um…did you ever study literary analysis in school."

Now I come at this from a slightly odd place in that I did study literary analysis in school (30+ years ago) where I learned it's possible to interpret anything about any way, because we're all bringing different lenses to the analysis. Which isn't to say that an author can't have an intended interpretation. 

Dante in Canto V of Inferno (Divine Comedy) would still like folks to understand fixating on the two damned-lovers and ignoring the details that the artist is putting in there for you to catch about how they are damned because they won't change the toxic patterns that got them there in the first place. Also, they can't because they are in hell, and hell is like that. That Dante-the-writer had Dante-the-character swoon over those same two damned-lovers (because Dante-the-character is on a journey of moral correction) is hilarious, but doesn't make it any less the point of that section of the work, but I digress.

As a career, I am very aware that folks love to misinterpret what is meant to be very clear instructions. Of course, I'm writing policies and procedures, which is a bit different from writing fiction, and is worlds away from creating a t.v. show. But that's the life experience that I always bring to literary analysis. Frequently, people choose their interpretations to fit what they want to see, and that's part of being human.

I've seen a fair number of folks interpret Izzy's redemption arc in S2 as one of a queer man struggling with disabilities and mental health issues whose struggle is made meaningless by his demise. Which sure, you could interpret it that way and in that it's coming from I'm sure an emotional place, I get it. And hmmm… I might give this interpretation more credence  if I hadn't read a lot of Izzy analysis for S1 that was wildly different than the text.

So let's take a step back. 

First, know the rules of the literary universe: OFMD is a show where the reality is not ours. It is either the Core Universe or something very close to it. BTW: If you've never heard of Core Universe or read the seminal BtVS+HtLJ "When Hellmouth's Collide" (https://www.ltljverse.com/index2.htm), a Core Universe is one where everything lines up. Row boats are magic, and where there is a Badminton, he will accidentally stab/shoot himself. 

Terminology more befitting of that fancy literature degree might be to say that OFMD functions along the logic of Magical Realism. Characters will appear briefly for the purposes of the story and then disappear not to be mentioned again (Nana, Calico Jack, Mary Read & Anne Bonny). Things align because they are meant to align. It is a universe where the Gravy Basket is a real place, and meant to be taken seriously.  It's also a universe where a man may become a seagull, because he loves the sea. You change for love, but the ways you change may be positive or toxic. 

They can result in a bird that never gets to know rest. Always flying over the sea. Or they lead to becoming a bird, who can float in the sea or land on a unicorn's leg. 

Transformation. 

Anyway, S1 - Stede commissioned a ship with secret passageways. It did not have a buxom mermaid on the prow, nor something more befitting a ship named the Revenge. He commissioned a unicorn prow and went off to become a pirate. 

A not particularly violent pirate. But a pirate who didn't have a problem with the violence of piracy. See Stede telling Lucius (hardest working man on the ship in S1) to take notes during a violent raid where the show's logo was literally carved into the chest of a dead man. 

BTW: The tone about violence is darker in S2, but the violence was there in S1. It was just presented in a more whimsical way. The nose jar was full of noses in S1. We heard about Blackbeard's violence. A man was skinned alive off screen, but we focused on the Prussian (but also sort of French) party. 

What Izzy needed to be redeemed from was established in S1. The problem is that folks who interpreted Izzy as a) the central focus of the show and b) a put upon manager just trying to do right by his crew (or as one Tumblerina referred to him as the man/father of the family going out to hunt - excuse me while I vomit - and support his family as men must do), are not going to understand what Izzy's S2 arc was all about. 

Ed and Stede are the main characters in a romantic story. There are other characters with their own arcs, but they are the main characters.

In S1, Stede created a safe space where characters had a chance to breathe for the first time. Possibly ever, and as a result revisited parts of themselves they'd lost. Wee John got back in touch with his roots as the son of a seamstress. Frenchie got back to what he loves, scamming the rich. The Swede sang like a siren of the sea, because it doesn't always have to be scary. 

Ed had his first good time in years. After expressing suicidal ideation to Izzy because of his terminal boredom in S1.E4 - Discomfort in a Married state, Ed found himself some balance. Some sweet marmalade. 

Ed and Izzy were in a toxic relationship that only reinforced their toxic behavior. And yes, I'm going to overuse the word toxic. While piracy is a place where you can go be yourself and shag whoever you want (whatever happens at sea stays at sea), it's not a place where you can be soft. Gentle. Emotionally open. Available. 

Ed's only path out that he could see at the time was to plan to skin the face of the man who built a ridonculous boat with a unicorn on the prow and wear it for the rest of his life. A plan to send Stede to Doggy Heaven. 

BTW: This is why Izzy uses the line in S2.E3 - the Innkeeper, that they put Ed down like a mad dog, so that Stede could reply that they sent Ed to Doggy Heaven. Reiterating this concept of piracy as violence, as taking away faces / identity / lives, but also losing one's own. Forgetting even what day of the year it is. Also revealing that Stede knew about Ed & Izzy's plan to murder him, send Stede to doggy heaven, and had moved on. 

This is also why the respite in S2.E4 - Fun and Games is so critical. Mary Read/Anne Bonney are portrayed as direct parallels to Stede/Ed. They are selling what are, no doubt, the spoils of their piracy. But they've chosen a remote location with no community, but each other and a life where they are not actually communicating. Which on its surface is where Ed and Stede end up, and yet…the Revenge can sail back. They are on the shore facing the sea, not in a jungle lost from a clear view. I'll quote the relevant Dante in just a bit, never fear.

