#wondering where i've been for the past eon?

[horseizontal]

YOU’RE OURS IN EVERY UNIVERSE — BMA.TODAY

[bluesidez]

AHH CMON REQUESTS!! I know the inbox is flooded girl omg.

okay so as a request, i would really love to see a story where black, plus size reader and Miguel take on wedding planning. Reader is happy enjoying cake tastings, dress shopping, venue hunting etc. and groomzilla!miguel is trying to make everything perfect for her. It can be nsfw, but I trust you with whatever the vibe is! Love you down!! ✨✨✨✨

["It’s My Wife’s Day!"]

lab tester: @leoeloo 🩻

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader, black!Reader, PlusSize!reader

summary: No one is going to stop Miguel's fiancé from having the best day of her life, not if Miguel has anything to do with it.

content warning: AAVE (YAY!), sorry to anyone named Elana or Finley, Miguel gets a little mean here (I tried to keep it reasonable but he’s giving Libra Diva DOWN), mentions of food, some cultural (traditional) things from both sides but nothing crazy, there is one scene that could be triggering for my fellow big girls (but it's handled with care I promise), 18+ at the end so MDNI, it's also pretty suggestive throughout

word count: 8,888k EXACTLY (there should be no mistakes for as long as I've been working on it....but hey)

a/n: AHHHH! I was so happy to receive this request! (You have also been very sweet to me since my very first fic and I really appreciate that!!!) I said on my blog that I really love all things weddings, so this was a super fun write. I just love imagining Miguel in this position of making sure that his girl has everything while the girl is in complete bliss. (The mom here was also heavily inspired by my own mom who is much more active than I am in terms of telling people off.) As per our DMs, I did sprinkle in a little GR!Mig mannerisms! And! I added him being super in love with reader…but that’s a given. I do hope you enjoy! Also, I LOVE YOU!

Miguel refers to reader as his wife constantly before they’re actually married.

Also a headcanon for Miguel here that isn’t said explicitly is that his Libra trait of indecisiveness is on at all times. 

Miguel could never forget the day you set his heart ablaze when you said those destined words:

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

He was over the moon. Weeks of him getting you to warm up to him, months of him chasing after you, years of him trying to show you that he’s the right one for you, and finally, your hand was adorned in the rock he’s been planning for you for eons. You were truly his lady, now and forever. 

The proposal was quiet and intimate, mostly because Miguel was a bit fearful you would say no, a seed of doubt growing the longer he waited. He steadily reminded you to get your nails done and paid for your hair appointments every now and then. Each time he thought he could do it, he chickened out. 

Then, one night under the stars after an unnecessary work event, his feelings just overloaded. 

You were so ethereal.

He remembers you laughing over something his drunk coworker had said, eyes sparkling as you retold the story. Your curls were parted to the side, earrings dangling past your jaw. Your legs were swinging over the edge of his trunk, not a care in the world as you talked with vigor. 

He thought that he couldn’t live without this. He couldn’t have a life without small moments like this with you. He couldn’t imagine a moment where you weren’t by his side. 

So, the words spilled out of him like water. He took your hands in his and poured his heart out. Finally, the ring box that had practically melted a shape into his thigh was being freed. 

You cried when you noticed what he was doing, emotions doing a complete 180. 

“No wonder you kept giving me extra money for my nails,” you let out a watery laugh as you leaned into him. 

Now, here you both were, almost a year later in the middle of wedding planning. 

The theme and colors were carefully handpicked, the venue was booked, and almost every week, the two of you had something to look forward to. 

Miguel was currently prepping ingredients for tonight’s dinner, listening as you chatted about your great wedding dress search of the day. 

“We stopped by one store, but the lady behind the desk immediately turned us down. I didn’t want to ruin such a good vibe, so I left it at that. Ma was ready to hurt her though.”

Miguel felt his nerves tighten at the news, “What?”

“Yeah, as soon as me and my entourage walked in, she ran up to us saying something about a short stock, but we knew she was lying-”

“What’s the name?”

You raise your eyebrows at his abruptness. 

“Miggy, it’s really ok. Don’t worry over this,” you got closer to him, taking his face into your hand. 

“I’m not. What’s the name?”

You pull his face down to yours, “Nuh uh. I’m not giving you the name. We said we weren’t going to be stressed out over this process, remember?” 

Miguel closed his eyes and brought his hands down your body, leaning his forehead against yours, “I remember.” He blew out a breath and squeezed your ass in hopes that it would help calm him down. 

“Good. Now, you stay right here and I’ll go get ready for dinner. I wanna tell you about this poor girl whose dad didn’t like a single thing she put on.”

You kiss him three times, the last kiss lingering a little longer with Miguel humming into your lips and lean back with a warm smile. Miguel’s hands clinged to you until you were too far to reach and you walked upstairs to change into your house clothes. 

Miguel stood next to the island, tapping his fingers against the granite with a tongue poking into his cheek. 

The dress shopping process was the one he was the least involved in, opting to be surprised on the day you walked down the aisle. You wouldn’t even let his family pitch in for the dress, saying something about running up your dad’s pockets. 

But how does a dress shop conveniently run out of dresses once his fiancé walks in?

Right as Miguel was considering googling every dress shop in the area, his phone buzzed to life. 

Just the person he wanted to hear from.

“Hello?” Miguel turned to toss some butter on a skillet, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

“Miguel…”

He stopped in his tracks, knowing the exact tone of voice your mother was using. 

“What happened?”

“Today was so beautiful!”

“But?”

“But that one shop on James Street? Terrible.”

Miguel would have usually chuckled at the dramatics, but this situation was no laughing matter to him.  

“You should have seen the way the people in there turned they nose up at us! One lady was about to jump out of her skin. All of this for some of the ugliest dresses I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Miguel shifted his position and stood up straight, tossing minced garlic in the sizzling butter, “Did they say anything to you?” His hands were gripping the phone enough to leave indents on his skin.

“Other than telling us how she wouldn’t have anything we would like, no. She didn’t even want us taking a seat in the lobby.”

He moved to grab a pen and a notepad from the drawer, “Do you have the name of the shop?”

“Lady Love. They should call it Lady A Lie.”

Miguel smiled, thankful that he could count on his future mother-in-law to be his partner in crime specifically when it came to making sure that no one brought harm to you. The number one thing that he and your mom had in common was their need to spring into action.

“Thank you. She didn’t want to tell me anything.”

“Trust me, if she hadn’t begged me not to act a fool, I would have cussed that heifer out. She was so nasty and so rude. That ol’ cow.”

“They’ll have a notice from my lawyer by the morning.”

Your mother hummed, “Let me get my iPad out and get to rating they store. It was a bleach blonde butched buffoon named Elana at the front desk. She was the one giving my baby a hard time. Nobody in there was trying to stop her either.”

“I’ll remember that,” Miguel could hear you coming down the stairs, fuzzy slides creating a steady tempo against the floor. “Let me call you back later.”

“She must be coming back. Tell her to bring me back my shoes!”

Miguel chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Was that Ma?”

“Yeah,” Miguel reached to place some chicken on the hot skillet, satisfied with the simmered ingredients he added. “She said to give her those shoes back.”

“She’ll get them back! I’m using them right now. What else were you two talking about?”

Miguel turns down the boil of the pasta noodles, shoulders tensing, “She was telling me about Lady Love.”

You clicked your teeth, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I’m not!” He turned the chicken over while you grumbled into his back. “But she called me with very upsetting news. What am I but a good son? I had to listen.”

“You two are gonna work my nerves.”

“Don’t say that. We’re just not going to sit back and let someone disrespect you like that. What kind of man would I be if I just let somebody not treat you right and I have the means to stop it? So, please. Let me do this.”

You huffed and buried your face into his back, fingers pressing into his skin. His words shut you up. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you, cariño. Now, can you get the salad and the wine out of the fridge? This is almost ready.”

“What are you making?”

“Marry Me Chicken and Pasta.”

“So funny.”

“Ah, I know. It must really work, huh?”

Miguel walked hand-in-hand with you down the fancy boutiques in the shopping district. 

You both had just gotten done wandering aimlessly as you waited for the cake-tasting appointment. Miguel had to be stopped multiple times from buying everything you complimented. 

He was extremely happy to see you giddy about the cake tasting. It was something you’ve been looking forward to since the day you both confirmed a wedding date. 

He’s studied your Pinterest boards heavily, the notifications dinging with every pin. He knows you want to go all out for the cake. Something large enough to feed both of your huge families and something grand enough to match the venue and the theme. 

He arranged for the best of the best to be trying out today and if that didn’t work, he’ll seek someone else. He’ll even bake the cake if he has to, although you’d push him out of the kitchen.

“I hope they have that Biscoff flavor. I heard it was really good,” you turn to him with a hopeful smile. 

Miguel smiled back at you, “I’m sure they will.”

He only lets go of your hand to hold the door open for you, eyes enjoying the view of your body in the flowy dress you were wearing. Earlier, he couldn’t stop kissing over the deep Queen Anne neckline of it, claiming that you smelled too good. You two almost didn’t make it out of the house on time.

“Hello! Welcome in!”

The bakery was bright and homey. The desserts on display were placed on light peach stands and risers and the smell of caramel and cinnamon was strong in the air. Square canvases covered the walls with cute paintings of some of the featured desserts.

“Miguel, look!”

You pull him over to some Miffy-shaped buns filled with different flavored custards. 

“That is too adorable to even eat.”

“But I do hope you’d still be willing to give it a taste!”

You both look up to the friendly face behind the counter. They were a lanky figure with a glitter tattoo of a unicorn cupcake planted on their arm and pink gauges in their ears 

“You two must be the future Mr. & Mrs. O’Hara. Lovely to meet you all.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Miguel reached his hand out to give a firm shake. 

“My name is Finley and I’ll be assisting you all today. We have several beautiful flavors for you to try.”

Finely directed you both to a square table booth in the corner of the bakery. Miguel slid next to your right side in order to wrap his arm around with one hand and eat with the other. 

“Other than the standard Chocolate, Vanilla, Strawberry & Cream, Red Velvet, Marble, and ‘Wedding Cake’ flavors that we offer, the samples for you here include Tiramisu, Passionfruit, White Chocolate Raspberry, Lemon Blueberry, Cookies & Cream, aaaand Dulce de Leche!”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up, feeling skeptical but open. 

“Woah,” your eyes grew at the neat display of confections before you. “I’m so excited.”

 “I’ll be right over here if you guys need me. Enjoy!”

You picked up a fork and dug straight into the Strawberries & Cream.

“That is so freaking good,” you groan out, eyebrows scrunching. 

“Let me see,” Miguel turned to you with his mouth open, eyes full of mirth.

“Miguel, please.”

“What? It’s practice for the real deal.”

“When we’re the only ones in here?”

“It’s going to feel like an intimate moment just between us, no?”

You sigh, defeated. He doesn’t even budge when you shove a giant piece of cake in his mouth. He grabs your hand before you can retreat, licking slowly away at the leftover cream. 

He focuses on the golden fork, working in between the prongs. Time slows down as you watch the white icing disappear into his mouth. His eyelashes are long and pretty and his lips are plump and a little wet from his tongue. 

One more pass of the fork through his mouth and he’s looking up at you with the same fire from this morning. 

You clear your throat, “Is that how you’re going to eat the cake?”

“Something like that.”

You two slowly but surely make it through the rest of the flavors with you trying to stay unflustered and Miguel trying to up the ante. 

He’s grinning and chuckling at your ruffled state until you get to the Dulce de Leche cake. He harrumphs as you cut into it. 

“No, no, you wanna eat cake so bad, so eat it!”

“This isn’t the cake I was talking about-”

“I’m going to shove this fork so far down your throat if you even think of finishing those thoughts out loud.”

 “You know I love it when you get that way,” Miguel sighs and reaches to eat from the fork before you can say anything back. 

You wait in silence as you watch his face contort from disgusted to neutral to pleased. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah?”

“A little too sweet. Abuela wouldn’t like it.”

“Do you like it, though?”

He paused as he watched you take a bite. 

“Maybe.”

“Would you like it as our wedding cake?”

“No….”

You smirked at him, “But you want it as your groom’s cake?”

“…Yes.”

He looks so conflicted about it that you almost feel bad for him.

“Miguel it’s ok if you like it, no one is going hurt you. You know you have a sweet tooth.”

“It is really delicious, like eerily so. It’s not my favorite cake, though.”

“Oh? Was it the Cookies & Cream one?”

“Close.”

You look around the plate, confused as to how fruit flavors have anything to do with sandwich cookies. 

Miguel got closer to your ear, lips grazing the top, “My favorite is you.”

You push his face back with your hand while he grins into your palm. 

“I see you two lovebirds are enjoying everything,” Finley walks back over to the two of you. “Any standouts?”

Miguel lists off the ones you were enjoying the most with ease. 

“We also enjoyed this Dulce de Leche one but we decided it would be best for my cake but before we move on, do you have any Biscoff cake samples that we can try?”

“Of course, let me go get that for you.”

He looks back at you cheesing at him.

“You remembered!”

“Always.” 

Finley comes back with a small Biscoff bundt cake. 

“Now, unfortunately, we don’t offer this flavor for any tiered cakes.”

You took a bite and almost soared. The flavors were just the right mix of salty and sweet, some caramel coating the top. 

Miguel looked from you to Finley, “Can you just do it for one tier?”

“Um, I can ask my boss when she comes back-”

“You can leave her number with me. I would really love to talk with her face-to-face.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good,” Miguel reaches over to wipe some salt off of your lips. “My wife wants a pretty grand cake and she has some particular ideas. We want to be really involved in the process for the best result. No surprises.”

“Absolutely. Would you still want to place that order for the groom cake? We have a sale on toppers for them right now.”

They place a pamphlet on the counter with countless toppers of grooms in pure agony. Some are being dragged by their wives and others are running away. Miguel turns his lip up and moves his eyes to Finely without lifting his head up. 

“These are very tacky and senseless, so no. We’ll place the order for it at the same time as the main cake.”

Finely moves to remove the pamphlet, face red and eyes wet, “I apologize. A lot of the future husbands enjoy them.”

“Do I look like the other husbands that come through here?”

“N-no sir! Not at all.”

“Tell you what, give me your boss’s number and your business card. We’ll circle back. Thank you for today’s tasting.”

“L-let me at least give you some extra dessert before you leave. Free of charge!”

Miguel helps you stand as Finley hops around the store grabbing any and everything. 

“I really hope you consider choosing us for the wedding.”

“The wedding?”

“Your! Your wedding!”

“Hmph.”

Miguel grabs the box from Finley’s shaking hands and promptly leaves the store with you on his arm. You turn back to Finley with an apologetic look and a quiet sorry leaving your lips, though you’re sure they’re still shocked by Miguel’s behavior. 

“I’m going to set up more appointments. We need a backup cake,” he says as he guides you back to the car. 

“You loved those cakes and you scared that poor person to death.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just me eating these cakes. And those were some of the most horrible toppers I’ve seen yet. Who does that?” 

“You would be shocked to know that not every man is willing to celebrate and proudly love their partner.”

Miguel turned the car on and let the cool AC hit his face. 

“But, if you still want to look at more bakeries, we can. More cake for me.”

You turn his face to yours and kiss his lips gently. 

“Now what’s all this about eating me-flavored cake?”

He shifts the gear into reverse, “Let’s get home and you’ll find out.”

When you said you wanted creative and unique pre-wedding photoshoots, Miguel didn’t hesitate to make sure he could pull it together for you. Now he’s starting to regret it. 

You walked out into the studio apartment with an oversized button-down that looked like it could be his, some thigh-high stockings squeezing at your thick thighs, and some black lingerie peeking through the thin shirt material. Your makeup was simple but jaw-dropping with glossy lips and a lovely blush that brought out a glow to your skin. Your hair was in a blowout style, curls bouncing with every step closer to him.

This specific photographer that you had mentioned in awed passing was known for her eye for romantic detail. Her pictures truly captured the love between couples in raw form. When you showed Miguel the pictures on her website, he was quick to get in touch with her to set up a decent amount of photoshoots. What he didn’t expect was for her to have an influx of assistants and protégés to have wandering eyes. 

“Are you going to move the lights or are you going to keep gawking at my wife like an idiot?” 

The one assistant who clearly didn’t understand what Miguel’s death stares meant jumped at his voice and rushed to move things within the set, the entire back of his neck beet-red. 

“Baby, don’t be like that, he might just be nervous,” you slid your hands up his chest, straightening out his “work” shirt. “Don’t fuss at him.”

 “He should do his job then,” Miguel shifted his gaze from the scrambling boy to you, voice getting quieter as he peered down at your excited face. “You do look beautiful, though. Can’t blame him.”

“You like it?” There was a spark in your eye. It was something that Miguel knew all too well.

He glided his fingers down your back, feeling the heat of your skin through the shirt. Your eyes never left his lips as he drew closer. You could feel his breath covering your skin.

The flash of a strobe light caused you to jump.

“These are going to make such stunning outtakes,” Xina gasped as she moved her camera back up to her face again. “Sorry to scare you. Please continue this and we can do the original plan in a second.”

You laughed as Miguel pulled you even closer, pressing kisses against your neck to avoid ruining your makeup. 

The original idea of the shoot was to have Miguel look like he’s coming home from work and walking in on you dancing around in his clothes. The idea was cute, domestic, a little sexy, and true to life. While it wasn’t the set of photos going out with your wedding invitations, it was something fun for your socials. 