Ed and Stede's new inn has the potential for a solid foundation, because the unicorn has been planted firmly in the ground, and if we get an S3, I firmly expect the unicorn leg to have transformed into a tree, because I've read a lot of medieval literature and that's how that sort of thing works. 

Well, it could be a penis tree (this was a thing in medieval marginalia), but somehow I don't think it will be. 

 But I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

Back in S1, the plan to murder Stede and take his identity broke down despite Izzy trying to perform an intervention to get Ed back into the toxic soup, and ended with Ed curled up in a bathtub and opening up about murdering his father. An image the show chose to flash on the screen multiple times in S2 just in case folks forgot that this was a traumatizing event for Ed, and was itself the culmination of years of traumatic abuse at his father's hands. 

Just as Stede kept flashing back to the moment his father tells him what it is to be a man, and kills an animal, the blood splashing on Stede's wee little face. 

That this is the point of the show. Transforming past trauma. It's there. You always carry the scars. Sometimes, you decide to tattoo yourself with the image of the thing you fear, and then the thing you fear is always there, but you've got to keep moving forward. To stay in one place, to stay trapped in the same emotion/action, is hell. I've read a lot of lit crit of Dante's Inferno. Trust me, it's the same thing.

Izzy's redemption arc is firmly based in the events of S1E6 - Here Dragons Be, because it's where the pustule of his relationship with Ed breaks. His attempted intervention fails to get Ed to kill Stede, so Izzy tries to kill Stede. Not realizing that a) Stede is a main character and b) this is a Core Universe show. Where it's possible to win a duel by being stabbed in the left side of your gut and stay there for many hours and not die. So he loses the 1 thing that defines him, his job. 

Izzy's redemption arc is firmly based in the events of s1E8 - We Gull Way Back, where he enlists Calico Jack to lure Ed off the boat (with all the toxic masculinity that entailed) so that the British could show up and shoot the head off the unicorn, and kill Stede. So Izzy can crawl back into his old patterns / job / life. 

Izzy's redemption arc is firmly based in the big drama confrontation in S1E10 - Wherever You Go There You Are, when as a person whose entire identity is tied up in being Blackbeard's First Mate and after realizing that he couldn't cut it as a captain on his own, he does whatever the f- he can to get Ed back into the toxic soup so he can get his old role/job back.  

This isn't to say that Ed's off the deep end actions in S2.E1&2 aren't his own choices. He is a main character. His emotional arc is one of the driving forces of the show. But they are the choices of a man who wants to die. After a lifetime of violent action that had been increasingly drowning him, he wants to die in the violence of battle, but the enemy are never good enough. He wants Izzy to kill him, but Izzy won't. Until he does…sort of. He wants to die in a storm. He's carving notches on his wall hoping to lure Ned Low to him so that he can die in pain. But Ed is the devil and does not die.

Except Ed's not the devil. He doesn't have a head made of smoke. He's a man. Not a fisherman. Not a fisher of men, and what an interesting attempt to go Christ himself off into the wilderness only to be fired for not being that good at it, and then receive his letter from the deep. 

Because in a show full of magical realism, the bottles with messages will reach the intended recipient eventually.

"In the middle of the journey of our life, I came to myself in a dark wood for the straight way was lost. Ah, how hard a thing it is to say what that wood was. So savage and harsh and strong, that the thought of it renews my fear. It is so bitter that death is little more so. But to speak of the good that I found there, I will tell of the other things I saw…and like one with laboring breath comes forth from the deep onto the shore, who turns back to the perilous water and stares, so my spirit still fleeing turned to gaze upon the pass that has never left anyone alive." Dante, Canto 1, Inferno. 

Instead of dying, Ed goes not to Purgatory (sorry I'd quote the opening lines, but Inferno actually works better here), but to the Gravy Basket, where he confronts the spirit of Hornigold. Dead spirit. Aspect of Ed's self. Both. Neither. Hated. Self. Unkillable. 

Is saved by a goldfish incarnation of Stede. 

But just as the imaginary as Stede's vision of what / who he thinks he needs to be for Ed, this is not true. Life being what it is, Ed and Stede rush when they need to go slow. They break apart because they are saying words, but the other person is hearing based on their own interpretation. 

BTW: The clue Dante-the-writer gives the reader in Canto V of Inferno is how one of the damned lovers, Francesca, explains how she hooked up with her brother-in-law, Paulo. She describes reading an Arthurian romance. She and Paulo kissed when Gwenevere and Lancelot kissed in the story. Except the version they are reading (and Dante tells the reader which version this is) was intended as a cautionary tale. Also, Paulo and Francesca were real people who were murdered by Francesca's husband when he caught them together. So there is that too.

I always like it in fiction when characters misinterpret each other because they hear based on their life experiences and don't hear the things that are said/unsaid based on the life experiences of the other person speaking. That's good writing. It's also how we end up with wildly varying interpretations of works of fiction.

But I digress.

Izzy's S2 arc is that he must let go of his relationship with Ed and turn to others. He must learn to let go of toxic masculinity and let in softness. Not weakness. Water is not weak, but it is soft. Calypso, goddess of the sea, is not weak. Her birthday is whatever day you need it to be. She is vast and deep and soft and relentless. 

In Ro-sham-bo, it's a shame that there is not a gesture for water. Because it is not paper that defeats stone, but water that wears away the stone. Of course, scissors wouldn't do much to water either, so that would sort of break Ro-sham-bo, so I suppose it must stay as it is.