As the scene played out, Miguel didn’t expect you to open up your shirt even more as he came back through the entryway. It made for a nice expression when he looked up to see you passionately dancing around the couch. 

You urged him toward you with your finger, hips moving to the music blasting over the speakers Xina had behind the equipment. Miguel grinned and headed your way. 

With Xina’s direction, the both of you were able to get out lively photos as if it were just a normal day in the soon-to-be O’Hara home. 

By the time you all were finished, Miguel was only in a tucked-in tank top with his hair tossed and turned. You still looked perfect on his lap, grinning down at him as he mischievously bit his loose necktie that you placed on your shoulders.

“Perfect!” Xina smiled behind the camera. “Now, one little thing I like to do at the end of each shoot is have the couple face me with their faces together for one final picture.”

You kiss Miguel on the corner of his mouth and lay his tie on top of his head before turning to Xina. Miguel follows with a lazy grin on his face.

It would have all been so well if that same assistant wasn’t still staring at you like he’s never seen a beautiful woman before when Xina started to wrap up. 

He met Miguel’s eyes and almost turned blue in the face trying to look busy.

There were so many more photoshoots to go in the near future. He’s not sure how he’ll make it through the next ones without making a scene. 

“Miguel! The invitation samples are here,” you knocked on his office door, giddy with excitement.

Miguel rolls back from his desk, glasses perched on his nose, “C’mon, let me see.”

You stride eagerly to his seat and he’s waiting with the same energy, pulling you into his lap once you’re within arms reach. You make a noise of excitement as run your finger under the envelope flap. Miguel leans his head on your shoulder waiting to finally see the design you so meticulously planned. 

You slid the cardstock out, gasping as you saw the paperdoll drawings of you and Miguel on the page. The artists did a fantastic job of designing you both in such a stylistic, yet recognizable way. 

“Oh my god, look at the little outfits!”

You panned through the cut-out clothes, one with you all’s work outfits, another with casual outfits, and the last one with a wedding dress and a tux. You brought the papers up to cover your mouth as you laughed again. Miguel’s heart soared at the charming way you reacted. 

“Look! They even captured your cute nose right!”

“You love my nose, huh?”

“Stop,” you snicker as you pull out the last picture. It’s one from a more recent photoshoot with you both in formal, dressy attire with scissors and measuring tapes in your hands and paper hearts everywhere to match the paperdoll invitation. 

Miguel took the invitations from your hands, wanting to get a better look. It really was one of a kind, something you both would be able to look back fondly at. 

He ran his thumb across the words, really taking in the fact that you’ll be walking down the aisle right into his arms. He read the words once more. 

Save the date…

2025…

Miguel &…

“How the hell did they spell your name wrong?”

You looked up from the picture in your hand with a frown, “What?”

“We waited this long for samples and they spell your name fucking wrong.”

You read over the invitation again and let out a groan, “Of course. Let me call the company-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You looked busy when I knocked, I don’t want you to get sidetracked.”

“Making sure that my wife’s name is spelled correctly on our wedding invitations isn’t getting sidetracked. I’ll handle it.”

You felt your shoulders drop, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying releasing from your body. 

“Thank you so much, baby,” you sent him the number with a small smile on your face. 

Miguel gave your lips a peck, “Anything for you. Don’t worry your head about it.”

You stood up to leave, but not before he gave your thighs a squeeze. 

When he was sure you rounded the corner, he immediately pressed the number, blowing slowly through his mouth. 

He was about to work his way to free invitations and a year's worth of service once he was finished. 

Miguel laughed at the video you sent him. You were practically glowing with the turquoise waves in the background and braids in your hair. A giant plumeria was tucked behind your ear and you held a big fruity drink in your hand. 

You were out on your bachelorette’s trip, enjoying the waves in the sand as you caught up with your bridesmaids. He hadn’t seen any annoyed texts yet, so he assumed that the trip was not falling to pieces. 

He could hear your friends in the background bickering about how they had to take your phone away sometimes to stop you from texting him. 

“She got a few more months of being a hoe!”

“Will you shut up?! I’m making a video.”

“It’s true, though! We’re about to go get drunk as fuck. Don’t worry, Miguel, we got her!”

You just rolled your eyes and smiled at their antics before the video ends.

The mood of the video contrasted your texts entirely. They really did get you drunk.

“i miss you alreadyyyyyy”

“I miss you too but you need to have fun”

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll be waiting for you at the airport in just a few days.”

“good”

“you better be waiting for me”

“i wont you”

“shit”

“want you”

“you and your dick”

“gonna sing to him”

“Him?”

“yeah him”

“he’s mine”

“gonna love on him”

“and you”

“miss you so baaaaad”

“the bed is empty without you :((((“

“I hope you remember all of this when you see me baby”

“my name is mrssss oharaaaa”

“idk who baby is”

“Ok well Mrs. O’Hara you need to go to sleep”

“i will go to sleep mr ohara”

“gonna dream of you”

“and my big dick”

“You do that”

“Send me a pic when you wake up”

The night could have ended perfectly. He knew you had fun and crashed safely in your room. There were no problems with the resort or the reservations. You were constantly flooding his phone with pictures without talking because of the “No Miguel” rule he was sure your friends set. 

Miguel wanted to close his eyes in peace. 

So when his assistant sent him the picture of one of the most crucial parts of your wedding, he could feel his neck tightening. He called Ben instantly.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

“The broom! They had a lot of them at the store but this one was plain and white, so I feel like it’s perfect for the wedding.”

Miguel pinched his forehead in an attempt to keep his eyebrows from molding together, “Do you have a schedule for when you’re this stupid, or is it only reserved for me?”

Ben was silent for a second, “I don’t understand, I thought you said you needed a broom? Is that not what this is?”

“A broom to jump over Reily. For weddings. I told you to check with Jess about it because I knew you weren’t going to have the slightest idea what I was talking about. Imagine if I brought this home to my wife. She would be offended.”

“W-what’s the difference?”

He might find out the difference once Miguel hits him over the head with it. 

“I’m going to fire you.” 

Miguel wasn’t really. He was just so tired. 

“Return the broom. I’ll take care of this in the morning.”

Ben was stuttering and blubbering as Miguel smacked the red button. He needed to look at the pictures you sent again. He didn’t need to fall asleep in such a bad mood. 

Miguel was certain that if he were a celebrity, this would be the wedding of the century with the way the bill was racking up. 

Not that it really mattered, because it was his wife’s day. Anything you wanted, he was going to get it. 

You both agreed on a buffet-style dinner for the reception with different stations and servers to accommodate your huge families. 

Currently, you both were tasting the traditional foods that the caterer had to offer and it was looking less than desirable. 

The greens were a bit bland, the catfish was ok, and the mac & cheese was delicious. 

The pork was a bit dry, the wedding cookies could have been better, and the mole was missing something. 

“I think,” Miguel pushed his food around the plate. “It’s missing banana.”

“Really? I’ve never thought to add that before.”

“For future reference, it’ll really make the difference.”

You wiped your fingers above the plate, “I think this might be a sign to leave the traditional stuff to our dessert table. Some of these are great but I’m sure both of our families will be up in arms with complaints. And maybe this is for the better! Tradition is too on the nose.”

Miguel admires your positivity because this is probably the sixth caterer you both have tested out. 

“We know you’re popular from your page, so what is it that you’re most confident in?”

The woman before you all smiled, “Since you're both looking for a pretty ambitious spread, I think things like a pizza bar or build-your-own stations should be the way to go.”

Through another round of dishes, you and Miguel were amazed by the specialties that the chef had to offer from the customization to the endless amount of options.

After a long Q&A trial between the chef and Miguel:

“Do you have simpler options for the kiddos?”

“Is it possible to do this station and this station right next to each other?”

“Should I hire more help for you?”

“Do you sell this mac & cheese separately?”

“Can you try this mole one more time?”

You both settled on five different stations with food ranging from BBQ to fries to candy. No one will be able to say that they went home hungry.

“Are you satisfied?” you rub Miguel’s chest on the way out to the car.

“Completely. I think it’s going to be great.”

The big day was getting closer and closer with finalizations being made and arrangements galore. The cake flavors were chosen, your dress was being edited to perfection, makeup and hair appointments were already made, and Miguel’s suit was tailored like no other. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were all fitted, especially after Miguel’s constant trips to Lyla’s shop. He was there for nearly every snip, tuck, and seam.

The time was really winding down and you both could really feel that as you walked into the reception venue. 

Miguel woke up that day to a phone call claiming that the venue had been overbooked and was seeking him out to cancel his event. He’s never called people faster in his life. The threats that were made was not something he was proud of, but he’s glad he didn’t wake you up.

Now he has the pleasure of watching you glide around the tables in awe.

“Miguel! Look at the plates! The silverware! The centerpieces!”

It truly was magical watching your vision come to light. 

Miguel followed after you with a grin painting his lips, checking every table for faults. The wedding planner was also next to him, waiting with bated breath for direction from Miguel.

“This should be here,” Miguel pointed to a lone party favor in the middle of a plate.

The planner moves it with ease, used to Miguel’s demands at this point in the process. 

Miguel kept walking towards the tables closest to where you and he would be sitting. 

“I thought I said that these two weren’t supposed to be next to each other? We don’t have time for arguments that night,” Miguel picks up two placeholders. “I don’t want to have to carry our aunts out of here myself. Fix it.”

The wedding planner grabbed them and made a note on their clipboard.

“And where’s the centerpiece for our table?” Miguel checks his watch. “It was supposed to be here yesterday.”

“There was a delay in the flowers. They were the wrong shade, remember? They should be here first thing tomorrow morning, and we’ll have the final touches to it.”

“And you’ll have the pictures sent to me?”

“Of course.”

“Miguel!” you were on the other side of the hall by the dessert table. “The lights over here are shaped like hearts! How cute is that!”

Miguel’s arms unfolded, demeanor shifting as he watched you get excited by the different labels. His chest rose up and the scowl on his mouth disappeared. 

“You really love her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“This is a toast to everyone who has been with us on this long, long journey.”

Your closest friends and family laughed at Miguel’s words. 

Who’s to say that Miguel essentially blacked out making sure that everyone walked down the aisle correctly just a few hours earlier? No one brave enough to bring it to his face.

“You guys have been here from the start. From the moment I decided to pursue this angel of a woman, you guys were right there cheering me on. Now we’re here years later about to take on one of the biggest days of our lives.”

The table was a mix of happiness and nostalgia, excitement and fondness.

“I can’t thank you all enough for being a part of our bridal party. I can’t even thank you guys enough for encouraging us as a couple. The love in this room truly knows no bounds.’

Miguel lifts his glass up with one hand and squeezes your hand with another.

“So here’s to the present and the future. To family and friends. To us, your future O’Hara’s.”

The table clinks their glasses together with a cheer, watching as Miguel kisses you with so much adoration. 

Tomorrow was going to be whimsical.

Today was starting out obnoxious. 

Anything that could go wrong was going wrong for Miguel.

First, woke up almost an hour late due to playing stupid games all night with his groomsmen. He would have preferred one my night with you before the “I do’s,” but apparently that was bad luck. Instead, he got an extensive game night with a couple of beers. Nothing to have him over the edge, but definitely something to make him feel like he was in college again.

Second, he couldn’t find his cufflinks that he had made specifically for this day. They were custom with your initials and your birthstone on them. The room looked like a whirlwind after he searched top to bottom only for Gabriel to have them the whole time and tell him almost forty minutes later. 

He wanted to strangle him.

“Miguel, I have the rings too. There’s no way you think that Peter B. is a better ringkeeper than I am.”

“If you lose them, I swear to god I’m going to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Death, Grim Ripper, stabbing, big whoop. Go calm down.”

Third, for some reason, Peter B. had Mayday in the hotel suite when the only children that were supposed to hit the aisle were his niece and your nephew. 

“Why is that baby here?” Miguel tried to keep his voice level because it’s not Mayday who ran in here, it was Peter who’s constantly doing what he wanted. She was walking around and chatting with the groomsmen who were kind enough to keep up her conversations. Four-year-olds had a lot to say.

“Ah, she’s just here until her grandma comes by to pick her up!”

“Peter, if I pass out before I see my wife today, you’re going to be the first reason.”

Lastly, when everything was finally settled and he was ready to go to the ceremony venue, Gabriel came running in and almost gave Miguel a heart attack. Something about you and crying and Miguel almost broke the door down trying to get out.

“Miguel, don’t look at her!” Gabriel ran after him as he made his way to your suite.

“I’m not, damn it, I just need to make sure she’s ok.”

He was on your floor in a flash, your friends waiting outside the door. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s inside. We calmed her down for the most part, but her aunt got up here somehow and started to talk shit.”

“Miguel, if Jess and her mom weren't able to remove her, it would have been bad. She kept saying things about how you’re being tricked. She kept telling her that she wasn’t worthy enough to be a bride.”

“What?” Miguel walked towards the door. “Let me in.”

“Let us make sure you can’t see her, first.”

“I really don’t give a-”

“Miguel.”

He turned to Gabriel who pushed his hands down in a pressing motion, “Ya relájate, yeah? She’s not going to be centered if you aren’t centered.” 

With that in mind, Miguel waited at the door until he was allowed in. Your friends said you were in the bathroom with the door cracked. He walked over and turned his back to the door, tapping in a light rhythm so as not to startle you.

“You ok, baby?”

He could hear your sniffles and it took everything within him not to take the hinges off the door just to get to you. 

“No, not really. I, I’m terrified.”

“Honestly, me too.”

The door moved a bit, and your voice sounded closer, “What if I’m not the woman you need?

He scoffed, “And what if I’m not the man you need?”

You were quiet for just a moment, “You are more than what any man has ever been for me. I don’t think there’s been even a day where I could fix my lips to say that I haven’t felt your love and your heart. You’re…you’re everything to me.”

“So how do you think I feel when someone has convinced you that you aren’t enough for me?” Miguel turned his head to the crack. “No woman has opened my eyes like you have. No person has stolen my heart and cared for it the way that you have. I can’t even begin to describe the ways in which you’ve changed me for the better. You are my world.”

“Miguel,” your voice was watery as you took a deep breath. 

“If you want to call this entire thing off and go to the Justice of the Peace, that’s fine with me. We can send our family straight to the reception. I don’t care, as long as I have you.”

“No, I want to still have this ceremony. I still want to present our love. I’m just overwhelmed right now.”

Miguel moves to slide his wrist through the door, “Give me your hand.”

You laugh as you take his hand in yours, careful not to lean on the door and smoosh it.

“You are worthy to me and this is only a new chapter in the foundation that we’ve built. No jealous aunt nor any other family member is taking what we have away. I chose you, you chose me, ok?”

“Ok,” you squeeze his hand as rubs the top of yours with his thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Miguel’s heart was hammering in his chest like a hummingbird fluttering around nectar.

He stood at the end of the aisle with his one hand grasping one wrist and a knot in his throat. The seats were filled with waiting people, but he didn't think anyone was more ready than him. Gabriel had patted him on the back once he was down the aisle, now he stood with his daughter at his side making sure Miguel really didn’t pass out.

Miguel’s tunnel vision shifted as everyone got up to watch you come around the corner. Miguel’s breath stopped. 

You really were his world. 

Your smile was blinding as you stepped towards him, your father’s arm wrapped tightly around yours. The closer you got, the more Miguel could feel the air coming back into his lungs.

As he waited for your father to put your hands in his, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was so lucky, he couldn’t believe it. 

As he held his hands out, he had to will himself to relax. 

You stepped closer to him, your warm palms bringing life back to his. 

“You’re shaking.”

He looked to his hands and they did have a faint tremor to them, “I’m excited.”

With eyes for only each other, you both made it through your vows. Miguel damn near brought the audience to tears with his imagery of a lost younger version of himself and you finding him in his aimless pursuit of living. How you opened up to him like a waterfall behind thick vines. How you wrapped your arms around him. How you upgraded his life. 

You almost brought him to tears when you spoke about how he loved you. How he stood tall between all that was against you and guided you to better days. How he never went a day without showering you in some form of love, even when he was feeling like shit. How he made you want to grow old with him and walk through life together. 

To the shock of no one, you both said “I do” with ease, no objection to be heard. 

When he kissed you, the world stopped for only a second and came back down with the celebration from your guests. His hands on your jaw brought you closer to him and one swipe of the tongue before he pulled away had you excited for later. 

One more kiss and you both turned to the crowd ecstatically. The broom was placed in front of you both and with three taps on your hand you both took a huge jump over it. Your family and friends cheered even louder. 

Walking down the aisle to the doors, Miguel could actually pay attention to the crowd. So many people were smiling and wiping tears from their faces. It only solidified the love that he had for you. 

You both laugh as flower petals fill the air around you on the way to the car. 

It was really a joyous occasion. 

Miguel was so happy, he didn’t care what anyone else did.

Ok so, he did stop one of his baby cousins from sticking their entire head in the fondue machine, but other than that, he was so relieved.

The DJ announcing you two as Mr. & Mrs. Miguel O’Hara elevated his mood and the trip to the dance floor for the first dance had his spirits high. 

The two of you had a sexy number, with his hands barely leaving your hips and his fingers sliding up the slit of the sparkly dress you changed into. 

After that, it was hard for him to keep his hands off of you. He tried to distract himself with catching up with family, grabbing food from each station, having dance competitions, laying sleeping kids more comfortably in chairs, anything to stop himself from just dragging you to your reserved hotel room. 

When you two stood near the cake feeding each other bites with hearts in your eyes, he couldn’t help but to lean into your ear and whisper, “Still the second best flavor.”

You hit his chest with one hand and covered your cake-filled mouth with the other. 

By the time you drove off with ribbons and flowers trailing the back of the car, Miguel was practically buzzing getting you all to himself. 

He made that known by carrying you bridal style to the room without a care in the world and you laughing into his neck. 

You kissed his neck as he refused to let you, even for the elevator, “You’re so silly.”

“The better to make you laugh, Mrs. O’Hara.”

“I love it when you call me that. Say it again.”

“Mrs. O’Hara. My beautiful bride today, my beautiful wife for life.”

He passes through the door after you reach to scan the keycard. As soon as he closes it you’re on his face kissing all over. 

“My husband,” you say in between the passes of his lips against yours. “Mr. O’Hara. Will you put me down?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Then how will we finish off our night with a bang? C’mon, baby, I have a surprise for you.”

“Fine,” four more kisses and Miguel let you go. 

“Just go sit on the bed and I’ll be right back.”

Miguel laid his jacket on a chair and walked over to the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt carefully, not wanting to tear the expensive material. He slid his shoes off carefully too, sliding into the fluffy slippers the hotel provided. 

He would say he wishes he could have done more for tonight, but the two of you will be enjoying the fresh air of a foreign country in about two weeks time. 

He sat on the bed as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. There was no telling what you had in store, and he can’t wait to find out. 

“Close your eyes!”

Miguel obeyed, curious as to what you had in store. He could hear the padding of your heels on the carpet getting closer. 

You took his hands and guided them to your ass and with muscle memory, he took a handful.

“I’m already sold,” he said, feeling some light fabric hit his wrists. 

You chuckled at his face, seeing his tongue poked out to the corner and his hands feeling and kneading your body. 

“Ok, open ‘em.”

Miguel parted his eyes to see you in beautiful white lingerie. A white open lace see-through babydoll set hugged your tits tight. Panning down, he could see your thin panty with the string pulled over your hips and the curve of your body on display. Going further down, on your left leg, there was a garter digging into your skin that read “Miguel’s Wife” in bold, red cursive letters. 

“You like it?”

Miguel looked up to you with a tinier veil adorning your hair.

“This garter might be the only thing that makes it out unscathed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” he leans forward to plant kisses along the top of your chest, pulling your thick thighs around him. “We’re gonna get a complaint.”

“Good,” you raked your nails down his nape, earning a groan from Miguel as you continued to his back. “I want you to make love to me.”

You start to grind along him, feeling the bulge in his suit pants grow. Miguel hummed and started to remove your top. It looked gorgeous on you, but it was useless to him at the moment. Your skin was sparkling all the way down to your nipples and it only made Miguel want to devour you more. 

You gasp as he smacks your ass and hikes you up, his mouth latching onto your areola like it’s fruit from the chocolate fondue today. 

“I’ve been wanting this all night,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “You looked so amazing today.”

“So did you,” you tilt his chin up to look at his face. “I saw you looking at me all night. You’re not very discreet.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

He got up with you in his arms and flipped you over, “Everybody there should know how I feel about you by now.”

You were a vision. Smooth skin contrasting with the stark white of the panty and garter, veil sprawled out behind you like a halo. Miguel bent down to kiss you again, truly in awe that this was who he had as a spouse. 

“I want you to know how I feel about you too,” you whisper against his lips. 

You guide his hand from your face to your breast to your panties. You part your legs, thighs shaking in anticipation. Miguel's eyes get wider as he sees your lips through the peek-a-boo hole of your underwear. One swipe and your essence is on his fingertips. 

Miguel brings his eyes back to you as he takes his fingers and brings it to his lips, sucking it off with a pop. 

You bite your lip watching him lick his fingers and unbuckle his pants. 

The air is tight and heated, with you open and waiting and Miguel watching and wanting. 

He leans back and pulls his pants down. You look down hoping to see a peek of what’s about to rock your world. 

At the sight of your name and “MIC” in bold black letters across the band you bust out in giggles. 

You sit up as he comes around to the side of the bed, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I’ll never forget it.”

You laugh even more when you see it up close.

“Help me take this off,” he turns around to show your name and “Husband” printed on the back.  

You lean into his back in a fit of giggles, shocked but giddy. 

“We really are soulmates,” you say as you pull the briefs by the leg. “Meant to be.”

Miguel turns back around, bending to slide your mouth with his, “Forever and ever.”

True to his word, it really felt like you were his favorite flavor with the amount of marks he left on your skin before he got back in between your legs. You were so wound tight that with one lick from your hole to your clit, you were already trapping his head there. 

Miguel hummed and hiked your hips up, mouth moving to kiss your lips as if he were making out with the ones on your face. It was absurd how loud it sounded. His tongue kept swirling along your walls while the tip of his nose rubbed against your clit. 

You didn’t know where to keep your hands, but it did look good with your ring dazzling on your finger as you brought your hands to his head buried deep in your pussy. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried as he started to nod his face along your flower. 

Just when you could feel yourself ride to the edge, he took his middle and ring finger and spread you open. You shouted his name as you felt the cool touch of the ring slide in and out alongside the heat of his tongue. 

You don’t remember when you came down, but you remember Miguel’s drenched face kissing along your shaking thighs. 

“No Dulce de Leche is beating that, Mrs. O’Hara,” he reached to pull the soaking lace off, careful not to move the garter. 

“C’mere,” you hold your hands out, wanting to feel him on you. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

Miguel groans into your mouth, grinding his dick along your wet folds. He finds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I love you,” he sighs into your mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

One sweet session later, he had you on your stomach, back arched, and yelling into the pillows as he pounded into you. 

You could see stars as his hips smacked loudly against your ass. The headboard was knocking against the wall with every push. 

Miguel was really feeling the wedding attire as he had one hand gripping your veil by your back and the other pulling at garter. 

When you came around his cock, he was diving in right after, letting go into your sea. The shudders of you afterwards had him moving a little more and turning your face to the side to kiss your panting lips. 

By the time you two finished, you were sure the sun was soon to rise. 

Your hair was a mess, the veil was somewhere across the room, and you both were tangled up in the sheets. 

You laid your head on Miguel’s chest, content to listen to his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. He’s rubbing your arm and kissing the top of your head. 

“Thank you so much for stepping up and making this day so magical for me,” you look up at him. “Words can’t explain how appreciative I am.”

Miguel looked back at you, eyes warm, “I just want to see you smile. Thank you for giving me space to handle things.”

You pucker your lips and he reaches to comply. 

“Now, we need to get some sleep. Gotta regain some energy.”

“You’re absolutely right,” you say as you tilt your eyes down to the sheets. “Because I’ve got a show to put on when we wake up.”

Miguel just laughs as he pulls you onto his chest. 

The birds chirping were a nice background noise to you all’s slumber. 

I went through several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares in order to finish this. BUT! I am happy with the result. As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

[inuhalfdemon]

Alastor asks Rosie to be his fake girlfriend to convince Lucifer that he is a good boyfriend but it backfires when Rosie critiques his courting abilities. (didn't open the car door, no flowers, etc.)

-CrackRodent

Ok, I feel like I gotta go OOC for this one because my personal headcannon is Alastor would treat Rosie as a fucking QUEEN when or where ever they went out - platonic relationship or otherwise. BUT, for the sake of this prompt:

Alastor had it all figured out.

He had been pining for Lucifer for weeks now...and was ready to make his move.

Not in revealing his "true feelings" or in swallowing his Pride and actually approaching The King with his proposal of "something more".

No, no, no.

That just wasn't his way. He needed The King to come to him.

His way, was studying Lucifer from afar, doing a bit of light stalking and narrowing down the places that The King frequented and when. He did it so dedicatedly that he knew exactly when Lucifer would be passing by the food court, just on the edge of Cannibal Town, on his way to a donut shop named *Duck Donuts...

[Owned and franchised through LuLu World, it became so popular that there are shops found throughout all The Rings]

Alastor knew he had to win not only The King's attention but, his favor. Alastor needed Lucifer to see that he was a desirable partner and to do that he enlisted Rosie's help. Alastor asked her to pretend with him that she was his fake girlfriend, they would go out on a "date" about the food court and Lucifer would see what Alastor had to offer.

It went perfectly. The timing couldn't have been better and Lucifer kept throwing looks their way...sneaking passing glances, double taking over the shoulder once or twice, even openly staring at one point. Alastor watched him walk away, heading into the donut shop and wondered at just how long it would take before The King was throwing himself at The Radio Demon's feet.

"Alastor...THAT WAS THE WORST DATE I COULD HAVE EVER IMAGINED!" Rosie was stewing.

"Huh, what? What do you mean? He couldn't take his eyes off of us the entire time!"

"Because you never once had your eyes on me for a single moment! My God...Where to begin!? No flowers, no hand or arm-holding, not even a peck on the cheek!? You didn't open the car door, you nearly slammed a store door in my face and have you even noticed that I've broken a heel and have been gimping along here beside you now for 20 MINUTES!?" Rosie was telling him loudly, exasperated.

"Come now, it surely wasn't all that ba-"

Alastor stopped what he was saying, seeing that Lucifer was heading straight for him now, carrying a large box of donuts.

This was it.

He hurriedly straightened his suit jacket and smiled widely.

"Why, good afternoon, your majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure of-?"

"Oh, shut it you absolute arse." Lucifer snapped and Alastor's smile tightened.

Lucifer turned to Rosie.

"I know it's none of my business, but you look like you've had a terrible time. I got fresh donuts...and it's been an eon since I've had a Butterfinger McFleshy... would you care to join me?" Lucifer smiled at Rosie, offering her his arm.

Rosie sniffed, walking past Alastor without sparing him a glance and taking Lucifer's. "That sounds just lovely, your grace. Thank you!"

"Step aside, cretin." Lucifer narrowed his gaze on Alastor and the deer quickly side-stepped himself out of the way.

He watched Lucifer and Rosie leave, listening to Lucifer telling her: "You know, Rosie, you are a treasure. You deserve to be treasured. Don't let guys like that waste your time, you know, I've always had the hots for cannibalistic women..."

Alastor watched them another moment before thinking...that may have backfired.

*Duck Donuts is based off of a real donut shop in Idaho Falls, Idaho!!! My wife @whatswrongwithblue asked me to take her there one day when we were passing it "because Lucifer would LOVE it!". 😆

[achelouise]

Together, forevermore

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Pairing: (Yan?)Blade x fem!reader

Warnings: Pretty dark, (at least its the most dark thing I've written so far DONT JUDGe me), blade is not nice here, non-con but no sex

Summary: Someone visits you on your deathbed.

A/N: ...... i may be on a slight toxic writing streak......... I WILL BRING SOMETHING ELSE FLUFF ENJOYERS I PROMISE

imma be honest i dont know if this is considered as yandere but i will tag it as such just in case

Your bones are weary. Wrinkles are prominent on your face, and your hair has completely faded to white.

You savor it all. The way time robs you of your youth, the way you bend to its will, morph yourself into a fragile being that couldn’t continue her adventure on the Express. The way you laugh when you spill a cup, when eons ago you would charge towards the enemy with your spear in hand.

You were satisfied with yourself. You have lived, breathed, and entertained yourself before the curtain fell. You have made friends, enemies, lovers, and experienced the joy and suffering of life. The galaxy is your sky, and the worlds you travel to is your home.

Well- perhaps just one lover. It felt like many, though. You could never forget him, but he is just a hazy memory in your old brain.

To think, a former Cloud Knight soldier would live and breathe without mara- truly, a wonderful end to a blazing life like yours.Granted, you weren’t from the Xianzhou- but to be on the battlefield is to sign up a guaranteed death by Abudance.

Even as the Crew parts, their memories and cherished ambitions lay dormant in your heart- beating weakly, slowly, and closer to eternal rest.

You loved this life, and you hated to see it go. Perhaps this is the wisdom Jingliu was desperate for- to understand mortality, and to understand an end to a life well spent.

You feel your fear of death grasping your chest as you heave, drinking in every breath. Unparalleled joy also envelops you; ah, the precious catalyst life holds for this body. Even as you have withered away, this body still yearns for a little bit of life, still squeezes every last drop, a complete opposite of the mara-stricken soldiers tethering between sanity and mania.

Beautiful. How beautiful this life could be.

You could only wish for the others to feel the same. You hope March understands the beauty of fragile mortality, and Dan Heng’s rest during his rebirth.

Even then, human will never dies. You and the trailblazer have entrusted yours to the Cosmodyssey, greeting the future generation of trailblazers from the distant past. Only this way, would you be immortalized, encapsulated in a beautiful dream.

A soft creak of the door alerts you. You smile, even as you struggle to inhale enough air to speak. “... Can’t you leave an old lady… to her death bed?”

Your voice is grating and unpleasant, but you cherish it all the same.

The visitor doesn’t speak. They walk in slowly, carrying a glass of water. At least, it looks like it- oh, you can’t blame yourself for not recognizing anything with such poor eyesight.

Probably one of the nurses that are hell bent on keeping you alive. You don’t really like them, you never have. Ever since you resigned yourself to an elderly shelter on your home planet, where you could meet even more friends before your end, the nurses have been instructed to keep you alive for as long as possible. Probably because if you do, you can attend more interviews, review more biographies about you and the Legends of Akivilli.

You can’t muster up the strength to retort any more, though. The nurse doesn’t really speak, either. They have a comically large mask on, one that shields their whole face, with only eyes piercing back. You don’t recognize them. Eugh, poor eyesight.

The monitor begins to beat feverishly. You are quite parched, though. No harm in quenching your thirst one last time before you kick the bucket.

As you reach for the glass, memories flash before your eyes. Your mother cradling you, your father holding you tight, your celebration with your friends as you pass your finals, your first arrival on the Xianzhou, your first kiss, your promise for a future with him, your losses, your despair, your fears-

And-

The Express. Your true home, the fondation which you rediscovered yourself and rebuilt yourself on. A place where you will never part, not even in death.

The warmth you felt for it, and the warmth it returned to you will never be forgotten.

You heave as you gulp down the drink. “Thank… you.”

You close your eyes.

Farewell, everyone.

You feel so light. You can properly feel your hands again. The backache is gone, stripped away, and you marvel at the skin that seems to reweave itself- granting you your youth, your past, prime shape. So the afterlife is merciful, after all.

You open your eyes. The birds near the windowsill are still chirping. Nothing has changed.

Wait.

What?

You feel your body reconstructing itself, your bones rearranging and your senses returning. Your eyes grow sharp and your face feels soft. The scars on your arms grow rapidly smaller, and smaller, until they are gone before you can blink. Uneasiness crawls in your chest.

And all the while, strange, delicate branches curl around your limbs, a soft green glow imitating the blessing of-

No. No no no no no no no no no.

No.

NO.

You find your strength to speak properly again. Your voice is lighter, easier to speak with, a voice or a bygone past, and it only nausates you as you grip your blanket. “What did you do?”

You turn to look at the nurse properly, as they finally start to make a sound- a soft, unsettling chuckle, one hand removing their mask.

The cruel smirk dances on Blade’s lips as he gestures to the glass cup in your hand.

Only now do you see the Emenator of Abundances’ blood swimming in the clear water you were so desperate for, only moments ago. You feel light-headed. You feel sick to the core.

You drop the cup, and it shatters on the floor- your skin feels cold, and your brain is spinning. You’re hyper-aware of how the liquid seeping out still flashes with the curse of Abundance, how the birds are screeching, and how Blade is cackling.

You heave, your breaths growing shorter by the moment. You watch as Blade reaches for your face- and if you flinch, he pretends to not notice.

No. You were close. You were so close.

“Why?” you cry, the first tears finally dripping down your cheeks. Blade’s bandaged hands wipe them away, and his dry lips press on them- as if savoring them.

“Did you honestly think you could escape me?” Blade reprimands softly, his empty eyes shining with disgusting, sickening adoration. “You promised you would stay, for as long as you could, for me.”

“You disgusting, wretched beast.” You lament, curling in further of yourself. The effects of the mara have started to settle; your muscles pound hard with fresh life breathed into your body, your bones gritting far worse than when you were of old age, and your mind starting to delude your sight. “I had forgotten you. I had lived, unlike you.”

“Promises are not to be broken.” Blade responds coldly, gripping your chin with sheer strength. You cry out as your skull cracks, only for it to mend itself, in perfect shape, the phantom pain lingering on your jaw. “I watched you blaze a trail for yourself. To me, your life was only moments worth of mine.”

“I married. I had children. They will remember me wedded to someone else.” you seethe.

Blade only chuckles mirthlessly at that. “Your attempts at deceiving me are truly pitiful. I know I was your first and last lover. I watched you fall apart in my absence. I watched your success. I watched how you withered away, and I envied you so, so much. Why couldn’t I feel that happy? Why couldn’t I feel that free?”

His hand ghosts over your neck, a silent warning if you dared to cry for help. Not that you would- you knew exactly what bringing his wrath would entail. Breaking your neck over, and over, and over again, to feel the pleasure of death like his master brought for him.

“I watched you pave a way for yourself. I hated you. I loved you. I don’t know how I feel anymore. Kafka has numbed everything away. But I chose to hold onto these feelings. Only you could give rise to new emotions after my rebirth. And you will be my partner. Together, we will be betrayers of death.”