It is through a craft's project that the crew of the Revenge find healing. Turn Izzy into the unicorn. A unicorn that Izzy's own actions caused to be decapitated with a British cannon ball in S1. That Izzy rendered legless (drunk). But the Revenge is a boat. They just need to swim/sail. It is through a craft's project that Izzy is able to offer healing to Lucius, who in turn is then able to turn their art away from fixating on Ed, and the trauma that he's been through and back towards love, and Black Pete. 

But it's not possible to see Izzy's S2 arc, if you didn't interpret S1 Izzy as needing to go through his own gravy basket. 

That Izzy dies because his transformation is necessary. He can't leave Ed, and if he doesn't leave Ed, then Ed can't stop being Blackbeard. The kracken. He literally tells Ed this as he chooses to transform. To free the world of Blackbeard, so Ed can be Ed. Yet, I've read so many posts by folks saying, "But why did he have to die?" Which sure, you can choose not believe what the character says while dying.

Which is a narrative privilege. To get a good dying speech. "There he is" get to be transmutted from an attack to an actual seeing. The larger than life concept of a smoke headed pirate can waft away.

Stories are hard to kill. They live on long past us, and as long as someone is remembered, especially in a universe like OFMD, we live. 

Though always reject the gift of a clock. That's someone telling you that you've only got so many hours left of life. If you are a character in a story. 

Thus the other parallel in this season is Izzy to Auntie and Ed to Zheng Yi Sao. Auntie must allow Zheng softness. Izzy must go through a sea change to something new and strange. Also, this would be a case of Doylistically the writers needed to line up Olu with Stede for that to work, and thus the new configurations of Olu and Jim's relationship, which, shrug, could be poly. Could be friends to lovers to friends.  Woulda, coulda, had more time, but that's on Max for not giving us 2 more episodes.

Prince Richard was trying to become a concept, but was too in love with the mechanics of it. Stede was trying to become a concept too. Found his fame, and all too quickly the toxic end of that particular route. Magical Realism was on his side until he tried to face down Zheng Yi Sao, the Queen of Pirates, and then the rules of the story weren't. Because those clocks were ticking. Everyone was in a very dark wood. The memory of blood splashed on Stede's face as a little boy was a warning. It was a reminder. It was the wrong lessons we take from our childhood and must unlearn to become whole.

Having the final shot of the show being Buttons landing on the unicorn leg as a reminder that this is a show about transformation. One thing becoming another thing. Somewhere the dead are dancing in Calypso's court. A dance below the sea and on the sea and with the sea. While the living keep sailing on their magic ship to do…I don't know. 

Because the Golden Age of Piracy is coming to an end. They'll go create new worlds and new places to be. Transforming.

If we get no more of the show, this is a resolution.

Since I've been quoting Dante, I'm going to end this with the final vision in Paradiso. Because folks who haven't been reading my analysis for the last 30 years / read it, may not realize that the Divine Comedy (a story that begins in sorrow and ends in joy) ends with the vision of a 3 way rainbow. 

"In the profound and shining Being of the deep Light, three circles appeared, of three colours, and one magnitude: one seemed refracted by the other, like Iris’s rainbows, and the third seemed fire breathed equally from both. O how the words fall short, and how feeble compared with my conceiving!…Power, here, failed the deep imagining: but already my desire and will were rolled, like a wheel that is turned, equally, by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars."

[moshpitgamma]

CAN U DO LIKE A VIVA X FEMALE READER???? MAYBE WE'RE THE YOUNGEST BROZONE MEMBER?

YESSS😝DOBLE UPLOAD

Viva x Fem!Reader||•••Love at First Sight•••

•Words:1.1k

•Fluff

•Bruce being an annoying older brother🙄

——————————

“HALT…WHO GOES THERE” a loud voice boomed from the terrifying clown face. We all screamed as me and Poppy were holding on to each other scared out of our minds. Branch started to talk to the big clown face and mentioned how we are only here to find our brother Clay. Once he said that, it went quiet for a little while until a large hairball popped out of the clown’s mouth. Branch stumbled back a little while trying not to get close to the unidentified object.

But all of a sudden a blonde haired pink troll appeared from the ball. “Ouuu I wanna try that” I whispered in Branch’s ear. He looked at me and said “yea it’s cool but not right now” I shrugged my shoulders at my brother and before I could concentrate on what she was saying I was wrapped in a tight hug and spun around like 10 times. “Woahhh” I yelled before tumbling into the ground. “OMG I’m so sorry are you ok” asked the pink troll. “Yea” I muttered as I was dusting myself off, but when I made eye contact with her, it was like fireworks went off in my mind.

I didn’t know I was staring until I felt a light pinching sensation on my arm. I looked to who it was and it was JD. I gave him a hard slap on the arm and continued to apologize for staring. “Oh it’s ok, I’m Viva if you didn’t get it before” she said bashfully as she held her hand out to shake mine. “That’s a pretty name,” I tell her. “My name is y/n” I tell her shyly while shaking her hand.

Before I could say anything else she zooms away and says something about food and suddenly lights are coming on all around us and different looking trolls are bringing us food. Now one thing about me is that imma enjoy some food so when I see a big basket of fries being brought to Bruce and Tiny I dig in.

Not even 2 minutes of me eating the delicious fries, Bruce mentions a burger and all the trolls around us start to run away and scream. “Why are they scared?” I ask Viva. I guess I startled her cause I came outta nowhere, but she told me that it sounded close to bergens. I don’t get why bergens are still scary to others so I just nodded and agreed. I head over to Tiny and Bruce and all of a sudden we hear a familiar voice.