You shake your head, and you wish so badly that all of this was a figment of your imagination. But it is real. You’ve seen enough soldiers fall prey to mara. You might have only succumbed to a dilated version, but it still tears away at your soul.

“Your playtime is over. Death will never reach you. Not even Nihility can bring you the peace you need. So stay with me.” He leans over, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. Your head pounds. Shapes and colors blend into a mess. Only Blade sits before you.

“Not that you have a choice.” He nips the bud of your ear, his voice soft and stifling. The stench of blood and rain clings onto his skin, and you succumb to the despair that fills your heart. “You will join the Stellaron Hunters. Kafka will help you, as she did with me.”

He leans back, and he smiles, deranged and devoid of sanity, living in his own world of pure delusion.

Sometimes, when you were dating, you wondered what he was before he was Blade. Would he still date you?

And even now, as he seals his promise with a kiss, you think. Would he condone any of this? How would he feel, knowing he has turned into a monster?

You close your eyes. You envision your friends and comrades, who all bear no burdens of eroding immortality, an apology on your tongue.

I’m sorry. I failed you all.

“Together, forevermore.”

[coarsely]

Personality through quotes tag

Many thanks to @spideronthesun for tagging me!

The rules of this game seem to be to write in character quotes about a prompt given to you by the previous tagger!

My prompt was: A quote about hopes for the future

Your prompt is: A quote about non-romantic intimacy (friends, family, etc)

The Potentate Magnus: "My future is unending, unyielding. There is nothing the future could bring to me that I have not already done, that I have not already bared witness to, that I have not grasped and succeeded at. I hear them, whispered hushes, thinking me too senile to hear–that I am old, and my reign must reach its end soon. I am here to assure you–I am going nowhere. I am not only your past, and your present, I am your future too, and it is through me we shall enter the glory of the Empyre together, as the Prophet did so many eons ago."

Imperator III: "I am an Imperator. Ours is not the place to dream, to hope and to wonder. Ours is the place to swiftly carry out justice, to liberate the souls of the wicked, to spread the gospel of It's Purity, to cleanse this mortal world of sin. My only dream and hope is what the Priests of Eden dream and hope for, what the God-King dreams and hopes for."

Sylvester Praeceptor: "It's a strange thing. I fought every day to get a little closer to getting back to where we used to be, but now that we are here, I find myself at a loss. Such a driving force it was, that without it I am oddly lonesome. I suppose if we are in the same place every year, with wealth and social standing, I will be happy. All in the family, as they say."

Vítor Cadogan: "Oh, call me naïve or simple if you'd like, but I just want the world to be a slightly better place every morning when I wake up. I don't need any grand ovations, or proclamations of world peace, or a signed apology from every man and woman in Bronze Eden, I just reckon if we could all try a little harder to do good every day, it'll have an impact on the way we live, too. I suppose at the end of the day that's what I've always believed in... guess I'm just going about it slightly different now."

Saccade: "Not a lotta time to be dreamin' and thinkin' about the future out here. You gotta take it one day at a time, slowly. Wonderin' about what-ifs and getting too upset at the way your life has turned out is a sure-fire way to wind up dead, or worse. And shit, that's what some people want, but me? I've been kickin' around too long to give up now. My only wish is to go out fightin', rather than turning on my belly n' giving up."

Diana: "Oh, darling, I am the future. Don't let the cover fool your clever eyes–every bit of culture in this wonderful place we call Nod can be traced back to yours truly. What have I to hope for? I've already succeeded. Been there, done that! The only thing I could ever hope for is for our wonderful, brave, immortal freedom fighters to take a little better care of what I've designed for them! I might be a miracle worker, but stains out of lace? Even I have my limits."

Ucalegon: "I wish for what every Wanderer of Nod wishes for; justice from the tyranny of our neighbour. To liberate ourselves from their presence on our borders, their influence in our lives. To avenge our dead, the many innocents lost to the Baptism. No matter what it takes, I will see this dream realised, or I will die in the fight to make it real. Dreams are all we have left."

I tag @noblebs, @albatris, @revenantlore, @ink-flavored, @xenascribbles, @digital-chance, @chauceryfairytales and as always, anyone who is interested in doing one of these!

[sio-writes]

Sacrifice Chapter 3

<< Chapter 2

<<< Chapter 1

A/N: After a bit of schedule maneuvering, it looks like this story will be updated once every two weeks until I finish it (I still don't have an estimate one the chapters yet oops). Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Standing underneath a levitating tree has my nerves on end. Up close, it's more massive than anything I could imagine, tall enough to reach the clouds, wide enough for my home to fit inside twice over. The magic that keeps it afloat must be grand and ancient.

As we walk under the behemoth, I see the underside is pockmarked by rings. It sits so high that Aurelius can walk underneath unimpeded, but I feel a pull in my chest to reach out and touch the marks, to make sure I'm not caught up in an illusion.

There's thousands upon thousands of them, a lifetime spiraling outward through delicate circles that mark the eons. The dark rings of a fire, then the swollen sections of a flood, the sun-bleached cambium and rich heartwood towards the center. I'm awestruck by the majesty, the history of it, and terrified all at once.

Appearing as if through a fog is a spiral staircase, invisible one moment and in front of me the next. The banister is a filigree of plantlife rendered in wood, thin to the point where I see sunlight through the petals of a flower. It leads straight up, where warm light pours forth from a circular opening. The light is warm, inviting, and I think of a predator, luring me in with false hope only to eat me up. Perhaps I'm still shaken from the fae earlier. I can still feel their fingers pinching my skin, my ears still ring from their voices. Will his home be the same?

Ignoring the litany of images my mind throws at me, of emaciated bodies reeking of death and decay, of hovels filled with rats and sludge that seeps into my skin. I ignore the image of the house slowly swallowing me, integrating my body into its walls over a matter of years while I am helpless to stop it. I ignore all of it, and walk up into the tree.

With shaking hands I poke my head through the floor, and find not a den of fear, but a grand entry hall. It's rendered in stone, torches lining the archways that stretch all the way to the back. I half-expect to see colored glass windows that I'd find in the town church, but the windows here are simple. In fact, everything has been stripped to the bare essentials, save for the massive chandelier made of bones acting as centerpiece.

Stepping onto the floor my bare feet are warmed by the stone, but the air is cool against my face. Long tables meant to seat dozens line the left and right walls, covered by table runners colored a rich red and edged in gold. They're bordered by high backed chairs, made for someone of Aurelius' size, and I wonder if I'd feel like a child sitting in one. There's a single set of silverware and cutlery at the far end of the left table, shining and untouched. It's the most ornate set I've ever laid eyes on, the gold it would fetch alone would feed my family for a year.

Aurelius makes a noise of recognition behind me. "So this is the entry way that she chose."

She? Is there another human here? The fae who tried to kidnap me implied that he had brought more than one human here. Aurelius takes one look at my expression and his jaw opens halfway as if he means to smile.

"My home, sweet doe." He rests a hand on one of the long dining tables. "She is a fae, as old as I am."

That is all the explanation I'm allowed it seems, because he walks past me and off to the right without a word. My face pinches in confusion-- there's nowhere to go, he's going to run into the wall.

Except it's not a wall that greets him, but a doorway. A doorway stretching into a hallway that shouldn't be possible. It should stop, should hit the edge of the tree, at the very least it should lead outside.

But I follow him into a long hallway, around a corner and into a sitting room that looks completely untouched. The furniture is plush and there's a roaring fire I can feel from the doorway. The room branches into three, and Aurelius walks into the far one.

The hallway twists like rope, and my eyes widen when Aurelius continues walking and it leads him to the ceiling and back to the floor. I take a step forward, and another, and it's like the pull of the earth shifts as I move forward. My feet stay on the ground, and down becomes up. My hair doesn't fall to the side, even as the frame of a door creaks under my feet. I make it to Aurelius, my heart in my throat, and look up at him. He stares down at me, his head tilting slightly, and my face flushes. I grab his large hand in both of mine, and we continue forward.

***

Despite trying to trace my steps, I cannot wrap my head around where we are. The hallways are endless, the stairs lead in circles, and so many doors simply open to walls. All the while, Aurelius continues forward, allowing me no space to breathe, to process my surroundings.

The home is lit by faerie fire, a soft glowing flame bathing every room in warm, comforting light. Orbs of light bounce along the ceiling like insects, or lines the walls or baseboards in strips, or simply floats in the air like a candle held aloft. Shadows are soft, shifting things that catch my attention. I look for some demon or creature that would grab at me, but there's nothing. Just the two of us. Three, if the house counts.

I'm led through archways made of water, upside down stairways, halls of mirrors and glass, each dwelling more fantastical than the last. Despite the growing absurdity though, I'm not as overwhelmed as before. The home exudes an aura of calming, of welcomeness. I don't know where I am, but I don't feel lost.

After the thousandth set of stairs, I ask through heavy breaths. "How high does your home sit?"

Aurelius pauses, his hands clasped in front of him. He tilts his head to one side, considering me. "I've never been to the topmost level. You are welcome to try, but beware that the higher you climb, the more chaotic it becomes, and even I may not be able to find you."

"Chaotic?" I look around us. We're currently standing sideways, on a set of stairs above a reflecting pool on what should be the ground. Fish swim in the air around us, a koi swirls lazily around my feet. "What could possibly be more chaotic?"

Aurelius holds up his hands, gesturing grandly as he speaks, "As a tree splits into many branches or a mind into many thoughts, so too does this dwelling separate from reality as it climbs towards the sky." He looks down at me. "And I would hate to lose you, my dear."

I purse my lips. That was far too eloquent to not have been practiced. Aurelius is pressing his hands together, steepling his fingers, his head still turned on me as if expecting a reaction. He most certainly had that prepared.

"Eloquently put, my lord." And my suspicions are confirmed when he lifts his head, chin held haughtily as he continues up the stairs. My lips tug into a smile. Very cute.

The stairs lead us to a hall, and at the end a single door.

"The house has told me she has not prepared a room for you yet, so you can stay here while she works."

Before I can ask how he speaks with the house, Aurelius pushes open the door. Inside is a library, towering in stature, holding thousands upon thousands of books. There's several corners cut out for reading with couches and cushions, as well as a large fireplace.

"A…library?"

"Your temporary room."

I bite my lip around the next question as we both step into the room. Some part of me had hoped we'd…share a space. I thought he cared for me, wished for me to be around.

But as I look around, I'm not so sure. Every corner, piled high on the floor and on tables and covering everywhere one wouldn't walk, is clutter. Books, clothes, fabric, papers and writing utensils, empty cups, and even more books, all over.

I rest my hand on the arm of a couch, looking at the mess with dismay.

"This is…where you want me?"

He doesn't make any motion other than to look around the room. "This will do for now. I use this room most."

"Oh," I say.

Aurelius doesn't respond, and when I look to him for direction, he's standing where he came in. His hands are in front of him, his fingers interlaced, and he starts to glide back towards the door.

"Are you hungry?"

I frown, concern marking my features. "I…We just ate."

Didn't we?

"Right," he says, looking around, a hand coming to his bony snout. The air stales in my throat, turns awkward. He doesn't want to be here, he's trying to back out.

"Right," I slowly repeat back to him, watching as he creeps towards the door.

"I am going to…" He's standing in the doorframe now, leaving me here. I'd ask where he's going, but I don't want to bother him. Maybe he enjoys being alone, and I'd be a deterrent to that.

I hold back my disappointed sigh, and give him a nod. "Goodbye, my lord."

As I turn towards the room, anything to ease the tension, the door closes gently behind me.

I push down the concerns that begin to build behind my chest. I don't do well alone, I thought he would  stay. But surely a god has other responsibilities to tend to, he can't be spending all his time with a lowly farm girl.

I need something to distract my mind. Looking around at the mess, my fingers itch to clean. Perhaps that's why he brought me, as a maid.

I start with the clothing, gathering it in my arms. It all smells clean, thankfully. Mostly shirts and pants, a cloak here and there. The cloak he wore to see me must have been for the cold then. All the clothes are from different eras, some pieces similar to what I'd see hanging in the church. Decades are laid out and tossed aside here, and I'm curious to know if he wore these things often.

My arms are full to bursting with items much too large for any human, when I realize there's nowhere to put it all.

I glance around to the empty room. "Um, H-House? Do you have, uh, somewhere I could put these?" I lift up the armful of clothes, looking around at the ceiling of the library, as if some face is just going to appear out of the grain. But the only response I get is the creak of the wood. I sigh, feeling rather stupid. Of course the house won't respond to me, she has no connection to me. Only Aurelius.

The scrape of something against the wood catches my attention, and out of the shadow pushes a basket. Flat, wide, and expertly woven out of the same material as the library walls.

"Can you, um, hear me?"

A book falls from a low shelf close to my feet. I'll take that as a yes. I dump the clothing pile into the basket and continue gathering what I can to place in it.

I pick up the book that had fallen and dust it off to inspect it, but I can't read the cover. The scrawl on the spine is too curly, too high-brow for me to make out. I had only just started to learn to read before Arthur got sick, and that was only in the dead of night with his help.

Placing the book back in its spot, I forget about it and continue attempting to organize the mess.

Picking up the clothes takes me at least an hour with the help of the house. I speak to her as I work, telling her of my previous life. Of my friends that all left for the city by the coast, my brother and my parents and our life on the farm. I was never ashamed of the hard work, in fact I took pride that I knew my way around the animals and the crops. She doesn't respond, and I feel more alone than before, but having something to do is a welcome distraction to keep from thinking about where I currently am.

Once the clothes are gone, I start on the loose items--papers and scrolls, inkwells and writing utensils. The scrolls have a curled writing similar to the book. It must be Aurelius' handwriting. Strange that such a hulking presence can have such delicate penmanship. I still can't read it, but I try to make out what I can to keep everything somewhat organized. I notice the words "festival" and "moonlight" are repeated quite a bit across the parchments.

They seem to be plans for something. I pick up drawings, layouts of boxes ovals all lined up in order, with scrawled names and notations. There's lists with items crossed out, corresponding to several stacks pushed into a corner of the library. It seems like he's preparing for something, but I'm not sure what.

Only when the room is mostly clean do I sit down. My mind feels less foggy, a little more stable now that I feel like I can breathe. It allows smaller things to creep their way through my attention, like the dirt under my nails and on my feet, the sweat cooling against my dress, and the dried spill between my legs. I need to bathe.

I stand, self-consciously rubbing my arm. I hadn't seen any washbasins in here, or passed any rooms for them on my way in.

I stand at the doorway, hoping Aurelius left it unlocked. The handle pulls easily and I'm greeted by an empty hall. It definitely wasn't the one we came in through.

"House? Where might I bathe?" I say to the empty room. She doesn't respond, only to shove the book off the low shelf again. I sigh, turning back to the hallway and starting it down. Stepping out of the library feels like a violation of some unspoken rule, but I'll do it if I must.

The first door I try opens to a small room filled with large smooth stones along the walls and floor. There's a huge window at the far end letting in the glow of sunset through, and below the window is a huge, oval-shaped wash basin built into the wall. It's made of varnished wood, stands up to my hip, and could fit three of me sitting side by side.

The space between the basin and the wall is filled with glass bottles of every color and size, some as small as my finger, others as big as my head. The light from the window hits the colored glass and refracts onto the walls, each bottle I pick up makes a tiny light flitter like an insect against the stone. I open a small bottle the color of honey and sniff, my senses filled with milk and sugar. None of them have labels-- not that I could read them anyway-- but I don't think this house would want to hurt me. I did clean up that room quite a bit, maybe this is her way of giving thanks.

The water is steaming as I strip and step into the basin. There's a small square of cloth I dunk into the water and use to scrub at my skin. I grab the honey colored bottle again, tipping the thick liquid into my palm. It lathers like soap when I rub it over the cloth, filling the room with the scent and making my skin slick.

Gradually, the dirt falls away, each pass of the cloth releasing tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The scent of the soap is relaxing, working in tandem with the hot water to loosen my muscles. I'd always been the last to bathe with my family, and hot water is a precious commodity. This feels like a luxury I can't afford, one I shouldn't put to waste.

I reach my thighs to scrub at the dried come, and pause for a moment. I'm not a maiden anymore, at least, not in this sense. I'm still unmarried, I think. I'm unsure what this arrangement with Aurelius constitutes as. The witches that live in the woods outside of town would howl with laughter if they knew, they might have even congratulated me.

I scrub it away, trying not to think of what happened. There's too many emotions involved, too many details. I can think later about the god that's given me his names and then left me alone to clean his house. I can think later about this messy place that is not my home but something else, something that will likely eat me if I anger her.

As soon as the water begins to cool, I get out of the tub, my mind no less clear than before. I look at my kirtle and shift with dismay. Both are a mess, covered in blood and dirt and sweat.

On instinct, I grab them both and throw them into the water, and immediately I realize what a stupid thing I've just done. This is my only dress. The kirtle alone will take hours to dry.

My head falls forward and I groan. "Idiot…" I chide. Well, it's already soaking, I may as well clean it best I can. Eyeing the bottles on the shelf, the one that grabs my eye is ruby red with a cork stopper. I uncap it give it a tentative sniff: Peach and honey, that'll do.

I pour some into my hand, and when it doesn't burn away my skin or make it turn purple or some other trick, I dunk it into the water, and the room layers with the scent of the soaps as I scrub the dirt out of my clothes. In such hot water, Mortimer's blood dissolves away, turning the water a brackish brown.

I try not to think about all that's happened in the past day, pushing back feelings too enormous for my broken mind as I scrub away the past several hours, but in the quiet, my thoughts bubble to the surface whether I like it or not.

What's wrong with me? Making a deal with a god, and for what? He can take whatever he wants from me now-- for that matter he already has taken something-- he could condemn me to this house so I never set foot outside again. And this isn't my home, I think with dismay. Home is a place that takes any joy, any softness, chews it up and spits it out. This isn't my home, with it's baths and it's books and it's warmth. I haven't earned the right to live here.

And what comes next? Am I just going to live here, some sort of servant? A bed slave that also cleans? That wouldn't be the worst fate, but Aurelius never specified what my role would be, and it irks me not knowing. You don't make deals with fae, let alone one of their gods. And what do I have that he could possibly want? I need to remain useful to earn my place.

Think about it later, Kyla. Later, later, later.

Once I'm done ignoring my feelings, I set the kirtle out to dry. The stones here are smooth and free of any dirt or grime, so I set the dress on the largest one I can find, fanning it out as much as I can so it dries evenly.

I'm left standing bare in the washroom, my hair plastered to my back and shoulders. I decide to test the waters.

"House? Would you happen to have any spare dresses?" Hopefully any other human Aurelius has brought back has left her clothes. I shudder to think of what he may have done with them.

From the shadows slides the basket of clothes I'd picked up earlier. Certainly these can't be the only clothes available. I wait for another basket to make itself known, but there's nothing. Just the steady dripping of water. Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose.

I sort through the clothes, many of which are too large for me, until I find a long shirt. The neck is high so it won't fall off my shoulders, the sleeves are cuffed so I can push them up, and it's long enough to reach my knees when I pull it over my head. This will have to do as my kirtle dries.

"Thank you," I say to the basket as I throw the discarded clothes back into it.

I find my way back to the library, hoping the house doesn't steal my clothes from me.

The library is cleaned enough, and I feel sleep begin to pull at my eyes. But my mind is still abuzz with thoughts, thoughts for later, so I need a distraction.

The book the house continued to push to the floor is still resting there, and I pick it up again and bring it to a pile of cushions underneath a massive window. The writing inside is the same looping scrawl on the cover, but there's sections of print that're more legible to my untrained eye. Night is beginning to creep in, but it's still bright enough that I can make out a few words.

It seems to be a record of some sort, but I can't make out much of anything. A few numbers, a word, half of a phrase. The concentration proves to be what I need to finally pull my mind away though, and combined with the pattering of rain outside it makes my eyelids grow heavier with each page turn.

***

The clap of thunder tears me from sleep and into full alertness. It's dark, the fire is gone, the only light coming from the moon through the window. The rain from earlier has transformed into a downpour, punctuated by lightning and thunder so loud it shakes the room.

At home, I'd never been in a thunderstorm on my own. I had my parents, then my brother. It's a childish fear, I know it is, but I can't help it. Every shadow wants to jump at me, every flash from the sky makes me shake.

I curl into the cushions, squeezing my eyes shut and begging my racing heart to slow down. It's just rain, I know this, but what if it tears the house down? What if lightning comes through one of the windows?

Restless, I start to pace the floor, hands cupping my ears to mitigate some of the noise. I can't fall asleep like this, I can't even relax. If I had someone else with me, I'd feel safe, secure.

I need to find Aurelius.

Exiting the room, I walk down the empty hall, again a different one than the first and even the second. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lightning flashing outside, so I'm feeling blindly along until I find a handle and push it open. The door swings open silently, and I step into the room.

It's a large room, probably as big as my home in the mortal plane, with high ceilings and crossing support beams. In place of the left wall is a stained glass window, the patterns forming some abstract shape I can't make out in the dark. On the far wall is a bed, four-poster and untouched, and an archway leading into a pitch black hall. The room seems empty, and I wonder why the house brought me here, when movement to the right catches my eye.

There's a loft, high in the ceiling, and inside is a nest made of branches and leaves. It's not like any bird's nest I've ever seen, it's spread and built up, integrated into the wall, clinging to itself and the beams, with structure coming up to wrap around and make an entrance.

The movement that caught my eye was inside, and through the darkness I make out the motion of breathing. That must be Aurelius.

I climb up the rafters to reach the loft, my hands shaking on every roll of thunder that pierces the glass. My heart thunders in my chest, and I nearly slip halfway up to the top. I carefully crawl on one of the rafters to this massive nest, and pause. Will he be upset with me for waking him? Will he lose himself in sleep and eat me? Another flash of lightning makes my choice for me, and I scramble into the safety of the strange nest.

It's like we're back at the altar; the whole nest smells like him-- pine and sage and everything in the forest. It's warm and comforting and safe. He's larger than I recall, laying on his side, away from me. His neck is stretched out and his head rests on the ground like a sleeping elk. I lay down, pressing myself into his back, curling my legs into my chest and resolutely watching the storm outside.

Aurelius stirs, voice almost too quiet over the rain. "Kyla."

"Forgive me," I whisper as I curl into his spine. I didn't mean to wake him up, I just wanted the company.

His large head lifts, turning on a long neck to face me. His skull is that same corrupted deer I know, but his body isn't human anymore, now more animal-like. "What are you doing?" he asks, voice heavy with sleep. The white of his skull practically glows against the dark, like a beacon for me to latch onto.

I open my mouth to answer, but I'm cut off by a strike of lightning and instant clap of thunder. I jump at the noise, hiding my face in my hands. Shame burns hot through me alongside the fear, making my heart pound in my ears.

Aurelius only hums, almost a growl, the noise rippling over my skin like water.

He extends his neck and in one fluid movement gently clamps his jaw over my shoulder, lifts me into the air and sets me down on the other side of his body.

My suspicions are confirmed-- through the darkness I can make out that he's morphed into a large deer-like animal with four legs curled under a long body. The back legs are so long they nearly brush his front as he brings his head around, pulling me into him. "You may rest here," he says.

I settle into the solid shadow of his body and the nest he's laying in. Despite being made of strips of bark and tree, it's got a layer of down feathers that make it soft. Aurelius is covered in a layer of short fur, and he's warm enough to sink into. The branch-like antlers atop his head are close to me, the silver veins catching the light when it flashes outside. I reach out and hold one in my hand, the stability working to drag me back into sleep.

Chapter 4 >>

[chim-aera]

the muse

I'm nothing if not an artist, oh my hands are small, bony and curved and shaking, always shaking like the trembling rattle when Kronos lifts his scythe at the end of a life force.

please, please let me be an artist. muses, nothing, I am nothing if not the flesh wrought bind of oil and ink and eons etched into this fraying feeble form.

I do not want to be lost to the spans of time flitting into the wind as another lost mishap but neither do I want my name carved into the rudimentary veins of existence and history, please, for once. for once! let me be the muse.

I've been once, but oh gods do they never see all of me. I'm nothing if not a mirror, cursed, and shattered, blood trickling down my forehead and knuckles like hawthorn harrowing horrors, I just want to be seen.

gnashing teeth, and mourning moon minted unholy uprisings and aching bones my eyes like pools of quicksilver a mercurial sort of madness and this terrible aching softness wound together with sewing thread and ribbon, red ribbon tied around my throat. It will suffocate me before I tear it off with these clasping claw like hands, no, Lachesis, please. please, let me seen. please.

oh please.

why am I a flitting little memory scurrying and huddling into far corners of one's perspective to fall into the icy embrace of cold stone and collisions nothing gentle ever graces my skin, no.

please, why do I find belonging with fellow foolish, flamboyant, useless things of the past. I do not belong here. I don't.

I'm nothing if not dramatic, I am nothing if not ideal.

please. please.

I'm so used to asking for more time. but what am I even doing with it?

I wait to fall, hard, unravel. let my joints and skeletons unwind and slip out of socket let myself go still and sordid into the snow blazened earth. let the ice chill and nip and bite at my body turn this ashen form flush and blossomed. my warmth seeping into Mother I look to the sky and I'll ask the pine trees for directions.

they never tell me where to go, just to not stop searching.

for what?

damn it all I'm spewing fantasy and folklore and centuries of rotting awful words from these taunt lips.

please.

please.

I'm so tired.

perhaps that's what I want. perhaps that's why I find solace in the cold corners where I creep of ages past in museums and archives, libraries, and silence.

make me a muse, make me a portrait, look but never touch, fleeting frivolous eyes to glance but never learn, only wonder.

make me a sacrifice all shimmering and sacrilegious, I'll go down without a fight, pull me down by the sleeves of my robes to the aching cold surface of your cathedrals floors. a holy demise, a sinful symphony. purify me? I was never pure. but run your dagger through my throat regardless. call my blood paint, an artist to the very end, how fitting.

I miss the statues in my grandmother's hearth room, they always smiled at me. I smiled back. now I'm all chipped china and twisted teeth.

now I grin at ravens, the stretching star lines of constellations, and moonlight. I am nothing if not an omen. I'll be whatever you want me to be. just wind be up and watch me spin.

oh look at me, sputtering maudlin meager cries for pity, or perhaps comfort, while I drag myself back to misery. I am my own executioner. I try to be soft, and mend my own wounds with yarrow, bandages, and the warmth of tea in a sunwarmed ceramic mug in these cold, trembling hands.

I try. I'll try. but oh, still, forever the poet, never the muse. alas, but that's just how it's meant to be, I suppose. I'll write you in and weave you into the heavens, remember me, or not. I'm just a poet, after all.

[forthesakeofthesoul]

the summer i gained consciousness

life became a double-edged sword when it happened. i missed the innocence of the before, and abhorred the weight and proclivity of the after. the simplistic moment by moment mindset of childhood made life feel infinite, but then again, enlightenment made me think. it made me ponder things i'd never even given the chance to lend my mind to. summer gave me time. more of it or less is up to you, i suppose. nothing can compare to the infantile eon. the juvenile century of summer. but nothing can compare to the adolescent spiral either. the brain bending mind fucks you take yourself on. like, is time even real? maybe summer really was a century long. do we even exist rn?

time is unique to everyone so make the most of it. or the least. your choice. it's as short or as long as you want.

summer felt stifling this year. it keeps getting hotter and hotter. i guess that's climate change. global warming.

my mind's on fire. i think i felt it smoking. maybe it's because summer leaves the lights on at night -- the sun is still up by nine o'clock -- but i could never sleep very well. i know why. my thoughts were consumed. sometimes it felt like i was going crazy. i'm not convinced that i wasn't. but i think that's when you gotta start writing about it.

i learned to roll with the punches more. i was too caught up in my mind to care much about what was going on around me anyways. i found god in my thoughts and he wasn't a man. he wasn't anything. he was me. or at least a higher self. someone who understood me better than anyone else i know. and she knew i was kind and sensitive and all the things that i could not change. she knew about them and she accepted me. where else do you find that kind of love? it's all within yourself.

but i was far from the point of loving myself. i knew myself too well. i still do. i'm disillusioned with the girl i got to know. i've memorized my rough edges and sour spots off by heart. i know who i am! i know who i am. is there still more to discover? i want to be a mystery to even myself. because i know her too well.

but how strange is it that we always have a desire for more. and when we're given more we are still unsatisfied. there has to be more. that's all we know. all we know is that which we don't know. i think we thrive on that uncertainty. it sparks that creative passion, and without the unknown, that spark will die.

this summer i found myself pondering a world without the thinkers. at first it sounded scary, but then i realized there's already been one. we're living on it.

prehistoric earth, when the world was run on instinct. opinion had no purpose here. it hadn't even been invented yet. life existed on the basis of gut instinct alone. and there was balance! thoughts were mere urges, self-preservational desires. they were desires that kept creatures alive.

it makes me wonder about the beauty in living life unaware. a callback to that primordial sense of presentness we all experience as children. it made me wonder if we'll ever go back there. but you can never go back there. we can return to a state of balance but it won't be the same. we wouldn't be the same.

prehistoric earth is terrifyingly beautiful, and there's a mysticism in it that holds fast the attention of all those who roam the earth in the present... or perhaps in this context it's the future? we are living in a different time at any rate. we are all allured by the past, fixated on it, obsessively compulsively wishing to go back to it, to rewrite it, to reach in and save someone from it, like grabbing a drowning puppy.

we are slaves to the past, and we're indebted to the future. time is our greatest blessing, and also our heaviest curse. but can we ourseles decide to make it exclusive to one? can we give thanks to the blessing instead of fall victim to the curse? i think that's an individual journey thing. life -- time, is what you make of it. it's all in how you live it.

summer made me stop and smell the roses. it made me panic and realize how fast time flies. it burned me and kissed me and loved me and smoked me out. it made me find the heart of what truly matters. it made me grieve parts of myself i never knew i lost. it made me discover parts of my soul that had been hidden for two decades. it made me fall in love and cry and scream hatred off a cliff only to have compassion thrown back at me. it cleansed my feelings and left me alone to reflect. summer nurtured me and it stripped me of my pride. i have been humbled. i have been loved. i have been reborn. summer washed away the old me. it burned off all the dead skin.

sept. 9. 2024

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Snake Eyes chapter 9: Let the Endgames Begin (originally published on October 23, 2023)

AN: We only have about three to four chapters left before I can finally close the book on Alternate Future once and for all and finally move onto other stories that I've left to collect dust for months to years on end. When last we left off, Squamata has been unleashed from his tomb and now plans to devastate the entire universe around him and beyond. Is there any way that the Crystal Gems can stop possibly their toughest foe yet? You'll just have to read on and find out as Alternate Future reaches its climax.

Synopsis: The race against time begins as the god of snakes Squamata breaks free from his prison and Steven rallies the royals & fighters to save reality.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven

Noël Wells as Black Rutile

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Mega Black Pearl

Grace Rolek as Connie

Zach Steel as Ronaldo

Atticus Shaffer as Peedee

Jennifer Paz as Lapis

Shelby Rabara as Peridot

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

Kimberly Brooks as Jasper

Lauren Ash as White Topaz

Patti LuPone as Yellow Diamond

Lisa Hannigan as Blue Diamond

Christine Ebersole as White Diamond

Aurelio Voltaire as King Cobralan Jormagundr

Shirley Millner as Queen Constricta Jormagundr

Ray Porter as Squamata

Samantha Newark as The Lapidarist

Jason Marsden as Prince Nosiop Jormagundr

Tim Curry as Velhallen Beo

Crispin Freeman as Mr. Manco

Sam Witwer as Torius Vosania

Anna Akana as Dionna of the Sands

Christopher Lloyd as Batsputin Vosania

Peter Stormare as Reximillian

Elizabeth Maxwell as Vigrid

James Earl Jones as Wobbla the Butt

Barrett Wilbert Weed as Ezlipsia

Anthony Stewart Head as Solaris Noctua

John Mulany as Flipso

AJ Michalka as Stevonnie

Ted Leo as Steg

Della Saba as Aquamarine

Charlyne Yi as Eyeball

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Casey Lee Williams as Cat's Eye

Avi Roque as Cinnabar

Gina Torres as Andesine

Jinkx Monsoon as Emerald

Kari Wahlgren as Pyrope

Melissa Fahn as Demantoid

Awkwafina as Kyanite

--

As the Lapidarist meditated within her chambers, she suddenly heard a noise, followed by an evil, bellowing laugh. "I have turned hundreds upon thousands of worlds to dust in the name of darkness and devastation until I was robbed of my glory." Squamata roared from outside the castle. "I will stride across the bones of my enemies and bask in the glow of pure evil, for all of existence shall be mine to consume!"

"I knew this day would come." The Lapidarist said fearfully before she vanished from her sanctuary in a blinding flash of light. When she reappeared on Serpentes's surface, the already-panicking Slytherophidians were confused at the giant glowing humanoid's sudden appearance, making them wonder if she would team up with Squamata to destroy their world. "I can see you, Squamata!" the Lapidarist yelled for the snake creature to hear her. "I've been guarding this planet where you've been sealed for eons, and I will not let you destroy it or any other world!"

"Ah, Rebeugar, the last of the Lapidarists, we meet at last," Squamata replied with a dreadful sneer. "Who would've guessed we would be laid to rest on the same planet? No matter. I will finish what I started all those years ago and eliminate you, the sole survivor of my creators. First Serpentes, then the universe, and then the multiverse, and possibly beyond." Just as Squamata had made his threat, he suddenly received an electric shock to the face courtesy of Yellow Diamond. "WHAT?!"

"Die, monster!" Yellow called as she stood firmly against the God of Snakes with Blue and White Diamond beside her. "You do not belong in this world."

"It is not by my hand that I am free to smite the universe as I did in days long past." Squamata declared while presenting his heralds, Prince Nosiop, Pyth, Velhallen Beo, Mr. Manco, and Torius Vosania. "I was released from my confinements by mortals who wished to pay me tribute in exchange for assisting them with their own plans."

"That is correct, Squamata." Nosiop proclaimed. "Now, enough talk! Fight us, grand Diamonds, and die for your sins!" Squamata and his heralds charged at the Lapidarist and the Diamonds, with Squamata assuming a different form that transformed him into a shadowy mass of fog with eyes all over his body.

The god of snakes lunged at the Lapidarist with a hiss and bit her with his neck, trying to poison her with the venom in his fangs. However, he was stopped at the last moment when Stevonnie came to the Lapidarist's rescue by slashing off one of Squamata's fangs.