“We call burgers…meat circles” I instantly knew who it was and so I got excited and yelled out to him “Hiii Clay!” He looked to where the voice came from and then his serious expression changed to an elated one. He rushed to me and picked me up yelling “Awww little n/n” and “Oh you’re so cute baby sis.” While he’s still treating me and Branch like babies I hear a giggle from Viva and now I feel my face heat up from her sweet voice. I guess Bruce picked up on how I was acting when me and her interacted, so he pulled me away from the group. “I see the way you look at her,” he tells me, smiling smugly.

Before I could get a word in he says “Awww my little sister has her first love” and goes to wipe a fake tear from his eye. “I am not in love with her Bruce, I just met her.” I argued with him but he could tell I was lying from the blush I held on my face. “Whatever you say n/n” he says rolling his eyes. Once we make it back to the group Viva and Poppy are missing. “Where’s Viva and Poppy?” I asked concerned. “They’re probably off to do some sister bonding I guess” Clay says shrugging his shoulders. “THEYRE SISTERS” I yelled. They seemed so alike that I hadn’t even noticed.

When I finished asking my questions about them being sisters, Bruce decided to blurt out and say “Y/n likes Viva.” I knew he was teasing me but damn did it turn my face a dark shade of s/c. My brothers looked right at me shocked with a mixture of giddiness on their faces.

They started to bombard me with questions and advice, but I say “We literally just met” and all I heard was “so” and “Love at first sight” from Bruce. “I could tell Viva for you,” Clay says, ready to play Cupid. “Tell me what?” Viva asks as she heads back to the group with Poppy. “That y/n lik-“ before Clay could even get it out, I put my hand over his mouth trying to save myself from public humiliation. “He doesn’t need to tell you anything, Viva it’s ok.” I say trying to stay cool but failing miserably.

She walked closer to me and I started to blush even more and she said “You sure n/n” in the most innocent and questionable tone ever. I almost told her but I declined again and said it was nothing. After I confirmed it was nothing she walked away and from what I was witnessing she didn’t want Poppy to leave Putt Putt village. The giant gates of the village opens and all of my brothers and Poppy heads toward Rhonda. Before we boarded we heard a sad Viva say “You guys can’t go…please Poppy.” She looked between me and Poppy trying to get us to stay.

It hurt me to see her sad, so I went back to hug her and comfort her. She hugged me so hard like if she were to let go of me she would lose me forever. “You could come with us,” I tell her, trying to persuade her. “No I can’t” she tells me as she slowly starts to walk away. I felt like this was my chance so I ran to her and kissed her softly on the lips. She looked at me like she just saw a Bergen and I told her “I’m kissing you now because even if I don’t make it back you could remember me at least. And if I do make it back we can be together.” I tell her as my own tears start to fall. “You promise n/n” she says now hugging me tightly “I promise Viva.” “Be safe y/n” she told me as I ran back to Rhonda.

As I boarded Rhonda, my brothers and Poppy looked like they just had a mental breakdown. “Why are y’all cry-“ before I could finish, they all pulled me into a bone crushing hug and started to compliment and tease me about how me and Viva basically just confessed. “I guess you were right Bruce” I say looking at him. “How so?” He asked cluelessly. “Love at first sight is real” I say looking out the window as we slowly see Putt Putt village dissipating from our view.

WOOOO HOPE YALL ENJOY🤍😫

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

The Greatest Gift

Sherlock still remembers the day like it was yesterday. The sixth day of July. He turned seven and a half years that day. And every birthday gift up until then had never come close to this marvellous surprise.

“Open your eyes, darling,” Mummy said, her voice filled with restrained excitement.

He did as she asked, but slow because he didn’t know what awaited him when his eyes were wide open. How could he have predicted that his life would change forever after that moment. He wonders if his parents knew all those years ago, that they literally gifted him his first best friend.

Sherlock opened his eyes and on the floor in front of him was a basket. Inside the basket was a dog. A living breathing dog. His dog he realised after a while. When those chocolate-brown eyes met his, Sherlock zoomed out anything but the puppy who struggled to get out of his prison.

His fur was wavy and some places curly. The colour of it was auburn. An Irish Setter.

“What will you call him?” Father prompted.

Sherlock startled, having been totally engrossed in watching the dog’s pathetic tries to get his small frame over the top of the basket.

“I get to name him?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

“Of course, Sherlock. It’s your dog,” Father told him. 

“Do you like him?” his mother coaxed.

By the tone of her voice, Sherlock discerned that it wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered.

“You can pick him up, you know,” his father said mirthfully. “It’s clear that he won’t be able to get out of there by himself.”

Careful, so he didn’t frighten the animal, Sherlock sat on his knees and leaned over the basket to lift the dog up. Seconds after an eager tongue licked his face and Sherlock giggled.

“It tickles!” he exclaimed.

His parents chuckled and told him he had to train the dog to obey, to teach him what was allowed and what wasn’t.

“In due course. Today you can play all you want with him,” Father assured him when Sherlock looked sceptically at his parents by the mentioning of rules.

Every morning after that, when Sherlock opened his eyes to a new day, Redbeard was there, ready to follow him wherever the day would take them. They became inseparable and Redbeard was quite obedient and didn’t need all the training and commanding his parents had mentioned. The dog was happy to follow Sherlock everywhere and if his master told him no, Redbeard refrained from doing whatever shenanigans he’d been up to at the time.

***

“Open your eyes, love,” John whispers.

Sherlock gets a sudden flashback to a certain July day almost six decades ago. Just like then, he opens his eyes slowly, and just like then he’s gobsmacked by what awaits him. At his feet, in their Sussex cottage, is a basket with an English Cocker Spaniel, red in colour, inside, looking expectantly up at Sherlock.

“John.”

It’s all Sherlock’s capable of uttering. In a fluid motion, unsuitable for his age, Sherlock seats himself on the floor beside the basket and stretches out his arms. The puppy comes eagerly and just like Redbeard did all those years ago, licks Sherlock’s face with fervour.

“Easy, my sweet,” Sherlock coos burying his hands in the soft and curly fur.

He looks over at his husband who’s seated himself beside Sherlock, with a bit more effort. 

“The kiss will have to wait, I’m afraid,” Sherlock says, his face still damp from the greeting.

John chuckles.

“You always make it up to me. Do you like her?”

“Oh, yes, John. She’s adorable. How did you keep this a secret?”

“A puzzle you can figure out later, my heart,” John teases. “What will you name her?”

“Hudders, would be appropriate, but I’m afraid our former landlady’s ghost would hunt me for eternity if I did. Hm…how about Queenie?”

“Perfect,” John agrees. “One drama queen and one…what role would she…”

“John!” Sherlock exclaims affronted, which makes the puppy bark.

“Ah, I see…she’ll be your protector,” John quips.

“Mm. I guess one more couldn’t hurt,” Sherlock ponders.

“Agreed,” John says emphatically. “Now, let’s get up and you can wash that beautiful face of yours so I can get that kiss you promised me.”

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @safedistancefrombeingsmart @phoenix27884 @gregorovitch-adler @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @raina-at @helloliriels @7-percent @ninasnakie

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (43)

Coral: I’ll be honest, our Menders-

Lucy Gray: Mentors.☺️

Coral: *glares at Lucy Gray* Our Menders might be a bunch of drunk idiots, but their gift baskets and cookies were delicious.

Otto: True. I can’t seem to stop eating the blueberry flavored ones.

Mizzen: Hey, does anyone want to donate their shares to me-

Panlo: For the last time, 4, we are not giving you our shares!

Mizzen: Why?!

Panlo: You know why!

Mizzen: Seriously, I don’t-

Ginnee: You literally stole and ate half of our goods already!

Dill: You also stole and ate Wovey’s last cookie.

Mizzen: That was Brandy!

Brandy: No, it wasn’t! I was too busy stealing and eating Reaper’s-

Reaper: That was you, 10?!

Brandy: See! I told you I was committing a totally different crime at that time.

Mizzen: Fine. It was me.

Reaper: You heartless little shi-

Mizzen: But you guys weren’t eating them!

Treech: Obviously, we were saving them for later!

Mizzen: But I’m hungry.🥺

Reaper: How are you still hungry?! You literally stole all of Lamina’s cookies!

Mizzen: But I thought she didn’t want them-

Reaper: Look at her! She’s still crying over them!

Lamina: My cookies!😭

Mizzen: Well, we can always wait for pretty boy (Coryo) and his rich boyfriend (Sejanus) to give us more food-

Marcus: Please stop mentioning idiot Plinth in front of me and my stale bread.

Treech: Why, Marcus? Are you embarrassed to see your friend again-

Marcus: Idiot Plinth is not my friend!😠

Lucy Gray: But you still ate the cookies he gave you-

Marcus: I ate them out of spite!

Coral: And you’re also invited to their upcoming wedding-

Marcus: Don’t remind me!

Circ: I’ll go to their wedding if you don’t.

Lucy Gray: Me too!

Mizzen: Free food is free food.

Marcus: Ughhh! Why are you supporting crazy Plinth and his pretty blonde boyfriend?!

Lucy Gray: FYI, Coryo’s hair is not blonde. It’s white as snow-

Marcus: You’re even using his stupid nickname!

Lucy Gray: We’re best friends.☺️

Marcus: Since when?!

Lucy Gray: Since the moment I promised Coryo and Sejanus that I’ll sing ✨Snow On The Beach✨ and ✨Lover✨ on their wedding day.😌💅

Marcus: Don’t say his name!

Lucy Gray: Sejanus.

Marcus: I hate you-

Sejanus: Hi, guys!😊

Tanner: What the heck?!

Jessup: How did you get in here?!

Coryo: My fiancé payed the Peacekeepers to let us in.

Coral: That’s allowed?!

Lucy Gray: Hi, Coryo!

Coryo: Hey, Birdy.

Sejanus: Hi, Marcus!

Marcus: I ain’t Marcus!

Sejanus: But-

Lucy Gray: I thought you guys were punished by your Dean for ruining your fancy school’s reputation?

Sejanus: We were!😀

Coryo: And this is our punishment.

Treech: To annoy us?!

Coryo: Unfortunately, no. But we were ordered by ✨The Academy✨ to bring you guys some food and supplies.

Lucy Gray: How did you even get your fancy school to support us?

Coryo: ✨Ravinstill Nepotism✨.

Reaper: Ravinstill?!

Coryo: It’s the most powerful name in the Capitol.

Coral: So where are they, Blondie? Where’s my cheesecake and burgers?

Coryo: Well, I was thinking about asking you guys what you want to eat because Sejanus said that we could order takeouts today.

Dill: What’s a takeout?

Coryo: Basically, you order the food that you want to eat and someone will deliver it here for you.

Lucy Gray: We can order anything?!

Coryo: Anything. My boyfriend is rich AF.