"What is this human doing here?!" Squamata roared as he looked down on Stevonnie and Mega Black Pearl standing up to his tremendous fury. "Wait, that is no mere human."

"A fusion of a human and a Gem? Inconceivable!" the Lapidarist agreed in alarm.

"Stay back, everyone; Mega Black Pearl and I got this covered!" Stevonnie declared before turning to the other fusion. "Ready, MBP?"

"Always ready for a fight!" Mega Black Pearl responded with a grin.

"How does everyone keep moving so fast?" Blue wondered as Squamata realized who he was up against.

"The scion of the Crystal Gems and the Diamonds, it seems," Squamata smirked while looking down at Stevonnie. "We meet face to face at last. Though, I did not expect you to come out to me as a fusion, and especially with a human." He then looked down at his heralds. "Velhallen, Torius, Manco, you know what to do. The rest of us shall take care of these Diamonds."

"It shall be done, my lord." Velhallen Beo declared as he clashed his sharpened claws with Stevonnie's sword while Torius and Manco sought revenge on the Black Pearl Brigade. "I have heard so many stories about you and the Crystal Gems, but never would I live to see the day I'd face one myself!"

"Who even are you?" Stevonnie asked before taking a big swing at Beo's chest. "I don't think I ever heard of you before, or most of the other heralds, for that matter."

"I am but a humble ex-Universal Lord who was robbed of my royal birthright by the confounded Batsputin Vosania!" Velhallen revealed his backstory to his fused opponent. "After being locked away by the Coalition of Galaxies for my numerous crimes, I discovered the awesome power of Squamata and figured that with him by my side, I could take back my rightful place as ruler of the Twilight Zone!"

"Not on our watch!" Mega Black Pearl declared before mightily swinging at Beo with her spear. High above the fusions' battle with the heralds, the Lapidarist used her phenomenal cosmic powers to keep Squamata at bay. At the same time, the Diamonds fought back against Nosiop and Pyth, now cosmically empowered by their exposure to the godlike snake.

"You will be returned quietly to where you belong, Squamata." Yellow declared. "We heard about how you crave nothing but death and destruction to every being with a pulse."

"Then again, you aren't so different, Gem creatures." Squamata retorted with a sneer. "You claim you're trying your best to change your ways, but I feel it isn't enough. Perhaps you could throw all that away and join me as my heralds."

"We will never join you!" Blue yelled while firing a blast of pure emotion to bring Squamata to his figurative knees. Still, Squamata felt absolutely nothing at all before tackling Blue to the ground and trying to bite her, only to get blasted away by White.

"Ah-say-into-pie, oppa-maybe-uppen-die!" Squamata then turned his attention to White and breathed fire in her face, causing her to fall over in shock. "You have no hope of defeating me in my current state! I will only grow stronger by the minute unless this ultimate fusion appears and stops me once and for all."

"Squamata is right; I cannot hold him forever!" the Lapidarist exclaimed. "We need to retreat now!"

"Yes, run while you still can, fools!" Nosiop exclaimed. "But you'll still be leaving us to run amok across this wretched world and the rest of the cosmos soon!"

"Wow, he really is kind of like me." The Steven part of Stevonnie muttered to themselves as they, Mega Black Pearl, the Lapidarist, and the Diamonds, made their escape, contemplating what Inner Steven had said to Steven earlier.

--

Steven and Connie were un-fused when they reached the castle, where the Crystal Gems awaited them. "So, couldn't beat Squamata, huh?" Amethyst asked. "Kind of figured something like that would happen."

"Is there any way we can stop Squamata now?" Pearl wondered. "If not even the Lapidarist and the Diamonds are enough to overpower him, then what chance do we have?" Suddenly, the heroes heard a familiar voice panting loudly as she raced towards the castle, and when they turned around, Black Rutile was standing at the front doors, acting like she had just run five dozen marathons on her way there.

"Yes, I'm not too late!" Black Rutile gasped as she finally reached the Jormagundrs' castle. "Help me, Crystal Gems, you're my only hope!"

"Enough talk, Black Rutile; we know it was you." Garnet coldly declared, completely ignoring Black Rutile's cries for help.

"No, please, you simply must hear me out!" Black Rutile yelled while raising her hands in complete sincerity. "Nosiop betrayed me and nearly sacrificed me to release Squamata! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Yeah, how about no?" Jasper growled angrily while snatching Black Rutile by the neck and glaring daggers at the Rutile. "We've had enough of your lies for too long now. Make one more, and you can bet we'll shatter you on the spot."

"Wait, guys, let's hear Black Rutile out." Steven tried to calm everyone down. "I know firsthand just how she really feels. Let me talk to her, and we'll all start working together ASAP." Connie then grabbed Steven by the shoulder. "Need anything, Connie?"

"Steven, I hate to break it to you, but I think it's time you gave up on her," Connie responded bluntly. "Black Rutile has lied and used us so many times for her own selfish gain, so it's obviously no secret all those insecurities she yelled about were probably another lie to play with your sympathy."

"Oh, for crying out-seriously?!" Black Rutile yelled furiously. "You pride yourself on accepting everyone, even the ones you don't understand, yet I'm the outlier here?! I am in legitimate distress here, and you're just turning away from me just like that?!"

"Maybe come to us when you feel some form of remorse for your actions, you murder drone!" Peridot barked before turning away with her nose pointed to the ceiling. "Bismuth, Lapis, to me, please."

"Yeah, not sure how we can forgive you after you tried making me one of your team." Lapis added with a disdainful shrug before following Peridot.

"Ugh, once a corrupt uppercrust, always a corrupt uppercrust." Bismuth scoffed while turning to walk alongside her two best friends.

"White Topaz, you can believe me, right?" Black Rutile said to her former bodyguard. "You've been at my side for years. Surely, you can tell them I'm right!"

"Okay, I'm just going to give it to you straight." White Topaz declared. "Look, BR, I know you seem like you want the Crystal Gems to forgive you for your sins, but we all think you're a lost cause. You obviously made up your mind. Why don't you just cut your losses and get outta here for your own safety?"

"You wretched parasites!" Black Rutile shrieked as all the Crystal Gems left her alone in the castle. "If I did this earlier, I'd make you pay for showing me no sympathy!" But alas, Black Rutile's archenemies chose to ignore her as they walked away, the only one continuing to acknowledge her being Steven, who simply turned to Black Rutile with a disappointed sigh as if he knew that Black Rutile was being honest, but their past experiences together wanted to prove him otherwise.

Once again, Black Rutile was left with only crushing loneliness to keep her company. Her former minions had abandoned her to join the Crystal Gems for the sake of survival; Nosiop almost had her killed, and now, when she desperately needed help the most, the only ones who could refuse to believe her like she was a human boy crying wolf. All the mournful Rutile could do now was drop to her knees, gaze at her hands, and mutter to herself, "I'm the lowest of the low."

--

Outside the castle, the Universal Lords, Solaris Noctua, and a very reluctant Flipso stood together as they examined Squamata's rampage on Serpentes. Cobralan sighed in dismay as he looked down at his tail while contemplating Greg's critique of his parenting, feeling that for a human, he had every right to point out how the king's ignorance would lead to his son releasing an ancient god of destruction in a bid to prove that the Slytherophidians were meant to be conquerors. Perhaps if Nosiop were to survive this ordeal, father and son would have a long, hard chat with each other.

"I still can't believe it." Solaris declared in awe of the god of snakes. "Squamata has returned. I know my powers haven't been what they used to be ever since I graduated from Universal Lord to cosmic librarian, but even I believe our combined strength might be enough to at least knock him down for a spell."

"You're kidding me, aren't you, Larry?!" Flipso yelled in outrage. "That's Squamata, the god of snakes, devourer of worlds, bringer of death, the chaos bringer, the master of darkness, and wrecker of all our collective shit! I think it's time that we get on out of here; I know a great empty void a few dimensions down we can hide in until this all blows over!"

"Oh no, you don't, Flippy!" Dionna of the Sands exclaimed while grabbing the cosmic jester by his tiny ankle. "You're fighting with us, whether you like it or not!"

"Enough arguing, you two, allow me to take this." Wobbla the Butt declared as he slithered out of his dais and took a deep breath before bellowing, "IMMA FIRIN' MY LASER!" and spewing out a brightly colored laser beam from his mouth that struck Squamata in the eye.

"WHO DARES?!" Squamata roared while turning to face the Universal Lords, who all stood together as one united army to face the destroyer. "The Universal Lords! Your powers are indeed beyond comprehension, but they shall not be enough to face me!"

"We can try." Ezlipsia replied before letting out a mighty hoot that caused darkness to fall on her, which she condensed into a massive array of familiars she ordered to assault Squamata's heralds. Meanwhile, Vigrid transformed into a new form resembling that of a harpy as she soared through the air and trapped Velhallen Beo in a headlock.

"Ah, Vigrid, it's been too long since we last saw each other, my love," Beo said lecherously to Vigrid, making the witch-like Universal Lord retch in disgust.

"I thought what we had was just a one-time fling!" Vigrid exclaimed. "I never knew you still had feelings for me!"

"So, it seems we are fated to face each other again, my brother," Torius said to Batsputin as the two prepared for battle. "Don't think this shall be like our last battle when you robbed me of my throne!"

"It seems we have no other choice, especially since you have aligned yourself with Squamata," Batsputin said before the brothers engaged in a rematch. Torius's improved cybernetics gave him an edge in battle.

"For our people, for our planets, let us fight on!" Dionna cried as she and her fellow Amazonian warriors formed an army to face off against the snake soldiers under Mr. Manco's control.

"To me, Flipso!" Solaris commanded before casting a spell to assist Vigrid in battle.

"Fine, but I'm only holding back to make things fair," Flipso said before snapping his fingers and making an army tank appear. "Besides, bringing in someone as powerful as me against that guy would be ridiculously unfair."

Reximillian let out a beastly roar as he began stomping all over snake guards and robot drones. "Ugh, this is such a waste of my time."

"Son, I know you're still in there." Cobralan tried to reach out to Nosiop during the clash between Squamata's heralds and the Universal Lords. "Please, my son, drop your weapon and allow me to be a better parent to you."

"Oh, so now you finally decide to be a father!" Nosiop yelled angrily. "Where was this apology when I needed it after all the times you ignored my ideas?!"

"Because they were going against our way of life!" Cobralan replied. "We do not conquer; we prefer peace with other species, barring the occasional accidental extinction, and I want it to stay that way. Perhaps if you walked a mile in my scales, maybe we can finally see things eye to eye."

"I swear, this is just Copper 9 all over again!" Nosiop complained. "I wanted to conquer that robot-infested wasteland because I thought they would make good servants for us, but you instead signed that Lerdwichagul Treaty to ensure we wouldn't turn them into slaves!"

"Now, son, no need to get all huffy just because you're not getting what you want." Constricta stepped in between her husband and son. "It's like some species say, you win some, you lose some. Do you want this to end up like the jockstrap incident? Hopefully, we can give Boa a break from digging all the holes this time."

"You must always make things so difficult, your Highnesses," Pyth said glowingly. "I've served your family for generations, hoping that Squamata would give our people the wake-up call they needed, and it turns out Nosiop wanted the same thing to the point where I'm more like a father to him now. Your son has always been like this. I just gave him the push he needed."

"If that must be the case," Cobralan said bravely while drawing his sword. "then I cannot let you corrupt my family any further." Pyth did the same as his former king and drew out a sword as well before the two began to clash.

--

"Man, the Universal Lords ain't no one's fool!" Amethyst said in amazement as the Lords went to war with Squamata. "Maybe we should go out there and help!"

"Not yet, Amethyst," Garnet replied firmly. "Once we can find an opening, then we can strike. Otherwise, we need to work on finding the ultimate fusion."

"Ooh, I know just the one!" White Topaz said eagerly before taking Jasper's hand and causing the two to fuse into Orange Moonstone.

"Calm down, guys, I'm not sure if that's the one," Pearl said to Orange Moonstone's disappointment as she un-fused back into Jasper and White Topaz. "Steven, why don't you go review fusing with your human friends to see if they can help?"

"Okay," Steven agreed. "but first, I think someone wants to talk to us." The Crystal Gems turned around to find the Rutile Rebels standing behind them, and they instinctively summoned their weapons to prepare for a fight.

"Hold on, everyone, no need to fight!" Aquamarine exclaimed as she stepped up in front of the Rebels. "We just have a little problem that needs solving."

"And what makes you think we'll believe you this time?" Connie growled while pointing her sword at the tiny blue Gem, who simply just held out her hand.

"Let's make a deal." Aquamarine declared. "We have reached a bit of a situation here."

"Situation is putting this lightly." Eyeball added. "Black Rutile has been working with Prince Nosiop to unleash Squamata, and if we don't work together, it will mean the end of the entire universe, including the both of us!"

"And we know this because Black Rutile straight up told us how she was plotting to use the Lapidarist to turn every Gem into her mindless slaves so that Nosiop can use them as an army!" Holly Blue stated. "Frankly, that was a terrible idea on her part."

"So we say this again." Cat's Eye concluded the Rebels' statement. "Let us make a deal. If you help us stop Squamata and Black Rutile, we'll return peacefully to Little Homeworld and coexist with you all in harmony." Cat put on big puppy dog eyes to emphasize that she was serious while holding her hat in her hands. "Pwetty pwease?!"

"You just had to whip out the puppy dog eyes." Bismuth sighed in annoyance. "You sure you won't just end up stabbing us in the back before flying off to plot your revenge, twirling your mustaches and saying "MWA-HA-HA" along the way?"

"No, we're being perfectly honest here!" Cinnabar exclaimed defensively. "Black Rutile almost threw us out before we decided to quit, and now we feel that if we have to survive and live another day, we have no choice but to join you in saving the universe from destruction. Now, will you accept us or not?"

"Please say yes, we're desperate." Andesine urged the Gems through gritted teeth.

"Okay, but only if you promise not to go back on your word." Garnet obliged and reluctantly shook Aquamarine's hand.

"Thank you for being so reasonable." Aquamarine sighed in relief. "You are a credit to your team." Garnet had no idea how to respond to that statement. "I'm just being nice."

"We all need to be nice if we must live." Pyrope proclaimed. "Now, I know it will be tough having to live with your greatest enemies now, suddenly acting all chummy and all."

"While I would like to hear you bluster all day about how we can make a change," Demantoid interrupted her fellow Garnet. "we literally have tons of different things to do, like solving our little Squamata problem."

"Yes, we'll need to discuss that," Emerald added. "Anyone got any ideas?"

"I have one!" Kyanite exclaimed. "My idea is that we sit Squamata down, look him dead in the eye, and tell him "Don't eat our planet." Everyone just stared at Kyanite in dead silence. "Trust me, he'd have to be awfully evil if it didn't work, and I'm not gonna lie, I like the cut of his jib."

"Sometimes I wonder why you still keep her around, Cinnabar." Andesine groaned to Cinnabar in disgust.

"She may not be competent, but she gets me results." Cinnabar proclaimed in her bodyguard's defense, causing Dalmatian Jasper, Zoisite, Pyrite, and Bloodstone to nod in agreement.

--

"So, what do you all think?" Steg, the fusion of Steven and Greg, asked while showing off his powers for the other humans. "I know it's not much, but it's the symbol of one heck of a father-son duo!"

"How big is that hair?!" Lars gasped while pointing at Steg's big pompadour. "Do you think maybe someone's compensating for something?" he whispered to Peedee, who just frowned in annoyance. "Come on! I was just making a joke!"

"Okay, anyone else wanna fuse with Steven?" Steg offered. "How about you, Lars? I wonder what your powers would do."

"Hey, before we review any more fusions, can I talk with Steven for a bit?" Peedee asked. "Recent events, particularly news about his family, have gotten me thinking about things."

"Wait, you don't mean!" Ronaldo gasped at his little brother while Steg un-fused. "Oooohhhhh noooooo."

"What are you guys talking about?" Steven asked awkwardly before the Frymans took him away from Greg, Connie, and Lars.

"So, you know how it was mostly just us and our dad running the fry shop back on Earth?" Peedee stated. "Well, I'm sure there's one question that must've been on the back of your mind."

"Is this about your mother?" Steven asked. "Come to think of it, while I did notice she was gone, I never really bothered to ask. What happened to her?"

"Yeah, I think it's time we finally came out," Peedee replied morosely. "She wasn't into the frying business like we were. She was more of the detective kind, so you can guess where Ronaldo got his love for mysteries from."

"And also kind of like me, she gets really absorbed in her work to the point where she starts isolating herself from others," Ronaldo replied. "But unlike me, it became a serious problem, and she would argue with Dad whenever she worked long nights. And then, one day, she just kind of vanished. I'm not even sure where she is right now. She didn't even say goodbye!"

"Wow, I guess I have a bit more in common with you guys than I thought," Steven said in realization before he started laughing. "Let's just hope she didn't run off to start a rebellion or something!"

"Yeah, like your mom!" Ronaldo started laughing as well, and then Peedee as well. At first, Steven thought that he couldn't relate much to other human beings due to his half-Gem upbringing, but now, he realized that there were people much closer to him than he realized. And he couldn't be happier.

--

"I must restore my strength." The Lapidarist muttered to herself as she healed her injuries sustained from the fight against Squamata. Rebeugar needed that ultimate fusion as soon as possible and couldn't be kept waiting. However, she soon heard a set of footsteps approaching her. "Who is there?"