Sejanus: Order what you want, Coryo, my love, my Snow Angel!😍

Coryo: See. I told you he’ll pay for it.

Tanner: Must be nice to be Plinth’s sugar baby-

Coryo: Boyfriend.

Tanner: Sugar-

Coryo: Boyfriend.

Tanner: Baby.

Lucy Gray: Fiancé!😀

Sejanus: Husband!😘

Mizzen: I want a stuffed salmon with lemon sauce on the side!

Coral: One roasted lobster and hash browns for me!

Tanner: Baby back ribs with fries!

Dill: Green Bean Casserole!

Jessup: One stuffed turkey!

Panlo: A grilled cheese sandwich!

Lucy Gray: Smashed Potatoes with love on the side!😘

Lamina: My cookies!😭

Brandy: Chicken! A whole ass chicken!

Coryo: Slow down! I can’t keep up with all of you shouting at the same time!

Wovey: Can we order a whole serving of Apple Berry Pie?

Coryo: Anything for you, sweetie.

Sejanus: How about you, Marcus?

Marcus: I’m on diet.

Sejanus: But-

Coryo: Babe, let me do it.

Sejanus: Ok.😞

Coryo: How about you, Marcus?

Marcus: Give me a hundred chicken nuggets. I’m hungry.🥺

[vampiretendencies]

for my mental wellbeing PLS PLS PLS PLS write dad to be jj again

i beg of you. i was literally in a depressive episode and reading ur last jj fic was such a pick-me up. (ps ty for that 😭)

i LOVE u & i hope ur okay love

pairing; dadtobe!jj x pregnant!fem!reader

warnings; fluff, mentions of pregnancy, throwing up, talk of feet if thats a trigger for some, suggestive

authors note; came up with this earlier. hope this helps you, even if it's a little bit.

Hell has frozen over and JJ Maybank is folding laundry.

Really, he's only doing it so he can see the small animal patterned baby socks and the wholesome footy onsies. You'd washed them in preparation, as the nursery is adorned with all things baby, and your due date is to come any day now. Creeping it's way in, however pregnancy has been somewhat of a breeze with JJ at your beck and call.

Even if you are blowing chunks in the morning, he's breaking his rest in bare skin to hold your hair and press kisses to your spine.

"S'okay baby, still so pretty.” Is something along the lines of what he typically says, unbothered by the miraculous bile that ejects from your insides— using the nearest towel to clean you up earnestly and eagerly, he couldn’t fathom his baby appearing so helpless. Carrying your limp body back to bed, in his broad, bulky arms, insisting that you rest and not move a muscle.

He is so overly passionate when it comes to soon to be family.

He’s adapting to being a father, but he’s still the same old JJ.

“Do you think babies know they’re babies?”

You sat beside him on the fluffed out couch, nose crinkled in a manner of ‘what the hell are you talking about now’. JJ awaits your answer, absentmindedly folding a small pair of new born pants. The clothes basket is about half way full now and it’s taken him an hour to simply get that done, admiring the baby clothes and dreaming of when he gets to swallow the child whole with his enamoured ways.

“What, JJ?” You sighed exasperatedly, his antics peeling beneath your skin as he’s been doing this the lot of the time being seated here. Though he’s folding laundry his finger tips still find their way to your inner thigh, squeezing at the flesh with ease. Unable to go through extended periods of time without the proximity of your fiery being.

Always touching, explains the reasoning behind you being pregnant.

“Like what if our baby thinks-“

“JJ …” he knows he’s irked those pregnant hormones a bit too far from the rolling of your eyes and the way you keep saying JJ in protest for him to ‘stop talking about something so overly stupid’. Usually there’s so much patience in your voice when a ‘J’ rolls off your tongue calling his name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about … my fuckin’ feet hurt, my head is pounding, and I feel like a Goddamn whale.”

JJ eyes bulge, gesturing his hands in a surrendering way for he knows that any little thing that agitates you in the slightest will send you over the edge— breaking closer and closer to being dilated and in a hospital room. But, he never holds it against you, acknowledging that you mean no harm, merely in aching pain every growing hour.

Kind of like a shut up while you’re ahead sort of thing.

“Sexiest Goddamn whale I've ever seen," he tries to compliment, throwing a onesie to the side, the darting of your eyes makes the mischievous smirk on his face grow all the more wider.

There's always an urge of neediness behind every smirk.

His index finger traces your cheek bone to gain your full attention rather then the slim phone in your hands, a pout is beginning to form and it's making JJ's heart burst.

"M'not in the mood J, my belly's just gonna' get in the way."

"Never, your belly would make it even better ... but that's not the route I was taking baby, let me show you, yeah?"

And you nod willingly letting him take the pain away. JJ's dropping to his knees, keeping your complaint in mind that your 'fuckin' feet hurt.' Though your eyebrows furrow, you decided not to question, wishfully hoping for his contact despite it.

Pushing the throw blanket that was in your lap to the side, he puckers his lips around your knee. Practically worshipping the legs in front of him. Peering up at you with sensuous eyes, short-lived as he molds his mouth with the skin of your calves, granting each and every inch of skin with solicitous osculating kisses. Delicate with the way his large hands hold them upright to meet his mouth. Suctioning and delving all he could possibly reach.

"Thank you for carrying our sweet baby."

His voice sent goosebumps, vibrations of his heavy voice elevating to the point of you not being unable to muster a 'you're welcome' or 'of course'. Instead, your head falls back to collide with the couch cushion, eyes closing. Relishing in every empyrean like movement your lover ignited; heaven bled through every sullen kiss.

It came to a halt and know he's kneading your feet, oh so soft, lathered thick of a vanilla musked lotion. From the big toe to the heel his knuckles massage the foot, almost melting the swelling away like clockwork.

"Feel better, baby?"

"Feels so much better, J."

[lee-aveyourmark]

pov: you're doing grocery shopping with seventeen - maknae line

∘.∙°. masterlist Warnings: mentions of food, alcohol, public affection

A/N: For legal reasons, some of this is a joke. I don't mean to undermine any of the members, so please don't misread my writing :)

mingyu Efficient. Knows what he needs to buy before entering the store, but is also flexible in changing his shopping list or meal plan if the store doesn't stock certain items. Is not afraid to ask store clerks where certain items are. Ends up inadvertently flirting with the aunties, and it takes a foreign hand on his bicep for him to quickly say his goodbyes and run back to you, whining and burying his face into your neck. Wine is a must-add to the cart. There's often a request from Seungcheol for a certain snack. Mingyu is reluctant in gratifying his hyung, and that reluctance quickly transforms into jealousy when you drop the requested item into the basket with indifference. Definitely needs you to hold his hand and stroke his hair for the next five minutes before the jealousy can dissipate.

the8 LIkes to shop at Chinese grocery stores as much as possible, since his culinary range is probably largely Chinese. You can often find this man in the tea section, browsing new leaves for his next tea ceremony and meditation session. There'll most likely be a mala-flavoured item that ends up in the cart. Enjoys introducing you to all the different spices frequently used in northern Chinese cooking and giggles at your cute pronunciation of their names. Also enjoys making conversation with the grandpas that compliment your relationship and- wait, is that Jun? You don't recall being told that he was going to be here. Oh, and now you're being sidelined and thirdwheeled as Jun drags Minghao to check out the newest instant ramen on offer.

dk Giggles, blushes and twirls his hair around his finger every five seconds because, omg, you're out buying groceries with him - how domestic! Absolutely adores taking photos of you doing literally whatever at the store - looking at items, picking items up, eating samples, pushing the cart - he's capturing it all. Tries so hard to control himself when seeing you strolling down the aisles in his oversized hoodie, but fails miserably as his lips make contact with your cheek. As our resident ray of sunshine, this man will buy food based on how cute the packaging is. I'm talking bright colours, funky fonts, and baby animal mascots. Will also choose the odd-shaped fruits and vegetables because they're "quirky" and he feels a little sorry for them.

seungkwan Is an absolute sweetheart to all of the elderly ladies slowly pushing their carts through the store. Makes conversation with them and helps them pick items off shelves that are too high for them. Also is super sweet to the children, complimenting them and playing with them. He's always closely inspecting the health foods on offer, but looks forward to seeing the pastries from the bakery next door to the supermarket. When you offer to buy him some, he adamantly refuses, makes the excuse that he was just browsing and then complains about his diet under his breath. The excitement lit across his face when trying the weekly cookie menu is something that you'll never get sick of, and you make sure to bring him grocery shopping more often.

vernon What is Chwe Hansol doing in the grocery store with you? Honestly, he's asking himself that too because this man has zero experience. The assistance he attempts to provide is based on information from the internet, and I'm talking about WikiHow articles on buying bread. Uses logic to the best of his abilities, helping to choose items based on price point. However, logic doesn't get him very far when you're asking him which brand would taste the best. Will internally freak out if you leave him in the queue to grab something, and will need a breather when you return to the line with the loaf of bread that you forgot. Always has music on, so you'll need to give him a good shake of his shoulder to grab his attention.

dino Our maknae can cook, but that doesn't translate into having sense regarding grocery shopping. If he can't track you down amongst the aisles, there's a high chance of him calling another member for help. Particularly, he'll likely call a 95-line hyung with the expectation of them fulfilling their hyung role. Alas, I'm not entirely sure if Seungcheol, Jeonghan or Joshua knows whether a three-dollar cucumber is a bargain or not. Is extremely confused when you're walking around slapping watermelons like Seungcheol would his ass amidst dance practice. Honestly, just very confused but also very curious and willing to learn lots on how to select the freshest produce so that he can impress you with a tasty homemade dish one day.

[fireflyinks]

hiya!! :) wasn’t sure if you’ve written for charlie dalton yet & i saw u like niall (amazing taste might i add) but i just thought a charlie fic to one of his songs would be so cutie

you could start a cult

charlie dalton x reader fluff

summary : charlie reads poetry to reader and it’s painfully sweet

a/n : this was such a good req tysm for sharing this idea with me, please marry me. haha just kidding (i am not kidding). anywho i love this sm and im so glad to combine my favorite artist of all time and my favorite character of all time into a fi. hope you enjoy, love you all, drink some water today!

contains : pure fluff, no cursing, no use of y/n, pet names (sweet girl, baby, my love), charlie is down BADDDDD, literally just good vibes and tooth aching sweetness, not edited so lmk if there are typos or grammar mistakes pls and thank you!

“Baby, you could start a cult, you see. Anywhere you go, I’ll be. You are so much more than beautiful to me.” 

It was that time of day where everything felt romantic, when the sun had just begun to farewell and the sky was painted for two lovers to enjoy. And that, we did. 

“My love!” Charlie shouted, looking over the hill as I steered my bike towards him. I giggled, parking my bike as he ran up to me. 

Charlie and I had met at the library in town. He had been studying over winter break and I was people watching. We began to talk about the book I was reading. I entertained the conversation because he was the first boy I’d met that had read a book since elementary school. Soon enough, we began meeting at the library whenever we could. The library became the dead poets’ cave, and eventually we started to hang out whenever we could. It’d been a little over a year now, and we still couldn’t get enough of each other. 