It was Black Rutile, who had come to see the Lapidarist just as she had planned. This could be it, her chance to finally get the revenge on the Crystal Gems she had craved for so long by forcibly rejuvenating all Gems and turning them into her unstoppable army, thus forcing Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl to learn how much they made her suffer by forcing them to become her servants instead of the other way around. But instead, she had one simple question to ask.

"Lapidarist, my name is Black Rutile." Black Rutile introduced herself to the foremother of all Gemkind. "And I've been dealing with a little crisis lately. For the past couple of months or so, I've been coping with my loss of identity. I've been so bent on revenge on the Crystal Gems for years now that I've practically built my entire life around it. Yet now, without an army, any allies, or even enemies to take me seriously, I'm not even sure if I still have a purpose in the universe. Please tell me, grand Lapidarist, is it possible for me to find a new purpose now that Steven has stripped me of my old one?"

The Lapidarist knelt idly as she processed Black Rutile's question, meditating in place while hovering just a few inches off the ground. Then, she finally spoke. "Your time will come soon, Black Rutile." The Lapidarist ominously declared. "Your true destiny simply won't be realized until you are at peace. But for now, I believe certain individuals need your help."

The Lapidarist then conjured up a holographic image of Steven leading not just the Crystal Gems, the royal family of Serpentes, the Universal Lords, and the various Contest of Champions fighters into battle against Squamata but also the now former Rutile Rebels. And alongside Steven's motley army, standing right alongside the boy, in fact, was Black Rutile.

--

Yeah, as you can probably guess, this is where Black Rutile's redemption arc finally begins! But she won't just need Steven to forgive her because he's got enough issues as is, what she needs is to forgive herself for forcing her to become the Gem she is today and keep moving forward to a brighter tomorrow. How can Black Rutile process this? Will everyone else accept this madman's change of heart? Will Black Rutile finally say Connie's last name properly? All this and more will be answered in the coming chapters, same Gem time, same Gem channel!

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter one - “to wakanda”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: reader works for what used to be shield as a highly skilled neuropsychologist. after the events in vienna involving the sokovia accords and a bombing, she gets an interesting request from friend and coworker sharon carter...a request involving none other than steve rogers and james barnes.

warnings: brief and indirect mentions of abuse/trauma

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

"I don't know Sharon. Are you sure I'm really the right person for this? I'm not, like, an Avengers level tech. Are you sure they don't want a genius or someone like Stark to do it?"

"Well, Stark is pretty busy right now, and honestly, no one knows psych like you. Not who I've met anyway."

"That is so not true. I'm willing to bet there's tons of other people you guys got somewhere who are ten times what I am."

"Agent (Y/L/N), in case you missed it, SHIELD isn't what it used to be. Sure we have old agents who aren't formally 'SHIELD agents,' anymore, but we don't have the expendability we used to. You're our best bet at the moment."

"Damn. I'm your best bet. I'm sorry," she almost chuckled, but then she thought for a brief moment. "Are you sure this is completely necessary? I mean, I saw the photo on the news. The quality's poor at best, and..."

She leaned in, discretely, and whispered.

"...not to seem like a conspiracy theorist commie or anything, but it kinda seems like people are jumping to conclusions here. Are we even sure it was Barnes who set off the bomb?"

Sharon looked around them, cautiously. No one seemed to be listening, but she scanned the room like her life as she knew it was hanging in the balance. She weighed her words in her head, making sure she picked the right ones, then formulated a response appropriate.

"Regardless of if it was him or not, Barnes still escaped. and before that, Ste-we'd been looking for him for almost two years. This analysis is necessary," Sharon brought her voice down even lower. "At least that's what I keep being told. Of course I'd like there to be more solid proof, but I'm not in charge here. He's gone, and they want to be able to find him and 'sort things out.'"

"'Sort things out,'" (Y/N) repeated, questioning the genuineness of whomever told Sharon that. "Unless they have hard evidence that it was him who set off the bomb in Vienna, shouldn't they leave that to uh...Captain America?"

She wondered how Barnes was able to escape in the first place. She saw the containment module he was in; there's no way he could've gotten out without a fight. ...But maybe it wasn't a fight. Perhaps it was a trigger word induced rage. (Y/N) understood a basic layout of the "Winter Soldier." SHIELD would've kept any information they had classified. However, after the fiasco in Washington, d.c. with Hydra and the whole releasing of all files predicament, she was able, with Sharon's help, to put together a simple outline. With that being said, he couldn't have broken out without going Winter Soldier mode. But doesn't someone need the trigger words for that?

“That's what a reasonable person would think, but once again, I'm not in charge," Sharon shrugged. "Things would probably be going a lot smoother if I was, but you can't have everything."

(Y/N) cracked a smile. Sharon was a friend, and a good one too. They'd known each other since before SHIELD was shattered in 2014. In fact, Sharon helped train her.

The only thing was: Sharon was a higher ranking agent and often withheld certain information from (Y/N). It frustrated her. This was where their personal boundaries got in the way of their professional ones.

She could tell there was something Sharon wasn't telling her, but she wasn't about to compromise either of their positions by pushing for information she wasn't supposed to know. Hell, maybe even Sharon knows something she isn't supposed to. Or maybe she knows something that Everett Ross wouldn't like. What if she was keeping something from him? Defying him? What if she was working with Steve Rogers? Now that would be interesting.

(Y/N) was used to secrets around her all the time. She knew Sharon had her fair share, and trying to figure them out wouldn't really get her anywhere.

"Right. Okay. Well, I'll get on this then. Thanks, Agent Carter," she teased in late response to Sharon's 'Agent (Y/N).’

Sharon offered a quick smile before walking off to attend to other business.

- - -

Pain. That was all it was. In every sense of the word. As she strenously made her way through the densely packed file of one James Buchanan Barnes, pain was all she could see. All she could read. It leaked out of the page and seeped into her skin like poison.

It was horrific what they did to him. She knew he had his memory wiped, had someone pull him out and stick someone else in. But it was more than just that. They took his past, his memories, his thoughts; and they ripped them from his mind, leaving an empty space to mold into their own. It was after this when Hydra, in every way they could, dehumanized him, made him less than. He was striped of his freedom, his control, his choice, his humanity, of everything that made him him. They beat and bruised and broke it out this empty human shell until he was nothing but a shadow of faded morality and consciousness.

But hell, she couldn't look away. She was glued to the aftershock of this horrible wreckage. All the years of studying Psychology and Neuroscience couldn't have possibly prepared her for the absolute horror that was his past, his abuse, his torture. It was heinous. Frankly, she questioned how he was still alive. How he still had the will and the drive to be alive. How do you live after that?

"Fuck," she breathed after eons of silence.

She seemed to lose her sense of time whilst she was immersed in the harrowing nightmare of Hydra's cruelty. 'Cruelty' doesn't even come close to doing it justice. When she came to, her desk looked like a bomb went off. Papers were bursting out of manilla folders, littering the linoleum surface with classified files and secret information. She leaned back in her chair, and gave herself a minute to debrief.

(Y/N) almost felt guilty, like she things she looked at were so vile, so violating that she didn't have the right to see them. Sure, she had read and analyzed all sorts of trauma and psychological profiles. But he was different. Something about James Barnes was different. It tangled her mind the fact that a person could endure all that. She could only imagine the effect that would have on the human brain. The possibilities are endless. Suddenly bombing the UN didn't seem so far fetched.

- - -

"Jesus Christ," (Y/N) murmured, staring at her office floor as Sharon finished explaining to her what happened at the Leipzig Halle Airport.

She sat mostly in silence as she pondered over the information just fed to her. Apparently Tony Stark gathered a 'team' to try and intercept Captain America - sorry - Steve Rogers and his (supposed) fugitive friend. It was chaos.

"What is this? Fuckin' Avengers Fight Night?" she wondered aloud. "How many people did you say were there?"

"Twelve total," Sharon clarified. "Five with Stark and five with Steve."

The psychologist shook her head, dumbfounded. "How did it end?"

"Steve and Barnes got out, but everyone else with them were captured and sent to the Raft."

"The Raft?!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "That's for, like, super humans! Not people like Sam Wilson or Clint Barton!"

"You're telling me."

Sharon seemed in agreement with everything she was saying. However, there was something she couldn't quite place. Like she was holding back. But holding back what?

"So what of Rogers and Barnes?" (Y/N) pushed.

Sharon got up and closed the office door before returning to her seat, leaning in, and lowering her voice. This secretive woman, god damn it.

"Well... That's what I came to talk to you about."

Oh boy. She didn't have a semblance of a single idea of what to expect. Apparently Sharon noticed.

"We're the only ones that know this. They're fine..." the agent trailed off, "They're in Wakanda, but they need a little help."

"Are you leaving?!" (Y/N) all but yelled before quickly slapping a hand over her mouth and uncovering it only to whisper, "Do you and Rogers have a thing or something? Cause' I don't know how else you would know all of this when I'm sure that no one else does considering he's now an enemy of several governments!"

"My relations with Steve Rogers are not the focus here." She could've sworn Sharon flushed. "But we have been in contact; I'm one of the few people he can trust right now, and I don't plan on letting him down anytime soon."

They totally have a thing.

"Noted," said (Y/N) with a nod, "but why are you telling me this? Does he want the profile analysis or something? I don't see how he would need it if he's known Barnes for however long."

"Not exactly..." Sharon fidgeted with her hands. "We need you to go to Wakanda.”

-

[A/N:] this is a repost of chapter 1 because my masterlist is being fucky

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

TROPED Choice: Conclave Fics!

We received nine (9!!) Fics for The 100’s TROPED Choice: Conclave Event! This Choice event had one round of a Choose Your Own Tropes Challenge, but with a Canonverse theme! Writers had to select a Clan/Location in the 100 World, a Character, optional additional Theme, and set of Tropes that were different from everyone else. Only one writer could use each trope, clan, character, and theme! Check out what they created below:

Please try to read as many fics as you can! Take some notes, leave some kudos/comments for the authors, and help us vote on the winners!

Voting will be open until May 28th at 11:59pm EST! Vote here:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/T7R7YFJ

i've been asleep so long (wasting away) - Second Dawn!Harper in Azgeda! (Rated M) [Harper/Roan]

Summary: Peaskepa is a legend, a woman older than time that shows up to peacefully resolve conflicts, a woman who cannot die, who does not age.

Harper is that legend, and she's spent most of the last four hundred years alone, avoiding the people she keeps alive when there's nothing to save them from.

Until she finds herself hanging upside down from a tree, caught in the trap of a banished Azgedan prince.

Here There Be Dragons - Ark!Anya on Planet Gamma! (Rated M) [Anya/Raven]

Summary: The Eligius IV sent down a reconnaissance team to determine whether the survivors from Earth can make a home on Planet Gamma. All indications are that there are communities already thriving on the unique planet. Anya Dollinger, the last surviving security officer of the Ark, and her team find themselves in trouble right from the beginning. However, the solution is more unusual than they could have dreamed.

blessed - Jacapo Sinclair in Podakru! (Rated M) [Sinclair/Indra]

Summary: The grieving Jacapo Sinclair managed to survive the years underground in the Bunker. Once it opened, he joined Podakru to help restore their community. A surprise visit changes everything he thought he knew about the past, the present and perhaps even his future.

the miracle of the sea - Floukru!Echo in Floukru! (Rated M) [Echo/Luna]

Summary: A long, low, loud horn sounded, reaching every corner of the rig. The brunette lifted her head from where she had been hunched over, sharpening a fishing spear. It was the sound of the fishermen returning. She rose to her feet, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, a light breeze rustling her hair and bringing with it the brisk scent of the sea, a scent that had surrounded her for as long as she could remember. She let the breeze brush against her, envelope her, comfort her. This was home, would always be home.

Until it wasn't.

dreams become reality become dreams - Costia in the Deadzone! (Rated T) [Costia & Emori]

Summary: You were in love.

It was an indescribable, unendable love. You knew that your love could span across eons, across universes. Your love felt like a dream, a dream that you never wanted to wake up from.

But no one dreams forever.

- or where Costia is banished from Trikru and meets Emori in the Deadzone. Cue hostilities, insults, sarcasm, and eventually, friendship

this is me swallowing my pride - Bryan in Wonkru! (Rated T) [Bryan/Miller]

Summary: When Bryan realizes that he and Miller have differing ideas about Wonkru, he puts an end to their relationship before things get messy. When he starts exchanging secret messages with someone, though, he begins to wonder if he acted too quickly.

don't need to question the reason (i'm yours) - Bardo!Reese on Skyring/Penance! (Rated T) [Octavia/Reese]

Summary: Our story starts with the abduction of a young Bardoan on a routine prisoner pickup from Penance. The young man's father, however, was Bill - yes, that Bill - so the plan was to ransom him off. But when the three kidnappers and their prisoner get lost in one of the many forests of Penance, they spend the night in an abandoned barn, and our story changes from one of danger to one of love.

this is the life that we choose (this is the life that we bleed) - Madi in Louwoda Kliron! (Rated T) [Lexa & Madi]

Summary: Madi kom Louwoda Kliron was hidden from the Flamekeeper’s scouts by her mother. But Heda Lexa kom Louwoda Kliron found her -- and trained her in secret. Madi was never supposed to become the Commander, unless something went terribly wrong and there was no other option.

But, of course, something went terribly wrong.

You're All I Have - Eligius IV!Levitt on Bardo! (Rated T) [Levitt & OC]

Summary: "It was nights when the sky was dark and the moon shone full that Levitt liked the best. He, Jerom and Lupe would climb up to the roof of Jerom’s apartment building and howl at the moon like wolves. Fitting, as both Lupe and Levitt’s name meant wolf. With their matching dark brown hair and eyes, it was like they were perfect grey wolves in the night. Jerom’s blond hair and blue eyes didn’t really fit with the wolf vibe, but he was an honorary member. They made their own pack and Levitt wouldn’t change it for the world."

[renofmanyalts]

Romance and Friendship ship asks: all of them LJ syle please

Tumblr like it’s LJ: Romance and friendship ship asks!

Bless you, @don-pom​, for enabling me, and shoutout to @thevoilinauttheory​ for responding to my similar request as well.

For those wondering what the hell “LJ style” means - on LiveJournal, eons ago, there used to be these meme templates with a long list of questions where you’d fill all of them out in one post with the results under a “cut” (readmore) and then tag your friends to fill it out, too. (There was no “ask box” feature on the site.) 

Some meme templates like this still circulate on Tumblr, of course, but they’re much less common than ask memes. 

The questions below do include non-detailed discussions of sexuality/ERP.

Without further ado...

1. When you RP a ship do you prefer to make everything be smooth sailing all the time or do you allow conflicts to arise?

I don't like conflict for the sake of conflict in relationships, but I think that it can be interesting to explore where friction points arise from differences in perspectives, expectations, etc. I also do not necessarily equate the success of the RP/the story with the success of the relationship. Relationships that fall apart and relationships that just end can also be good stories (or contain good elements) which propel characters in interesting directions. 

I am also fairly uncomfortable with the idea of being expected to "make" a relationship be a smooth one when things that would generate a conflict are also present in the storyline - i.e., with godmoding the relationship to be all positive outcomes all the time no matter what happens. (Not that all instances of "smooth sailing all the time" necessarily involve this, but I have seen it here and there.) I think that it's much, MUCH more interesting to work through with an RP partner how two characters might resolve an issue that comes up in-story. 

That said, I have been open in the past to occasional retcons to circumvent an unfortunate point of conflict -- generally in cases where an interaction went completely sideways due to OOC miscommunication or misunderstanding. There are often things a character would know about another that the player might not know about, simply because there is more interaction between the characters than what happens on-screen. Sometimes you talk it out OOC and a rollback is the best option for both players. But it would not be the first solution I reach for, by any means - improvising from the unexpected is a big part of what makes RP enjoyable, for me.

2. Do you like to RP smut when you RP a ship?

I've made no secret of the fact that I do enjoy playing out sexual interactions between characters and/or spending time discussing that part of their relationship - I'm a giant nerd about sexuality, so it's fun for me to go digging around in that part of a character's psychology. (And while it's good clean fun when things go well, it's also fascinating to explore what difficulties can arise, also.) 

However, this is by no means a requirement! I very much value my characters' platonic and QP relationships, and even for characters who do have a sexual relationship, I am perfectly content to fade to black.  

3. Do you like to plan a ship out or just let it happen?

While I enjoy tossing around hypotheticals ("how do you think they'd interact in this circumstance?") especially when it comes to figuring out a ship's basic seaworthiness, I don't think that it's realistic -- or, for me, preferable -- to plan out every point into the future. The devil is in the subtleties when it comes to interpersonal compatibility, and having a relationship be on rails (or a relationship escalator, for that matter) doesn't really appeal to me. My interest is more in putting the two characters together and seeing where the turning points fall.

That said, there is definitely a place for talking things through in order to engineer circumstances which might set the pair up for success (whatever that might look like). Relationship enzymes, if you will. But to me that is something different from assuming the outcome as a given and having to then mold/stretch the intermediate steps to fit. 

4. Do you prefer monogamous or polyamorous ships?

I don't tend to RP exclusive relationships just in general, but that's not the same as a polyamorous ship IMO. Very few of my characters are monogamous by nature, but I don't necessarily seek out multiple partnerships specifically. If they happen, they happen. 