I climbed off the bike, letting it fall to the ground as I jumped into Charlie’s arms. 

“Hi Charlie,” I spoke into his sweater softly, trying to cover up my blush. 

“Hello, sweet girl.” He cooed, rubbing my back softly before placing me back on the ground. We walked back over to the small picnic he’d set up before I’d arrived. There was a small, checkered blanket on the ground as well as a basket with chocolate covered strawberries and a few different poetry books. 

Charlie and I sat down on the blanket, and my eyes were automatically drawn to the sun setting before us. 

I pointed towards it, my eyes lingering along the horizon before us. “It’s so beautiful.” 

“Reminds me of you.” Charlie looked at me with a smirk, as if he knew what he was saying was corny, and yet he still said it. 

“You know,” I began again, now staring at the orange sunset, “I think sunsets were made to be looked at by me and you.” 

I blush, moving my eyes to him. “Are you going to read me some poetry or not, lover boy?” I teased him. 

He proceeded to read some poems he’d recently discovered, along with a few of our favorites. I watch as he looks up after every couple of lines to see my reactions. I couldn’t help but grin as he read. I swear, his voice was made to recite poetry. 

He finishes one of my favorites, “She Walks in Beauty” by Lord Byron, and looks up at me quickly. His pupils dilate quickly as he stares at me, waiting on a reaction. 

“That’s one of my favorites.” I take a bite of a strawberry, not taking my eyes off of him. 

“I know, that’s why I read it so often.” He chuckles before pausing for a moment, blushing, “I actually wrote something of my own… for you. If you’d like me to read it.”

I raise my eyebrows, not used to seeing Charlie this shy or bashful. “I’d love to hear it. I’d love to hear you read anything.” 

He smiles up at me before pulling out a small black notebook and flipping through it for a moment before landing on a page filled top to bottom with ink formed into words and doodles. 

Examining the page, he breathes in sharply before speaking, “It might be a little dumb, there’s some repetition here and there, I just thought it was a cool detail.”

I nod, waiting for him to read. 

Charlie clears his throat before the words flow out of his lungs. 

“Darling, I will give up everything.

Who I'll be and who I am.

You can have it all.

Baby, you could start a cult, you see.

Anywhere you go, I'll be.

You are so much more than beautiful to me.

Oh, I'll follow you 'til there's no tomorrow.

I'll follow you.

Swear you could start a war or two.

Kingdoms fighting over you.

To wake up by your side is all I want to do.

Oh, I'll follow you 'til there's no tomorrow.

I'll follow you .

Baby, you could start a cult, you see.

They will say that we're crazy.

But you are so much more than beautiful to me.”

I’m taken aback for a moment, I’d never hear something so beautiful come out of Charlie Dalton’s mouth. The moment he’s done, I press our lips together. We share a soft kiss for a moment before I pull away. 

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

He smirked, “It’s for the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Or heard. Or loved.” 

My heart fluttered as I scooted closer to him, looking back at the now almost gone sunset. The once orange sky was now turning black, and I couldn’t wait to look at the stars with the boy I loved.

[meowlod]

picnic date with sweetheart furina!! <33

we’d go on a picnic together that’s on a nice patch of grass where the court of fontaine can be seen clearly.

once we set the picnic blanket under the shade, we’d bring out our basket with lots and LOTS of our favorite pastries and desserts! I’d feed her; her favorite cake slices and she’d feed me back as well omggg, she’s just a sweetheart <3

after eating, she’d rest her head on my lap as we gaze up at the clear sky with cloud figures. we’d name them and guess what they look like, crack jokes here and there about them.

we’d also talk about lots of stuff together, whether it’d be serious or not, flirtatious statements here and there- and lots of teasing, too!

oh, and once it starts raining out of the blue, we’d shriek and giggle and run off to a better place where we can’t get wet. but if she decides not to run off, she’d offer me her hand and ask for a dance!! she’d go, “may I have this dance, my lovely lady?” with the sweetest smile on her face HAJSKAJWLDL AND OF COURSE I’D SAY YES, I could never say no to her.

she’d pull me close and tell me how much she loves me and tell me how happy she is, spending time with her loved one <33

aaaand after that, we’d get sick afterwards LMFAO but at least we had our moment together <33!!

PICNIC DATE with her would be the best, oh my god. I NEED to do that. while u guys walk to the picnic place, you both hold hands!!!

biggest sweetheart ever. she will feed you pastries with the sweetest smile ever!!! the prettiest smile!! she never understood how she found the sweetest girlfriend ever, you.

she is pretty flirty with you sometimes every time. and a big teaser too, but she will get red too from the words she says to you!!! red tomato face <3

DEFINITELY dances in the rain with you. i can imagine charlotte secretly taking a picture of the both of you dancing a waltz in the middle of the rainy weather because the picture would look so pretty. she‘ll hand the picture to you and furina keeps it very close to her.

she is SO happy around you, so happy that she finally found someone she can actually trust and love a lot. the last 500 years she had nobody, literally no one. poor baby was so lonely and sad, she couldn‘t even trust anyone with her secrets. she was scared if she gets rejected, even. but when she found you, she never stopped being clingy. furina stays very close to you, and is pretty scared if you leave her! but you told her that you‘ll never leave her and that you will stay by her side forever.

at least you both are sick together and can cuddle in bed for hours, like clingy cats. <3