In the same vein, polyfidelitous relationships are not really my leaning (e.g., OT3, triad, quad, etc. - where everybody is in a committed romantic relationship with everybody else). Furthermore, trying to solve a "three-body problem" just tends to introduce a lot of OOC complications, in my experience - especially in RP - so it's not a goal by any stretch. 

That said, I have nothing against metamours knowing each other! That can be really fun, tbh, as long as everybody's cool with it (or as long as everybody is cool OOC with the characters maybe being not-cool with it IC). I think I prefer that to multishipping AUs, as well.

That said, OOC possessiveness is not something I tolerate at all well, and IC possessiveness tends to feel icky unless it is in the service of story or character interestingness. (I don't consider it an indicator of love.)

5. Are there any characters that you want a ship for?

I mean. Yes, lol. 

6. Do you like friends-with-benefits ships?

Sure, why not? That's a fun configuration! So are queerplatonic relationships (which may or may not include physical affection, sex, or commitment). I don't feel that romantic love and sexual attraction must always be yoked together - or commitment and sexual attraction, for that matter. Not all of my characters are suited for this, but some are!

7. Have you ever regretted a ship, romantic or otherwise?

Ah... yes, in a way? Mainly ones that went strangely due to OOC factors, though. I have more "too bad we didn't get to try" regrets than "yeah probably should have steered clear" regrets. All of them have contributed to my characters' stories, though.

8. Do you like to be friends with the people you have ships with?

Oh, definitely! Honestly, it might be a little awkward to be writing an IC close relationship with a stranger... there's a lot of communication involved, ideally, so it helps to be friend-compatible with the person. 

9. What do you look for in a writing partner for ships?

Thoughtfulness, mainly - that and enthusiasm! Patience with the realities of meshing a hobby that involves extended writing with adult schedules and responsibilities. Shared values and, to some extent, shared interests when it comes to what we are looking for out of ship RP. 

Exploring non-normative relationship configurations is important to me, so someone who expects that an RP ship will closely follow the usual romantic/sexual scripts probably will not be a good fit.

Some of my values: bodily autonomy and consent; relationship anarchy and valuing all close bonds equally (romantic or not); flipping the script/avoiding stereotyped or rigid roles.

And interests: angst and fluff/hurt-comfort and other kinds of contrast; characters who don't always make the right decision, for Reasons; safety; power dynamics; non-traditional relationship configurations; exploring difficult themes. 

10. Do you think romantic ships should be longterm?

Nah. I think any relationship lasts as long as it lasts. I don't measure a ship's success in terms of its duration or permanence - only in terms of how impactful, interesting, and enjoyable it is while it is present.

11. How do you handle an absent RP partner that you have a ship with?

It depends on whether I still have contact with the other player OOC. If we're still chatting but not RPing, I tend to assume the ship is continuing "in the background" until I learn otherwise. We usually figure out some reason to explain the lack of interaction -- for example, maybe one of the two is traveling or being kept away for some reason. 

If another player and I have completely fallen out of contact for an extended period, however, I tend to mentally "put a pin in" the ship and say it wound down or faded out, the way relationships sometimes do - but not saying that they broke up or parted ways formally or anything. That leaves the ship open to being picked up again later, should we reconnect.

Of course, there have been times when it has been necessary to cut OOC ties. If for some reason I don't have any intention of resuming contact with the other player, I might choose to either put a pin in the ship or, if necessary, potentially modify the story to keep the parts of the ship that contributed something to my character's development without those elements being tied to that specific player’s character, necessarily. 

12. How often do you think people should RP when they have ships together?

As often as they mutually want to and are able to? What kind of question is this, lol? Putting a number to it in a vacuum seems very weird.

13. Do you RP out all interactions or do you assume some things happen ‘off-screen’ with your ships?

I do assume that the characters have lives offscreen, yes. Usually I will check in with an RP partner before the next character interaction to make sure we are on roughly the same page about what has been happening in the meanwhile and how it might have gone, what their character knows about in my character's life, and vice versa.

Then again, this is where the "character has been traveling/absorbed in work" story can cover a lot of bases when there is an extended absence. 

14. Is there anyone you know that you want to have an RP ship with (romantic, friendship, hateship, rival, etc.)?

Oh yeah, for sure! 

15. What’s the most important thing you’ve learned when it comes to RPing ships?

Trust your gut. If it feels wrong or weird or just not fun, sometimes the kindest thing is to bail out. You're allowed to say "this isn't working out for me"! You don't have to have "a good enough reason.” The other person doesn't have to be successfully convinced to accept it. Someone doesn't have to be acting maliciously for a relationship to be wrong for you, or just not what you want to be doing. 

As a corollary: be honest about what you want - with yourself, at minimum, but preferably out loud. That doesn't mean you'll get it, of course - but being clear about it ideally lets others make informed choices and helps to nip mismatches and misunderstandings in the bud. 

No relationship, IC or OOC, is the last-ever chance at something. Keep going until you can find your niche.

[morndas]

I feel like I send you random asks a lot when I'm feeling that yearning™ so sorry in advance lol

I'm in love with a memory of going to school, going to fencing tournaments, and drinking with friends and falling in love. I spent 4 years living in a place and now I'm 9 hours away back in my hometown in the south east and I don't hate it, but I feel trapped.

I've got a well paying job and it's easy money. I'm living close to family who can support me if I need it. I have a wonderful apartment and a friendly cat and a small collection of plants. I have a loving partner and who's amazing and means the world to me. But all of that feels... wrong? It feels empty? I should be grateful for all the fortune I've had and the privilege of having an easy life. But I feel so empty like this isn't my life.

I feel like I'm gonna wake up and be 19 again and be living out of a car and driving across the states. I never got to do that. I know it's shitty to want that, but I never got to have long drives with people I trust visiting outlandish places.

I feel like these past few months out of college have been me on autopilot. I'm just coasting. I took the easy life and, sure I can say I'm just building a nest egg, but I feel so alone. I feel so trapped. I feel stuck in a place I once called home but now I'm homesick for a different place. A different time. A different life.

Maybe I just need therapy but I predicted I might long for suicide not long after graduating college since life isn't changing much anymore for me. It'll get dull and I can look back and say yea that's good enough I'm done now. And I'm worried I'm living through my prediction. 6 More years and im a big 30 and those years will be gone soon so i dunno i don't know if i can expect much for those years beyond just sitting at a desk working for easy money for no purpose beyond just breathing and living. anyways im sleepy and ye thanks for reading as soon as i get that sweet sweet vaccine into my body ima drive up to Illinois and smooch all my friends ok goodnight

i think that post-college feeling is somewhat universal—lots of folks experience feelings quite similar to what you’re feeling, so you can rest assured that you aren’t alone in your ideations. you get a decent job (and some folks aren’t even lucky enough to get that, it took me two years out of school to find something that pays me enough to live) and start working that daily grind and everything begins to feel kind of routine and monotonous and you start to wonder if this is really how it’s gonna be for the rest of your life.

this is the part where i remind you that you have to stake your joy in the small, in-between moments—because attaining a permanent, static state of happiness is just not feasible, and we’ll always be craving something more. and, as someone who’s a few years older than you, can i just say? you have so much more time than you think. i’m 26 and 24 feels like eons ago. and life doesn’t stop at 30, holy shit. i used to think that way too but it’s honestly so poisonous to your brain 😖 life doesn’t stop at 40, either, or 50, or 60. you’re going to do so much with your time. you haven’t even met all of the people who will love you. don’t give up on those possibilities. just hang in there. 💚

[hecth616]

A thousand ways

It's been 24 hours since I started with this

A fire you shouldn't even have lit

Thoughts racing at light-years per second

My psyche all worn out because of the maelstrom

It's so hard to tame the beast's instincts

Want to eat your eyes and puke the sightenings

It's not hard to tell what your move will be

But are you sure I'll be standing still?

I left you blind in this dream I had

Or haven't you noticed my sword is ready to stab?

I may rip off your heart with my own hands

Thinking nonsense while I try to breathe in and out

I wasn't put here to remain silent

My tongue may curse you all the way long

In case you need reassemblance

I suggest to go back from where you came from

Locked down for months and I don't really feel human

Morals on or off, no difference once we're all underground

Violence, violence

Does it all have to be solved by it?

Violent, violent

Thoughts about how evil one can be

Primitive state of mind going back a few eons to the past

Underdeveloped subject immune to dialogue

A thousand ways to kill

But how much mind to think?

Limbless, tongueless, eyeless, heartless

Sometimes nails are easier to harvest

For I've taken a second to read this through

Threats are taken by the rule "tooth by tooth"

Chasing you may be the best option

Slit the throat at shadows, just as precaution

Look me in the eyes and see...

Are you prepared to become the victim?

I'm not bluffing or bragging or anything

Inner voices are at revolution inside of me

The monster I always keep guarding talks to me once in a while

Sometimes we all wonder how much time does it take to starve?

Hoards of pigs controlling the way we think

"I'm so tough I can be harder to beat"

But there's a difference between a monkey and a real danger

Rage should never be the cause to lose the temper

Now my demons have found peace, we are legion

Come whatever may, we are legion

Violence, violence

Does it all have to be solved by it?

Violent, violent

Thoughts about how evil one can be

Primitive state of mind going back a few eons to the past

Underdeveloped subject immune to dialogue

A thousand ways to kill

But how much mind to think?

[transwitchsammy]

Slight Rambles #1 (11/08/22)

Thought I'd kinda ramble a bit cause I forgot just how much I love posting here and I want to make a better habit of just posting. The love of experiencing what it feels like to like to have a blog again. A little space to just like write or post or whatever. A space that I remember having within the walls of this site years and years ago.

This might come off slightly manic or weird and all over the place, I'm running on not a lot of sleep cause my sleep has been bad and I've got important shit to work on today at least. So if some of this is a little incoherent I'm fine just a tiny bit out of it. But just really wanting to write and post it cause I'm a little bit of an attention whore but honestly especially at this point in my transition I'm proud of that shit. I feel like I was afraid to take any pride in myself because of different aspects of my environment but now I just don't care and the older I get the less I'm caring and just doing my best to vibe. I'm living my life the best way I feel I can.

Obviously I wanna change things. Financially, things with myself and aspects of my body. I wanna be cuter and cooler. More of that ideal goth I'd always idealized and envied as a kid. I'm getting there more and more. Looking at old videos and photographs I don't even recognize that person. I pulled up old shitty videos from years ago, eons and lifetimes ago at this point, and that person was so sad and angry. I just didn't recognize them but I felt for them and where they were.

I feel like at some points in my life I lost myself. As a child, as a teenager, college, after I dropped out, a little bit of the past year (2021 too tbh) sort of until like this summer. Just dissociation after dissociation. Loss of the self. Constant rediscovery. Sometimes I think I'm just gonna loop that lost feeling forever cause my brain chemistry is kinda fucked no matter how I look at it. But I just remember that life ain't really cut and dry like that. We all kinda wander and stumble and fumble and wonder if life is really just constantly that and so far it has been. But the more it happens the more I've been excited to learn and grow and change from it. I feel like old me, sad me, angry me would've just stewed and not tried to push forward in some way. The internal void would've probably just eaten away again and again in a constant loop. But today, nah. I spiral a bit sure. I'm not perfect, I got shit and things I need to constantly work at. But I don't feel hopeless anymore.

Finding yourself lost again and again, finally regaining that confidence and love of the self too is vitally important. But every time it feels like it has the potential to slip from me again and something about that sometimes crushes me in ways. Like I should be able to feel stronger within myself as a person. But I feel like I just give it all away so easily sometimes. Not even in a conscious effort to undermine my core self but more-so to feel like I'm connecting with others in a way that I don't fully know if it is real.

I'd always felt this weird disconnect from others. Like part of that as a kid was the dysphoria and the constant depression and anger and shittiness that my trauma manifested within me.

Part of it too was a deep fear of people stemmed from a magnitude of shit and life experiences that I won't go into in this post. As I got better at masking, pretending and socializing, the better I got at trying to appeal to people's tastes. But part of me felt like I was just a poser. Constant imposter syndrome that ate at me internally, made me feel like a liar when I just liked the same things as well. But I constantly would second guess myself. So part of me questioned if that was even real? Or if there was just an emptiness, a boring husk where an interesting person should be. Left by the expectations of so many and none of the me I feel that I am now.

There's ideas of who I am. People tell me who I am, but sometimes it feels like an aspect of me wants to crawl out, a multiple selves sort of. I think that's the part of myself I was embarrassed of embracing for so long. This earnest self I felt I had to subdue just to survive and feel like I was surviving in the world that I didn't choose to exist in by the standards of others that I just didn't understand why I had to care about. But I didn't want to be alone. I was terrified of that.

Maybe something snapped. I still don't wanna be alone. But I feel like I've settled into accepting my introversion and tendencies I used to hate, especially as my transition has progressed and I've just gained a different understanding and context for my body and emotional health. My quietness, my hunger for the creative and the critique without trying to uphold myself to the standards of those who do nothing for me or the things I want to make. I can communicate through my art, through my writing, through my critiques. The genuine heart talks through what it creates, who and what it gravitates towards and what it fixates towards.

I didn't realize how much I missed Tumblr honestly.

Honestly, this site might be the key to regaining my love for my stream of consciousness writing. I grew to hate it over the course of the past years for a lot of personal self loathing emotional roller coaster reasons and outside of critiques I just haven't written like this at all and it's fucking invigorating. It makes me feel capable and feeling like I can just do it if I set my mind to expressing like this again. The written word means so much to me and I didn't realize how much I was suppressing that underneath the weight of tweets.

How miserable birdsite made me was unhealthy and I really should have stopped using it earlier on but I wanted to be more plugged in. I wanted to be in the social square, I still want to promote my work, in a way I can't fully disconnect.

I feel like this whole year, things that happened in the real especially, showed me how much I just needed to stop caring about a lot of dumb shit, give people who I feel like deserve my time and attention and fuckin ENERGY cause I deserve that shit. I love the people I talk to and hang with rn. If you're reading this you probably know who you are. I deserve that happiness. I deserve that respect and I wanna do my best to pay kindness like that back in spades. Communicating, shooting the shit, writing, talking art, creation, critique, art. Let's fucking go.

I'm over the stage of looking up to people who don't feed the energy back that I give them. Tired of the days of looking for role models and inspirations outside of the art and the vibes themselves. I will become better at this. I will surround myself with art, artists and lovers of art and creating and discussing. I need that for what I consider to be myself.

This is catharsis. If ya read all of this. Thank you. I'm gonna do this more every now and again. I'm gonna make every year that I can do the best I can by driving myself forward in my passions no matter what. No matter how. I'm me, I'm here, I'm real and I'm gonna fucking live.

[wheredandylionscometogrow]

Hey there! I've been trying to resolve the mystery around Dandy..And for some reason, I feel like U may have REAL info (I remember U knowing about the EW photoshoot before it even dropped) do U know someone that works in production on twd or around our beloved duo? How do U even know Andy's wife was on set for 7x15/16? What makes U say Dandy is an actual thing and that Andy's ready to risk it all? I have so many questions? LOL

(I’ve been waiting all day to answer this ask because it’s absolutely wonderful).

If I knew someone that worked in production we would've had those 7x12 tapes eons ago. My salt levels are extremely high.

95% of everything I know is from social media. I'll say this fan pics are like breadcrumbs. I can log into Tumblr and know where Andy is just about every 2 to 3 days. Also having a network is very valuable. The streets are talking way past Tumblr, you just have to know the right people.

What makes me say Dandy is an actual thing? That's a loaded ass question. First off Andy excessively flirts way more than any married man ever should. At Paleyfest 17 he brought up Danai at every chance he could get. Sometimes she had nothing to do with the question and yet, Andy was like...

He also gets deep into thought a lot when talking about the development of Rick and Michonne's relationship. "I don't know if anybody's ever experienced but, it is when you look at someone that you've know for a long, long, time and you go 'of course, of course' it's you'..." (x) Danai and Andy are absolutely separate entities from their characters but they have a lot of parallels with Rick and Michonne. The closer Rick and Michonne got, the closer Andy and Danai became.

On the flip side, it is often misconstrued that the affection is one-sided. People really don't seem to realize just how much into Andy Danai is. Like any poker player, Danai has a tell... she gets completely nervous around Andy. Rewind back to the 6x10 scene. Why was Danai so damn nervous over a kiss? Have you seen Mother of George?! The movies' whole premise was her character trying to conceive a child, therefore she had to simulate sex, several times, yet that couch scene had her shook lol. P.S. the way Gimple teased Danai in this interview made me pretty damn sure he knew Danai had a crush on Andy. 

Then look at how she acted at the season 8 premiere and at the WSC ATL panel. She sat next to Andy but she kept her body towards the audience. She rarely looked at Andy, yet she smiled and giggled throughout. That man got her shaking in her boots. In August, Danai was all set to attend WSC ATL 17 for Saturday only. A couple weeks went by and she switched to be available Sunday, changed her flight, agreed to duo ops. More than half these plans included Andy, coincidence? 

Someone asked me before "well, how do they supposedly like each other if they don't even hang out outside of set?" That's what you think... but is that reality? A whole bunch of events have happened between the moment they first met and now.I know Andy is damn near ready to risk it all because he's being sloppy lol. Andy is smart, he just doesn’t care anymore lol. Danai is the one trying her hardest to save face. Plus Andy admitted at the panel that they got very unclothed and carried away in the van with the addition of Richonne never lacking tongue. So, you tell me how they’re NOT a thing? lol